The Tornado Page 3

  "What?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  Ruby cleared her throat and I went back to whipping the cream. "Just a customer out there. Asking for you."

  "Oh," I muttered. Wiping my hands on my apron, I headed out into the café, slipping behind the counter. I leaned over to put the cream in the fridge.

  "Be right with you. What'll you have?" I called out. There was a pause.

  "Latte, please," a husky, deep voice replied.

  I dropped one of the canisters onto my foot. “Shit!”

  “Is everything okay back there?” he asked.

  The voice made me freeze, its familiarity clutching at me. Slowly, I straightened up, and found myself looking into a pair of piercing blue eyes. I swallowed. Hard. I had been found.

  Asher Prince was sitting at my counter.

  Chapter Four

  Him

  "WHAT’LL YOU HAVE?” she called from below.

  I glanced up at the beverage menu chalked on the board behind the bar and picked the first thing I read. "Latte, please," I replied. Latte? The fuck? Since when did I drink lattes? Guys at the gym would take the royal piss for weeks, if they found out I’d ordered a fucking latte.

  There was a long pause, and I sat quietly until a small hand appeared on the edge of the counter. A second later, a dark head followed, and then a pair of large, warm brown eyes, peeked up, narrowing in suspicion. I stared back.

  She definitely looked better than the last time I'd seen her; that deep-rooted panic-laced fear gone from her eyes. That they were now replaced with skepticism and suspicion wasn't much better, but then again, I'd take that over the primal terror that had been in them before.

  Her shiny dark hair was piled loosely on top of her head in a knot, and she wore a hint of makeup. Her heart-shaped face was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, with a small and slightly up-turned nose. I noticed she had a bit of whipped cream near the corner of her full pink lips that were currently pursed as she eyed me.

  She spoke before I could tell her. "What are you doing here?" she hissed quietly.

  “You…um, have something just there,” I said, pointing to her mouth, and holding back a smirk. That was when I noticed her nametag. It said her name was Juliet.

  “Oh…” I watched her cheeks become a darker shade of pink, and she wiped the cream away with her hand, looking both embarrassed and annoyed. “Why’d you come here?” she muttered.

  "Came to get a latte," I replied lightly, wanting to see if she’d bite. She didn't.

  "You came an awful long way for a latte," she replied, folding her arms over the front of her fitted V-neck black top. "Especially given the fact that there's, like, seven coffee shops within a three-block radius of your gym. So, what gives?"

  I didn’t know why, but I was finding it extremely hot that she was making this difficult for me. I was so used to girls worshipping me because of my fame. So used to girls doing whatever I wanted, letting me do whatever I wanted, and never getting called on it. But this girl—she was making me work for it. And it was so fucking hot, I nearly forgot why I’d come down here in the first place.

  "I came to apologize to you," I said finally, watching as one of her perfect brows arched up. "For what happened… a few weeks ago. At my gym."

  She met my gaze for a beat before averting her eyes and giving me her back as she turned toward one of the espresso machines. I noticed the large flower tattoo on the back of her neck, done in simple black ink with no shading. My eyes slid lower and I swallowed as I took in her shape. She was small-boned and slender, but she had curves in all the right, womanly places. How the hell did I miss it for the three months she was coming to my joint? There was nothing remotely boyish about her curvy, athletic shape.

  "Water under the bridge," she replied tersely. "What size you want? Medium? Large?"

  "You decide," I answered. "It's not water under the bridge to me. That type of shit ain't acceptable, not in my establishment, and I don't take kindly to shit like that."

  She’d been measuring out ground espresso for my drink, but stopped. Her shoulders slumped slightly and she twisted to glance at me.

  "Why does it matter so much to you, anyway?" she asked. "I didn't call the cops, didn't try to press charges. It happened and there’s nothing you can do to change it...You can never change it…” Her eyes seemed to look right through me then, but then she snapped all of a sudden. “The world is full of assholes." She turned her back to me again.

  "You're right," I conceded. "But at the end of the day, I guess you could say it's just the principle of the matter. I hate bullies and I hate seeing violence against women and—” The clatter of a spoon falling down on the floor cut me off. She bent down to pick it up. “It just isn’t all right with me,” I continued. “And if nothing else, someone owes you an apology. It's my place, so, here I am. Saying I'm sorry."

  "Wasn't your fault," she replied, her back still to me. "You can't control everyone. Skim or two-percent?"

  "Skim, please," I replied, and fell quiet. If she wasn't interested in my apology, I was just going to put it on the table and leave it the hell alone. Didn’t want her thinking she was being stalked by a guy who drinks lattes.

  Several minutes passed in silence as she steamed the milk and poured it into the cup, stirring it gently. She placed a lid on the top and slid it into a sleeve, and turned and placed it on the bar in front of me. She didn't look up at me, but I could still see that her cheeks were slightly damp.

  "Two-fifty," she said softly.

  I handed her a five. "Keep it," I added. She nodded once in acknowledgment and thanks, but she still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  I turned to leave, not understanding why it bothered me so much that she wouldn’t look at me. Suddenly, I turned back. She finally raised her eyes to meet mine, lifting her brows in question.

  "If you ever want to come back," I started softly, "just know you're always welcome. And I'll personally guarantee that nobody fucks with you. They’ll have to go through me first."

  She breathed out a quick laugh, one corner of her mouth pulling upward into a smile before smoothing out. I didn't quite know what that meant, but decided that now, for real, I'd let it be.

  "Thank you," she said, as if I’d knocked her for six. “That is really...sweet of you.”

  I left the café, finding myself needing fresh air all of a sudden. Heading back to the subway, I cursed at myself. I’d forgotten to pick up my fucking latte. She probably thought I was a complete moron now. But it was worth it.

  I had to make my peace.

  I winced inwardly as unwelcomed images flooded my brain. There was Mom, laying on the floor in the living room, sobbing as my asshole of a father gripped one of his hands on her, wrenching her arm back around her. I heard my drunken father's open palm slap against the gentle skin of my mother's face; the sickening crunch of ribs giving way under the steel-toe of a work boot. He heard my pleas for him to stop, to please stop, that he was hurting her so much—

  I shook my head quickly, and the memories slowly faded. My father was six-feet under. Dead from a heart attack. Good fucking riddens.

  That was the reason why my gut had clenched when I'd seen Juliet sprawled on the floor, looking like she was about to die from fear. That’s why I’d felt helpless after kicking the three assholes out of my gym, why I'd offered to call someone for her, do something to help her. No one gave a damn about my mother when I was a kid. I’d tried to help ease Mom’s suffering, but it never did any good. I was just a kid back then. I'd be damned if I didn't do the same thing for someone else.

  But it seemed she was through with Blaise's Gym and everyone involved. I was disappointed, but at the very least, I'd given it a shot. Never mind I felt incredibly stupid for it now though.

  I hopped the train and headed back to my world. The gym.

  Where I belonged.

  Her

  I WAS GRUMBLING irritably to myself, washing the utensils I'd used to make Asher Prince's latte, which he d
idn’t even drink, when I felt something swat my rear. I whirled, eyes wide, and saw Ruby shaking her head, twirling a dish towel around in her hands.

  "You slapped my ass!" I scolded. "What the hell?"

  "Can you stop mumbling angrily to yourself over there?" Ruby ordered. "It’s like working with a crazy person."

  I shot my friend a withering stare and returned to my task. "Gee, sorry to disturb you." I was a little embarrassed, having not realized I was actually vocalizing out loud.

  "I have something for you," Ruby said suddenly, and reached into her back pocket, pulling out what looked like a normal sheet of paper, folded in half. It was sealed with a Strawberry Shortcake sticker and had ‘JEWEL’ written in marker on the front, accompanied by little doodles of hearts, flowers, and stars.

  I took the paper with a smirk. “Is this your work?" I asked, gesturing to the doodles on the front.

  "Yes, and I'll thank you to appreciate some artistic shit when it's in your face," Ruby replied, folding her arms. "Anyway, open it!"

  I smiled, my dimples digging into my cheeks, and broke the sticker, unfolding the paper. My eyes scanned the page, quickly seeing that it was a flyer.

  ‘Pittsburgh Talent Showcase,’ the top of the flyer boasted. My eyes dropped lower. It was an invitation for the best and brightest talents of Pittsburgh to come to The Harmony Center in the Cultural District, four months from today's date. The showcase called for musicians, singers, artists, and...dancers.

  I lifted my eyes to Ruby, who was still grinning. "What is this?" I asked softly, holding up the flyer.

  "Um, can’t you read?"

  "No. I get what it is. I mean, why did you give it to me?"

  Ruby shrugged. "I thought that maybe, you know, you could create a piece for the showcase and show everyone in Pittsburgh what an incredible dancer you are."

  "Except for the small part where I don't perform in front of people anymore." I folded the flyer and handed it back.

  Ruby made no move to collect it from me. "You just think you can't," she insisted. "But, you can. And you should. You're so talented, Jewel. Don't hide that!"

  "I appreciate it," I replied, folding the flyer again and stuffing it into my pocket since Ruby wouldn't take it. "But I can’t dance for a crowd. I know you mean well, and I love you for it, Ruby, but I'm sorry. I can't."

  "You will."

  "You what?"

  "You will," Ruby repeated. "Because I already registered you and paid the fee."

  "I guess I'm paying you back, then," I said evenly.

  "No. I don't want your money. I want you to get on that stage and blow everyone the fuck away."

  "Dude," I said impatiently, "I'm paying you back. I refuse to let you do that and besides, I'm not doing this."

  "I won't take your dirty money," Ruby said, a note of finality in her voice. "You will get your ass on that stage and dance, bitch."

  "Stop calling me a bitch and I’m going to give this money to your bosses and have them put it into your check," I said testily. "Don't know if you know this, but I know where you work. And my parents are your bosses."

  "And I will give it back to your parents to give back to you," Ruby replied. "We can do this all day. Look, you've got four whole months. Put something awesome together and let's get it poppin'! You're amazing, Jewel, I don't know why you don't get that. You could do this and people would be wowed."

  Ruby started a Charleston step, grinning from ear to ear. I couldn't stay mad at her and reluctantly, a smile pulled at my lips. Finally, I couldn't help but join in, and we were both doing the Charleston in the kitchen.

  Finally, when we were laughing loudly enough to echo out into the dining area, I shook my head. "I will think about it," I said. "That's all I can promise you. And if I don't do the showcase, you're getting your money back and if you have anything else to say on the subject—you can suck it." Ruby immediately made to protest but I held up a hand. "I'll think about it," I cautioned.

  Ruby sighed and grumbled. "Fine." As I turned back to clean the counter, I heard her mumbling to herself under her breath.

  "What's that?" I asked.

  "Nothing!" Ruby replied, suspiciously. Then, in a lower tone to herself, but meant to be heard by me, she added, "Bitch." I chuckled and shook my head. "So, when are you going back to the gym to train with lover boy?" Ruby asked.

  "Ah, that would be never," I replied. "On account of the minor incident I endured a few weeks ago. And he’s not my lover."

  "I remember," Ruby said patiently. "But did you not hear him say he would make sure nobody messed with you?” She stood tall, taking on a man’s stance then. “‘They have to go through me first’,” she said, in a voice meant to mimic Asher’s. We both laughed. “Like some kind of knight in shining armor. God, Jewel, it was so damn sexy, even I wanted to jump his bones. He got all alpha-male on you. That’s really, really hot."

  "Yeah…” I said breathlessly, remembering how sexy it had been. “But what exactly does that mean to me?" I asked, trying to deter where my mind was wandering. "I don't need or want a bodyguard. I don't need to work out at Blaise's Gym that bad."

  "Maybe not," Ruby replied. "And I'm fairly certain he wasn't suggesting that he’d be your bodyguard. But he made a promise to ensure your safety. That's pretty damn nice of him."

  "Since when do you care what Asher Prince says or does?"

  "I don't," Ruby said. "I care about you. And you seemed to like going to the gym. I dunno…it’s just since you started going there, you’ve seemed to have gotten better from whatever it was that hurt you. And I don't think you should let a bad experience prevent you from doing something you enjoy, especially when the owner himself, Mr. Famous Hot Guns, came all the way down to Little Italy to apologize to you, in person, and tell you he’d have your back." I moved to start grinding fresh espresso. "Plus," Ruby added, "seeing him on TV is totally different than seeing him in person. The man is fine." She delivered the last word in a high-pitched singing tone.

  I chuckled and shook my head. "That's what this is really about. I see."

  "He is. Come on, Jewel. Anyone with a vagina would see it. You have to admit it. He’s downright pornographic."

  "I don't have to do a damn thing," I replied, laughing. But she was right, as usual. Asher Prince was, to say the very least, a beautiful specimen of a man. I blushed suddenly, remembering I’d seen more of him in person than just his face. And as far as I could tell, he was beautiful everywhere. "Maybe you ought to be the one working out at the gym."

  "I ain't scared," Ruby said. "Maybe I will."

  "Not sure how Anthony would feel about that," I pointed out with a grin.

  "Oh, yeah," Ruby said, sounding unmoved. "Anthony. Totally forgot about him. Guess it’s a good thing I’m dumping him tonight then.”

  “Oh, Ruby, sorry to hear that,” I said, hugging her.

  “No you’re not,” she replied when I pulled back. “You hate him.”

  “I do, yeah. He treats you like shit. And you’re the best, so you deserve the best.”

  “Aw, are we having a lesbian moment here?” she said, jocularly.

  “In your dreams,” I laughed. I poured the grounds into the espresso container, and then remembered. “Oh God, Ruby, did you see it when I had whipped cream on my face?”

  “Yeah, unfortunately I saw. Was so uncool of you,” she said dryly. “Thought I taught you better.”

  “He’s going to think I’m an idiot.”

  “You are. But trust me, he doesn’t think that at all. If anything, he’s the one who should be feeling like an idiot for paying you five bucks just to watch you make a latte. Now, that’s an idiot, my friend.”

  Maybe I was being a little hard on Asher. But who was he for me to not be hard on? He was just some troubled local MMA celebrity with baggage and a gym. Yeah, he’d been nice to me when I'd gotten attacked, and yeah, he’d voluntarily parted with over a hundred dollars per month, maybe more, by kicking the three stooges out of his gym. A
nd yeah, it was sort of sweet he’d come all the way down to the café just to apologize to me and invite me back, although I still didn't see what the big deal was to him. I wasn't sure if any of those things were worth me returning to a place that had dragged me back to the darkness I’d run away from.

  Sorry, Asher Prince. I really am.

  I just don’t think I’m strong enough.

  Him

  WORD OF THE STORY: ‘The girl in guy's clothing who infiltrated Blaise's’ spread like wildfire, despite my best efforts not to let it. It royally pissed me off every time someone dragged it back up, even though I was getting praise for acting the way I had. But I hadn't done it for recognition. I'd intervened because it’d been the right thing to do.

  Two weeks had passed since I'd gone to the café. There was no sight of Juliet. I assumed now, it was case closed. While I was sorry she felt like she couldn't come back, I knew I'd done right by her, and at this point, I was washing my hands of it. But when almost everyone was talking about it, it seemed it made shutting the door difficult, if not impossible.

  But I never would’ve guessed the result.

  I brought my fingers to my temples and rubbed, glancing at the clock. It was nearly time to spar with Connor, but based on the ruckus from outside, I knew I'd have to go out there and start kicking the girls out.

  Connor burst into my office. "Hey, boss!" he said cheerfully. "Listen, I'm gonna start sending the girls outta here but I wanted to let you know—there's this cute redhead out there asking for you. I'm taking her and her friend out for some drinks after we’re done. You need to come, dude. Sure thing." He lifted his brows meaningfully. “She’s a gymnast.”

  When word had gotten out that there was a girl at Blaise’s, women had flocked to the gym. But not to train. Dressed in tight, low-cut clothing, and caked up to-the-nine, the girls—who were hard to tell apart—were only too glad to offer me sexual favors, finding any stupid reason to put their hands on my body. It was beginning to piss me off, real bad. I needed to concentrate on training for Ithaca. Nothing else.