Crimson Footprints Part 12

She waited an hour. Long enough for Keisha to begin arguing with her mother about restrictions on food stamps, long enough for Grandma Emma to fall asleep in the middle of Matlock, and long enough for Lizzie to grab Snow Man's wrist and lead him to her room.

She was eleven at the time, but a mature eleven, already she was known for toe-curling talents with her tongue. Just that past year her mouth had served her well, and had meant the difference between pa.s.sing and failing, Payless and Prada.

He was rough from the start, gripping her head, holding it steady. Suffocating and brutal, she'd wanted him to stop, tried to pull away-but found his grip firm and determined. She remembered his words when he finally turned her loose, words that had chilled her, scared her.

"Come on," he said, "time to feel that p.u.s.s.y."

She'd told him no, that she was a virgin, but he laughed.

"Not giving head like that, you ain't."

The look in his eyes was hard and unforgiving and the look of his c.o.c.k was the same. So, she asked him to be gentle, but he didn't. She asked him to go slower, but he wouldn't. And when her bedroom door opened and there Keisha stood, Lizzie's adult cousin didn't scream or call the police. She simply backed from the door, leaving Snow to finish.

Lizzie thought it was their secret-she and Snow and Keisha's. But three days later, Snow's car was riddled in a hail of bullets, leaving him shot in the thigh, shoulder and chest. Anthony, it seemed, had found out.

Snow came to her, hours after being released from the hospital, begging, crying, convinced there was a bounty on his head. Talk to him, Snow said, tell him nothing happened.

So, Lizzie went to Anthony and persuaded him, surprised by the conviction with which he spoke. He could deal drugs, he said and he could rob or kill, but what he couldn't stomach, what he wouldn't, was a grown man with a little girl. That kind of man, Anthony reasoned, needed to die.

After that, boys were afraid of Lizzie. They would f.u.c.k her, but in a brief and nervous sort of way, as if half expecting to be murdered mid-stroke. It didn't matter how many times she explained to them her brother's only beef had been Snow's age; still, they were afraid.

But when Anthony died, so did their fear.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

Tak held out his ice cream cone and Deena took a lick. Three kids nearly collided with them as they tore for a monstrous red rollercoaster.

"Wow, Tak. That's good. What is it again?"

"Double chunk chocolate chip. Told you to get it."

He took a bite of the frosty treat and Deena frowned. She turned to her suddenly plain vanilla cone as they walked.

"Trade you."

Tak raised a brow.

"Hmm, let's see. You've got plain Jane vanilla while I have mouthwatering double chunk chocolate chip. I mean, would you look at the chunks in this thing? We've got nuggets of fudge here, bits of chocolate chips there, and this enticing swirl of white chocolate comfort."

He shrugged. "Mm. Sorry. Just don't see the benefit."

Deena turned back to her cone, bottom lip out. "But I want yours."

Tak rolled his eyes in exaggerated fas.h.i.+on, fully aware that he intended to give her his cone. Still, he loved the pouting.

"Deena, I've got to tell you, you're not much of a negotiator." He handed his two scoops over and took her single vanilla. "Now let's hurry. We've got a date with the Screamin' Eagle."

Deena froze. The Screamin' Eagle was a wooden roller coaster a hundred and ten feet high and one she seriously doubted she had the gall to ride. Till then, she'd been charmed by the costumed characters of her childhood ,waving and posing for pictures with glee, delighted by the sticky and sweet treats they'd devoured with abandon, and giddy with the soph.o.m.oric way they tore through the park. And when the Screamin' Eagle's cherry train barreled past with its cartload of screaming pa.s.sengers, all that changed. Deena's jaw went slack, her cone plummeted, and she gripped Tak's arm in terror.

"I can't, Tak. I can't get on that."

Tak glanced down calmly at the manicured fingernails that blanched his flesh before returning to her face.

"Of course you can do it. You wanted to do this, remember?"

As if to contradict him, the train tore through the sky again before plunging towards the earth.

Deena's eyes widened.

"People pay money for this? To be terrorized like this?"

Tak laughed. "Definitely. Now what do you say? One try?"

She lowered her eyes. Before their visit to Six Flags, she'd never been to an amus.e.m.e.nt park. Her mother Gloria, amazingly enough, used to be something of a worrywart and would never allow her child to attend the fair when it came to town. The fairgrounds were unkempt, the rides unsafe and the food unhealthy. And later, when her mother was in prison and her father dead, it was pretty clear that asking Grandpa Eddie was not an option.

But of course, Tak knew all that.

"I'll be with you, Dee. I promise. And you can hold on to me as tight as you like."

Cone tossed, he tilted her chin so that she met his gaze. He had to redirect it when a fresh cartload of pa.s.sengers careened by. "Tell you what. Afterwards, I'll have a surprise for you."

Deena's eyes widened. Surprises were that other Tak novelty.

"Really? What?"

Tak shook his head. "Uh uh. Screamin' Eagle first. Surprise second."

Deena looked at the ride. It made her heart thud, her palms were sweaty, and her mouth dry. But as she stood there with Tak's undivided attention, she knew that her reaction was only partly because of the ride. And in the end, she agreed to the Screamin' Eagle.

Two to a row, twelve rows of carts, each connected by ball and socket joints. 3,872 feet of track rose 110 feet into the air. Laminated steel set against wood gave each pa.s.senger the roughest, wildest ride possible, as they tore through the air at better than sixty miles an hour. The ride would last for two minutes and thirty seconds and the highest drop would be from 92 feet. Deena knew all of this because she insisted on being briefed by the ride's attendants before boarding.

Deena adjusted her harness from what she ascertained to be the safest locale within a relatively unsafe place-the middle seat. She looked at Tak; her eyes unusually large with terror, and was grateful when he extended a hand to her.

"It's gonna be great. You'll see."

Tak adjusted his long legs, tight against the safety bar of the cart and smiled.

Deena turned her attention back to the track. She would use reason and science to battle fear, as always. The ride was heinously tall and climbing it would employ positive gravitational forces, which were the easiest for the human body to endure. The name of the game was fear, and the expectation of climbing to towering heights combined with the average body's ability to endure about five times the pull of gravity meant that a designer would seek to push the limits in that regard. There was also whiplash to think about. The human body needed time to sense changes in speed and- "Deena, stop," Tak said.

She blinked, startled. "What?"

"I know what you're doing and I want you to stop it."

"What? I'm just-getting ready."

With a sigh, Tak leaned in until his mouth brushed her ear. The feel of wet lips coursed heat to her core.

"Trust me. Not logic or science, but me."

He brought a hand to her cheek and traced the line of her jaw, eyes on her mouth. Her breathing came fast and shallow. Instinctively, her lips parted. Tak leaned in and Deena's eyes closed, chin tilting.

The pair jolted, the ride begun, jarring them sheepishly to the far ends of the cart. They glanced at each other, and quickly looked away.

With a pull of the chain, Tak and Deena were dragged up a steep incline. Above the trees, above the park, they continued to climb at a steady rate. The creaking of tracks, the rattle of chains and the steepness of incline combined to topple Deena into near hysterics. In desperation, she gripped Tak's arm when she could stand it no more and buried her face into the crook of his shoulder.

They fell out the sky. Eyes watering, Deena shrieking, feet digging for footing in vain. Next to her, Tak hooted in glee. They rose and fell, the third of the drops by far the harshest. And just when Deena felt certain her nerves could take no more, they were hurled into a 180-degree turn and heaved toward the exit.

He wouldn't do that to her again. She'd been terrified, far more than he thought one person could ever be. She'd shrieked and clawed like a cat in a hot bath, and halfway through, he felt ashamed for making her ride.

As they weaved down the walkway, Tak hurried to keep up, Deena, it seemed, was h.e.l.l bent on escape.

"Dee, wait!" Tak called as they dashed towards what he figured was the park's exit. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have pressured you. Forgive me."

He'd asked her to trust him, and just when she did, he'd heaved her into horror.

Deena turned on him.

"Forgive you? What are you talking about? I'm getting back in line. That-was-incredible!"

She s.n.a.t.c.hed him by the arm and dashed towards the waiting queue, dragging a baffled Tak behind her.

As it turned out, Deena was a thrill junkie. Slicing through the heavens on Mr. Freeze, toppling twenty-three stories on Superman: The Tower of Power and catapulting through head over heel loops on Batman: The Ride. She wanted it all. White knuckle, corks.c.r.e.w.i.n.g, free falling gushes of adrenaline-she wanted it all, it turned out, while clinging to Tak.

Tak squinted under the Midwestern sun, his favorite UCLA cap pulled low on Deena's brow.

"Ready for your surprise?" he asked as he draped an arm about her shoulder mid-step.

She glanced at him. "That depends. What is it?"

He stopped before a slew of games. "A stuffed animal. Pick one and I'll win it for you."

Deena looked at him doubtfully.

"Tak, these games are difficult. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they were rigged."

"Just come on, already." He led her to the long-range basketball booth. "Last I checked I had a pretty decent jump shot."

Despite her objections, Tak nodded towards the crater-faced attendant and dug out his wallet. He slipped the kid a five and turned back to Deena.

"No worries, you'll see. Besides, every girl should have a guy to win her something."

An hour later and forty-five dollars lighter, Tak and Deena left with an oversized panda she could've bought for twenty. Still, she was surprised at the tenderness she felt when he handed her that prize. It was a sweet feeling, having that panda to cradle as they exited the park, his UCLA cap pulled low on her brow. And as they walked, Deena felt something extraordinary and exotic-something she'd all but forgotten. Deena felt...normal.

They did all the things they were supposed to in St. Louis-pose for pictures at the Arch, gulp beer at Anheuser Busch, and nearly hurl at Six Flags. They toured the wineries on the outskirts of the city, caught an indie film at Trivoli, and took a horse drawn carriage through Tower Grove Park. And when it was time to split the state of Illinois in two with an I-55 trek north, neither Tak nor Deena had any regrets.

As Tak drove, Deena made plans for their next stop. The Chicago skyline was an architecture lover's dream. When the Great Chicago Fire destroyed so much of the city, its visionaries began experimenting with steel frame construction and large plate gla.s.s, and in doing so, created the first modern skysc.r.a.per. Their work would give birth to the most awe-inspiring structures the American landscape had ever seen.

While in Chicago, Deena would be able to appreciate the wonders of the greatest American architects: Louis Sullivan, Frank Lloyd Wright and Mies van der Rohe-their work all dotted the landscape.

And she looked forward to the art, too. The Art Inst.i.tute of Chicago housed an impressive collection of Impressionist and post-Impressionist work by people even Deena had heard of, Gogh and Monet, among them. And while she'd never been one to linger in the halls of a museum per se, she found Tak's excitement about their work contagious.

Tak's phone rang as Deena flipped through the Chicago guidebook and deftly, he slipped it from his pocket without so much as a swerve.

Impressive Every city was a battle, Deena thought, a constant crunching of time, always pressed with the question of must-see versus must-wait. Sure, they could linger in Chicago. But six days in Chicago meant no days somewhere else, and Deena was becoming far too greedy to let that happen.

They would have to compromise. His art and her architecture were tops on the list, as were a few restaurants and a night on Lake Michigan. But after that, both time and activities got complicated. He wanted a Bulls game and she wanted a chocolate tour. There would be time for one or the other, but definitely not both.

Deena frowned at the glossy photo of gooey milk chocolate dripping from a spoon and felt her mouth go wet. There was a time in the not-too-distant past when discipline had been the lifeblood of her existence. But as their trip lingered, and Tak continued to pander to her every whim, discipline gave way to indulgence, and restraint to satisfaction. But Tak wasn't the only one who could be indulgent.

"Tak, I was thinking-"

Deena froze with the realization that he was still holding the phone.

"Listen, I told you I don't know how long I'll be gone. I'm with a friend."

Tak drummed the steering wheel in impatience. "Of course that's important to me. You're important to me. All I'm saying is-"

Tak paused, glanced at Deena who continued to stare, and returned to the call with a sigh.

"Listen, I can't talk right now. It's just not a good time. Later."

He powered off the phone and turned to Deena's wide-eyed stare. The scowl he wore morphed into a smile. "Admiring the view?" he said.

Deena blushed, her curiosity forgotten.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

A hotel room high enough for views of the skyline at the junction where the river met Lake Michigan. A top-level suite with hardwood floors, two broad platform beds and an ebony-paneled Jacuzzi. Soft ecru wallpapering covered three sides of the room, and on the forth, a floor-to-ceiling gla.s.s door led to the balcony. These features, combined with a fully stocked wet bar and 47 inch flat screen, promised that they could enjoy Chicago quite well, all without leaving their hotel room.

It was late when they arrived, so the two ordered in. A loaded stuffed pizza with three kinds of sausage, made right with a garden salad for Deena's wary conscience. They mixed Long Island Iced Teas and chatted while they drank, and afterwards collapsed into bed for the night.

When Deena woke, it was with a start. Breathless and confused, she blinked at the darkness in an effort to orient herself. She felt ladled in sweat. Entangled in the bed sheets, her womanhood throbbed with the flickers of a memory. A swipe of the tongue. An arch of the back. A moan. Another.