Scandalous Heroes Box Set (85 page)

“What do you mean?”

“Last weekend when you were doing my tattoo, you were initially the perfect gentleman. You turned on music you knew I’d like, put a flower in my hair, all of that. And then, during the course of the conversation, you started to poke me like a bear, rearing for a fight. But then, when I left, you forced me into a kiss and—”

“Forced?” he repeated, a slick smirk on his face as he beat his short nails against the table.

Damn smirk.

“Yes,
forced
.” She grinned, barely able to get out the statement, knowing it sounded skewed. “…And then we get in here, and you are talking about sex is expected. I honestly have nothing against the conversation within itself, but that choirboy act you tried to pull initially sure went away quickly. I’m not buyin’ it.” She theatrically rolled her eyes.

“Choir boy?”

“Yes, are you going to repeat everything I say back like some recorder?” She shook her head. “You heard me right the first time.”

“You’ve got it all wrong.”

“Do I now?” She crossed her arms, waiting to hear this silvery-tongued bullshit he was sure to deliver. It was time he had a mirror up to himself, Mr. High and Mighty Vegetarian Man…acting so holier than though. Besides, she was in the mood for entertainment; it would make the bland meal she’d be urged to try go down a bit easier.

“That was no act. I didn’t know you. My mind was racing faster than my mouth, and then I caught myself. That could’ve made you uncomfortable, you know? I had no idea. What I did know is that I picked up we had a mutual attraction for one another, so I relaxed a bit, and went on and told you. Now, as far as the kiss, I didn’t make you do
anything
…”

“Oh boy…” She burst out laughing and turned away, giving him a glance that said,
“This mothafucka right here!”

“I asked you for something that you
wanted
to give me. So, I took what was mine, and sent you on your way.” He bit into his bottom lip as if suppressing his mirth, no doubt enjoying how she squirmed about in her seat.  “Now, isn’t that true?”

She shot him a withering look, as if he were a demon sitting before her, trying to seduce her with promises of fame and glory in exchange for her soul. Still, she couldn’t lie. She tried to paint him into a corner, out of sheer boredom, and the slick fucker came out victorious, once again, seamlessly skated his way through without missing a beat.

“Maybe.”

He burst out laughing and slapped the table.

“You just
can’t
give in, not even a little bit, can you?! Everything has to be a struggle, hmmm? I think you are all an act, Milan. All this shit right here,” he swirled his fingers around a few inches above the table as if circling an imaginary map, “is Milan-flavored bullshit. It is what you do.”

“Oh really now?” She laughed hoarsely. “So you know
all
about this right here?” She pointed at herself, put on an innocent expression.

“Yeah, I know your type. I am what I am. It is your choice to take it or leave it. I’m not going to perform for
you
or anyone else. That’s not me, baby girl.” He grunted.

“Baby girl?!”

“Now
who’s
the recorder? I actually know more about you than you realize.” He stabbed the table with his finger, while she turned away to avoid his gaze. “I think some women just think men only see you as physical conquests, that we don’t pay attention. That’s not true.” He served her another wink on a platter, smothered in charisma.

Player…

“From what, astrology?” She guffawed.

“Not just that. I know women.”

“Oh… you know women, huh?” Her brow shot up. “How old are you, Julian?”

“Twenty-eighty, one year older than
you
.”

“And in your twenty-eight years, you learned all about women, huh?” she egged on.

“What does age have to do with it? If I were fifty-eight, would I then be considered more wise on this topic? Maybe, maybe not. Knowledge on something is based partially on interest. It interests me...
you
interest me.”

Before she could respond with another snarky remark, their food arrived.

Fifteen minutes later, after her first taste of the platter that the man fed to her from his fork, she decided she was having a culinary love affair. Initially, she put up a bit of a fight, but damn it, she ended up in epicurean love.

Soooo delicious!

She could not believe how flavorful and rich everything tasted. Rendered silent, she stuffed her mouth, though she was a bit embarrassed at how she was sure putting it away. This was a first date after all, and she was supposed to be putting her best high-heeled foot forward. Julian, however, seemed at times so crass — a cutie pie with a penchant for being a bit abrasive — but the man was on point about most everything he said. She was making things difficult for him, but truth was, she couldn’t have it both ways. She wanted to date a guy that was strong-willed and honest, and that always seemed like too much to ask; but Julian was beyond forthright and to top it all, the man had her personality pegged perfectly.

Milan studied the man as he sat there, looking as if tangled within his own thoughts. She tapped her fork against her lip in contemplation. She didn’t believe his guess had anything to do with astrology. Rather, she placed the blame on him simply being perceptive. Yes, that had to be it…

“Here, take a bite of this.” His fork floated over, chock full of what appeared to be flaky white meat. That terrible tofu — and though by appearances it looked like chicken, she understood her expectations needed to remain low. Surely, something out of this meatless place would be less savory…

She was wrong.

She wrapped her lips around the fork, forfeiting her reservations about eating from others’ utensils. Feeling a bit sheepish at the way his lips parted as he watched her, she tried to not stare him in the eye as her mouth had a damn orgasm. It didn’t matter; it was useless. She looked at him, and found that damn predictable smirk clear across his face. His gaze never left her mouth…

He was a pervert, and not doing a very good job of hiding it.

Regardless, she played on this, relishing in the moment as she, too, began to delight in the flirtatious game they played. After swallowing the toasted tofu, she daintily dabbed at the side of her mouth with her tri-folded napkin and regarded him with a smile, her head cocked to the side.

“That was delicious,” she admitted, tired of toying with the man. He’d fight her on every slick comment anyway. No, right now she just wanted to relax. He’d passed her little litany of tests, at least for now.

“I know. So, eating like this ain’t so bad, huh?” He took a sip of his tea. “Dessert is coming soon.”

“I’m stuffed.” She sighed. “And I can’t take a cola float home.”

“You’ll eat it,” he teased. “They are really good, too. I don’t know what brand of root-beer they use, but it tastes old-fashioned. Like the ones we used to have as kids.”

“You know, I can’t really recall having any floats as a child.”

“You didn’t have pink cows? Root beer floats?! Awwwww man!” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “They were the best. My mom used to fix them for my stepsister and me and she’d put a cherry on top.” He took a deep breath to emphasize that detail of the fond memory. “I think she stole those candied cherries from work.” He burst out laughing — a carefree sound that made her want to grab it from the air and tuck it in her pocket. “Anyway, they were theeeeee best!”

“Stepsister, huh? Were you two close?”

“Kinda. She was like four years older than me, so...” He shrugged. “You know how that is. My parents got divorced when I was nine. My mom remarried when I was thirteen. My stepfather was kinda strict, but a decent man all around. We didn’t really talk much, just stayed out of each other’s way. As long as he wasn’t hittin’ her or treatin’ her bad, I couldn’t nitpick.”

Though his words were void of much emotion, underneath, Milan sensed a layer of cloaked pain.

“He kept the bills paid so my mother didn’t too much complain.”

“You make it seem like they were just friends with benefits.” Milan dug a bit deeper. She was interested in this man, and she wanted to know everything about him.

Shit. I like him. I really like him…

“Hmmm.” He shrugged. “I mean, I’m sure she had some sort of love for him, but it was kinda one-sided I think. My mother was just the type of woman that couldn’t do long term commitments, unless it was me or a damn cat, or something like that. She wasn’t really a one-man type of woman, ya know?” He laughed. Again, his words, though rolled in chuckles, sounded a bit forced. Milan listened intently, knowing now without a shadow of a doubt that under that faux merriment lay a torn heart and the birthplace of Julian’s personal brand of cynicism. The launch pad for what and who he was today.

“She was a good mom, though, you know?” His eyes narrowed as he drifted in thought and played with his fork, tapping it against his now empty plate. “Anything I needed from her, she took care of. She let me get away with too much though.” He nodded, his head low. “…But she loves me, always did. I needed that most of all.”

“What about your biological father?”

He looked up at her and grinned.

“This is interesting, Milan.” He clasped his hands tightly together, intertwining his fingers. “People don’t generally ask me about my family, so I don’t talk about it a great deal.”

“Oh…do you not want to?” She resituated herself in her seat.

“Nah, it’s fine.” He glanced at her arm, at the new tattoo that was partially exposed, though covered in gauze. He seemed to study the area out the corner of his eye. “I feel like I know so much about you and
your
mother… I like this, us sharing.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, he and I had a good relationship, although strained at times, like when I was a teenager. Typical stuff, I suppose. He never remarried. I think he was kinda bitter after the divorce…always asking me about what my mother was doing. Anyway…” Julian sighed.

“After the divorce, he changed. Became less enthusiastic, but we still had good times. In retrospect, I think my father suffered from some sort of chemical imbalance, mainly depression. He’d be there, but
not
be there, if you know what I mean.

“It was kind of like, out of sight, out of mind. He didn’t come over as much later, either. He apologized to me about it years later, stating that my mother always rode his ass when he’d try to come over…but you know what?” He huffed, running his hand across his forehead as if he had a headache. “I only told you part of the story regarding my father and…it’s not exactly good dinner conversation.” He bit into his bottom lip through a grin.

She knew that grin well, now. He crossed his arms real tight over his chest and turned away, his complexion warm. Hesitating on making a move, she just  stared at him for a moment.

“Julian, it doesn’t bother me,” she finally said. “Look, if you want to tell me, tell me; if you don’t, I understand.” She didn’t want to push him, but…what if he was trying to push himself over the hurdle, if somewhere deep inside, he believed this had to be done? He folded his hands on the table, looking down at them as if he needed a moment.

“My father died in a motorcycle accident, but it wasn’t actually an accident, Milan. It was on purpose. He left a suicide note…”

Milan’s heart dropped lower than low. “Oh Julian, I’m so sorry…”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never told anyone that before. Wow…” Now, his smile was weak, as if it needed some special vitamins just to gain any leverage ever again. “I guess, I just never wanted anyone to think badly of him, even strangers. I didn’t talk about it, not because I was ashamed, but to try and protect him, I suppose. I know people are real judgmental about suicide. I know how people think. Shit, I’m that way too, probably.” He shook his head. “There were days when I wanted to die, but I didn’t! Things happen, ya know?” Julian threw his hands up and his protective grin resurfaced.

For the first time since she’d laid eyes on the man, she could see deep trenches of intense sadness in his eyes.
Heartbreaking.

“He was a good person,” he murmured. “He had some sort of outlandish obsession with my mom, though. The love was gone, and he had trouble accepting it. … Honestly, I think she was tired of him starting arguments with her, trying to get her back, too…sleep with her at least.” He snickered. “It’s not funny. I’m just laughing because, well, it still upsets me.” His eyes became a bit glossy.

Damn. The truth hurts…

“Actually, I do think they
were
still sleeping together up until his death, but of course that’s none of my business. It was never confirmed.” He rolled his eyes. “Is this too much, on a first date? Of course it is.” He answered himself. “Shit, I’m really sorry,” he said, leaning forward on the table.

“You know what, Julian? I asked you the question, and I got the answer...and I don’t regret it. I think you needed to discuss this. It helps sometimes to do so.” Milan tossed her napkin in the middle of her plate, feeling a bit depressed her damn self now, though it wasn’t his fault. “But, with me crying in front of you, and everything we know about each other now, I think we can do this, and be okay with it. Plus, I want to know. Continue, please.” She tilted her head ever so slightly and smiled at him. She wanted to give him a place to be the
real
him and, she hoped, that place was with her.

He took a look at his tea and glass of water, opted on the water and took a sip.

“I have one more thing I want to say. I don’t know why I want to tell you, but I do… Something about you makes me feel like I can, and something about you, Milan, makes me feel like you could benefit from me hurting a bit more…”

“What is it?” She braced herself.

He looked down at the table, refusing to make eye contact. “The other day, you asked about the tattoo of my child. It’s the most important one I have. I am going to tell you what happened. You see,” He looked away for a moment, ad if needing to catch his own breath. “My son…my son’s umbilical chord was wrapped around his neck. For about sixteen hours, according to the doctor, he struggled inside of my ex-wife, trying to breathe, trying to live.” His voice shook. He swallowed hard as Milan swiped a tear from her eye. “This should not be going on, not on a first date…this is too much. I promise you I’ve never done this before, spilled my guts like this. This is wrong. I’m so damn sorry.” He kept his head down and angrily slapped the table.