After Jewell was asleep, Skyler disentangled himself, dressed, and tiptoed out of the room, pulling the door gently closed behind him. He quietly descended the inn?s steps and made his way out the door, toward the confrontation he knew awaited him.
He strode across the front lawn, toward the big black Humvee he knew would be parked there. The massive Figure of Tommy sat on the hood, watching the Inn as he drank from a bottle of malt liquor. Gasher sat in the grass, leaning against one of the truck?s big wheels. He peered up at Skyler from beneath his wide-brimmed sombrero as the boy came near.
?Listen to me, bitch,? Tommy began.
?No. You listen to me, Tommy,? said Skyler. Anger was giving him the courage he needed to speak this way. ?You may have made me rich. You may have taught me a lot of things. I may let you talk to me any way you want. But you will never, ever, speak to my girl like that. Ever! No one talks to Jewell Ravenlock that way!? Well, Skyler wouldn?t be able to stand watch twenty-four hours a day, ready to bust some heads if anyone dared call her a name, but one thing was for damn sure: there was no way Skyler would abide it from Tommy Hill Figure. Tommy had a way of demeaning everything important to Skyler. He would not do the same to Jewell.
Tommy watched him, tight-mouthed, his scowl deepening with every word from Skyler. His thug jewelry glimmered in the starlight as his right hand dipped toward his gun, which he kept holstered beneath his left arm.
Skyler went right on lecturing, aware that he might be signing his own death warrant. ?A slut?? The teen spat the word out in disgust. ?The girls you send out to the street corners to give BJ?s for coppers and then take seventy-five percent of what they earn? Those are sluts. The girls you bang in smoky back rooms of dance clubs and bars, those are sluts. Remember the girls you picked up at the carnival? They were sluts. Despite what you think, not all women are.? Skyler paused to take a breath, slender shoulders rising and falling rapidly. He glared at Tommy heatedly, unafraid of him for once.
Tommy growled at him, his gravely baritone chaffing through the night. ?Dawg, you must be blind. I saw her. I saw her damn good in there. And tonight was the second time I seen that girl. She didn?t look like she was into you at all, either time.?
?You didn?t see shit. Before you came in, she kissed me like three times!? Skyler balled his hands into fists and shouted this fact with pride and anger. ?She may like to flirt with men, but you know what? That?s just another thing I like about her. Asking her not to flirt would be like asking me not to brush my hair in the morning. It?s just not happening. And, if it did, I wouldn't be as sexy as I am. Besides, I wouldn?t want her not to be interested in other men. That would be asking her to change, and I don?t want her to change. She?s perfect just like she is.?
Tommy shook his head. ?You disappointing me. I never thought you?d be pussy whipped.? He slung his bottle at Skyler's feet abhorrently. Malt liquor spewed out and sprinkled his ankles.
Skyler, unfazed by the insult and the projectile, issued another warning. ?Don?t ever call her a slut again. Just because she?s pretty and dresses really sexily, doesn?t make her a slut. She?s a great girl, and I?ll never tolerate anyone calling her such a name.?
Tommy stood up and drew his gun, pointing the black Mark VIII Desert Eagle at Skyler?s face. He closed the distance between them, his huge Timberland boots thudding on the grass. At six foot nine, he towered above Skyler, who stared defiantly up the gun?s barrel.
Still leaning against the truck?s wheel, Gasher stirred nervously. ?Hey . . . come on, you guys.?
Skyler and Tommy ignored the shy sorcerer. ?Aiight, kid. Aiight, I hear ya. No problem,? said Tommy. Then, without warning, the muscular thug pistol-whipped Skyler across the bridge of the nose. The boy?s legs gave out and he crumbled to the lawn in a dazed heap. ?That?s for mouthin? off to me, though.? He stood over him, gazing down with loathing, and anger, and . . . newfound respect. Respect for backing his girl, and, more significantly, respect for standing up to him.
Gasher scurried over to where Skyler lay, running his fingers along his nose. ?It?s not broken, Sky, don?t worry. It?ll just bruise really bad.?
Skyler gazed upward with cloudy eyes, distantly hearing Gasher?s words. He became aware of the fact that he couldn?t breathe, and then Gasher was rolling him over to his stomach. Blood gushed from his nostrils, down his lips, and trickled into the grass.
?Let?s go, Gash. Let his woman tend to him,? came Tommy?s order from near the truck.
Gasher obediently backed away and climbed into the Hummer, barely fitting inside because of his massive sombrero. The vehicle?s doors slammed shut and its engine roared. Big wheels tore into the grass as the black behemoth blasted away into the night.
Skyler drew himself up to his knees, coughing up blood in his throat and snorting it out of his nostrils. Despite the pain between his eyes, the boy was smiling. He?d finally stood up to Tommy. It had worked. And it had felt really, really good.
He hunkered there on the lawn for a while, waiting for the bleeding to stop. Then, with great effort, picked himself up and staggered back into the Inn. Behind the bar he found a wet towel and used it to clean the blood from his swollen, cut face.
At last he labored up the steps, quietly opening Jewell?s door, sneaking back inside and locking it behind him. He slipped under the blankets as smoothly and silently as a spirit. In the darkness, Skyler curled up behind her, protectively enfolding her in his arms, nuzzling his face into her soft, dark locks.
He strode across the front lawn, toward the big black Humvee he knew would be parked there. The massive Figure of Tommy sat on the hood, watching the Inn as he drank from a bottle of malt liquor. Gasher sat in the grass, leaning against one of the truck?s big wheels. He peered up at Skyler from beneath his wide-brimmed sombrero as the boy came near.
?Listen to me, bitch,? Tommy began.
?No. You listen to me, Tommy,? said Skyler. Anger was giving him the courage he needed to speak this way. ?You may have made me rich. You may have taught me a lot of things. I may let you talk to me any way you want. But you will never, ever, speak to my girl like that. Ever! No one talks to Jewell Ravenlock that way!? Well, Skyler wouldn?t be able to stand watch twenty-four hours a day, ready to bust some heads if anyone dared call her a name, but one thing was for damn sure: there was no way Skyler would abide it from Tommy Hill Figure. Tommy had a way of demeaning everything important to Skyler. He would not do the same to Jewell.
Tommy watched him, tight-mouthed, his scowl deepening with every word from Skyler. His thug jewelry glimmered in the starlight as his right hand dipped toward his gun, which he kept holstered beneath his left arm.
Skyler went right on lecturing, aware that he might be signing his own death warrant. ?A slut?? The teen spat the word out in disgust. ?The girls you send out to the street corners to give BJ?s for coppers and then take seventy-five percent of what they earn? Those are sluts. The girls you bang in smoky back rooms of dance clubs and bars, those are sluts. Remember the girls you picked up at the carnival? They were sluts. Despite what you think, not all women are.? Skyler paused to take a breath, slender shoulders rising and falling rapidly. He glared at Tommy heatedly, unafraid of him for once.
Tommy growled at him, his gravely baritone chaffing through the night. ?Dawg, you must be blind. I saw her. I saw her damn good in there. And tonight was the second time I seen that girl. She didn?t look like she was into you at all, either time.?
?You didn?t see shit. Before you came in, she kissed me like three times!? Skyler balled his hands into fists and shouted this fact with pride and anger. ?She may like to flirt with men, but you know what? That?s just another thing I like about her. Asking her not to flirt would be like asking me not to brush my hair in the morning. It?s just not happening. And, if it did, I wouldn't be as sexy as I am. Besides, I wouldn?t want her not to be interested in other men. That would be asking her to change, and I don?t want her to change. She?s perfect just like she is.?
Tommy shook his head. ?You disappointing me. I never thought you?d be pussy whipped.? He slung his bottle at Skyler's feet abhorrently. Malt liquor spewed out and sprinkled his ankles.
Skyler, unfazed by the insult and the projectile, issued another warning. ?Don?t ever call her a slut again. Just because she?s pretty and dresses really sexily, doesn?t make her a slut. She?s a great girl, and I?ll never tolerate anyone calling her such a name.?
Tommy stood up and drew his gun, pointing the black Mark VIII Desert Eagle at Skyler?s face. He closed the distance between them, his huge Timberland boots thudding on the grass. At six foot nine, he towered above Skyler, who stared defiantly up the gun?s barrel.
Still leaning against the truck?s wheel, Gasher stirred nervously. ?Hey . . . come on, you guys.?
Skyler and Tommy ignored the shy sorcerer. ?Aiight, kid. Aiight, I hear ya. No problem,? said Tommy. Then, without warning, the muscular thug pistol-whipped Skyler across the bridge of the nose. The boy?s legs gave out and he crumbled to the lawn in a dazed heap. ?That?s for mouthin? off to me, though.? He stood over him, gazing down with loathing, and anger, and . . . newfound respect. Respect for backing his girl, and, more significantly, respect for standing up to him.
Gasher scurried over to where Skyler lay, running his fingers along his nose. ?It?s not broken, Sky, don?t worry. It?ll just bruise really bad.?
Skyler gazed upward with cloudy eyes, distantly hearing Gasher?s words. He became aware of the fact that he couldn?t breathe, and then Gasher was rolling him over to his stomach. Blood gushed from his nostrils, down his lips, and trickled into the grass.
?Let?s go, Gash. Let his woman tend to him,? came Tommy?s order from near the truck.
Gasher obediently backed away and climbed into the Hummer, barely fitting inside because of his massive sombrero. The vehicle?s doors slammed shut and its engine roared. Big wheels tore into the grass as the black behemoth blasted away into the night.
Skyler drew himself up to his knees, coughing up blood in his throat and snorting it out of his nostrils. Despite the pain between his eyes, the boy was smiling. He?d finally stood up to Tommy. It had worked. And it had felt really, really good.
He hunkered there on the lawn for a while, waiting for the bleeding to stop. Then, with great effort, picked himself up and staggered back into the Inn. Behind the bar he found a wet towel and used it to clean the blood from his swollen, cut face.
At last he labored up the steps, quietly opening Jewell?s door, sneaking back inside and locking it behind him. He slipped under the blankets as smoothly and silently as a spirit. In the darkness, Skyler curled up behind her, protectively enfolding her in his arms, nuzzling his face into her soft, dark locks.