Getting Real

“Tell me what you don’t want.”

“I don’t want to be a notch in your belt.”

Rand tangled his hand in her hair, following the movement she’d made seconds ago. “Curious expression that.”

His fingers were at the back of her neck now, massaging gently.

“But you know what I mean. I don’t want to be another conquest of the famous Rand Mainline.”

“What else?”

“I don’t want you to think you have to sleep with me because we started this. I don’t what you to be nice.”

He flattened his hand on her shoulder. “You don’t want me to be nice?” he said, the inflection in his voice rising.

“You know what I mean. I don’t want you to take pity on me—poor sad Harriet.”

“God! I don’t think you’re poor sad Harriet.”

She shook her head. “Shh let me finish. I don’t want you to think you have to make more of this than it is.”

“Is that it?”

She nodded.

Rand said, “It’s like multiple choice. Let me get this straight. You don’t want A: to be just another conquest. B: me to sleep with you out of pity. C: for me to make more of this than it is. Is that it?”

“D: all of the above.”

“Right and E: none of the above.” Rand reached for her hand. “Harry it’s E: none of the above. I’m not thinking of you as a conquest. In my experience conquests are quicker and they don’t taste nearly as sweet as you.” He kissed her hand. She opened her mouth to interrupt and he put his finger over her lips. “Wait,” he admonished. “There is nothing about you that I could pity. You’ve turned into one amazing chick. I know what this is between us, even if you don’t, and baby, I’m worried I’m not making enough of it.”

She looked at him wide-eyed. She was completely infatuated with this man who’d been in her dreams for so long, so it hardly mattered what he said. She’d give anything to be with him and worry about the consequences later.

He said, “Here’s what I think we should do: A: Trust each other. B: Enjoy what we’ve got. C: Play it all the way. D: Know there is nothing we can’t have if we both want it.”

She said, “E: all of the above.”

The city spread out in front of them, smouldered in the final stages of the sunset. Rand reached for her, wrapping his arms around her, drawing her against him. She rested her head back on his shoulder.

“All the bases are loaded sugar, batter up.”

23. Flutter

With industrial jack hammers carving holes in his skull, Jake arrived on the newly built stage to find Rand and Stu facing off at each other. Both of them were snarling, red-faced, body weight forward on their toes. Roley was standing between them saying, “Calm down. Back the fuck up,” his words scattering, about as effective as autumn leaves. He had his arms out to hold the two bigger men apart.

“You keep your fucking nose out of my business,” Stu shouted at Rand.

“It’s my business when it screws with the band,” said Rand, and Jake heard the fierceness of the anger in his tone. This was a new side of Rand, something he’d not seen before. No wonder Rielle had been anxious that he was angry with her. This was the monster heart she’d talked about, and its owner didn’t look like he was going to be willingly talked down. Rand looked mean, determined and barely in control.

Roley saw Jake and exhaled in relief, dropping his arms. But the minute he did, Rand struck, shoving him aside and rushing at Stu. The two men were well matched in height, weight and rage, and came together with a dull thud and a crashing of fists.

By the time Bodge, Tef, Bunk and Lizard pulled them apart, Stu was spitting blood and Rand had a cut above his eye. Both men were blowing hard and struggling to get away from restraining hands, shouting incoherent insults at each other.

Jake waited until the worst of their growling was over. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but it’s over, right now.”

“Fuck off, Jake,” snarled Stu.

“This is none of your concern, Jake.” Rand breathed harshly. “Back off.”