College."
"You
looked?"
"First serious flirtation day. Absolutely."
We were
beginning to run into the first streams of Atlanta traffic and the subject of
Resurrection fell by the wayside in negotiating lanes and airport traffic and
security checks, which went a lot smoother than I'd thought they would. Which called forth a question.
I leaned
close and raised up on my toes to target his ear.
"Do you by any chance have any of that mind control push thing you were
talking about?" I whispered.
"Not a
speck, precious. And no, even if I did, I wouldn't have tried to use it on you,
for two reasons. One, it's not love if one party's in control of the other and
two, you're way too powerful, there's no way any mental push from anybody
else'd have any effect on you other than to piss you off. Okay?"
"Okay."
And things
stayed okay right up until we landed at McCarran in Las
Vegas and Chad
began glancing around, obviously looking for someone.
"What?"
I asked.
"Not
what. Who. Oh! Good, right on time." He moved
forward, heading to one of the biggest, roughest, toughest-looking bikers I had
ever seen. "Spike! Thanks, man, I really
appreciate this." He handed over our luggage tickets. What? I was
entrusting my underwear to a six foot six gorilla in a black leather jacket and
black chaps? "Baby girl, this is my buddy Spike. Spike, this is my lady,
Ariel."
I held out
my hand cautiously. "Nice to meet you, Spike."
He lifted
my hand in a courtly gesture and kissed it. "Enchanté, mademoiselle,"
he proclaimed, in a voice as smooth and soft as melted butter.
For real? I looked over at Chad.
"Can it, Spike. She's taken. And she's about to be a madam, not a
mademoiselle, though I suppose that's the wrong thing to say in Vegas."
Spike
laughed. "Better get that license quick, man, she'll get snapped up. Your
ride's right out front, buddy . I'll check in with you
later. Your bags'll be waiting for you at the Venetian."
Spike
headed to the baggage pick-up area and we headed to the front of the terminal.
"Who
on earth and how did you meet him?"
"Long story. Impressive,
huh?"
"Scary, huh? Until he talks. My God, that voice!"
"He's
a doctor."
"You're
kidding, right? Not a gynecologist I hope, not with those hands." I
shuddered mildly. "And he doesn't scare his patients to death?"
"Pediatrician. Kids love him. And he cleans up
pretty good, doesn't usually look that rough. And where—oh! That's my man, he
brought me his Roadster!"
Chad stopped in front of a massive black
motorcycle, two helmets strapped to the back. I froze.
"You're
kidding, right?" I felt the blood draining out of my face.
"Precious,
this is a Harley-Davidson Road King, show some respect."
"And
we're riding it?"
It began to
filter through to Magic Man I wasn't thrilled at the prospect. I was petrified.
One of Scott's few unexpected ventures away from the conventional involved
motorcycles, though nothing this big. He'd started out with one of the smaller
Hondas, a Shadow something or other, I think, which he'd retained when he
bought the next-size up Shadow something. And he'd been determined that I was
going to learn how to ride the smaller one notwithstanding the fact I had
absolutely no desire to do so.
"Oh, com'on, honey! You already drive a stick-shift so
the gears shouldn't give you any trouble, there's nothing to it! If I'd known
you were going to be stubborn about it, I'd have traded it in and gotten some
benefit from it instead of wasting the money. I just thought it'd be a fun
thing for us to do together, don't want it to sit and go to waste."
And of
course, as I always did, I'd given in. Because it was much easier to give in to
Scott than to listen to him when you didn't, which of course
was the magic secret of how he usually got his own way. Everybody gave in to him just to shut
him up because he never shut up for anything less. I had one lesson on the
thing. One. Because while cruising up and down the
country road curves of the outermost
"You
looked?"
"First serious flirtation day. Absolutely."
We were
beginning to run into the first streams of Atlanta traffic and the subject of
Resurrection fell by the wayside in negotiating lanes and airport traffic and
security checks, which went a lot smoother than I'd thought they would. Which called forth a question.
I leaned
close and raised up on my toes to target his ear.
"Do you by any chance have any of that mind control push thing you were
talking about?" I whispered.
"Not a
speck, precious. And no, even if I did, I wouldn't have tried to use it on you,
for two reasons. One, it's not love if one party's in control of the other and
two, you're way too powerful, there's no way any mental push from anybody
else'd have any effect on you other than to piss you off. Okay?"
"Okay."
And things
stayed okay right up until we landed at McCarran in Las
Vegas and Chad
began glancing around, obviously looking for someone.
"What?"
I asked.
"Not
what. Who. Oh! Good, right on time." He moved
forward, heading to one of the biggest, roughest, toughest-looking bikers I had
ever seen. "Spike! Thanks, man, I really
appreciate this." He handed over our luggage tickets. What? I was
entrusting my underwear to a six foot six gorilla in a black leather jacket and
black chaps? "Baby girl, this is my buddy Spike. Spike, this is my lady,
Ariel."
I held out
my hand cautiously. "Nice to meet you, Spike."
He lifted
my hand in a courtly gesture and kissed it. "Enchanté, mademoiselle,"
he proclaimed, in a voice as smooth and soft as melted butter.
For real? I looked over at Chad.
"Can it, Spike. She's taken. And she's about to be a madam, not a
mademoiselle, though I suppose that's the wrong thing to say in Vegas."
Spike
laughed. "Better get that license quick, man, she'll get snapped up. Your
ride's right out front, buddy . I'll check in with you
later. Your bags'll be waiting for you at the Venetian."
Spike
headed to the baggage pick-up area and we headed to the front of the terminal.
"Who
on earth and how did you meet him?"
"Long story. Impressive,
huh?"
"Scary, huh? Until he talks. My God, that voice!"
"He's
a doctor."
"You're
kidding, right? Not a gynecologist I hope, not with those hands." I
shuddered mildly. "And he doesn't scare his patients to death?"
"Pediatrician. Kids love him. And he cleans up
pretty good, doesn't usually look that rough. And where—oh! That's my man, he
brought me his Roadster!"
Chad stopped in front of a massive black
motorcycle, two helmets strapped to the back. I froze.
"You're
kidding, right?" I felt the blood draining out of my face.
"Precious,
this is a Harley-Davidson Road King, show some respect."
"And
we're riding it?"
It began to
filter through to Magic Man I wasn't thrilled at the prospect. I was petrified.
One of Scott's few unexpected ventures away from the conventional involved
motorcycles, though nothing this big. He'd started out with one of the smaller
Hondas, a Shadow something or other, I think, which he'd retained when he
bought the next-size up Shadow something. And he'd been determined that I was
going to learn how to ride the smaller one notwithstanding the fact I had
absolutely no desire to do so.
"Oh, com'on, honey! You already drive a stick-shift so
the gears shouldn't give you any trouble, there's nothing to it! If I'd known
you were going to be stubborn about it, I'd have traded it in and gotten some
benefit from it instead of wasting the money. I just thought it'd be a fun
thing for us to do together, don't want it to sit and go to waste."
And of
course, as I always did, I'd given in. Because it was much easier to give in to
Scott than to listen to him when you didn't, which of course
was the magic secret of how he usually got his own way. Everybody gave in to him just to shut
him up because he never shut up for anything less. I had one lesson on the
thing. One. Because while cruising up and down the
country road curves of the outermost
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