A Battle Raging (8 page)

That revelation only seemed to increase his irritation.

"So, you want me to stand…make that
sit
…in your brother's stead, huh? Do I have that right?"

"No, you're sitting on your own. There're many ways to stand, not just with your legs. And you're refusing
to do any standing at all. Don't you want to sleep without nightmares, get on with your life?"

"I don't see how putting images on paper's going to help me with the shit in my life, like getting me off meds and disability payments. I'm sorry about your brother, but he was obviously different than me."

She smiled wistfully, her gaze moving to the garden outside the window. "Well, he was stubborn like you. Maybe you two might have been friends in another lifetime…or maybe not."

She was quiet for a second, then asked, "When you close your eyes, what do you see?"

He hadn't expected the question and for a second he thought about not answering her. But it was just a question; it couldn't harm him to tell the truth.

"The last day of my life. The day when I became a walking corpse. Well, maybe not walking...not really alive, though. Like some fucking zombie."

When she reached over to touch fingers to his cheek, he nearly jumped. He looked up at her expecting to see more pity in her expression. But what he saw there, he couldn't decipher. He just knew that he liked the feel of her touch.

The fingers came so close to his lips.
So achingly close. What was she playing at? Did she think he was any less of a man, without any feelings at all? Despite his self-designation as a dead man, there were parts of him that she was bringing to life this very moment.

He
grabbed her wrist, brought the palm of her hand to his lips. He had only meant to teach her a lesson, plant a kiss there. Make her jump.

Except she didn't jump.
Upon the realization that she wasn't immediately rejecting him, he drew out the kiss, opening his mouth and letting his tongue slip through his lips to taste the warm saltiness of her flesh. He peered up at her to gauge her reaction. He saw confusion…and maybe, just a twinge of desire. The desire surprised him. Then her expression morphed into more confusion as she looked down and saw the unmistakable reaction to her touch.

She snatched back her hand. "I
'm sorry. I didn't mean…I mean…I shouldn't have done that. I was trying to comfort you because... I didn't realize that you could…"

Her voice dropped, as her eyes did a cursory look at
the surging flesh beneath his jeans.

His anger and desire were gone
. All that was left was a weariness that he was tired of feeling. In addition to the other indignities he had to put up with was the misconception that he was
less than
, especially when it came to personal intimacies.

"
Look, I'm a paraplegic which means I won't ever walk again, excluding some hi-tech advances. But my spinal injuries are incomplete which means I can still feel down there," he said as matter-of-factly as he could, despite the fact that he was somewhat embarrassed now. This whole day was shot and he could expect her now to agree to his earlier suggestion that he drop her class.

"You don't have to apologize or explain. This was totally my fau
lt. This whole thing. Maybe I've been pushing you for my own personal reasons. And for that, too, I'm sorry. You're an adult which means your choices should be your own."

"So, we agree that I should
drop your class then?" he offered tentatively, not wanting either answer.

She nodded. The only consolation was that she did at least seem disappointed. He didn't know why. Considering the shit he'd put her through in their few meetings, she should be happy to get rid of him.

"OK, then," he said. "I guess I'll be going then."

Again, just a nod as though she was afraid to actually say something.

She escorted him out of the room through the great room, to the door. He couldn't help noticing how the tail of her shirt hugged her hips slightly, and again how the cut of the jeans emphasized the back of her thighs and legs. His erection, having gone down now, was trying to make an encore.

They were at the door and she actually smiled down at him.

"It was nice knowing you, Mr. Yarborough."

So they were back to formalities.

"Thank you…Ms. Temple. Again, I don't need the refund…"

She shook her head. "No, I'll give you at least half back. How's that?"

"OK," he conceded.

"I have your address, so I'll just send you a check. Is that alright?"

This time he nodded with nothing more to say.

But then there was that one last dig.

"Do you need any help getting down the steps," she asked as she opened the screen door.

"No, I got it," he said trying to keep the tightness out of his voice.
But he could feel her eyes as he held his right wheel with his left hand and bounced his wheels down each step. Much better maneuvering going down than going up.

At the sidewalk, he
did a wheelie, then turned to look at her. He waved before taking off, not bothering to look back.

Maya
gave herself an unenthusiastic once-over in the bedroom mirror before conceding that she looked passable enough. It was the first week of May and the forecast said upper sixties, lower seventies for this evening. She figured she would be comfortable enough in the scoop-necked, sleeveless black dress she'd finally chosen. Anyway, she wasn't trying to wow anyone. And this wasn't dinner; just a glass of wine and some jazz. She rummaged through her jewelry box and pulled out her gold crescent necklace along with the large gold hoops. They were barely hidden by wild tendrils of her curly afro. A couple of months ago, she'd dyed her hair a light russet color, which brought out the sienna tinge of her face and the burnt copper of her lipstick. She sighed at her reflection.

For the umpteenth time she thought about calling
off the "date" for tonight. And reconsidered the thought within seconds…for the umpteenth time.

Nervousness was to be expected but she knew it was more than that. This afternoon had been a travesty and she was still feeling a plethora of emotions, including regret, disappointment, and renewed grief.

She had been trying to reassure herself all afternoon and well into the evening that she'd done all that she could do and that, in the end, it had been his decision.

Maybe if she hadn't pressed so hard
, though…

And then there was that kiss on her palm and the flicker of desire she'd felt at his touch.

Maya shook her head as she left the bedroom, then went downstairs to the foyer and grabbed her keys off the small table near the door. She headed out the door to the Honda Accord parked in the front of the house.

She
eased along a vein of side streets, which was slow going but a whole lot better than taking the SR99 which was congested these days due to construction and lane restrictions. Jules had chosen the venue for tonight. Dimitriou's Jazz Alley downtown on Sixth Avenue and Lenora Street. Dimitriou's was one of the more famous clubs in Seattle. Many of the jazz luminaries from the past had played there and their roster always featured established as well as upcoming talent.

After about
thirty minutes, she finally pulled into the Westin Building garage within walking distance of the club. Jules had already made reservations and had told her to just go on in.

A young
maitre d with a dark ponytail and dressed in a smart dark three-piece suit inquired about her reservation and she gave Jules' name. He smiled and nodded.

"Yes, this way. He's already here."

Oh, oh, she hoped she wasn't too late. She checked her watch. Just a couple of minutes after seven.

The seating arced around a main stage
which was unoccupied at the moment. But there were chairs and instruments, including a drum, bongos and a bass in anticipation of tonight's headliner. The surrounding tables were about filled to capacity. The maitre d led to a table right near the middle of the stage. Jules Mackinaw stood, his face breaking into a smile.

"Glad to see you," he said, dimples deepening in a field of chocolate
which were a backdrop to a perfect set of teeth. His shaved head reflected the lights hanging overhead and beaming from the stage.

"
I'll send a waiter over right away," the maitre d said before taking his leave.

As Jules held the chair for her, Maya
caught a whiff of a woodsy scent, subtle yet impressive. She realized that everything about Mr. Mackinaw seemed impressive. She casually peered down at his shoes. Even though the lighting was subdued, she could make out the details of his moccasins, which were both comfortable looking and dressy. They coordinated nicely with the rest of his attire. He was obviously going for dressy casual with a wine-colored long sleeved shirt and black dress pants. The top two buttons of his shirt were opened and she could see his undershirt beneath. The cut of everything attested to a man who worked out regularly.

"You look lovely, even lovelier than when I first saw you.
"

"Thank you."

"So, I know we said just wine, but I'm a little peckish, what about you?"

Peckish?
She had thought she picked up on a subtle accent on the phone and the English idiom seemed to substantiate it. Or maybe he was just an Anglophile.

"Uhm, I'm not that hungry
really," she said. Anticipation of something casual was quickly turning into something more formal, something she had wanted to avoid.

"Well, I tell you what
. I'll just order some appetizers, nothing too heavy and feel free to indulge or not."

"OK, that sounds about right," she answered. Might as well meet him half way.

Almost on cue, a blond-haired man
appeared at their table with menus in hand as though summoned. He gave one to each of them.

"I'll give you a moment to choose your entrée. In the meantime, may I offer you drinks?"
he asked with a slight Eastern European accent.

Jules nodded at her to go first.

"I'll just have a rose Zinfandel, if you have it?"

"Yes, we do. And you
, sir?" he asked Jules, who promptly chose a vodka spritzer. The waiter left to get the drinks and they both tended to the menus. The reading down time gave Maya a chance to get a second wind, try to settle the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

"
Well, I'm good. See anything you want?" he asked as he laid down his menu.

"Hmm, I think I'll try the house's antipasto plate."

"Yes, I've had that. It's very good. The herbed cheese is especially fine. I think tonight I'll just go with the Mediterranean Meze."

"That sounds…interesting
," she said, looking at what the entrée included. "What exactly is tzatziki?"

"It's a Greek sauce. You spread it on pita bread. The Meze also comes with hummus.
All of it is extremely good. You can taste some of mine when the plates arrive."

"So, I take it you're a regular here?"

"You could say that. No place better for some straight up, no bogus jazz. The real deal here. As a matter of fact, Hugh Masekela is playing tonight."

She had heard
some Masekela before, and he was a phenomenal trumpeter.

"The show doesn't start 'til eight, so we
have plenty of time just to talk."

Maya remembered dating, the sheer nervousness of presenting
one's best self…and hoping not to be found wanting. Maybe that was why she had avoided getting back out there for so long after her breakup. Tonight was definitely a test for her.

The
waiter returned with their drinks, then took their orders, collecting the menus before he left.

Maya took a sip of the
Zinfandel. She tasted a tinge of raspberry and maybe a hint of spice. It settled nicely on her stomach, soothed some of the butterflies. He sipped his vodka before setting down the glass. He turned his attention to her and she could feel his tacit approval. At least where her looks were concerned.

"I guess I should get my vitals out of the way
, let you know a little about myself. As you saw from my card, I practice law, mostly just defending people who've mistakenly stepped over the line. Nothing too heinous, but I like to think I'm doing some public service."

"Well, you and my sister might have crossed paths then."

"Oh, really, what's her name?"

"Jada Temple…"

His eyes bulged with recognition. "You mean the ADA? Oh wow, man, this is indeed a small world."

"
So you've gone up against one another in court then?" she asked, taking another sip from her glass.

"Not in court, but we've made a couple of plea deals together.  I
have
seen her in action, though. I definitely wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of her. She's definitely got some claws."