Cherry Bomb (24 page)

Both of us had our demons. The simple truth
was I had no idea how to control mine. So the uncontrollable need
to tame his was unsettling.

“Will it’s a good thing there are women like
me.” A question that had been gnawing at me bubbled up to the
surface and poured from my lips. “When was the last time you had
sex?"

"About eight hours ago."

"With someone other than me?”

His expression darkened. “Don’t ask that. The
only person that matters to me in any quotation is you.”

I shrugged my shoulder and twisted my mouth
into a scowl. He cursed under his breath.

“Don’t shrug your shoulder. It makes me feel
like you don’t give a fuck one way or another."

“I don’t know how to feel. So far all I’ve
gotten from you is a good screw.”

“I’m trying to have a real relationship with
you. I guess I don’t know how.” His smile turned wicked as he went
to set up. “Close your eyes.”

I sent him a questioning look, but the
tenderness still evident in his face had me following his every
command. I closed my eyes. After a couple of long draw out
heartbeats, I felt his lips on mine and then something cold
slipping around my neck. He let what felt like a hollow rock of
some kind fall against the base of my throat.

He adjusted the cold circle and said, “Open
your eyes, Soda pop.”

I did, and stroked over the choker around my
neck. I hopped up and bolted to my dresser. I gawked in the mirror
and for the first time, I saw the necklace he had placed on me.

It was stunning, made of some kind of silver
metal I later learned was white gold into an interlocking band. It
sat right at the base of my throat. It appeared tight but moved
easily around my neck. The circle I felt was actually a diamond and
ruby studded hoop. His step-mother had worn a similar necklace
earlier that day.
What is its significance?

Drake walked up behind me. Our eyes met in
the mirror. Immediately, I knew it was more than a simple necklace.
My feelings were confirmed when he reached around me to hook his
index finger into the loop and tugged.

I braced my hands on the dresser as I was
forced forward. “You didn’t open your gifts?’

“This is one of the gifts you left for
me?”

“The last one. It’s sort of an everyday
wearable version of a slave collar.” He released the hold he had of
the necklace.

I stood up straight and flipped around. “A
what? I’ll never agree to be a slave.”

“It can mean anything we want it to mean. I
just wanted to give you something tangible to reassure you and me
that what we have is more. It’s more a symbol of my commitment to
you."

"I have the bracelet you gave me."

"This one has a lock and key for it,” he
whispered and dangled the lock in his hand. I froze at his words.
“One step at a time.”

The idea of wearing a piece of jewelry that
basically showed ownership was hard to wrap my head around. But the
thought he had left it for me before he walked away for a week,
without a word, changed the way I saw the whole time we spent
apart. “What about the other gifts?”

He smiled and clicked his tongue. “No, no,
you should’ve opened them sooner.”

I looked back at my image in the mirror.
“Your step-mom wore one but not your sister-in-law. Is your brother
no longer involved with the club?”

Drake laughed. “No, silly, Charlotte and
Billy met at the club except she’s not his sub. She’s his Dom.”

My hand slipped from my neck and slammed into
the dresser. “What? She’s the Dom but she’s the girl.”

He had already started kissing down my neck
and on to my collarbone. “Stereotypes, my pet. He is also bi. Is
that a problem?"

I shook my head, not caring what Billy was as
long as he was happy.

"There are truly no rules to what anybody can
be. The only limitations we have in this world are the ones we put
on ourselves.” He slapped my butt. “Now, get ready I’m taking you
on a real date.”

I spun around, surprised by his words. “The
club may be a real date in your world but not mine.”

“Changed my mind, women are not the only
people capable of that. We’re going somewhere else. Meet you down
stairs in fifteen minutes.”

“So no sex?”

“Oh, if you are a very good girl, maybe just
maybe, I’ll fit it in between this or that.”

I gripped his arm when he started to walk
away. “I trust you.”

“Be careful who you trust, the devil started
out as an angel.” One side of his mouth turned up seductively.

As I descended the stairs, I got a glimpse of
Drake’s back as he peered out the window, his shoulders firm and
straight. I fingered my newest piece of jewelry. The man standing
in front of me had more on his shoulders than he would admit to,
and I wouldn’t forget his disappearing acts so easily, but I would
give him my best.

He peeked over his shoulder and winked.
“Ready,” he asked.

I had changed out of my wrinkled clothes and
replaced them with a powder blue sundress that Ruby gave me last
Mother’s Day. Of course, Drake had worn the same outfit all day and
still looked like he stepped off the pages of GQ magazine.

“I’ve just got to grab my purse.” I retrieved
it off the entry hall buffet, and we started for the door. “So are
you going to tell me where we’re going now?”

“You’re going with me,” he said, and lifted
an eyebrow.

I bumped his shoulder as we walked out the
door. “Why do I feel like everything with you will be a
surprise?”

“Because you are very observant, Mrs. Webb.”
He laughed, an authentic laugh that came from deep within his
chest. “First, we are going to eat at my favorite place, Granny’s
Fishes, it's a hell of a lot better than your Touchdown Wings.”

Granny’s Fishes was in downtown Memphis, on
Riverside Drive which borders the mighty Mississippi River. The
road was lined with your typical boutiques, the town’s overabundant
share of antique shops, and the classier restaurants. Then there
was Granny’s Fishes which was in a category all on its own.

I still found it hard to believe this was the
place he wanted to eat at, as he turned onto a small parking lot
bordering a row of high-end condos. A few dozen cars and several
trucks were parked in front of the establishment. It looked rather
run-down, especially for the area. The roof over a broad porch was
sagging in multiple places, peeling, chipping paint surrounded all
the windows. As bad as the outside look the inside was even
cheesier. It was decorated with nets, anchors, oars, hundreds of
license plates, and old rusty hubcaps.

His hand tapped against mine and he
hesitated. After taking my hand in his, he shrugged. “I haven’t had
a real date since I was sixteen.”

I don’t know what he expected me to say or
even think, but he wore a satisfied expression as we wove our way
among the tables. Most of the customers looked like they worked
hard for a living. Never, have I seen so many televisions, playing
ESPN. The jukebox was playing some gritty country music song. I
couldn’t begin to tell you which one. All country music depressed
the crap out of me.

Granny's Fishes was completely on the other
end of the spectrum from The Pier. But as we took a seat at the
first empty table we came across, I saw the one thing both The Pier
and Granny’s Fishes had in common, the view. The table was in
perfect alignment to take in the landscape of the river.
Note to
self: he must have a thing for waterways.

“The river, I like watching the water. You
can learn a lot about life from it,” he said, and followed my line
of vision.

“From the water?” I asked, and down casted my
eyes, feeling the blush come to my cheeks.

“For one, water is a metaphor for love. A
person can fall and drown in it, your body thrives on it, but the
only way it can sink you is if you let it in. “

I glanced over at him and took in his face as
he stared out over the horizon. His expression was haunting, and I
couldn’t help but believe it was the words not the water that
somehow put that look on his face.

“Do you come here often?”

“No, not really. Grace loves the frog legs
here.”

“Frog Legs,” I repeated and reached for the
paper menu sandwiched between a grease covered napkin holder and
bottles of ketchup and Country Bob’s steak sauce.

My phone’s loud, obnoxious ring started
sounding off. I went to switch it to silent when I saw it was from
Ruby. I laid a finger on the off button, sure it was some daddy
drama she wanted to complain about when that mother's intuition
kicked in. I held up a finger singling to Drake to give me a
moment.

“What?” I said, a tad annoy she was
interrupting my night.

“Mommy, it’s Henry. He fell and bumped his
head and won’t quit bleeding,” Ruby cried into the phone.

“What is your Dad saying? He is a
doctor.”

“He’s not here and won’t answer his
phone.”

“Call the ambulance. I’ll meet you at the
hospital.”

Instinctively, I grabbed my stuff. “It’s
Henry.” I felt like I had taken a baseball bat to the heart. Ten
seconds stretched into eternity as we raced to the car. Another
second before I slammed into the passenger seat and Drake’s
commanding voice broke through to me.

“Babe, are you going to calm down enough to
tell me what is going on,” he said and turned on the air
conditioner. The air was stifling, and the humidity coming off the
river only added to the repression. I was relieved we took my car
and not his motorcycle. I would be taking my kids home tonight. Not
riding off into the sunset or to any damn club for that matter.

“Henry fell and is hurt.”

Drake pulled out into the traffic, without
hardly a glance, swerving through the cars and trucks as we headed
to the interstate.

The air became thick as the silence wrapped
around us like a hot, humid storm cloud. I was frantic to get to my
son. On the other hand, Drake sudden shift was a mystery.

“Is your husband going to be there?”

“I have no idea. He left the kids at home to
. . . I don’t know what the hell he was doing. I just need to get
to my baby.”

Drake accelerated much too quickly down the
city streets, and didn’t seem to be paying attention to the road.
He grinded his teeth and his thoughts seem to be miles from where
we were.

“You don’t have to stay around when we get
there.”

He looked away, deliberating. “I’m not
leaving you alone to deal.”

He took my hand in his and almost smiled.

I glanced away from his face, trying to find
words when I happened to notice the speedometer.

I started to scream at him to slow down but I
shot a panicky glance out the window instead. It was worth risking
the chance of becoming road kill to get to my kids faster. The only
part of the road visible was the long, glaring patch from the
bright beam of the headlights. I tried concentrating on the lines
running down the street but my mind could not stop envisioning
little Henry alone and crying.

Once at the hospital, I rushed to the front
desk and was immediately ushered back to a small room in the corner
of the ER. I pushed back the curtain, and fought a scream. Blood
was everywhere. Blood was running into Henry’s eyes, coated down
Ruby’s arm, Henry’s shaggy, brown hair was completely matted with
blood. I couldn’t breathe or even move.

I’d never seen my children truly bleed.
They’d never had more than a small cut or scraped knee. I had to
force myself out of the initial shock . . . but I didn’t have too.
Drake took charge, and had already scooped Henry up out of Ruby’s
arm. Henry’s distressed crying tore at my heart.

“It’s okay, big boy. I got you now.” Drake
sat back into a rocker and pressed a towel firmly against his head.
“Come here, Momma. He is going to be okay. Just a good battle
scar.”

I walked over to hold Henry’s hand. The way
he was gripping Drake’s shirt, I was positive he felt secure in
Drake’s arms, and I was unsure if my trembling arms could even
support him.

Drake lifted the towel to inspect the wound,
his brows pinched together. My stomach was too queasy to examine it
myself.

“You will be able to impress your friends
with this one. It’ll match my scar.” Drake remained calm and
patient. He pushed his hair off his forehead and pointed to a small
scar on the edge of his hairline. “Come here, Noah,” Drake said,
motioning to my oldest son that had been cowering in the corner.
“Don’t worry, buddy. He’s going to be okay? I promise.” Drake
rubbed a hand down Noah’s back. I didn’t like promises. James
constantly made promises he never kept, but something about the
sound of Drake’s voice did wonders to calm my aching heart.

Within minutes, the doctor and nurse enter
the small space. “Are you mom?”

“Yes.” I managed to get out of my quivering
lips.

“Good. I’m Dr. Wynn. Let’s get this boy fixed
up.”

They obviously had already examined Henry
because within seconds they were setting up it seemed like for
surgery. The doctor patted the bed and Drake raised out of his
seat, holding on to a very frightened Henry.

“While they are patching you up, big boy,
squeeze my hand, and if you make me scream I’ll take you for
pizza.” Drake laid Henry on the stretcher, and eyed the nurse. “But
I bet you’ll be too busy eyeing the pretty nurse to worry about me
and pizza.”

I haven’t even paid attention to the nurse
until Drake made that remark. Of course, I looked then. She was
blonde, petite, and appeared to be closer to Ruby’s age than
mine.

“Are you daddy?” the nurse asked Drake with a
child-like giggle.

If she wasn’t about to sew up my son’s head,
I would have shoved her face up against the cedar block wall.