Six

I like my trailer. It’s nothing like the hole I lived in when I was in Upper Darby. The El doesn’t rumble by, shaking the windows and screeching to a halt just outside my back door. It’s clean here, and aside from my psychotic neighbor, Raydean, the neighborhood is safer than Philly. So, when I considered killing John Nailor, I had to take into account the fact that this action would do considerable damage to my living room and probably ruin my image around the neighborhood.

He had led me through the darkened living room, across the bare floors, and over to the one piece of furniture I allow in the room: my prized down-filled sofa. He sank into the cushions slowly, taking me with him and settling back so that I was pulled tight against him. It was going to be difficult to kill him without messing up the denim finish on the sofa, but perhaps I could have it re-covered.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he whispered softly, “and it’s pointless.” He eased up on my wrists, and when I didn’t move, he slowly took his hands away. I felt him slide his arms back by his side and his body relaxed for a moment; that’s when I took my shot.

Just as quickly, he moved, grabbing my wrists and pinning my arms in a crisscross against my chest.

“Ow! That hurts!”

“I told you not to move. It’s your fault if it hurts.” He smelled of leather and the faint musk of his cologne. Despite myself, I felt my body respond to him. Damn him.

“Let me go!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, tightening his grip. Fluffy chose this moment to make her presence known. She tapped her way noisily across the floor, stopping to stretch and yawn. Her tail started going ninety miles an hour when she saw us, and she pranced across the floor and jumped against John’s leg.

“Hello, Fluffy.” Fluffy licked his leg and John laughed softly. He was enjoying this.

“Bite him, Fluffy!” Fluffy licked my leg. Always good in a crisis, that’s Fluffy.

“I can’t stay long. I just wanted to know if you were all right.”

“All right? You son of a bitch! Why did you run off like that? Why did you tell them you weren’t there? What’s going on? Why didn’t you help Ruby?” I was firing the questions off as fast as I could. I wanted answers, and they’d better be the right answers.

“I couldn’t help Ruby, Sierra. She was dead when I found her. I was following you when I saw you start running toward the Dumpster. By the time I reached you, it was too late to help Ruby and you were lying on the ground. I didn’t know what had happened.”

“Then why did you leave?” My head was pulled tight against his chest, making it impossible for me to look him in the eyes to read the truth. I could feel his heart pounding and the heat of his body enveloping me. What was going on here?

“Sierra, when I came around the back of the Dumpster, I practically fell over you. You were out cold but starting to come around. Before I could do anything else, I saw Ruby. I had to check and make sure she was dead, but I knew really, before I even reached her.”

Tears stung my eyes as I relived that moment. All the feelings I’d stuffed inside threatened to burst out like a dam and swallow me whole. I was trying to keep it inside, but my body shuddered involuntarily, and he felt it. His hands slid up from my wrists to my arms, holding me. Slowly he rocked, ever so slightly, his breath coming softly against my ear.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Let it go.” He held me like that as I struggled for control, fighting the urge to give in and cry for Ruby and for how helpless and frightened I’d felt, knowing that there was nothing I could do to help my friend. Maybe if I’d moved sooner, or faster.

“Why didn’t you stay?” I asked at last.

“I couldn’t.” The image of John with the tiny brunette suddenly flashed into my consciousness and I remembered it all. John standing at the edge of the crowd, looking into my eyes, certain that I was watching, before he turned and kissed her. That was all it took. I took advantage of his loosened grip to break free and face him.

“I’ll bet you couldn’t stay. You had to get back to your girlfriend. God forbid you should help out a friend with a piece of certain ass waiting for you!”

I’d stung him. I could see it reflected in his eyes, the momentary pained look quickly replaced by another. What was it? A soft, sorrowful look. Compassion? Pity? Well I didn’t need that.

“Sierra, I can’t.” He broke off and just stared at me.

“I’ll bet you can’t,” I said with a sneer. I was lashing out at a man I’d trusted with my life a few short weeks ago, and now I wouldn’t give him the benefit of the doubt. I knew this, and yet I couldn’t help myself.

“Sierra, I really need you to trust me right now,” he said. I could tell from the stiffness of his body that he was working hard to stay in control. “I know what you saw hurt you.”

“No, I’m not hurt. Why should I be hurt? Because you didn’t stay and help out? Because you made me out to be a liar to the police? Or maybe because you didn’t turn out to be who I thought you were?”

His hands tightened on my arms, gripping me so tightly that it was all I could do not to cry out in pain.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Sierra. You’ve got to believe that.” He stood up, pulling me with him. “I can’t stay and I can’t explain to you what’s going on. We could both be in a lot of trouble if I was seen with you right now.”

The mobile home was still in complete darkness and I was suddenly afraid. What was going on here? John was walking toward the door, gripping my hand in his. He stopped short, turning as he reached the door and pulling me into him. His arms slid around my waist and moved firmly up my back, gripping my shoulders and then pushing me ever so slightly away from him and up against the kitchen wall.

My heart was pounding and my stomach flipped over and over as his hands moved up my neck, gently exploring my face, as if memorizing my features in the dark.

“Sierra,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. It was then that he kissed me. Everything inside my head shut down and my body responded. My hands pushed against his chest, feeling their way up until my arms wrapped around his neck. I let my body mold against him, blending with the warmth of his body.

This was not the kiss I’d seen him give the girl at the racetrack. There was no force, no showmanship. He was gentle but insistent, trying to convince me with his body of what my mind wanted to deny. It was a first kiss. The kind of kiss that signals a beginning, not just the means to an end. He was taking his time and forcing me to enjoy the moment. This John Nailor was the same man I’d come to know. Whatever had happened at the racetrack, whatever he’d done this evening, had to be filed away for later. The man who held me was the one I trusted.

Then he was gone without speaking, quietly opening my kitchen door and slipping away into the night. I listened, standing still and barely breathing, until somewhere in the distance I heard a car start up and I knew he was gone again.