Topic: Spit Fire (18+)

Wild Fire

Date: 2016-11-09 02:19 EST
It was a knock at the door that tore the criminal from her sleep. Had her falling out of dream state and drew a slurred growl from lips still smeared from last night's lipstick. "Fuck off," she grumbled under her breath, her head lifting and turning only to fall heavily back to the pillow tucked between her and her arms. But the knocking didn't cease, seeming to be persistent even if it was just a light rapping.

A slow, rough sigh poured from her nose as her head rose from the pillow. Eyes squinted from sleep peered to the bedroom doorway of the small apartment. Movement beside her caught her attention and a hand painted with chipped polish lashed out to strike the shoulder of the man with an open palm. "Wake the fuck up, and get the fuck out," she growled to him. She didn't like her guests to stay through the morning. She wasn't much of a hospitable woman.

Her hands slid over the tousled sheets to catch her balance, pushing herself up to hands and knees as her head hung between the poised arms. A long curtain of obsidian drifted over the pillow, clean but tousled from sleep and the previous night's endeavors. The man beside her started, delayed in his reaction as he pushed himself up on propped elbows. Eyes squinted as he looked around the room then to the woman grumpily backing up off the bed. "Morning already?" Came the slurred, groggy words from his mutually lipstick smeared mouth.

"Yes. And you've overstayed your welcome," standing to her feet now as she wasn't hearing the knocking on the door any longer. But she heard the clink of the metal letter-slot set in the door, the slid of paper to the linoleum walkway at the front door. Stark naked, she turned toward the vanity and bent down with a palm pressed to the stand. Catching a good look at herself, she didn't feel ashamed of what she saw. A distant look was there, but it could pass as she just hadn't had her cup o' joe yet. Her fingers brushed roughly over those smeared lips, wiping at the smudge of red there.

"So, that's it, huh?" Came the gruff voice behind her, the rustle of sheets as a glance in the mirror told her he was getting out of the bed. The jingle of metal and the ruffling of jeans as he put on his pants. "Do I even get your number? Wouldn't mind another shot."

She gave up on her attempts to fix her make up, she'd take care of it in the shower. Her fingers raked through those tousled waves of onyx as she turned, hitched by the knots until she fought as many as she could to smooth it. Her lips pursed as she made a slow approach to the man, a man she couldn't even remember the name of. He watched her hips sway in her gait, the bottom lip of his mouth tucked between his teeth as if he was anticipating a round two.

He had height on her, a good half a foot as she was no more than 5'7 in frame, so she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. There was a look on her face that told him what he hoped might just be true, even as her fingers slid over the expanse of his bare chest and her curved frame pressed fast to his. She was lingering, giving him a smile that was corrosive yet endearing. Her head tilted as she looked up at him, pressing some of her weight against him. Mint green eyes that were as cold as could be locked onto his. "Babe, the only shot I'll ever give you again..." she whispered, the tone of her voice held a hint of seduction laced with acid. "Is between the eyes," whispered even softer than the first, her head tilting to seem affectionate as she let those words sink in to the man's sleep-ridden and partially intoxicated brain while her nose nudged his chin.

Her palms flattened against his pectorals, giving him a rough shove back as she changed her tune in a blink of an eye. Any note of seduction was flipped like a switch as she turned toward the doorway, snatching her satin robe from the hook on the door. Her fingers clutched the collar of the robe, sliding along to get a hold so she could swing it around and over her arms. Hands dipped beneath that curtain of black tresses, flipping her hair out from where they were tucked beneath the fabric of the robe. "I'm sure you can find the door on your own." She ignored the man as he cursed her with every terrible name in the book, leaving him to get dressed alone.

Wild Fire

Date: 2016-11-09 03:24 EST
She'd snagged the letter from the floor on her way through to the kitchen, managed to start up a pot of fresh coffee as her temporary bedmate poured himself from the bedroom and was making for the door. He didn't look like much of a happy camper, but she didn't care. She was gnawing on her bottom lip and turning the white envelope between her fingers. The man didn't seem to want any further interaction from her, not even a glance as she heard the door shut hard behind him as he left.

She turned toward the counter, leaning on it as she stared at the etched words on the stark white sheet of paper.

Danica Jane Violet

She knew that scripture, it was the same handwriting that had been on all those birthday cards and the few letters she'd received before from the man. The last letter or card she'd received from him was years ago. Her 18th birthday congratulating her on being a woman and what to expect from her life from now on. There'd been a check with a couple grand and it was signed with I'm sorry, Doll. That was the last she'd heard from him.

What her father could possibly want from her now that she was edging closer to her thirties, she had no inclination or revelation there. Ten years he hadn't spoken to her or seen her, and she was tempted on tossing that prim envelope in the trash. She didn't really want to read it, or even think about the man. But curiosity had her by the chest and was twisting hard as a single index finger plucked at the edge of the folded paper.

Lips pursed, twisted and relaxed as she heaved a sigh, her leaned frame straightening as she slipped a finger beneath the fold that was loose enough. Jolting movements had her tearing it apart at the seam, her jaw clenching shut as she pulled the letter from the envelope. Her expression and demeanor was calm, but intuition and paranoia was like a punch to the gut and was making her heart flutter in her chest. There has to be a reason why he'd have the audacity to send me a letter now.

Unfolding that letter and holding it up, her eyes began to scan over the scrawled words. After the first couple lines, she was reaching and striking a cigarette to life between her lips, bringing her frame over to a kitchen chair and sinking into it.



To my Biggest Regret,

If you're reading this, Doll, I'm dead. I ain't going to tell you what happened to me, or what had me writing this letter after all the years that's passed without a dime. Your Mama's told me all about the record you've stocked up for yourself, and as impressed as I am, I don't want you getting yourself involved in what I do. The reason for this letter isn't for you to come out here to kick some ass.

It's an explanation.

Why the hell it's been ten years since I've sent jack shit, and why you probably already thought I was dead or forgot you. I didn't, Doll. I promise. I got caught up in this life, with another woman and we had a kid. Letting you go to live your life was probably the biggest regret I've got to this day. I've seen pictures of your face, and damn do you look just like that acid drop of a woman that's your mother. I'm glad about that, the less you look like me the better.

I'm sorry about your Mama. She was a good girl, and a force to be reckoned with. She put me in my place more times than I could count. And I don't doubt for a moment that you aren't the same. Unfortunately, you've got my genes too. They aren't good genes, baby. They'll get you into a whole lot of trouble like I've gotten myself into and I hope you got your Mama's intelligence. The smarts to stay out of this shit.

I never lied when I told you I loved you in those letters before. I didn't say it because that's what a Daddy's supposed to say to his kid. I meant it with every bit of my soul, and if I could turn back the times to try to be a better Dad to you, I would. But I can't change time, and I can't change what I've done. I can only hope that you can do better than me, and not make my mistakes.

I know your Mama didn't have any family. None that she'd ever talk about. But I want you to know you've got a sister. She's a little thing. A fire inside her, kinda like you. I'm not going to ask anything from you, I'm not going to ask you to be a part of her life. But I feel I owe you something. Family. If you go to her, that's your own choice. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. But her name's Vida Maeve Violet. She's in Rhy'Din.

I couldn't give you family, Doll. I'm not the best at that sorta thing. I can't stay faithful, and I can't stay honest. But maybe something good can come out of my mistakes.

I love you, Danica.



There was no signature, but she didn't need one. His words hit her like a truck straight into her chest, and it was a while before she moved or did anything but stare at that sheet of paper. She didn't cry, she wouldn't cry. Not over this. She hadn't even cried at her mother's funeral, and she wouldn't shed a tear for a man she hardly knew.

But she had a sister. A half sister, but it was something. She didn't quite know what to think of that, or if she really even cared. What would she want with her father's other family? The one that he'd become so wrapped up in that he couldn't even find a cheap birthday card from a drugstore and sign his name in?

She folded the paper neatly, pushing it aside on the surface of the table and stubbed out her cigarette violently. A heady stream of smoke poured from her smeared lips and she pushed herself up from the chair. "Guess we're more alike than I thought, Old Man," she scoffed, bare feet padding toward the coffee maker.

Wild Fire

Date: 2016-11-09 10:57 EST
Days went by and still that letter sat precisely where she left it on the table. Every passing, those mint green eyes darted to that folded piece of paper, lingered for no more than short moment or two before she went about her business.

It wasn't until nearly a week came and went that her fingers reached for that pristine paper. She'd already memorized every line, every word, each arch of a letter that was scrawled by her father's penmanship. But the words that resonated the most was that one line:

Her name's Vida Maeve Violet. She's in Rhy'Din.

It was incredible that her bottom lip didn't have permanent teeth marks, wasn't bruised or swollen though she'd come close within this past week. She still hadn't shed a tear for the deceased, but she doubted she ever would. Could someone lose what they never had to begin with?

Vida Maeve Violet. She's in Rhy'Din.

The words pounded around her skull like the beating of a drum. Loud, hypnotic. She'd fallen asleep thinking about that name. Woken and stared at the ceiling as she tried not to contemplate what her heart was telling her what to do.

I want you to know you've got a sister.... She's got a fire inside her, kinda like you.

Was she really like Danica? Could anyone really be like Danica? Gods, she hoped not. She knew how screwed she was on a mental level, not that she cared much about any of that. What did it matter? She was corrosive, cold. She wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty or get blood beneath those chipped painted nails. Nails she'd nearly chewed down to the flesh of her fingers. A habit only recently developed, since that letter arrived.

I'm not going to ask anything from you, I'm not going to ask you to be a part of her life.

No, you didn't. But you put it in my damn head, you prick. You knew those words were going to spin around in my head like a carousel and drive me nearly to insanity. She'd growled, scowled, thrown things across the room knowing that her father had implanted that notion in her head. A part of her hated him, but a bigger part of her knew he was right.

I know your Mama didn't have any family... I'm sorry about your Mama...

No, Mama didn't have family. She wouldn't even speak about her father, her Mama had disowned the wrecking ball that she was. Got tired of her tearing up and tearing down and burning everything to the ground. Dani didn't know if she even had uncles, aunts. It was amazing that she didn't have any siblings... Well, until now. For all she knew, there could be more. At least from what she'd heard about that man.

She refused to think about the other words in that letter. Those heart-staking words that the man who'd walked out of her life without so much as a postcard.

I never lied when I told you-...

No. No. She wouldn't think about that. Wouldn't fathom that. He'd walked out ten years ago, and his death didn't change a damn thing. She wouldn't bestow any tear, any sob, any wishful thought that he was in a better place. She knew where that man was going. It was a place she'd surely meet him after she was long gone herself.

But there is one thing. One thing that she couldn't ignore even if she'd turned that letter to a blazing flame and watched it turn to ashy dust.

Vida Maeve Violet. Rhy'Din.

I have a sister. She's in Rhy'Din.

She'd come to the conclusion on that seventh day, having taken precisely a week to contemplate her next move. Sitting in that same chair she'd first read that letter, with a cigarette tucked between fingers marked with ink as her forehead rested against the heels of her palms. Elbows propped on the wooden surface of the table. The letter rested between those arms, staring her down just as hard as she was staring at it with those cool mint eyes. It was a taunting thing, inanimate as it was but it was yelling at her. Screaming, really.

Danica, you've got nothing left. Mama's dead. Daddy's dead. You've got nothing left but strangers in your bed and liquor in your belly. What the hell have you got to lose?

Nothing. She had nothing left. What exactly could she lose?

It was that revelation that had her violently stubbing out that cigarette among it's fallen comrades, had her pushing out of the chair with enough force to knock the chair back. Her hand slapped at the written letter and dragged it off the table, gripped and crumpled tightly in her hand as she stalked to the bedroom to pack her suitcase.

Vida Maeve Violet.

I'm going to find you.

Wild Fire

Date: 2016-11-09 11:38 EST
Her suitcase was packed and she honestly didn't even know what was in it at this point. She'd autopiloted her packing, knowing she'd probably have to buy plenty of the belongings she'd forgotten as she snatched her purse from the kitchen counter. Her hand dove into the bottomless pit of a purse and scrounged for the cell phone tucked between everything and anything under the sun. She managed to find it, hitting the third button on her speed dial before pressing it to her ear as she made her way out the front door.

On the second ring, the phone was picked up as she started down the hallway, her thigh-high heeled boots clicking along the floor with each step.

"Dani? Damn girl, that you?"
"I'm in a bit of a hot spot, babe. Wish I had time to chat but I'm on my way out the door."
"What you need, babygirl?"
"I need you find an address for me."
"Name?"
"Vida Maeve Violet."
"Violet, huh?...."
"What'd I tell you about asking questions, babyboy?"

The alluring hook in her voice drew that man in the same as it always did, and she couldn't help but pull her pursed lips into a smile. By the time she made it to the trunk of her car, tossed the suitcase inside and closed the compartment, she was sending a kiss through the phone speaker while he went about sending the address through a text.

"Thanks babe, I owe you one."
"Yeah, doll. You do." She could almost hear the slick smile on his own corrosive mouth.
"Don't push your luck, Sweetcheeks." A chuckle tore from her throat as she rolled her eyes. "It's just an address."
"Hey, that was a difficult address to find, you know." His monotone voice had her believing differently.
"Mm-hmm. And I'll be at church on Sunday." She mused, sliding into the front bucket seat of her '57 Chevy Bel Air.
"Oh, wouldn't that be a sight. Make the priest blush, baby." His raspy laughter rolled through the ear piece that brought that wicked smile to her ruby red mouth.
"Wouldn't be me if I didn't," she purred to him, "alright. I'm hittin' the road. I'll give you a call soon."Click.

The second she hung up the phone, the text flowed through and lit up the display. Her eyes landed on the address sent to her and she gave as close to an affectionate smile as she could. A sultry tone whispered, "oh, Chucky what would I ever do without you?"

Diving into her purse, she dropped the phone in her lap and retrieved her favored CatEye sunglasses, slipping the arms over the curves of her ears. Cigarettes came next, and once the cherry was lit she was good to go and peeling out of the parking lot of her apartment complex.