The Tornado Read online

  "That’s one hell of a family, Jewel," I said evenly. I looked at her in silence for a long time before speaking up. “I haven’t had much in life recently that’s made me want something as badly as wanting you to tell me what happened—so I can do whatever it takes to fix you, fix the sadness I see in your eyes. But this isn’t about what I want. I just want you to know, I’m waiting. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be there.”

  She quickly reached out for our trash and gathered it up, sliding off her stool. "It's getting late," she said, dumping the trash into the trash can. I knew my words were intense. But that was me. I couldn’t change who I was any more than she could change who she was. "I better go before the buses stop running."

  I decided not to point out that it would be hours and hours before that happened, but merely nodded, rising from my stool and pushing the door open for her. I walked her to the bus stop and waited with her. We were silent but I could feel her looking up at me anxiously, over and over. I glanced back down at her finally and gave her a half-smile. When the bus arrived, she was surprised when I climbed aboard after her and dropped into the seat next to her.

  "You take this bus?" she asked, almost nervously.

  I shook my head. "Nah. I take the other bus. I just want to make sure you get home okay. I'm not stalking you, I promise."

  She seemed genuinely astonished. "I'm not sure where you live, but it'll take you almost two hours to get home with the way these buses run...You don't have to do this. You should go home. It's late and I'm sure you've had a long day."

  "Sorry, Jewel. But you can’t get rid of me so easily. I am what I am. You can call me your ‘Make-sure-you-get-home-safe-every-night’ Officer. There’s no arguing with a Marine," I replied simply, and effectively ended her protests. I stared ahead during the ride while she opted to look out the window, but I saw in the large rearview mirror at the head of the bus that she turned to look at me a few different times.

  When we finally reached her neighborhood, I walked beside her quietly down the street to her building. The streets were peacefully quiet, but I knew it wasn't particularly safe for any woman to be walking by herself so late at night. I followed her to the entrance of the building, silently insisting on walking her to her door again. When we reached her front door, she turned to face me.

  "Well," she began, playing with her keys. "Um. Thank you, Officer Make-Sure-I-Get-Home-Safe-Every-Night,” she said, in a voice meant to poke fun at me.

  “Is that supposed to be me?” I asked, my brows lifted. “Because I’m pretty sure my voice is way more manlier and sexy than that.”

  She shook her head mischievously. “No, it isn’t.” We both laughed together then. “No really…thanks for dinner, for seeing me home and for...helping me out. For not pushing me."

  I looked down at her and felt my insides working strangely. I felt a tingling heat in my chest and adrenaline creeping through me. It was all a very foreign feeling, but I was feeding off of it. It was almost a high. One I wanted to keep feeling till the day I died.

  "I’d do anything for you, Jewel," I replied.

  I jammed my hands into my pockets and took a step back, preparing to wish her a good night and beat my retreat. But I started in surprise when I felt her small hand reach out and take hold of my forearm. My eyes flew to her face as she stepped closer, and I froze when I felt her arms go around my torso, slowly. I was shocked, mostly because I'd picked up that she had a thing with personal space, but she was hugging me.

  I didn’t hug. It wasn’t something I did, if ever. The last woman I’d hugged had been my mother. But this felt… right. I shook myself and slipped my arms around her in return. I felt her cheek press into my chest and my heart was beating madly. My mind whirled in confusion when I felt her give me a tiny squeeze before stepping back. She met my eyes, her own bold but shy. She dropped her arms and my hands found my pockets again as I cleared my throat and flushed slightly.

  "Sweet dreams," she said softly. I nodded, unable to form words, but waited in the hallway until I heard her locks slide into place.

  I headed down the stairs and out of her building, heading back to the bus stop. I leaned against the shelter and sighed deeply, feeling a strange, alien emotion creeping through me. It was confusing. Disarming.

  As I inhaled, and her sweet scent lingered in my nose, I realized it was also something I couldn’t live without.

  I’ll be damned if I ever let her go.

  Chapter Ten

  Him

  I ARRIVED AT the gym early the next morning. I always did to get in some training before opening. I rounded the corner of the ring and noticed a small object in the center. As I got closer, I saw that it was Jewel's meds. I stepped into the ring and leaned down to scoop it up.

  "Shit," I muttered. How had we overlooked that last night? What if something happened to her during the day and she needed them?

  I glanced at my watch. It was six-thirty. I figured she might be up this early, but I wasn't sure. I shuffled back to my office and pulled out her file. I dialed the phone number she’d listed, but received an automated message that the number I'd dialed was no longer in service.

  "Well, shit," I grumbled to myself and tossed my cell on the desk. How had getting her phone number escaped me over the past two months? I'd have to try and drop them off to her later today. I just hoped she wouldn't need them until then.

  The day proved to be busy, and my original plan of dropping off Jewel's medication at lunchtime went out the window. At least Jewel hadn't called about her meds, so I guessed she was okay for the time being. I finally left around six and headed for Bloomfield. I figured my first stop should be the café. When I arrived and pushed through the door, the waitress called Ruby came out from the back.

  "Oh, hi," she said. "Sorry. I should have locked the door. We're pretty much closed up for the night, hun." She gestured behind her to the disassembled espresso machines. "I can't make you a...latte." She snickered on the last word. I wasn’t stupid to know why.

  "No, that's ok," I said quickly. "Is Jewel around?" I pulled the bottle from my pocket and held it up. "She left these at the gym last night. I wanted to get them back to her earlier but the gym was crazy today."

  "Oh…" Ruby replied, fixing her gaze on the bottle. She met my eyes and a look of understanding passed between us. "Well. No, she's not here. She left a little early to go drop off the deposit at the bank, then she said she was going to the Y."

  "She doesn't teach tonight," I said, but it came out like a question. "I thought she taught on Wednesdays."

  "Yeah, that’s right. She does," Ruby confirmed, smiling. "She went to work on her piece for the showcase. I know she thinks I don't know she's working on something, but I do. Something seems to have changed in her in the last month or two. Anyway, she seemed a little stressed out today and said she was going straight to the Y after the bank. You can probably find her there. Just call her and let her know you're coming."

  "I don't have her number," I replied.

  "Haven't you escorted her home like, a million times now? She's like at your gym every single night." Ruby leaned on the counter. “Officer Safety,” she said pointedly, smirking.

  Women. Was there anything they didn’t discuss?

  “Hey, love your work. She deserves that kind of treatment,” she continued. “It’s about time.”

  I shrugged. Ruby shook her head and withdrew a piece of paper from underneath the register, jotting a number down and then slid the scrap over the counter across to me.

  "Won't she mind you giving out her number?" I asked, taking the scrap and tucking it into my pocket.

  Ruby shrugged. "It's not like you're a perfect stranger," she said. "And frankly, I don't care what she wants. I want you to have her number." She smiled pleasantly.

  I smirked back at her and nodded. I turned to go, then stopped and looked back at Ruby. "She say why she was stressed out?"

  I damn-well hoped it wasn’t because of me. Ruby studied me knowin
gly. I got the feeling that she knew everything about Jewel and me. "Well, a number of reasons, I'm sure. I understand she had a bit of a late night, last night." She lifted a brow at me before continuing. "She got some mail she wasn't particularly happy with but wouldn't tell me what it was. And, she's upset that her favorite ballet is coming into town and she can't go see it."

  "What ballet?" I asked. "Why can't she go? She working?"

  "Tickets are just really expensive and she can't afford it," Ruby said. "I would have loved to have gotten her tickets, but I'm just a broke college student."

  "She said you paid for her entry fee for that dance thing, by the way," I said. "Good work."

  Ruby smiled. "Yes, well, I am the best. I knew she never would have done it if I hadn't. But that was most of my free money, so now I'm reduced to eating Ramen again." She shrugged, but I could tell she wasn't being serious.

  "Well. I guess I'll go look for her at the Y, then." I turned and headed for the door, then turned back, my hand on the knob. "What's the name of that ballet?"

  Ruby glanced at me sharply, and smiled with something like approval. "It's called Giselle," she answered. "It's in two weeks time. At The Glass Slipper. Eight o'clock. Oh, and her favorite restaurant is Elements, which is only about a five-minute cab ride from the theater." She smiled so innocently that I couldn't help smiling.

  "Duly noted."

  Her

  I WAS BREATHING hard, sweating, and glaring at my reflection in the long mirror that covered the entire wall of the studio.

  I was finally being called.

  To end it.

  But there is no end. Not for me.

  It would never go away.

  All I wanted to do was to not think about the letter I had received this morning. To believe it didn’t exist. Maybe then it would fade from memory. There wasn’t a letter hiding under the sofa cushion at my apartment, I kept repeating. Waiting for me. Calling me. The letter that would drag me back to Hell, despair, torture, and an endless darkness.

  I headed over to the stereo system to restart my song. I'd been working on this dance piece for an hour, just letting my body and training take over. The opening strains of the song seeped out from the machine and I stood still, my eyes closed.

  As the singer's haunting, melodic voice flowed around me, I began to move, still in darkness. I let the notes, the voice, the melody control my movements, fade the dark thoughts, as I glided around the room. My muscles strained from fatigue, but I refused to be tired.

  I pointed my toes sharply, my thigh muscles aching as I forced my legs straight up in controlled grande battements, my calves tensing as I pushed up en pointe, turning pirouettes and fouettes. The emotional words flooded through my body; the song was melancholy, the singer begging a lover not to leave her as she sought her own freedom on the open road. As the music and lyrics reached its climax, I leapt through the air, each leg extending sharply in front of and behind me.

  For a moment my conscious mind left me, only my eyes opened to watch myself in the mirror. I felt strong. I hadn't danced like this in a long time and I observed my own body, lost to the control of my muscles and emotion and training, moving to a song that evoked great emotion within me. It was nothing I'd rehearsed or worked out prior to this exact moment. I was just moving but it made sense. I was telling a story with my body.

  My story.

  As the song ended and I came to a gradual stop, I found myself crying. I studied my reflection in the mirror, seeing my eyes glistening with tears. One slipped down my cheek as I examined myself, my chest heaving from exertion. But I no longer felt the tiredness anymore.

  A movement, behind the window that peeked into the studio, reflected in the mirror. I whirled around.

  Asher.

  He was standing in the window, watching me with something like awe. I quickly brushed away my tears and moved to the door, pulling it open. I was embarrassed. I never danced for anyone except my students. Even then, it had only been to show them technique. No one I knew had ever seen me dance with true emotion and passion like this for a long time, and it made me feel...alive.

  "Hey," I said uncertainly, praying all traces of tears were gone from my face. "What are you doing here?"

  "I came to bring you your meds," he replied, pulling the bottle out of his pocket and holding it out. "You left them at the gym last night."

  My eyes widened as I took the bottle. How could I be so irresponsible? I nodded up at him.

  "Thanks," I said softly. "You came all the way out here just to drop off my medication?"

  "I didn't know if you'd need them or not," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. I was touched, and again felt amazement at how sweet and thoughtful he could be.

  "Listen," he started, staring into my studio, "I don't know anything about ballet. It’s not something I've ever been into before, or ever had a reason to pay attention to. But that—what you just did in there—that was impressive. Real fucking impressive." His cloudy blue eyes met mine and were filled with genuine appreciation when he smiled. "I think you just made a believer out of me."

  I smiled back, his compliment making me feel humbled and touched. "Thanks," I replied quietly. "That really means a lot to me." I held up the medication bottle. "And this. I can't believe that you came out here to bring it to me." Asher shrugged and averted his eyes.

  "Weren’t nothing,” he said. “Anything, remember?"

  His words made my heart stumble. "Are…are you heading back to the gym?" I asked, changing the subject.

  "Yeah," Asher answered. "Eventually. I feel like I practically live there. It's nice to get out once in a while."

  "Well," I said, "if you're not in a huge hurry, do you want to grab some frozen yogurt? I owe you for the sandwiches and now for bringing my meds. My sister is picking me up in an hour, so, maybe you could wait with me?"

  He glanced down at me. "You’ll never owe me for anything," he said sincerely. "But yeah—it’s my duty to wait with you." He stepped back, and his smile blazed through me.

  "Okay, uh, let me grab my things." I turned and reentered the studio. I quickly crossed the wooden floor to the sound system and unhooked my cell phone. Trotting back over to my things, I changed my shoes and quickly threw my leather jacket on. I shouldered my bag and exited the studio, turning off the lights as I let the door fall shut behind me. Asher followed me out of the Y and out into the drizzly evening.

  I pulled my scarf over my head and walked down the sidewalk. My favorite yogurt place was just down the block. Asher sauntered along behind me, his baseball cap pulled low over his face and the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up. I had a feeling that it had more to do with the many stares of recognition he drew and less with the weather.

  "Do you like frozen yogurt?" I asked, pushing into the small, brightly lit shop. There were only two other customers there and the scent of sweet yogurt filled my nose.

  "Sure," Asher replied with a shrug. "What's not to like?"

  He followed my example, grabbing a cardboard bowl and moved toward the soft-serve yogurt machines. He opted for a simple, low-fat vanilla and added a little granola and a variety of fresh berries.

  “You really know how to live,” I said, dryly. I filled my cup with my favorite flavor. Chocolate peanut butter with chopped Oreos. Then I sprinkled some raw chocolate-chip cookie dough, and a drizzle or three of chocolate syrup. Asher looked at me in disgust. I gave him a scornful look and said, “Hey, don’t judge me. I earned this today.” Asher couldn't help chuckling. I took his bowl from his hand and set it on the scale at the register along with my own, and pulled my wallet out.

  Asher held out a hand. "The hell you think you’re doing?" he began.

  "Hush," I shot back and handed the cashier some money before taking my change and tucking my wallet away. I handed Asher his. "Here's your boring yogurt, sir. I said it was my treat. So be man enough to take it."

  Asher smiled and swirled his spoon around. "Fine. Thanks. It would probably look more
like yours if I wasn't training," he reminded me. "Trust me, when it comes to food, I hate my life lately."

  "I don't blame you," I replied. "Mine is definitely going to be way better than yours." I pushed through the door to head back outside and we took a seat on the wooden bench just outside the shop, under the awning. I glanced at Asher, who was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hunched over his bowl. "Is this okay?" I asked, realizing he might not want to be outside. "Sorry, I was just thinking how much I love the rain and the smell. We can go back inside if you like."

  "No, I'm good," Asher said, taking a spoonful of yogurt. "I like the rain too."

  We both tucked into the yoghurt heaven, and I enjoyed the cool rain and the earthy smelling breeze. “So how come you called your gym ‘Blaise’s?’ And not after your own name?”

  “I don’t own it outright. After Sparta last year, well, I don’t know if you realized this, but it kinda made me a bit of a MMA star.”

  “I think the scary horde of women made the point to me,” I said, smirking.

  “Yeah…” He blew out a deep breath, like it was a burden to have women worshipping his feet all week long. “So Blaise, my manager, realized he was up to his eyeballs in gym applicants. His dirty little hole in the wall turned into a gold mine overnight. Guys were climbing over themselves to get managed by him, after seeing what he'd done for me. They all wanted a piece.”

  “I bet they did,” I said, taking another mouthful of yoghurt. This time, I made sure there was nothing hanging off my mouth.

  “That’s when Blaise decided he wanted to pursue management full-time. He’s making money hand-over-fist now. When he went full-time, he made me partner and manager of Blaise’s Gym. Who'd have thought that an angry ex-Marine bastard like me would be a business owner?”