The Invisible, Life Goes On

by RedNightBird

Annie shoots Marcus, Marcus shoots back. Who's life ends? Who's life really begins?

The Invisible is a film owned by Hollywood Pictures. There is no intended infringement. This is a work of Fan fiction.

INVISIBLE PAIN

The gravel had pressed into his flesh until he felt only its cool dampness. The bullet wound was the main focus of his anxious pain. The Bitch had shot him.

Annie had shot him and left him for the kid, nobody cared to look for a shot up ex-con. Marcus figured he probably deserved it.

Nick felt safe for the first time in days, how many days had it been? He tried visualizing time, trying to count the nights he laid in the culvert. It took too much energy so he stopped. Once he just laid there he felt the professional ministration of the ER staff. Lights flashing as his eyelids were pulled open and laid back, hands probing, feeling then introducing lines, a catheter and EKG leads.

Once he opened his mouth to speak and the thoughts flew from him, his lips closed and he let them work, he rode the waves of cool and warm, pain and relief.

Annie stretched out in his bed, ignoring her own wound, her blood and street filth. He was stable, patched up, resting sunken in to the bed to heal.

The rhythm of the monitors was invaded by her intrusion, he could only breath her name, "Annie", and he had no energy to speak it. All of his energy recouped at the ER was meted out for healing. He smelled the outside air in her parsed breaths. He felt the grit and sweat, the gunpowder residue on her skin as she crawled into his bed. He had no defensive energy to repel her. He lay while she insinuated herself against him. Was she a figment of his imagination? After her venom, why was she here now, why?

She had thought if she could relay her regret to Nick it may bolster his courage to heal himself.

Instead she felt he had always had the gumption to go on. Annie felt his frustration in living those days prior to the attack and figuring she was no longer an force in his world she took a cleansing breath and slipped from the hell she endured on earth.

Then there was Rehab, the physical kind, where you sweat and grunt with all you effort, only to move an infinitesimal distance. He sat in the chair, his crutches across his lap while he gathered his resolve, watching the guy on the universal as the therapist gave specific orders on the rotation of exercises. The guy was scary looking, covered in tattoos and abrasions. The healing bullet hole looked angry, hell, the guy looked angry. He watched the athletic shirt ride up and down on the guy's slip hips with the reps of the exercise.

Nick nodded to the therapist as she closed her phone call; she picked up his chart and approached him to start the session.

"We're glad to see you ready to work"

She was probably 25, 27 years old, a former cheerleader who wanted to take her physicality into a career. Now she spurred the injured to win over their physical shortcomings. He nodded and smiled weakly, why make the effort with words?

"Hi, I'm Kim. We'll be working on your strength and flexibility as well as getting your balance back. You took a couple of really hard falls from the report on your injuries." Her eyes were soft blue; they sought to make contact with his while she spoke. She ran him thru the exercises for 30 minutes, always seeking his eye contact while she explained the impetus for the exercise. He was powering thru them, committing none of her monologue to memory.

Nick got a timeout and walked back to the bench, draining the water bottle while he wiped his brow. The tattooed man pulled the industrial towel from around his neck and buried his face in it as he plunked down on the opposite bench.

"They beating you up too?" his grin was crooked yet affable. His breath was ragged as he continued, "At least they treat us all the same, right?"

They both nodded as Nick stared at the guy's bullet wound then the clean white sneakers on his own feet. His Mom had brought them to the hospital; she hadn't picked out and bought his shoes since he was 7.

"So, you had a motorcycle accident?" the tattooed guy was intent on holding a conversation. He looked at the mirrored wall at his road rash now scabbed over, the brace on his leg and the cast on his arm.

"Naw got hit by a car" short and sweet comment to a guy that was neither short nor sweet.

"Man, that had to hurt, excuse me I just get loose lipped ". The guy extended his hand; "I'm Marcus" the handshake was strong for a guy in PT.

The boy nodded and mumbled his name. Marcus thought he looked familiar then he had been in the hospital for so long and he'd seen faces everywhere…. On gurneys, in wheelchairs, behind desks. Just then the therapist raised her head at Marcus and got his attention to start back to work.

His Mom's gratitude for his life morphed into hurt that he was healing only to go on to his dream of studying abroad. He watched her expression harden each afternoon when she visited. They would have words and she'd leave dramatically only to return the next day as if their differences had never occurred.

In her heart she was losing him twice, once thru the specter of the accident when she sat thinking of burying him, then only to see him thru his recovery to when he'd pickup his backpack and head off again.

While he was hospitalized she had him in her grasp, where she could guilt him, perhaps diminish the remnants of his dreams.

Marcus thought about the boy in PT, he had to be the boy Annie hurt. The longer he thought the more severely he wanted to check out of the hospital, distance his self from the event. He needed to get back to work, flush the month from his memory. It was going to take a year or more to pay back the hospital bill; at least while he was in the hospital his parole officer was kinder.

Layers of muddy thought lifted, revealing his memories of that day. He remembered why he and Annie had a "thing"; they never spoke about the monsters under their beds. They met and drank and smoked and ended each meeting fighting and fucking or fucking and fighting.

Annie never wanted more from Marcus and he didn't have more to give, it was perfect. Annie ran from a dank loveless home to his ink covered arms. She never pushed him until the night they boosted the silver Mercedes. She had to have the diamonds – she defied him and Karma bit her on her lovely little ass. He had wanted to attend her funeral yet at the time he was handcuffed to the bed. Anyway the newspaper simply listed "Services will be Private".

Once they put the puzzle together they gave him a "gift", marked it self defense and only charged him with handling a firearm on Probation. More time tacked on the end of forever he thought.

Now Marcus fermented in hindsight. Could he have resisted Annie's company that evening? Probably not.

He had been clean for 3 weeks, hadn't had as much as a cigarette. Was it the exercise? Was it the regular bedtime schedule? He wondered if he could stay clean. The last time he lost his resolve trying to thrill a teenage girl. If he worked as hard at staying clean as he had at satisfying Annie maybe he wouldn't be looking at the bullet hole every time he stripped down.

The home still had the architectural edge from the street, on the inside it cried desperate woman. The 4 bedrooms lay empty save for the one side of the king size bed. She'd fold back the covers each evening and slip into the sheets often lying awake for hours until exhaustion took her off to sleep. The only company she took to bed was a $600 Baccarat crystal old fashioned glass. Muddling the sugar and the bitters together for the Old Fashioned helped her work thru her anger at her son, Annie and her dead husband.

What victory did she have bringing Nick home next week? He didn't want to be with her. His recovery would begin her sentence to solitary confinement in a home built in happier, more familial times.

Marcus returned to the garage apartment, throwing wide the door to let the diesel and oil fumes loose into the neighborhood. Was it 3 or 4 weeks since Annie banged on the door?

Marcus shuffled thru heaps of gamer magazines, a tangle of audio wires, cd cases and fast food wrappers. His senses had been shocked into working when he went cold turkey in the hospital. His uncontaminated senses caught the olfactory assault of stale smoke and rotted food and it sickened him enough to grab two or three garbage bags and scourge thru the apartment like Christ in the temple.

By nightfall even he didn't recognize the place, the lemon pine cleaner had almost transformed the place. He had thrown his 3 ratty towels, two remaining pair of blue jeans and three tee-shirts in a pile near the door to take to the Laundromat. He saw how little he really had now. He wanted to toss it all in pillow case and hit the road. Why didn't he?

Because he had $4.80 in his wallet, a bitch of a parole officer and his only legal mean s of income were on the other side of the wall in the garage.

It wasn't his habit to spend his last dime at a grocery store yet it seemed like the thing that would keep him on the straight and narrow. He walked to the grocer in an effort to fight the desire to smoke a cigarette he didn't have and returned with a bag of rice, a bag of beans and a near expired and reduced price ham hock. While the ham hock simmered in the beans he dug around in the cupboard to find teabags and some sugar, he brewed really strong tea and sugared it heavily. The end of Day 1 of his public sobriety ended with him standing alone in the shower stall, hot emotion flushed over him when he grabbed the peach shower gel Annie had kyped from her step mom. How fucked up would it be if he used the viscous sweet liquid to stroke himself to come?

If all the emotionally charged cleaning hadn't worn him out the blunt force trauma of a three week overdue orgasm drove him up the ladder to the stale bed.

Annie's pillow reeked of her. The sheets moved over him bringing recollections of cracking into her tight wet cunt, how hard she rode him, how rough she liked it and the sensations of their toe curling crescendos. Marcus threw back the sheets and grabbed his pillow for the sofa down stairs. He couldn't stand the static of the bedroom's aura.

Would their essence wash out of the bed or would he have to sleep on the sofa until he could buy a new bed?

The hollows of his brain reverberated with a horse race of anxieties, as Marcus fell into troubled slumber it was a Win, Place and Show finish for Sobriety, Honesty and Annie.

Invisible Heart
Marcus' POV

The alarm didn't ring, it was the miserable radio that woke me up, shocked me into the morning. Fucking 6am on a Monday. I couldn't put it off any further. Yesterday I had come back to the apartment Moe lets me rent for a $100 a week; I'm his pit-bull he says. I cleaned and I cooked, I did anything to erase the stink of pot and Annie.

This morning I smacked the 5 minute button until it was 6:35, then I brewed a pot of coffee, real strong while I walked around naked in the damp morning air. The light glared thru the wire enforced glass and I realized I had nothing to wear so I dug out the Dickies coverall and slid it on commando until I could talk Moe out of a few bucks for a trip to the Laundromat. I fished around the back of the work bench that doubled as a kitchen counter for some gum; I had been off cigarettes for what 4 weeks? I could do this; I could keep from smoking something, if I could just chew on something.. . . . . .

It was a bitch of a Monday, all these whining women about a noise in the front, a noise in the wheel…. They swing in here because Moe charges less for cash and I work fast. By 5:45 I was ready to call it a day, I had won a ten spot playing cards at lunch with the jackass from the towel service and I was counting on a five dollar foot long and some clean clothes.

I threw the clothes on the floor into a pillow case and walked to the Subway in the shopping center on Fort Avenue. Annie had wrecked my SS, I loved that car, it was cherry, then I lost it to the impound lot when I couldn't afford to get it out of hock.

I watched the girl at Subway load up the cold cut special with every free topping she could cram into the bread, I was hungry and I wanted a cigarette so damn bad, hell I wanted a joint – I just wanted to wrap my lips around a burning tobacco stick….anything. It was a few hundred feet to the Laundromat and it was "Smoke Free" so I wasn't hounded by the sweet smell of something I didn't have money for.

Jesus Christ, it's all about the fucking money, it's all about what I don't have. I put the rest of cash into the change machine and it chunked back quarters then I thought about sorting the stuff and I figured I'd just throw it all in one load. I watched the lousy, grainy TV while I opened up the foot long and picked at it. I needed to make it last.

Then she started banging at a machine, wailing on it like it was attacking her. Watching her was better than Entertainment Tonight, strawberry blond ringlets knotted at the back of her neck, jeans, a Disney World Sweatshirt, those leather flip flops I see Moe's customers wear.

"Shit, SHIT, S H I T" she was smacking it pretty hard when I realized no one was paying attention to her. She felt it too; I could tell how lost, how frustrated she was.

"Did it eat your money?"Not like I could have helped her out in that regard… She looked at me, wide eyed, caught, cornered.

"Huh, money, yeah, it won't start, I've got the soap in there, my money is in there and it's not working, I am so damn mad" her voice was creamy and sweet like a milkshake even when it advertised her pain.

Her eyes still glared at me, like she had been glaring at the washer. When she realized I meant to help her, she stepped back from me, had I come too close? I stepped back, put a hand up to let her know I wasn't after her.

"I come here all the time, check this out," I reopened the washer door and looked at her before I stuck my hand into her clothes, I nodded and she nodded and then my bare hands dug into her silky clothes and I shuffled the uneven load, slammed the door again and wiggled the lever. Annie never had cloths like this. The water flowed and I had saved her day. I hadn't realized how she was folded up, arms crossed over her breasts, head down chewing on her thumbnail.

"Hey, it's OK, now, its running" even that didn't get her attention. I stood there; then I gave up, turned to walk away from her when her hand flew up to reach for me, I wasn't there and she stepped to me, I jumped at the feeling of her hand on my back. All I could think about was Annie's bullet flying out from that general area. I flinched, partly because of the memory of the shot, partially because she scared the shit out of me.

"I'm sorry" she confessed and she sought the peace of the other side of the room. I went back to my sandwich, open on the wax paper wrapper. She was watching me, she didn't have anything – it was all in the washer. I held up my hand and caught her attention from her blank stare; I waved and pointed to the sandwich.

"Hungry?" I was offering her half of what I had and wished I had bought the chips and the soda. She looked around the room like I was talking to someone else…. Then she nodded and very slowly got up and dragged a chair near me.

"What's on it?" she asked, not reaching for it yet.

I pushed it half way between the two of us, "Cold Cut special with everything, I mean everything" I kind of laughed as I let her pick her side. She picked the short end, and I was glad, I was just realizing how hungry I was. Neither one of us spoke; I chewed every bite, 30 or 40 times. I wanted to know I was eating something with my bare hands after all those soft meals on a tray in the hospital. She lifted the bread and began to pick off peppers, onions and tomatoes, wiping her fingers on the wax wrapper.

"You, not going to eat that?" I was hungry, I would. She shook her head while she made her first bite. She was wolfing it down while I was shoving the stuffings back into my sandwich. She was done with her half before I had half of mine eaten. I watched her sit and swish her tongue around her teeth, like she wanted to brush them. She was out of her zone. I let her watch me eat, well, she watched me eat.

"My name is Marcus; I've never seen you here, d'just move?" She had taken my napkin, so I wiped my mouth on the back of my wrist, her eyes widened at that and I realized even my "barely there" mother would have agreed with her.

She went back to wrapping her arms around herself and she looked around before she answered, "I'm Daria, yeah, kind of new. I just moved into the neighborhood".

I nodded at her, my mouth full of the last bite of sandwich. I realized she had perfectly straight, brilliant white teeth. The kind of teeth you see on TV. She pushed loose hair behind her ears, I caught the shine of a distinctive class ring from a school on the north end of town, and she was maybe 19.

I saw a lot of the women that school graduated; they bring their Benz's into the shop. Their 30 something pinched expressions screamed long hours and big paychecks; their cars were professionally detailed by the Honduran guy in our shop and the insides never needed real cleaning, no cheerios, and no spilled baby bottles. This girl was out of her neighborhood.

"You go to school?" hell, I didn't know what to talk about and she's itching to fight the noise of the vibrations of the washers and driers, the hiss of the grainy TV. Everyone else had walked out for a smoke and hell, I didn't have any so I sat there, wishing I knew how to make small talk.

She shook her head, "I'm taking a semester off"

I wanted to press for more, I hoped she'd open up and maybe start getting chatty, and she never did. Our washers stopped and I shook out the load before I stuffed it into the dryer. I watched her look at her change; she didn't have enough to run a dryer, "You want to share a dryer?" I asked her. You would have thought I had asked her to blow me right there in the doorway. I thought she was going to cry, and then she nodded. I shoved the rolling basket over to her with my foot and she shook out the damp clothes preparing to throw them in with my linens and jeans. She rolled the basket over and I stepped out of her way while she filled the dryer.

I had known her all of 55 minutes and I had shared half my food and money. What the hell was she doing here? What the hell was I doing?

We sat across from each other while our laundry danced in the heat. I wished I had charged my phone; we could have played a game to break up the silence between us. I couldn't think of a thing to talk about and the TV didn't cooperate. I can deal with a bitch, as long as she doesn't shoot me and leave me for dead. I can deal with a drunk, as long as they sleep most of the time like my Mom did.

It was Daria's expression that intrigued me; she stuck out in this Laundromat like stained glass in a beer bar's window. She was all softness and freckles, pale skin with dark chocolate eyes. I tried to see thru those eyes, into her heart and each time I looked deep, she'd duck away like I was a thief. When she tucked her head it reminded me I had been a thief and she wasn't giving up the keys to her kingdom just because I shared a sandwich and a dryer.

I thought back to the women in my life, those females in my life, there wasn't one of them like Daria. She might have been from around here, but she wasn't from around this neighborhood… … … Annie had lived around the corner in the squatty subsidized apartment building with her broken family; I didn't go there except to pick her up, her old man didn't give me the time of day. I think I might have stuck a buck into her step mom's thong before she was Annie's step mom, which was always kind of freaky even to me.

Daria made me sick in my gut; I'd never have her….. Then there was the fact that she was way out of my league yet she was on my turf. She needed someone who could keep her three feet from the bogeymen down here. Being a reformed bogeyman made me the right guy for the job.

I was walking thru a minefield in my head, wondering what would spark a conversation; then I was saved by the bell. The dryer dinged and she jerked at the sound of it. I remembered the same reaction from guys behind bars, guys who had been buggered and beat and slept with one eye open.

She joined me pulling the dry laundry into the basket, I was smiling at the warm sheets and towels; finally I was going to be in my place with clean stuff.

I made a point of NOT looking at her underwear, three, maybe four really nice sets of bras and panties. She nervously scooped them into her backpack then neatly folded the two pair of jeans and a couple of blouses, sliding them into the backpack with a bit more care.

Once I had stuffed my things in the pillow case I checked the room for my detergent and grabbed my stuff to go. I was heading for the door when I realized her backpack was fairly large, I asked her, "Need help to your car?" I figured the white Prius with the college sticker was hers.

Daria hesitated and froze, "I walked, that's OK", I was glad I hadn't picked it up without asking, she had that odd look on her face.

"Can I walk you home?" I tilted my head out the door.

"May I walk you home?" she asked then covered her lips with her hand as if flies had left her mouth.

Why was she asking ME if she could walk me home? Before I could give it much thought, she stepped toward me,

"I have a horrible habit of correcting grammar, my Mother always did it and I hate it and now I do it." She shook her head and lowered it in dismay. "Please forgive me, I'm so sorry I did that" her shoulders fell until I responded with a

"No sweat", yeah, she was correcting my grammar and I was too thick to even know it, damn, I felt stupid. I didn't even know what I didn't know.

"No, no, Marcus, you've done enough, I don't even have any cash to pay you for the sandwich or the laundry. May I take your number so I can call you when I cash my check?" She crossed the threshold and walked away pointedly.

"It's not safe to walk after dark" I called after her and she turned, continuing to walk backward, that hand up again.

"I'll be OK" then she turned and took off like a scalded dog. I let her run even though she was heading toward the sugar factory and the crab cannery, an old neighborhood with narrow streets and harsh realities.

I was hanging back and watching her bob and weave down the broken sidewalk, then she jerked into a side street and I slowed down. I ducked my head around the corner and waited on the dark side until I saw her about 50 feet away, under a porch light of a garage door.

Why wasn't she going in the front door I wondered, then she kept jerking at the door, I heard the rattling and her frustrated breathing. I heard a few cuss words, then I saw her lean back to put her shoulder into the door; she did it several times, progressively harder with each lunge. Then she cried out in pain and I watched her slide down, her back to the door clutching the backpack in whimpering tears.

My heart broke; I wasn't used to the hot knot tied in my chest, was it empathy? Was it curiosity? Why can't remember the last time a woman's tears personally affected me? My mother never cried, Annie never cried.

Had Daria broke her key in the lock? Hell, I knew how to get a girl into a building… …. I walked out of the dark and into her space. I could still smell the fabric softener radiating out her backpack and the whole mixture of tears and powdery flowers just about broke me.

"What do you want?" She shrieked at me without looking up, "I don't have any money, you can rape me, but you don't scare me"

Did she even know who she was talking to? Of course not, I got closer and crouched down for her to see me.

"Daria, it's Marcus, did you need help getting into your place?" I waited for her to look at me. She was shaking and I wanted to reach out to her and hold this aching beauty. "Did you snap the key in the lock?"

"I said I was OK, I don't want to bother you" she bawled, breaking out fat tears that held more than her words.

I sat down next to her, leaned against the wall and then kept my trap shut; I wasn't going to fuck this part up. We sat in silence while the city noise played at our senses. After a few moments of police sirens I gently teased , "So this crying in the alley is working for you?"

She blushed hotly, trying to stifle a laugh "I didn't snap the key" she confessed quietly, "I don't have a key"

"So they aren't home to let you in?" I raised the question.

Daria was ignoring me, folded into herself and I guessed I had crossed a line; she didn't want my help, didn't want me.

I leaned forward to get up and she caught the back of my calf. I felt a jolt like a baseball bat at the back of my knees; I stayed down, pivoted to her and barked, "WHAT? What do you want from me Daria"? She clutched the backpack and stared at me, frozen in fear.

I had hit Annie for less before . . . I had worked that poison out of me.

"I was hiding here, they've locked it up, they must have realized I was sleeping there, they have my stuff" Daria wasn't the princess I thought she was. If she was, she had fallen too far from her kingdom.

"Do you know them? Can we go around front and see about getting your stuff?" I wanted to be up front about this although I could have broken into the window in a heartbeat. She still cried, shaking a negatory on knowing the owners.

What I was supposed to do? That's when she spoke and I knew what I could do.

"I don't have anywhere to go, they have my pillow and toothbrush and stuff, you know girl stuff" She tilted her head to the building while she tried to stop the crying, swollen eyes and a runny nose beacons of her fear and loss.

"Do you trust me?" I asked her gently, almost a whisper, my head tilted toward her.

"Why?" She stepped in and whispered with the jaundiced eye of a cellmate.

"I have a place, not too far, you can take the bed upstairs and I'll sleep downstairs" I offered

"NO, I can't take your bed, really, I'll take the sofa" her hands flew to wipe her face.

"You take the upstairs, you can thank me later"

"OK," she was beside me, giving the old concrete building a final look before we plodded down the alley to the sidewalk.

We were inside ourselves for the walk and my mind was racing I was glad the garage was actually in a little bit better area than her last flophouse, maybe I wouldn't feel like so much of a chump.

I unlocked the door and pushed it open for her to go ahead of me. I expected a groan or something from a girl like her, even with the cleaning job I gave the place it was rough looking.

Daria stood there, scanning the two story room while I scanned her. Girls didn't venture into the apartment; it was attached to the garage and never had been improved from the grey, concrete walls. The second floor was half of the room, just a deck built to hold the double mattress and box spring that sat on the decking boards. My clothes hung on a pipe suspended from the wall, it was all pretty simple, just not lady approved.

I pulled out the towels and put them in the shelf over the toilet, she stood there watching me move around the room. The kitchen was along the back wall, and the bathroom was old and small, well it was worse than old and small, it smelled like motor oil and diesel fuel.

Back near the kitchen area I poked around for some snacks, I was still hungry. I found microwave popcorn and the last 4 tea bags from a Chinese takeout meal.

"Could you eat some popcorn or maybe a cup of tea?" I asked as she was circling the room there clutching the backpack, eyes wide reading my life in the room's contents. Her eyebrows danced and she nodded on a snack.

"Do you ever put parmesan cheese on it?" Unshouldering the backpack, sliding out of her windbreaker, she voiced her pleasure with smiling eyes .

"On the popcorn, right?" I wanted her to feel welcome, wanted to make her laugh.

"Yeah, we'd put garlic salt on it too", she followed me over to the microwave and watched me unwrap the packet.

I dug into the drawer because the pizza guy had left some packets of cheese two months ago and they had found a home on the junk drawer. There was one packet of honey from a KFC meal; I pulled it out for her tea.

"Honey?" I held up the packet and when she nodded, I could see her eyes were clear, her nose was dry. I grabbed two mugs from the muffler supply salesman and ran water into them. She stepped up to me and there came that hand…

"May, I make the tea?" she buzzed in a warmer tone than the grammar correction. I nodded and she eyed the containers on the shelf of the "kitchen"

"Do you have a pot or a teakettle to boil water?" I thought for a minute and pulled out the 2 quart pan from under the counter. She wiped at it under the stream of water and then measured half the pan full of water and set it on the gas burner, then fired it up. Did we need that much water to make two mugs of tea?

She rinsed out the mugs and opened up the teabags from the Chinese Takeout, each of her steps were measured and precise.

I shook the popcorn and found the take out baskets, splitting the bag between the two of us. I split the cheese over the two baskets and dug for spices while we waited for the water to boil.

All of what happened next held my attention . . . . . the water rolled steam she took the potholder and poured the water in the cups, rolling it around to heat the ceramic mugs, and then she poured out that water and repoured fresh still boiling water over the tea bags she had placed in the mugs.

"Now we let it steep" her comment was like a magician's announcement to wait for the surprise, I was flummoxed.

When the tea was ready we sat on opposite ends of the sofa with the football game low in the background. "This is way better than when I stick the bag in the cup, pour water and nuke the whole shooting mess", my awkward way of saying what a great job she did, "I like the popcorn too" the cheese stuck to the butter coating and I realized I'd never eat bare popcorn again.

Words were few; we did a lot of smiling between bites and sips of tea. I was working out the kinks in my long forgotten manners, carrying her empties to the sink, offering her another tea bag….. all the while she'd shake her head and that cautioning hand would rise.

"Did you want to get a shower? There's a lock on the door, I won't bother you" From all of her body language I figured the last thing she wanted was a guy pawing her. She nodded but didn't move toward the bathroom

"I can boil my toothbrush if you want" I offered, "I have some tee-shirts if you'd rather sleep in a tee-shirt."

She stood up slowly, just her eyes moving over the room, and then she walked toward me, very close for us. She raised her hand to my forearm and her fingers lay lightly on my skin for a split second.

"Thank-you" she breathed, "Thank-you, Marcus" then she walked into the bathroom and I heard the lock click and the water start.

I was flushed by her thanks….. I had to sit down. I tried to understand why a girl from money would squat in a garage of a row house. Could she help me understand her, I wanted to understand her…. I wanted to make her smile; I wanted to see into her brown eyes thru to her heart. When she smiled at me I felt like I was human being again.

While she showered I moved upstairs and made up the bed, after it had aired out and was covered in the clean sheets it wasn't the hell hole I remembered. I looked around the room and felt pretty good . I heard the shower turn off so bolted downstairs. As I came down the stair I had never seen such a sight in this room. . . .

Her jeans were those thin legged ones, the shirt was fitted. Her complexion had turned to blush in the heat of the water and she looked like angel dropped from a tool calendar.

It was hovering around 10 and as much as I wanted to stay up and talk or watch some Football, I had an early day at work tomorrow; I guess I might have sounded a little short when I asked "Let me show you upstairs".

She followed me and stayed across the loft until I left for downstairs, then I heard her pull back the blanket and sheet I relished the sound of her legs falling onto the bed, the sheets rustling over her.

She left the bathroom cleaner than she had found it, the damp towel smelled like her, hanging over the shower door. In her few minutes in the room she had branded it. I slid out of my clothes and prayed for enough hot water to get me clean. I needed to get over this lump in my heart and standing where she had stood seemed to grow that lump. I stood under the shower and rinsed myself, the shower gel was hers now…. When I touched it, it was as if I touched her. I felt as if she was still within arm's reach, a prize I ached to caress and cherish.

I knew I was coarse where she was refined and I was ignorant where she probably had read a lot of books, probably even had conversations about them. It dawned on me that she must have been hurt; she talked about rape like it was nothing, as if it wouldn't hurt her. How could that be? Yeah, I had hit Annie, when she provoked me and I was drunk, I never forced myself on her. Only a jackass would rape a woman and I was many things, just not a jackass.

The hot water took away the aches I had earned at work today and what a day it had been. Her face was before me; her infrequent smile was my bonus for lingering on the vision. Was it too much for me to even think that she'd ever invite me into my own bed?

I didn't even I want to fuck her; I wanted to spend hours in bed erasing that look on her face when she dared the character in those unknown shoes to rape her. My chest is tight, my legs tremble, and my breathing is short, I try to measure out my breathing, try to recover some balance when I realize I've leaned against the walls and fantasized her hands on me. From the sensation of her fingers on my forearm I fantasized them wrapped around my cock, the other hand cupping me, gripping me as I empty my load down my leg. The shock of coming smacks me back to my reality…..Why would god dangle this glittering jewel in front of me without a chance of winning her? I bargained with god, the place had been cleaned, no liquor, no drugs. I'm clean and sober.
Would he hear the prayers of a punk mechanic in a cramped shower of a garage apartment?

I dry off and slip on my basketball shorts and one of those tee shirts I had offered Daria. I grabbed the afghan to get some sleep and she's moving around. I hear the springs move with her twisting, then I hear her call out and I take the steps two at a time, she's got her face buried in her pillow and she's tortured by a phantom.

I sit on the edge of the bed and slide her to me, she's still asleep, eyes squeezed shut to hide from her demon.

"Daria, you're OK, you're with me, its Marcus" I repeat this over and over, quietly like I wanted when I was a child. I hold her soft and limp body in my arms, she's light as a dream, and she's my dream. When I know she's asleep again I pull back the sheet and lay her down, covering her with the sheet and blanket. I don't even dare kiss her… it might break the spell.

The sofa is cold and flat and I am tired and I am dreaming of sunrises and seabirds. I hear her voice, I feel her gentle fingertips on my shoulder, "Marcus, Marcus, your alarm went off, it's 6 o'clock, did you need to get up for work?"

Then I think Tuesdays are pretty good.

Daria's POV:

The dream is always the same, it rips thru me like I think razor wire would, jagged and dull. Daddy is floating away in a little boat – I am screaming my lungs out, screaming to make him turn around, screaming for the people in their boats to go get him, bring him back to shore. I have no boat; my feet are frozen to the pier, unmovable. Everything vaporizes and there is Mom in white and Arthur in black. Do bad guys always wear black?

My skin is pricking with millions of needles and I can barely breath, Arthur is giving me that "look" and my flesh quivers down there in a sick and twisted way. He's toasting Mom, making that "family comes together" speech. His lips are moving and I've either grown numb and deaf or there is no sound coming from his lips.

Mom is enjoying her size 6 fantasy of a wedding dress, one she couldn't have afforded when she married Daddy 22 years ago. Tonight I'm in a strange bed and if feels way more hospitable than the floor of the damp garage, even if I have lost my pillow. I think about Daddy, who pulled himself up in business to give Mom and me every possession we could desire and when it wasn't enough for Mom, he sold his soul to the devil and piloted the family sailboat out before a hideous storm.

Did he do it to prove he could fight the elements and win? No one fights Mom and wins, she's every bit a force of nature like that storm. The wreckage was found without Daddy, they declared him dead.

When the insurance check arrived Mom heaped it on top of the other millions in the bank and found comfort in Arthur, a business associate of Daddy's from New York City. I had ended my junior year at Hunt Valley Prep a happy rich girl with beach weeks and barbeques on the summer's calendar. Daddy's "accident" over the 4th of July weekend tainted my future and barely slowed Mom down.

Mom and I traveled to NYC for Broadway shows and shopping weekends, it did nothing to fill the empty heart I carried. When I was too miserable to be in Mom's company, Arthur began coming down the coast for weekends. Arthur seemed to be enjoying Mom's weight loss way too much. Daddy's accident stressed her from a round 12 to a very lithe 6. Arthur masterminded a surgical strike on her closet full of classic Talbot fashions while she was recuperating from her tummy tuck and Breast enhancement. I stood helpless, secreting away one particular purple cardigan that Daddy had given her for her birthday. The royal purple was ravishing against her deep auburn hair and I wanted to be adored just like Daddy adored Mom. Mom's hair is processed a bright strawberry blond even lighter than my hair, it's the way Arthur likes it.

Yeah, about those breasts of hers, why did she do that? Was it Arthur's idea? If it was, why does that picture perfect pervert slide into my room to lie all over my relatively unexciting body?

I burn with anger, how could I lose Daddy? The compassionate man who shared painting military miniatures and National Lampoon with his daughter, the man that got me an autographed print from Boris Vallejo for my 18th birthday? He told me to be strong like the women in Vallejo's art and wear a few more clothes. We laughed about that every time we looked at the print together.

As deep as I try to bury my hurtful feelings for Arthur, his deeds run on a loop in my mind's eye. The recollection of his meaty palms cupping my A cups chills me, turns me inside out with nausea. His mumbling about how pure I am is his mantra as he sucks on my toes as a preamble to his other deeds. When he caught on to my taking the pill for my periods he was in my room weekly for his slap and tickle. The silent Daria takes over; she lies unresponsive while I seethe to the point of vomiting after he leaves

So what were my choices? Live in their house, under their thumb, screwed by my step dad and screwed over by a faithless Mom OR I could go away to college and taking my screwings summers and holidays.

Neither worked for me, now I'm on the street, flat ass broke taken in by a guy covered in tattoos. At least he hasn't hit on me and that's probably just a matter of time.

The nightmare is a little too vivid tonight, I've let my guard down, and it must have been the shower and the soft bed. I haven't been in a real bed in weeks. Tonight the water is choppier than usual and I'm splashed with the dirty bay water, I'm smaller than the rest of the people and the pain if greater, then someone from behind me wraps arms around me. My rapid heart beat drives me to believe I'll burst with the pain, my mind is clouded and my throat burns from yelling for Daddy. The arms are strong and the hands are rough, I smell soap and deodorant and toothpaste and as he holds me my body morphs from taut to malleable and soothed. My head moves from being buried in the pillow to laying on it enjoying slower breaths and a flexible posture. This is a new feeling, usually I wake screaming.

What has come over me?
What madness taken hold of my heart?
To run away, the only answer pulling me away, to fall upon
(The night)

The source of my recovery sweet shadow taking hold of the light
Another day has been devoured calling me away, begging the question, why?

Well, the screaming isn't me this morning; the clock radio next to the pillow is screaming at me, I lift a drowsy head and see, 6:00 AM. Then I realize I am in Marcus's bed, and he must have this set for work, I pull out of the bed reluctantly and take slow steps down the stair to wake him. Before I do, I just stare at his muscled, lean form on the black vinyl sofa.

My heart is in my throat as I stand behind the sofa and read the ink on his body. In between my syncopated heartbeats I see his nostrils flare slightly as he breathes, his dark lashes lay on his cheeks and they flutter in his sleep, what is he dreaming, that he's nuts for taking in a strange girl?

I see the intricate tribal stamp on the small of his back and I wonder how bad it hurt to prick ink into so much of the expanse of his slim hips. His legs stretch over the bottom third of the sofa, the afghan is on the floor. When I see his calloused hands at the end of his arms wrapped around his head I wonder if they were the hands and arms that sustained me thru my nightmare.

This isn't the hairless, smooth body of my prep school ex-sweetheart who ushered me into sex in stolen moments. Nor is it the doughy mid 40's body, stuffed from steak dinners and Manhattans who stole my innocence.

This is a god, fallen from Mount Olympus, perhaps the God of Mechanics? I'm breathless and wide awake now, so I circle around the sofa to get eye level with him. He's shifted a bit to his back, has he been awake watching me watch him?

I flinch at being caught, if he's about to open his eyes… … … I wait and watch closer while his relaxation is giving way to a hard on under the shiny basketball shorts.

What kind of dreams are running thru his head I wondered, Is he dreaming about me, could he be? His breathing never changes as the thickness moves on its own. I'm curiously drawn to watching; I've not spent the night with my "ex" to see this unfold – I'll be mortified if Marcus wakes up now and sees me like this, I rise and step back, hoping he rolls back on his stomach which he does after he lowers a hand in his sleep to scratch . . . . .

I step back and crouch at him, all this "admiring" has cost him precious minutes before he leaves for work….I don't even know when he leaves and my chest tightens thinking about waking him, then I take a deep breath and reach out to touch his bare shoulder, "Marcus, Marcus, your alarm went off, it's 6 o'clock, did you need to get up for work?"

He's lying there, opening his eyes and he smiles at me… I melt; I wish I could bottle the feeling and swig it when I'm feeling low.

"Hey," First a crooked smile at me and then he wipes at his eyes, and sits up, hands over his hard on.

"Did you want me to fix some breakfast?" it's the least I could do I thought, sitting in the chair opposite him.

"I need to get to the store all I have is coffee, I think" he rises and pushes open the cabinet doors – I see biscuit mix and canned fruit, some tuna and a jar of jelly.

"Any eggs?" I ask and he moves to the ancient round topped fridge, inside there's 6 eggs and a lidded pot. He nods and hands them to me, then closes the door and folds his arms over his chest, waiting…

"Trust me?" I took a page from his book. He licked at his upper lip and tilted his head; my stomach fluttered at the gesture and I had to turn around to keep concentrating.

"I haven't heard of any young women moving in and poisoning their hosts, so I guess so. I'm going to go get cleaned up for work, OK?" He took the steps up to the loft and I heard him dressing as I got out the cast iron frying pan and mixed up the biscuit mix, plopping spoons of the jelly over the top, I pushed it in the oven and broke three of the eggs into a bowl, whipping them with a fork. I lifted the lid on the pot in the fridge and pulled some of the ham off the hock, saving it for the omelet. By the time I was brewing his coffee he was down in the bathroom shaving.

This was too smooth; I was tightening up inside waiting for one of us to meltdown. Two people meet and in 24 hours they are playing house.

"So what's on the menu, nothing crawled out from the cabinet did it?" He probably didn't know what was under there I had guessed.

"Coffee, An omelet and a coffee cake" I whipped my hands at the dishtowel tucked into my waist. I was grateful Daddy and I had quiet Sunday mornings together while Mom caught up on her beauty sleep. It was going to be a good day because it had started better than the last few days.

"Sounds better than my usual" he confessed with a chuckle

"What's the usual?" Ok, I bite...

"A Wish Sandwich, hey, Look, I work on the other side of the wall, I open the shop at 7am and Wally is the owner, I really don't want to have him asking questions" His voice began cheerful enough and then I felt a knife plunge into my gut, he was going to give me the boot…. I had this sinking feeling.

"I just got out of the hospital, it's a long story, anyway, if you need me, come out that door" Marcus pointed to the door we came in through last night, "and walk around to the office door, OK?" He poured a coffee and held the carafe as if to offer me some, I shook my head no, so he drank it black and between sips kept talking.

"What's on your to-do list?" his tongue darted over his lips catching the coffee that didn't make it into his mouth. I had bounced back up, the other shoe hadn't dropped.

I was getting weak kneed. "I have to find a job, and I have to check in at the shelter, they didn't have room the last 4 nights."

I got the coffee cake out of the oven and began the omelet. After the egg had gelled I tossed the shreds of the ham in along with some ground pepper, he was standing close enough to inspect every step and I was sure he heard my heartbeat thumping in my chest.

"You look pretty good at this, there's a place around the corner needs a server, they do a pretty good business" He poured more coffee and spooned up coffee cake for both of us.

"I'll take anything I can do wearing the 3 outfits I have" I nodded to the backpack as the omelet slid onto one plate and I cut a smaller corner off for me. I slid the plate toward him, leaning against the other end of the counter. He dug in and savored each bite, I watched him as I ate. Never underestimate the power of shared food, it nourishes body and soul.

"Look, if they don't have room at the Open Door, come back here, I won't bug you. Maybe I can squeeze an advance out of Wally and we can eat hamburgers or something better" He winked at talking Wally out of cash. He looked at his cell phone, then rinsed his dishes in the sink and nodded good-bye. I had posed there at the door, as if ready for a goodbye kiss and he slid right past me, closing the door behind him.

I did the dishes and then rubbed toothpaste on my finger to brush at my teeth. After I French braided my hair I set out with my backpack, it's all well and good that he said I was welcome I just wasn't letting go of my belongings again.

I had never gone in for a job looking quite this low, I remembered my Daddy talking about having a pen and being spit-spot clean. Then I had to reconsider where I was applying, all the cafes along the Harbor, all the beer bars and even some of the Market Bistros. Of course a girl with a backpack isn't the most appealing applicant. Without a phone they weren't too impelled to hire me. I walked back to the library and signed on to use their computer, sending a high sign to a few of my friends that I was living London while I did some independent study in College. That would keep people from looking for me.

Marcus' POV:
Not so bright, but plenty early I had the shop wide open at 7am, the appointments rolled in and I wrote up the tickets while I waited for Wally. He blustered in about 8:15 after I had been under the hood of a couple of cars.

"Marcus!" he barked, holding up a stack of mail as he stood in the doorway of his office.

He handed it to me with an apology, "I forgot to give this to you, one of them looks like its important" his greasy finger tapped at the one from the State Office of Victims Assistance.

I accepted the stack and nodded a thank-you, there goes the blender in my stomach, and I went over to the workbench working open the envelope impatiently. Something about the state address on an envelope that flat out scares me.

I slowly read the letter, Hell, motherfucker, they are paying me money…. There inside the envelope is a voucher I take back downtown and they cut me a check for $25,000. Fuck me and call me Susan. I feel jet fuelled, it's all I can do to keep from hitting the ceiling.

I break out in a smile and Wally calls from the doorway, "You OK?"

I turn off the smile and nod, "Yeah, yeah, it's all under control" I go back to the stack of mail, mostly junk except the auto insurance letter terminating my automobile coverage on the wrecked car. I go back over to the apartment door, thinking, Daria could be there maybe she hasn't left yet? I throw open the door and the place is silent, she's gone….. Is she gone, or gone for good?

For saving me from all they've taken letting my armor fall again
Giving me the strength to face them
Feeling it taking over now on a path to take it all away

There can be no better way of knowing in a world beyond controlling
Are you going to deny the savior in front of your eyes?

Stare into the night power beyond containing
Are you going to remain a slave for the rest of your life?
Give into the night

This self-discovery redemption taking hold my mind
This serenade of haunting voices calling me away, to feast upon
(The night)

The source of my felicity dark maiden taking hold of my hand
Leading me away from hibernation
Strong and unafraid, never a question why

For saving me from all they've taken letting my armor fall again
Giving me the strength to face them
Feeling it taking over now on a path to take it all away

There can be no better way of knowing in a world beyond controlling
Are you going to deny the savior in front of your eyes?

Stare into the night power beyond containing
Are you going to remain a slave for the rest of your life?
Give into the night

Give in to the night
In a world beyond controlling are you going to deny the savior
In front of your eyes?

Stare into the night power beyond containing
Are you going to remain a slave for the rest of your life?

Give into the night - Night, night, night
Give into the night - Night, night, night
Give into the night - Give into the night

Invisible Harm #5

Frantically, looking for Daria, she's not here, that means she's out looking for work, like she said she was going to do….. Marcus kept repeating this mantra over and over as he scanned the open room, the bathroom and then barged up the steps thundering on each foot's landing.

The place was still as a tomb, cool and still. If only he had thought to give her his cell number and a quarter for a phone, if only he had given her a business card from the shop with the address so she could remember where they were…. The if's raced thru his head until his ears ached. He sat on the end of the bed for a moment to think….

What did AA say about coming clean and factoring in a woman? Is this a bad idea, getting attached to someone who's as hard up as you are? It was all boiling in a big soup pot between his brain and his heart. He was frightened she was gone…..

He slunk down the stairs and into the bathroom to throw water on his face. He stared into the mirror, red faced, hyperventilating. CALM the hell down, he thought. He folded the voucher up and pushed it into the secret compartment every wallet seems to have, and then walked back out to the shop, it wasn't lunch yet; he'd anxiously counted the minutes until then.

He'd have to chill, none of the guys could know about this….. Any kind of spare cash usually attracted all the wrong attention. Benny, his old "source" would want him to spot some coke or weed, promising great profits and Marcus knew the profits would dwindle as the product hit the streets; he wasn't going back to that…. He knew he had to play this closer than any poke game he ever sat in.

He had to keep it cool, had to handle all the petty crap the way he always would, with a smart crack or a shake of his head. The morning dragged thru radiator flushes and oil changes, things he could do in his sleep since his mind kept detouring to the voucher in his wallet.

Juan, the detailer came in with a bag of his wife's tamales and they sat behind the shop watching the cats pick at the field mice, "Why you here with me today, Marcus?" Juan's a quiet guy, a family man squeaking by on cash under the table, has a wife and 2 kids in diapers, a righteous guy.

"I stay here, I stay out of trouble, besides, you'd be jealous if Marisol brought me tamales, I hang around here and you bring 'em to me"

Marcus was telling the god's honest truth, he didn't need the thrill of a lunch time ride to burn one and come back high….. he needed to keep my head clear of drugs because the zeros on that check were keeping him pretty high on their own. Just as they were wiping the dust off our backsides the guys rolled back into the parking lot and worked started all over again.

Marcus' mind spun back to breakfast, Daria making something from nothing, how it felt to have someone cook for him. Yeah, she had to eat too, it was the fact she asked and she took the crap in the kitchen to make something really tasty. He rolled in his head, Do you think Juan knows the treasure he has with Marisol? Listen he thought…."I'm out of the hospital, what 3 days and I'm questioning everything….everything."

About 3 O'clock the shop had slowed down, he watched until Wally hung up the phone then knocked on the door frame. He jumped, and barked, "Yeah, what now, Marcus?"

"I was wondering if I could get about 50 bucks advance on my check, I know it's Tuesday, I need to get some groceries and stuff" Wally would huff and puff and then give it to his lead mechanic that was their habit.

"Yeah, no problem. . . . I figured you were busted", his eyes scanned the tall tattoo covered guy, did Wally think Marcus was going to blow it on liquor or weed? He didn't say so if he did, as he unlocked the drawer and slid five $10 bills across the desk.

"I got all the work on my manifest done, and I need to sign some papers down town, could I borrow a shop car and get it done?" Marcus could feel the pull of Wally's gaze, he was about to tread on his last nerve.

He was all puppies and butterflies when he barked, "On one condition, take back that crap box of hose clamps back to NAPA and gas up the Impala" he peeled $40. From his money clip and handed Marcus the box of hose clamps. The mechanic picked the key ring off the hook and saluted Wally as he left.

It felt free to have the afternoon sun on his face, feel the breeze from the rolled down window as he headed to the car parts store. One job down two to go. The Impala rolled into the Royal Farms and Marcus bought a coke out of the $40 and then pumped the remainder into the tank. Coming out of the neighborhood he kept an eye open for Daria, she'd be walking, maybe he'd see her and give her a ride.

He got to the state office around 4; the lady behind the glass looked bored handling the letter, she asked the usual I.D. questions then took the voucher and told him to have a seat. He waited patiently considering there were no TV, radio or magazines, just some pamphlets about disability and jobs.

"Hell," he thought, "how do I get one of those jobs where everyone is sitting on the other side of the wall drinking god knows what out of a travel mug at 4:15 in the afternoon?" He sat with his chin on his hand and reran the past 24 hours. "I hadn't used, I hadn't stolen, I was staying focused. I feel pretty good about that…."

He was just about to zone out when I heard, "Bohem, Marcus Bohem", the tired woman waved him back to the window and pushed a stack of papers toward him, along with a pen and started pointing at little red X's. In just a few seconds Marcus traded all those papers for a brown envelope and a green check. Stunned, he stood, counting the zeros and where the comma fell, $25,000.00.

"Any questions, Mr. Bohem?" her voice droned and broke his staring at the check.

"Do I have to file taxes on this?" He shook the check between us.

"Read page 3 or consult your tax professional" she pushed the envelope further away from her and reached up to slide the window down, cutting a look at the clock, it read 4:45. He nodded and got the idea, "I have their money now go away…"

In the traffic he tried to make a list, he thought about a car, something that would last, not anything new, just something reliable. Then his mind screamed, "Bank account", he had to cash the check and didn't want to keep the cash in the strong box inside the box spring…..he needed to get a note pad and write things down, he felt like a frog in a blender.

Nobody can know about this money, because nobody from the past cares about broke Marcus and that's the way he wanted to keep it.

"This is bullshit" Daria thought..."I can't prove Arthur right…he said I wouldn't make it to the end of the driveway…. How can I get a place without a job? How can I get a job without an address?" The monologue droned in her head. How unfair all this is….. Maybe it was the backpack that gave her away, maybe it was the lack of an address. I bombed today, she deliberated. She guessed the experienced homeless person knows some secrets she didn't….

The library seemed to house so many hopeless souls with empty eyes; they saw it in each other's faces while they got comfortable in office style fixtures shoved between bookshelves.

She weighted how close she was to getting on the light rail and heading back to her neighborhood, maybe she could crash with a couple of the girls from Loyola. . . . Then she'd come in contact with Mom and Arthur, and that was not where she wanted to be.

She'd give it another couple of days. If she could keep cooking something from nothing maybe she'd cover her "Keep". A quick look in her wallet revealed 5 quarters and she decided rather than food at the Dollar store she'd buy the travel toothbrush and toothpaste, it was an investment in her future career.

Looking at her watch, she thought of her Daddy…. He gave it to her for her 16th birthday, sure a Tag Heuer would be worth something on the street, and she couldn't bear to part with it. "Where are you, Daddy? Please lend me a hand! Would you let your Princess drown? Send me an Angel, Daddy." She pleaded silently.

She never thought it would be simple….but god, she thought she'd get a chance…. It's called serving, not brain surgery!

Her mind flashes thru all the faces of the people she met on the street. Every other face is Marcus … … . one of his quirky expressions or half smile…some serious gaze….Is he my angel she wondered? Could he be hiding his wings? Did she look close enough at his tattoos, were his wings the tribal symbols on his back? Is this the inked up angel you've sent? Its 4:55 and she needed to get back, do she know the way back to Marcus'?

The sun was setting and she was spending precious sunlight retracing steps, all the brick fronts look the same and her heart was thumping as the traffic whizzed by. She remembered a funeral home and the first café, Rollo's, near by. It's almost 6 and she's about to stop in the bar on the corner to get directions. Her feet burn from the brick sidewalks and her legs ached from all the pointless walking. She stopped for a second to rest, famished….was she confused because she was hungry….or hungry because she was confused?

Welcome to the game, Daria….. Welcome to the big bad world of independence, she worried then she saw Rollo's and caught a look down the street, there's the garage. Daria broke into a run at the sight of it. . . .lungs blazing as much as her calves, out of breath.. … … "Is Marcus there? Has he waited for me? Is he going to be pissed when I don't have a job? Well at least I have a toothbrush…" she repeated over and over in her head.

She saw the light on…..and kept running….she didn't see him just yet…. Then a figure came around the side of the garage…. She made out the overalls he left in this morning…. Then he saw her…just a block away he waved….Daria gestured back and he loped across the brick alley toward her, was he smiling?

Was he running to her as fast as she was running to him? She wiped her stray hairs out of her eyes as they collided

He'd been sitting on this crate outside the garage, alone, feeling like a fool because he hadn't given her his phone number, "What if something happened to her?" he worried, he wanted to see those eyes of her sparkle, he knew they did once. All that red hair, thick and wild did she ever let it down? He bet she looked like a mermaid from an old sailors sketch. He was antsy, he scanned the phone, it's almost 6 and there's no sign of her…. He got up to pace the block.

He remembered her run, only now he saw it from the front; all that hair is loose and flying behind her. He waved and she returned the gesture, he jumped into the street and caught her. Even with her backpack she's barely an armload, she squealed as he swung her around feet flying. He dropped her to the ground and nestled her in his arms, she pressed her cheek to his chest, and hoped she doesn't mind the garage smell. Marcus felt her heart beat, quick like a rabbit, hard like a jackhammer. Her hair was tangled and the setting orange sun was jealous of its glow….without thinking, he kissed her forehead and she let him. Then in an instant they're apart, looking at each other with breathless grins.

"I was worried about you today" he confessed, lifting a strand of crimson hair from across her forehead.

"You were? I was worried about myself…." Daria slid the backpack off her arms and shook out her shoulders; she straightened the snug teal Henley over her hips, her slim hips.

"How did you do today, did you get a job?" She's smart, she's appealing. Who wouldn't want to see her cheerful face every day?

She bit her bottom lip and looked up and down the street, "No….but I got a toothbrush?"

"Toothbrush?" It was a rougher day that she expected, "How'd you like to try that toothbrush after a good dinner out…?" She didn't know Marcus had some cash…..

"Are we eating tuna on the back step tonight?" She asked with a smirk.

Daria must be some sort of a miracle worker to turn one can of tuna into a meal; he couldn't mislead her that way.

"No, my Princess and I are going to dine on the delights of King Triton"

Daria froze….Princess….that was Daddy's pet name….Daddy did send her an angel with painted wings.

She ran light fingers over his stubble, and hesitated over the slight mole on his right cheek, then opened her hand to caress his jaw, he caught her hand and their eyes held each other, frozen for seconds. Marcus seemed puzzled, why is she so sweet, so gentle, and so soft?

She saw the curiosity in his eyes and knew she couldn't explain they were brought together for a reason. "I missed you today" are all the words she could summon.

His hand held hers as he confessed, "I came back to look for you this morning…"

"You did?" She seemed surprised and wondered why.

"You were gone, like you said you'd be, I should have given you my phone number….and a quarter"

"Well, tomorrow is another day….." She fawned like Scarlett O'Hara and Marcus reached for her backpack, she let him carry it back to his apartment.

"I'm flush with some cash; let's get by the market and pickup some dinner then on the way home we can bring back some groceries, OK?"

Marcus was making his way upstairs to change out of his works clothes so Daria slid into the bathroom to freshen up. By the time Marcus was back down in a tee shirt and black jeans Daria had combed out her hair and used some of her lip gloss. She had draped a scarf around her neck and dug her little gold hoop earrings out of her backpack.

She was nervously fidgeting with her cuticle when Marcus stopped in his tracks at the bottom of the stairs. He was taken with the glow on her cheeks and fullness of her lips. Her lean shoulders gave way to graceful arms that folded self consciously around her thin middle. He stood there and smiled, disarmed by her simple loveliness.

They made their way on foot to Moe's, gathering steamed shrimp and a few crabs, steamed corn and hush puppies. While Marcus carried the bulk of it, Daria carried the root beer and the cookies. They took their bounty to the public park on the harbor and spread out the beach towel to eat. He laughed at her delicate way of separating the blue crab, and he played at holding his pinkie up while he peeled the shrimp. The moon rose high over the harbor competing with the high rise homes and offices surrounding the quiet water. There was little conversation, neither had eaten this well in a while, and beyond enjoying each other's company they took great joy in every bite.

Once they had eaten it all, Marcus pointed to the tall round tower across the water, "One day, I want a place right up there on the corner; see that one on that end?" he pointed to patio'd condo about 18 stories up, "Wouldn't it be sweet to call that place home?", his goals as lofty as the real estate.

"You never know, Marcus, things aren't always what they seem" Daria knew the "joys" of the penthouse homes and all the secrets they held. Arthur kept a small place on the harbor for "business" purposes her told her Mom, "Did you mention grocery shopping?" she changed the subject with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Sure, or we eat tuna for breakfast…" Marcus admitted as he pulled himself up from the beach towel and held out his hand for Daria. Their fingers touched and she popped up to her toes, almost colliding again, Marcus stepped back to steady himself and then they did bump her shoulder to his chest. She giggled; he breathed deeply and steadied himself.

They walked to the market, Marcus conscious of keeping his hands in front of himself. They compared the sales flyer to his budget.

"Are you a meat and potatoes man?" she scanned the refrigerated shelves for the marked down cuts.

"You cook, I'll eat, you haven't disappointed me yet" he dug his hand into the front of his jeans and scratched his ear with the other hand, shrugging good naturedly.

"Marcus, I've known you, what 1 breakfast? What do you like to eat?" she tapped a humorously impatient foot at him.

"Yeah, and it was good, so I trust you won't poison me" there was that shrug again.

Her hand flew up and she shook her head, "You name three things you want to eat, I'll see what we can do"

There was that hand he thought; "I like ham, spaghetti, roast chicken, but not all together". Daria took off thru the market with Marcus pushing the cart.

They walked from the market with 39 Cents in his pocket from the $50. Wally had fronted him. While they made their way back home he was figuring on either shooting craps or playing cards for more cash before he could make it to the bank.

They dug the raw materials out of the bags, flour, eggs, pasta, a whole chicken, ground beef, spices, a ham slice, potatoes, onions. Marcus wiped down the shelves in the old fridge and began to put the cold things away.

It seemed they were stealing looks at each other, catching profiles and rear views of the new person in their lives. Marcus tossed the box of pasta toward her with the command, "GO long" and she stepped back to catch it one handed and place it on the shelf below the counter.

"This is the most food I've had here, ever. I wouldn't know what to do with it all, are you planning on staying a few days?" Marcus pulled out a pitcher and began to make ice tea.

Daria stepped toward him with the sugar bag and their hands connected in the pass. Once they felt the flow of emotion between them they stepped closer, Marcus kissed her forehead and began to reach for her when she stepped back and tucked her chin to her chest and then lifted her eyes to him
"If you want me to" She gratefully countered, feeling warm inside from his invitation.

They were silent, afraid to break the spell. Then as quickly as they realized their work was done, Marcus snapped out of the reverie and announced, "I don't want you to have to get right up at 6am, I can just eat some cereal and then you can get up and get dressed in peace, here's a quarter for the phone and here's the phone number" he jotted the cell number on a scrap of paper after he dug the change from his pocket and segregated the quarter from the dime and 4 pennies, "I'm going up to get my alarm clock, OK?" and Marcus stepped away backward, not wanting to lose the sight of her.

With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride
you're toxic, I'm slipping under
with a taste of a poison paradise I'm addicted to you
don't you know that you're toxic

I am a little bit of loneliness a little bit of disregard
Handful of complaints but I can't help the fact
that everyone can see these scars
I am what I want you to want what I want you to feel
But it's like no matter what I do, I can't convince you,
to just believe this is real
So I let go, watching you, turn your back like you always do
Face away and pretend that I'm not
But I'll be here 'cause you're all that I got

With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride
You're toxic I'm slipping under
With a taste of a poison paradise I'm addicted to you
Don't you know that you're toxic
And I love what you do
Don't you know that you're toxic, Don't you know that you're toxic

I am a little bit insecure a little unconfident
Cause you don't understand I do what I can
but sometimes I don't make sense
I am what you never wanna say but I've never had a doubt
It's like no matter what I do I can't convince you
for once just to hear me out
So I let go watching you turn your back like you always do
Face away and pretend that I'm not But I'll be here 'cause you're all that I've got

With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride
You're toxic I'm slipping under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I'm addicted to you
Don't you know that you're toxic
And I love what you do
Don't you know that you're toxic

Wednesday, hump day, the day when you hope you can chug up to lunch time and roll down the other side of the day cruising until Friday. He woke up, without the alarm, every inch of on high alert, very high alert. His balls were so tight he thought he was hefting a Louisville Slugger.

Did she do this to him overnight? He didn't remember a dream; it must just be the smell of the bath gel and the scent of a woman in this man cave of a place. In a very different way he couldn't quite describe what she did to him.

The fresh cereal was so crunchy he thought he was going to wake Daria while he ate standing over the counter while the coffee brewed. Did she drink coffee, he wondered, he wasn't sure if he saw her drinking it yesterday. He wanted to return the kindness of yesterday's breakfast so he left out a mug along with a spoon. He jotted down a "good-morning" on a paper towel and stepped into the shop for the day.

The dream hadn't terrorized her; she had taken a short shower and climbed up the steps watching him from over her shoulder. Marcus smiled at her from the black vinyl sofa as long as she stared at him. She held that sight inside her mind's eye as she drifted off to sleep. Daria had slept so hard she was rubbing the dust from her eyes as she made her way down the steps. She smelled coffee, what an angel, Marcus made coffee!

Daria crossed her legs as she sat on the sofa sipping the black coffee, "Daddy", she thought, "you sent me an angel, how about sending me where they need a plucky yet under experienced employee?" After washing her cup she headed up to change for another morning of job hunting, today she'd have Marcus' cell number to leave and she'd drop in at the library to see if anyone had emailed her about the 9 applications she completed yesterday.

Daria's emotions embroidered flowers on her heart as she jotted a note on a paper towel, "See you around 1 for lunch (if you come back for lunch)" and signed it with a smilie face. Would Marcus make that crooked smile when he saw this?

When she pulled the locked door shut behind her she felt better that she had this time yesterday, she knew she was closer to a job.

Around Noon Marcus closed the hood on the Mercury and headed to the apartment door, he heard Juan yell "Hey, Marcus you too good to use the garage head?"

"No, but your wife asked me to meet her around the corner, so I'm cleaning up". Marcus winked back at Juan, buffing out a Mercedes hood, Juan stopped the buffer long enough to shoot Marcus a middle finger salute that Marcus returned.

Marcus had sought the relative peace his hovel could provide in the middle of 8 hours of engine noise. Plus, he was hoping to catch a glimpse of Daria. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the clean coffee cup and her note; you could bet he'd be back at 1. He broke out that secret smile at her note and headed back into the garage.

"Hey, I knew you were a minute man," Juan quipped at Marcus' reentry. They swapped another round of middle finger salutes and went back to work until 1pm. Marcus' stomach was on spin cycle when he waved at Wally that it was his lunch time. He had to ask Daria about money and banks, she'd be the one who would know how to handle the check.

When he came thru the door Daria was at the counter, sandwich bread already in the toaster, she had laid out a few slices of turkey breast and was slicing an avocado, carefully layering the ripe green fruit over the turkey. She smeared a drizzle of lemon juice and olive oil over the sliced avocado, and then layered the turkey and the avocado beautifully over the toasted bread. Daria shook crumbled bacon and pepper over the open sandwiches and turned to Marcus, "I should use fontina cheese, but this will have to do" Then she toasted the sandwich in the toaster oven and poured ice tea while the yellow cheese draped fully over filling.

Daria put so much of herself into building the sandwiches how could he not pick it up and dig in with equal enthusiasm?

Truth was, he had never eaten avocado, and it looked a little slimy. He liked bacon and turkey and cheese, Oh, hell, the thought, he was hungry so he'd did in with equal enthusiasm. Daria deserved that much.

While she waited for his eyes to register his reaction, Daria felt the elevator in her gut plummet to her toes. The first bite revealed nothing. The second bite was a revelation to her, his eyes widened and the corners smiled where his chewing mouth couldn't. He winked and gave a thumb up at the taste.

Inside, Daria was jumping up and down and clapping with happiness, outside she nodded appreciatively and began to eat her sandwich. Between bites Marcus would open his mouth, about to pose a question about banks or money or buying cars, only to swallow the question with his food. When the sandwich was gone he had to gird his courage to start the dialogue.

"If you came into some money, what would you do with it, you know to make it last".

She swallowed her bite and thought for a second, "Daddy always said you need three months salary cash in the bank, the rest in a balance of bonds, stocks and retirement investments, you'd want…"

The investment advice was cut short by Marcus' laughter built from a chuckle to his being doubled over in a full belly laugh. Her seriously instructive expression melted to embarrassment then flushed with red shame, "What?" What's so funny?" she stammered as her lip quivered.

He froze and saw her emotions building, and then throwing his hands up in surrender, he lost the smirk and asked seriously, "How much money did you think I was asking about?"

"$500,0000, to a million dollars" Daria's face held her serious expression while her brain and heart were dueling whether to breakdown in tears. She defensively shrugged and flipped her hair back from her face, she was her Mother's daughter too in that regard.

"What about $25,000. ?" He licked his lips and sat waiting to be laughed at, it would be his turn.

"It would depend on the lifestyle…." She was less enthusiastic now, less authoritative.

"My lifestyle" he sat back, hands on his thighs, his back squarely against the sofa.

"How's that possible? I mean, that's a lot of money for a…."her stammering continued while she diplomatically tried to understand where a guy like him fell into that kind of money, her was saved when Marcus broke in "For a mechanic, a broke mechanic, yeah I know" He was rifling thru his wallet when he customarily began defending himself.

"It's all legal; I know what people think about how I live. You know how I mentioned I just got out of the hospital?" She nodded although it had kind of slipped her mind. "I was shot, my car was stolen, and this is a victim's compensation check. Somehow they think the hole in my side and my car were worth $25 grand"

"I'm sorry, are you ok now?" she was sliding from her embarrassment to a new confused feeling.

"Better than some, not at good at most" he cocked an eyebrow and shrugged then scratched his head, "I need your help, I haven't always been great with money and I don't even know the best bank to go to. I need a car and I need to tie this money up so I can't get to it easy."

"Why me?" She began to wonder if she was equal to his request for financial advice.

"When I go into a bank, they all look at me like I'm going to hold it up; they just give me the willies. I need, I mean, I'd like you to go with me." That was it, he asked and she agreed to go with him Thursday morning.

The bank had been there 197 years, initially serving the sailors of the port. The marble edifice that defended the cash and notes against the elements of the harbor also intimidated the impoverished residents who now occupied the surrounding neighborhoods south of the harbor.

9 AM, Thursday, Marcus and Daria set out on foot toward the Maritime Bank, signing in at the front desk they sat waiting for the first available bank officer. Business customers strolled in with their zippered envelopes and made small talk with the tellers while they read the pamphlets about the bank services. The priggishly dressed middle aged woman at the back desk approached them and spoke to Marcus, "Mr. Bowham" she mispronounced his name as she extended her hand to him.

"Bohem" he quietly re-pronounced it for her.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Bowham, I'm Ms Fenton, I see you'd like to open an account, please come with me" They rose and followed her to a desk in the rear of the office. Daria walked as she cast her eyes upward to the 30 foot ceilings in the main bank. The floor to ceiling leaded glass window amplified the sunlight over the desk.

The "bank-speak" was flowing, as Ms Fenton outlined the benefits of their institution and the variety of services. When Daria detected a bit of condescension in her tone, she sat further forward and touched Marcus's arm to get into the conversation.

"Mr. BOHEM, not Bow – ham, would like a money market account and a few certificates of deposit, I see the interest rates posted are from Monday, where are your current rates?"

"Mrs. Bohem, I'd be happy to get that," Ms Fenton's fingers flew over the keyboard and she wrote the percentage rate on a sheet of paper and slid it toward them.

Daria pulled herself up to her best posture; "Mr. Bohem and I believe that you can do better" Marcus looked at her, his mechanics hands folded in his lap while he watched the women verbally spar. Ms Fenton excused herself and returned with a different portfolio, exactly what Daria had expected this time.

When the I.D.'s came out and the signature cards were returned, Ms Fenton sought Daria's eyes and said, "Ms. Bromwell of the Hunt Valley Bromwells?"

"That's right, now of the Harborside Bromwells" she chided herself for her family being moneyed people defined by their community.

"Ms Bromwell, what brings you to," the clerk read the address on Marcus' license then looked at her in astonishment.

"I needed a change of pace, a fresher outlook, Marcus gives me that" Daria sat back, her knee held by the fingers of her hands laced at her kneecap. Marcus was beginning to perspire in the bright sun and he looked sideways at Daria and forced a quick smile. She could tell he was uncomfortable there, "So what are you going to do for us and this $25,000.? Mr. Bohem is car shopping, so we need to know when those funds are available, specifically Saturday"

"Yes, Miss Bromwell, they will be available, Mr. Bohem, how much did you want to deposit into the Money market account?" Marcus and Daria put their heads together and he answered $10,000.

"The remaining balance will be deposited into CD's with staggered periods allowing you some variety of liquidity…" the bank speak was beginning to lose Marcus, Ms Fenton could tell. Daria could tell by his drained expression so early in the morning. The remaining papers were completed and secured in a folder handed to Marcus.

"When they call about the funds for the auto, who will they ask for?" Daria asked, securing Ms Fenton's word.

"Ask for me, Mr. Bohem" she handed a business card to each of them and Daria caught her stare at Marcus' hands. The stare lingered as she saw the dark nails and the calloused skin. Ms Fenton's tight smile straightened as she withdrew her hand.

"Mr. Bohem is an auto mechanic; do you have a good one Ms Fenton?" Daria's eyes burned thru the spinsterish woman.

"I do not, perhaps I haven't had the benefit of appreciating a good mechanic, and I ride the light rail" her tone was that of a woman who needed her front end aligned, "If that situation changes, I will certainly keep you in mind Mr. Bohem, Thank you for choosing Maritime Bank." She extended her hand to Marcus and let it linger in the "shake".

"What was that in there?" Marcus asked on the walk home, his wallet a few bills heavier, his walk a little lighter.

"What was what?" Daria avoided the question all the way home, "What kind of car are you looking for?" She changed the direction of the conversation and left him smiling at her parry and feint.

"Looking for something I can keep running, something trusty and something comfortable" They were waiting at the crosswalk, and then the light changed. Daria stepped out onto the gutter without Marcus, out of the corner of his eye a car cornered close, nearly striking Daria, he grabbed at the shoulder of her shirt and yanked her back toward him, she screamed at the blur and the sensation of falling backward. They landed on the sidewalk together, Daria on top of Marcus' lap. She saw him flat on the sidewalk and her position and jumped up, to realize she had twisted her ankle.

"Are you OK?" he pulled himself up, dusting off the grit and caught her awkward dance of pain. Their hands had recovered from the shock of the near hit and he held her hand while she righted herself, "You are not OK, jump on up, I'll piggy back you the rest of the way".

It was something about his reflexes to save her, his big heart and strong back to have her jump up and carry her the 8 blocks home. Daria giggled as she felt his back against her breasts, her bra covered nipples rubbed against his tee-shirt and she wished she was braless. His arms hooked her knees as she straddled his back; she was situated right over that tattoo and with each bounce of his step she felt the back of his belt and belt loop stroke her center. All she could do was lay her head on his back and breathe his earthy musk all the way home,

"You saved me again" she whispered into the back of his neck, a statement lost in the din of the street noise and Marcus asked, "What?" and she spoke more directly into his ear, "Thank-you"

"Just sit here, while I get a pan of water and some ice" he pointed to her firmly while she fought his directions. He removed her shoe and iced her ankle, "You are going to live, just as long as you stay here".

That statement meant more than anything to her. Once he had wrapped her up and got her to the couch he turned on the TV and promised he'd return by lunch, "Don't go anywhere, I'll be back".

Daria dozed sweet dreams of her "Marcus back" ride and sure enough, around two he was back, with soup in a mug and an iced tea.

"You know how things work out sometimes?" Marcus asked as he blew his soup cooler, she didn't know where this was going so she shrugged and half nodded.

"I used to work on a car for an old couple down the block, they had this Taurus since I guess 1990 and when he got sick they had all kinds of money problems, I gave them my cell number and I'd go down there" he pointed down the road, "and I'd fix the car and she'd make me Stromboli and spumante." Marcus went on telling tales about this Italian couple, married 50 some years.

Daria could see the warmth in his eyes as he talked about the desserts and the nights he sat on the front step with them, almost surrogate parents to him. She wondered where his parents were…..

"Frankie can't drive anymore, Connie said they have to get rid of the car, the insurance policy expired last night and they are deathly afraid of getting arrested for driving without insurance, so they asked me if Wally could get rid of the car…. I told them I'd buy it" He was sipping soup and talking with so much regard for the old couple, her heart was melting for him.

"Can you get the insurance and tag switched over easy?" Daria caught a noodle and slurped it as Marcus watched it disappear with some intent interest.

"Yeah, in fact we can pick it up later tonight, Wally's pissed that I've had to take time off, he expected it he said with the shooting and stuff" there he mentioned the shooting again….. Would she have the courage to ask him to tell her the whole story?

"I can run down to the tag agency tomorrow morning, then tomorrow night…..we'll have wheels" Marcus slapped the arm of the sofa with enthusiasm and his statement, "We'll have wheels" rang thru her head then her heart…. He was thinking of the two of us.

One of the last vestiges of Americana, the Drive In was showing a double feature that night, beginning at dark. Marcus had kept the car's condition a surprise, he wouldn't even tell her the color until Juan had waxed it and the temporary tags were installed. Around 7:45 Marcus wrapped his arm around her waist and helped to the door, "Our chariot waits", he joked as he opened the door to the 1990 Taurus. The black paint job had been flattered by the wax job, and inside the deep grey leather looked fresh without the help of the new pine deodorizer Juan had installed as a joke to Marcus.

"Pretty smooth, huh?" the pride of ownership shone in Marcus' smile, he closed the passenger door and jumped in the driver's seat, taking them down the road to the Greek family restaurant for dinner before their movie.

"Well it seemed like a good idea at the time" Marcus snickered as the film droned on, "I mean I remember all the fun we used to have at the drive in, this is a stinker of a movie" he stretched his long legs out in front of him as they lay on the hood of the car on blankets, their backs on the windshield.

"I remember running on the playground, eating snow cones until my tongue was blue" Daria's eyes sparkled in the movie light as she remembered when her parents had little coin to play with.

Marcus watched her, his arms crossed over his chest, his hands buried under his elbows, there was something radiating from her, he wanted to reach out and feel the energy and he didn't want to risk breaking the spell, "Are you getting chilly?" she asked, and he picked up on the clue, he grabbed a beach towel from the back seat and she leaned forward to wrap it around her shoulders.

Their movements brought them closer together, their hips nearer, his arm around her shoulders, her head finding comfort in the hollow of his arm. They shared warmth as they listened to each other breath. Soon they had tuned out the miserable film and were relating stories back and forth to each other…

Marcus heard all about her family's move from the city to the horse country of the north county when her Dad's business went global, from her recollections he kept catching her references to Gloria, the live-in helper who was always there for her. He knew Gloria was warm and wonderful to have put up with all her Mother's antics. His heart broke when she recounted the day her Daddy died. Then silence stalled any further revelations about his new friend. She closed up like a vault and he wondered what had kicked the door shut on her heart.

They had talked until silence took them over and she rested their in his arms, the second movie plodded on while Marcus opened up about his alcoholic mother and invisible father, then his stories stopped with his High School graduation and two years in the Navy. He bit his lip in the dark while she watched for him to say more…..tonight there was no more…to learn. She didn't push him simply because she didn't want to be pushed.

His hand found hers in her lap and he carefully threaded their fingers together, they moved little by little, hips a little closer side by side, feet tapping into each other every now and then. He caught the sound of her breathing and wondered if she felt his heart throbbing in his chest. She looked up to beam at him and dropped his hand to touch the cleft in his chin, "That's really nice" she whispered, leaving the pad of her finger in the cleft.

Why was so tender to him? Why did her touch feel like a gentle wind? Marcus wanted to hold this night right there, where he couldn't blunder thru to disappoint her or hurt her feelings. Deep inside he didn't think she'd react like all the other women in his life….it's just that he didn't want to ever disappoint Daria.

So he caught her hand and laid it on his lips, puckering a kiss that brought a smile to her face, one of those trusting, sincere smiles that signaled for more. He placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned in for a kiss on her cheek and she moved to catch it on her lips…. His surprise, her prize.

There were a few quick kisses, caused by an urgent need for air. Neither expected their breath to be taken away by something as pure as a closed eye kiss. Maybe that was the excitement, the tension of their newness.

Then Marcus pulled back and drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them….."I' didn't mean to put the moves on you….." something in her body language was screaming "hurt", "vulnerability" he thought about her casual comment about rape….…..what was it? He reigned in his libido and whispered. "I'd never hurt you"

"I think we were both moving about the same speed." She admitted mimicking his posture, knees up, arms wrapped to catch her chin as she tried NOT to watch him self-consciously wrestle his hard-on into a comfortable position.

"What do you say we call it a night, I mean, head back to the apartment, let you rest your ankle, you know get a good night's sleep and you know cool off." Every verbal direction Marcus headed seemed to feel like a come on now. He helped her off the hood and back into the car, gathered the blankets and tossed them in the back seat.

There was nothing to disagree with, she knew where it would head if they stayed on the hood of the car, or ducked inside the car. She'd want to see if his chest felt as fine as his back felt and then she'd want to see it all, even on the darkness of the drive in…. they had to get out of there or she was going to act on every curious urge she had.

Sunday morning roared in with a rainstorm, they took refuge watching the deluge thru the tall windows at the top of the room while they leaned against the loft railing. They dangled their legs over the end of the loft and shared stories about growing up in a harbor town. She wondered out loud if they had ever passed each other on the street, he knew inside they hadn't.

When they came back down for lunch, Marcus phone rang, "Unknown, did you give my number out for a job?" he announced right before he answered it, "Hello?... … Yes, Daria, she's here…. Hold on", he mouthed the word "JOB" and stuck up a thumb

"Yes, oh, yes I did. I think I can, what time? You want to see me AT 3 TODAY?" She made an excited face and repeated the words for Marcus. He kept nodding as she kept talking. She closed the call and let out a "whoop"

"Their girl laid out one too many times, they fired her because they have a big party tonight and they needed help. They want to see me at 3 and if I'm a good fit, they'll hire me" She was grinning ear to ear and turning pink.

"What about your ankle?" Marcus asked…..

"It's a job, I'll just have to power thru it…." The girl knew what she had to do. That first paycheck was within her grasp and she could taste it.

He went to sleep on the cold vinyl couch, Daria had a job, he had a car and coin in the bank… what would tomorrow bring?

Daria went to sleep; a minimum wage job never meant so much in her life. She had worked the banquet and her ankle hadn't hurt too much. She came away with enough to offer Marcus some cash if she didn't think it would insult him.

All she could think about as she dropped off to sleep were the wet, hot, slow kisses on the hood of his car. Could she invite more?

"Monday, Monday, can't trust that day…" The radio sang as Daria surfaced to wakefulness. It registered with Daria that she had been with Marcus, so recently a stranger, less than a week, and yet within that short space of time they had made a little nest with a few groceries and a second hand car. The work schedule on the night stand excited her. She had gotten the job because she was the right person there at the right time, not because she was someone's daughter.

A glance at her watch told her Marcus had let her sleep through his leaving for work; it was 8:44 am. She'd have to leave in an hour for work, but right now she was going to stretch out there in the old lumpy bed. She wondered what kind of girls had shared this bed with him, what kind of girl turned Marcus on? Where were the old girlfriends? Not that he ever mentioned having anyone special. He had kissed her hotly a couple of times, and she admitted to herself with surprise that she wanted more. If only there wasn't so much standing in the way…

She sighed and rose for the day, smoothing the blue flat sheet over the green fitted sheet, a detail she hadn't noticed until today. Maybe they could exploit this into a fashion trend? Then she wondered as she left the loft area, would they ever share that bed together?

Marcus realized he had a week's sobriety to celebrate. He'd been out of the hospital an entire week and hadn't used, hadn't drank, and hadn't stole. Each day sober was a banner day. So far the guys had left him alone. Guess they didn't want to mess with a guy who'd shot and killed his girlfriend. He was satisfied with their lack of attention; he didn't want all the complications of using. He breathed easier knowing his freedom was supported by a clear head.

Tonight he'd have known Daria a week. Would it be presumptuous to bring home Root Beer and ice cream to celebrate? Would this be the night to show her the view from the roof at sunset? When he needed solitude he'd climb the metal steps to the flat tar paper roof and step over the two foot gap to the building next door. Tonight would be a good time to divulge a little more about himself, perhaps she'd return the favor and he'd understand her better.

His mind wandered to the thought of booze instead of soda as he walked to the convenience store for the Root Beer and ice cream. He knew he had to stay sober for Daria, because without her and sobriety, life would be much less satisfying.

The roast chicken with garlic smashed potatoes was a hit! Gloria's recipes were locked up inside Daria's mind where she kept the happy memories of their time together in her family's kitchen. Gloria had been a shelter from her Mother's moods, serving up comfort and love on a plate, or insightful words with a cup of tea. As Daria cooked she offered up a silent prayer for Gloria, furious all over again at the thought that Arthur had rewarded her ten years of service with a small check and a pat out the door.

"You learned to cook from watching?" Marcus quizzed her about how the bird came out so tasty, how she knew how long to cook it, where she learned about seasoning, and the like.

"And eating, we did a lot of kitchen experiments" She giggled at the memory of their food mishaps. Over dinner she shared fond memories of the conversations she'd treasured with Gloria during the week, and with her Daddy on Sunday mornings. Marcus listened indulgently having no experiences of his own to share. He was damn lucky when anyone at his house made him peanut butter sandwiches. Who could afford jelly?

"Do you like root beer?" Marcus inquired, sweeping his bread around the plate, catching gravy and chicken shreds. Daria smiled at the sight of his long, lowered, eye lashes as he regarded his dinner. He was enjoying every bite! She thought with distaste about her Mother's admonishments to her father, the way she'd mocked him as "common" for sweeping his plate with his bread. The way she'd made him feel small. Daria's lips curled into a smile of defiance as she followed Marcus's gesture with her own, sweeping mashed potatoes into the remaining gravy. She nodded a 'yes' to the root beer question.

"How about floats, vanilla ice cream?"

"Love'm, but I'm going to be a cow if we keep up the treats." She stopped sopping up the gravy at the mention of Root Beer Floats.

"Naw, I do not believe that." He winked and carried his nearly clean plate to the sink. Somewhere inside he knew about women and their weight – time to shut up.

Marcus grabbed two football themed Big Gulp cups and they watched the root beer fizz as he poured it over the ice cream. Stabbing straws into each of the sweet smelling cups, he picked them up and led her out the door. "Come on, follow me." They climbed up the 3 flights of metal steps leading to the tar paper roof. The two foot gap between his building and the one next door was swallowed up in one of his long strides, and he left Daria momentarily staring down at the four story drop, while he put the floats on the picnic table. She didn't like heights, but she let him help her across the gap just the same.

He sighed his contentment at the view, and Daria smiled agreement. The panorama of the brick buildings with the high rises in the distance was breathtaking cloaked over by the golden hour of sunset as it cast a glow of oranges and purples in the sky. Marcus had been delighted when the company next door to the garage had fixed up their roof, interspersing potted trees and plants among picnic tables, as an enjoyable little get-away for their employees. In the evenings it was Marcus's own private park in the sky, and he was sharing it with his girl.

"This is very avant guard," Daria smiled as she used her straw to blend the ice cream with the root beer.

"Whatever that means." Marcus snorted at the cultural miles between them. "I always thought of it as my great escape." He sat, getting comfortable at the picnic table. "I can't get my mind off those high rise condos over there." He pointed to the very same one he had indicated a few nights ago. "What would it be like to live in a place like that?"

The sight of the sand colored brick building plunged a knife in her heart. Arthur's business condo was over there along with the one bedroom apartment he kept for "monkey business purposes".

Daria was slowing down on the float, but Marcus wasn't letting go of his dream, as he described to her his hopes of some day having a good enough job and good enough money to escape the grinding poverty of the South Harbor. At a lapse in his monologue, Daria's shuddering inhalation drew his attention.

"You OK?" He asked, concerned about the long sigh. Daria nodded and licked at her lips then raised her head to meet his eyes.

"Do you have any idea the hell that goes on in places like that? I mean," she drew a deep breath to continue, "I knew a girl whose family had a place over there." His eyebrow rose as he regarded her. "Her stepfather molested her, over and over. And her mother wouldn't help her, didn't believe her when she tried to tell, just let it go on for months." Her face was ashen with the torment of first hand knowledge.

"That's gotta be tough, knowing that's happening to a friend. Not being able to do anything about it." Marcus observed quietly, knowing perfectly well who she was talking about.

"She told me… she, she said she'd lie in bed at night shaking, waiting for the pervert to sneak into her room…" Her voice dripped venom. "…waiting for his disgusting hands to cover her, touch her in all the wrong places." Her voice grew so faint Marcus had to strain to hear her. "Finally, when he took it, you know… all the way… she left. She ran." Daria's face was shadowed as she stared down into her cup - she didn't want to make eye contact with him right now.

"When things are really bad like that, some people push it down deep inside themselves so they can pretend it happened to someone else." Marcus suggested gently, waiting for her response.

"Well, what does that mean?" Her eyes flashed up at him. "You think it happened to me?" Daria twisted her hands in her lap so tightly that she winced.

"None of us are safe from that kind of thing, Dari." Marcus bolstered her. "Especially kids. It's not something they ask for, and it's sure as hell not their fault." He had always suspected it, but now he was beginning to really understand the source of her inner pain.

"Safe? Yeah, I was only safe when Daddy was alive. Now I'm… that God damn son of a bitch! Now I'm just used and broken…" She crossed her arms on the picnic table and dropped her head into them, her wails of anguish muffled and distorted in their depths.

He reached across the table to calm her, wanting with all his heart to gather her into his arms but knowing instinctively that he had to let her cry this out on her own. His hand rested gently against her clenched fist and she grabbed at it as if it were a life-line. He could feel her sobs reverberating through her.

His heart broke for the sweet, terrified kid she must have been, and he had to fight wanting to bawl right along with her. When finally her shaking sobs gave way to stuttering hiccups he figured it was safe to touch her again. He circled around the table and pulled her into the comfort of loving arms, and felt her sigh as she rested against the strength of his solid chest.

"Daria, Princess, you are not broken." He whispered huskily. "Bad things happened to you, but you're better than he was, you survived it. You did something about it. You're gonna be okay." He hugged her tightly back as she wrapped her arms around him and clung to his strength and surety. "You want to know broken? I'll tell you a story about someone who's broken."

He was wading in uncertain waters….."I got out of the Navy, I was bumming around working odd jobs, and I had a little place on the other side of town. Knew a few guys like me and we … … ah.. you know would get together and burn a joint or two every now and then. You don't smoke dope do you, Daria?"

She shook her head, her eyes a bit narrowed as she listened for the rest of his story.

"One night I was driving for a 12 pack when Monty and Joe ran me down a block before the beverage barn and they were out of breath and looked a little shook so I ask them what the fuck they were doing and they are all hopped up and they say they went out for a run. And I say to them, a run? And they say keep driving. So I didn't think any thing about it, until I got fingered as the getaway driver for their little experiment in how NOT to hold up a convenience store. They had a gun and they got sent up for a while, none of the victims could identify me or my car so I did 2 years inside, I got what they call "good time." Since I was such a choir boy, it reduced my sentence by about a year." He was sitting up on the picnic table, looking down at Daria, his elbows on his knees, his back bent forward toward her on the bench.

She hadn't moved thru any of the confession… … Marcus was still as he waited for some sort of reaction.

"That's it? You gave friends a ride, you weren't even near the place, how could they call you the getaway driver?" If she seemed frustrated by the charge, she could only imagine Marcus' frustration at the loss of his freedom and the blemish on his record.

"Yeah, there's an old saying, "you fly with the crows, you get shot down with the crows", my Granny used to say that when I was about this tall" he held his hand out to measure about a six year old, "I got shot down … .. way down.."

"Marcus, our two situations, they just seem as if we each got railroaded" Was Daria was grasping for reasons to pardon her savior?

"It gets a little deeper," his breathes were deep and slow as he chewed on his bottom lip, he raised his head quickly and they shook it, as if to whip off some invisible mantle of guilt.

"Deeper?" she asked, trying to make eye contact with him.

As she sat listening, her body language began to close up, her arms wrapped around her torso as she nodded for him to continue. All the while her heart was repeating "this is a good man" over and over.

"I mentioned I got out of the hospital" he nodded to her and she returned the gesture. "You're a smart girl, you read much news? Watch it on TV?" He was aiming for disclosure about Nick and Annie.

Daria shook her head no and he nodded in understanding that he'd have to put so much more into words for her.

"About a month ago a high school graduate, Nick, got beat up, left for dead because a classmate of his thought Nick had fingered her as the thief in a jewelry store smash and grab. Only thing is, Nick didn't call the cops. I did. I deserved that beating."

"Marcus, no one deserved a beating, why do you think you deserved a beating?" she was plotting this drama out, trying to keep track of the players in this crime.

"I called the cops on Annie, but she went after another kid and that kid threw Nick's name back at her. I knew Annie was headed down the wrong path, she had a rotten family life, and she was out of control. She just hung around me for the high" Marcus's head was down in his hands by now.

Daria's hands went to his knee; he saw those clean, soft hands and knew they were there to comfort him.

"The cops were visiting me at work and making noise about me going back to prison, so I pushed the one kid about where they hid Nick. Annie came after me with a gun, she threatened me. She shot me and left me for dead out on a gravel road" Now he was wide eyed, lips dry and breathing longer, deeper breathes.

"What about Nick?" her voice was quiet and words were measured and slow.

"Nick was alive, he and I ended up at the same hospital, and he's OK now"

"What about Annie, where is she?" another quiet, measured question.

"She's dead. They said it was self defense." Marcus whispered

"Can you give me some time alone?" a rush of air left her lungs and she buried her face in her hands, her elbows on the picnic table.

Marcus felt he had rolled the dice and shot "2" on the first roll, "what a crap out" he thought as he felt the loss of everything he had worked for in the past 7 days with Daria.

"Did you want me to leave for awhile so you could have downstairs to yourself?" he asked in a whisper.

All she could do was nod; she couldn't look at him…Daria waited until the sound of his boots on the metals steps faded to silence, then left what had been a beautiful scene on a stellar night. She went to the loft and pulled her backpack out from under the bed. She unceremoniously dumped the few contents on the bed and sifted for the waterproof make up bag for her Daddy's letter. She carefully peeled the flap back and held the envelope to her nose. The smell of Aramis was still faintly evident. She opened the letter and skimmed the handwritten epistle.

Dear Princess,

By the time you get this, my journey will be over. Will it be years before you can forgive me, probably? Your Mother and I are such different people, she sees things in black and white, I see black, white and a millions shades of grey.

Lately for your Mother, my black wasn't black enough and my white just wasn't white enough. Nothing was ever enough and I couldn't take it. I cracked, where I hope you'd be able to be strong and soldier thru to make your own life.

I ask you one thing, especially while you're young and it's easy to be judgmental just stop and try to see people for what they are. We are all flawed in such different ways that we need each other to accomplish another day. There will come a day and you'll meet someone special, if you can just keep your heart open to the fact that no one is perfect, then the two of you will have a perfect life. Or at least as perfect as it can be.

I love you, Princess. Please remember your name was the last word on my lips.

Daddy

Daria couldn't even cry, she wondered if this was all a test…. to see if she was worthy of being loved. So many times in the last week she had heard her Daddy's voice in the wind in some form of heavenly counsel. The confusion washed over her, leaving a thin layer of sweat that chilled and dried leaving her clammy and foul. She wanted to float; she wanted to be absolved from all the confusion. She reached for her last pair of fresh panties and gym shorts and furiously dug for a clean shirt. Without her own options she grabbed a shabby dress shirt from Marcus' makeshift clothes closet and headed for the shower.

She had let her self "go" not having shaved her legs or underarms for weeks. Sometime around the time Marcus was shot, she had hit the streets….

Yes, she remembered the news.

Yes, she knew of the boy, a fellow prep school kid, a year behind her.

No, she didn't know Nick, yet they had all been prisoners of prep school hell with inattentive parents and lost hearts.

She ran the shower as hard as its weak water flow would allow, furiously scrubbing and shampooing then shaving her downy hairs. When that communion of soap and water failed to absolve her sins of doubt she slid down to the floor and held herself until she shivered from the lack of hot water. When that became too much to bear she turned off the water and dried herself with the thin towel. In the tiny bathroom in the discolored mirror she stared at herself and accepted her decision.

She slipped on her shoes and headed to the front door, "Marcus" she called into the silent apartment. She opened the door and saw the odd peace of a city street at midnight. She walked to the corner and looked both ways, he wasn't within her sight and she leaned against the light pole resorting to her only option, She summoned all the air into her lungs and cupping her hands to her mouth bellowed, "Marcus". She listened for the echo and an answer, then bellowed again, "MARCUS" She folded over in resignation, then drew in more breath for an extended, "MMMAAARRRCCCUUSS".

Around the corner, Marcus sat on milk crates while he drank a root beer, beating down the demon that asked him for a frosty beer. At first is could have been his imagination he thought, then it was louder and he pricked up his ears as he bounded for home. Under the light she stood, wet hair, in his shirt, swinging to gaze down each road, a desperate woman. Her breathing was met with his heavy footfalls and they collided with each other… … he reached out for her shoulders and sought the honesty of her gaze. Daria saw his raw appeal for her decision.

"I don't want to be alone; I want to be with you." The words were clear and distinct to each other; it drew them together in a tight embrace as they rocked from foot to foot in their embrace as they moved inside the apartment.

He breathed "princess" drawing her close rocking them side to side. There were whispered words and the tenderness of his fingers thru her hair, her hands at his back as they hung on for dear life. Even this news didn't give Marcus the green light; he kept his eyes on hers and willed away his hard on.

"Would you hold me?" she asked as she headed inside. What kind of answer did she expect he thought as he followed the tail of his dress shirt up the stairs…. Who could tell her no?

He pulled back the blanket and top sheet and she slid into bed. For the first time he saw close up those nimble legs that had run to him, graceful curves ended just out of his sight and he paused to breath deeply. She watched him pull the covers over her, and then he sat on the side of the bed and pulled off his boots, lifting his legs to lie on the other side of the bed, granting her the distance he felt she needed. He extended his hand and their fingers laced together, he lifted his head and drew her hand to his lips for a chaste kiss. Their smiles were their "good nights".

Tuesday Morning

"Marcus", Wally's voice had all the charm of a drill sergeant's. Marcus dropped the shop rag and headed for the office, "Have a seat, Ace" Marcus expected the worse when Wally kicked the door closed on the closet sized office.

"I need another Mercedes E class" Wally couched his lips as he sat back in his office chair.

"Yeah, the market is brisk for them, should be able to get one cheap at the auction, what year?" Marcus was missing Wally's message, was it on purpose?

"Naw, not at auction, I need one for a special client, no paper trail" Wally looked at things on his desk, pushed papers around as the stipulations sunk in to Marcus.

How many hours had Marcus dreaded this moment? How could he stall Wally? There was no way to get around this; he'd have to find a way out of the transaction…. Who did he know that wouldn't bat an eye at boosting a car?

"Any special requests, color, year?" Marcus put on his best poker face, "What's my cut?"

"Something average, no distinguishing colors….. How about that Desert Silver, they're everywhere. Hey, no diesels, they make too much noise, quarter cut, and a bonus if you get it by Thursday" Wally was making eye contact now. This was a big client for that kind of cut.

"Let me do some digging" Marcus calculated these words to mean digging for a thief, Wally interpreted them as digging for a car. Marcus scratched at the sparrow tattoo on his neck and they nodded in agreement. Wally rose to open the door and Marcus took off.

Tuesday Continues
The rest of that morning in the garage the digging Marcus did was the painful examination of his conscious; it took him all the way back to the little classroom at St Mary's by The Sea. Back then Sister Anne Paulette peered down her nose at him and pointed a finger to reduce him to the obedient second grader she expected him to be. Those answers were simple, sit down, keep your mouth shut and print neatly. What did a 7 year old have to confess? What did a 27 year old have to confess?

"Bless me father for I have sinned, this is my first confession, I hit my sister and stole chocolate from my Grandma" If it were only that easy today. His digging meant he had to find a way out of stealing a car, and that meant facing Wally. It probably meant losing his job, his crummy apartment. Too many things to dig up today, he'd think about after lunch. Right now he'd make plans in his head to take Daria over to Frank and Connie's; he wanted them to meet her.

Daria's walk home was improved daily by the neighborhood's characters sitting on their white marble steps; they smiled and nodded as they became more accustomed to her. She stopped in the market for fruit, and then the dollar store for a basket to prop it on. What would make the stained Formica table from the 60's look almost like a dining table again she thought as she picked up the rose scented candles, counting her money in her head she knew she had enough to cover the tab. She nearly jogged the rest of the way home, anxious to see Marcus and sit down to dinner, tonight was ham night.

Ham night didn't hold the magic chicken night had held. The honey glaze was just the way Gloria always made it. The potatoes au gratin could have been a little salty she thought as she watched Marcus push the food around before he chewed it too long and swallowed glumly.

"I want you to meet some special people, you free tonight?" his eyebrows rose at the question, the first bright expression in all the meal.

"Free tonight?" She thought he was trying for humor, "Sure, why not? Where are we headed?" She leaned an elbow on the table and rested her chin, giving her best calm smile, hoping to sooth whatever bug was biting him.

"The DeRosa's, the ones I got the car from, I haven't been around since I picked up the car, thought we'd go by and tell 'em how great it looks all waxed up" he drew some relief from his tension talking about the old couple.

"I picked up some fruit, it's really fresh, would you like to take it over to them?" Daria's upbringing shone thru, you visit, and you take a gift. Marcus spoke with so much love and respect for this couple; she had to meet them to know him better.

The walk was leisurely in the dusk, the sounds of the city reverberating off the tall row houses as Marcus told stories about the old couple. The row house front door was incongruously wide open, boxes on the porch, and rolls of bubble wrap on top of the console TV. Marcus stood in the door way and wrapped his knuckles on the wooden door, Daria his shadow close behind him, "Hello? Frankie, Connie, everything OK?" They heard a thunder of footsteps on the basement steps and a man in his 50's stood before them, "No, I'm Frank Jr., and you are?"

"I'm Marcus Bohem; I did odd jobs for your parents" Marcus was leery of what was happening.

Daria's eyes scanned the small living room, viewing the faded areas where photos had been removed after a life time of hanging in the same spot. She saw the ornately carved mahogany sideboard, the doors wide open revealing all the linens and silver they must have treasured. The Oriental rug cushioned the carved ball and claw legs of the dinner table where 10 chairs circled around. At one time, they must have had a great family in this little house. She spied a stack of mail and on top, Marcus' check for the car. The check hadn't been cashed yet.

"Oh, yeah, you're the guy. Dad talked about you, he talked a lot about you. Thanks for putting up with them" his laugh was almost a sneer at the task of humoring old people.

"We brought them some fruit, are they here?" Marcus hooked a thumb at the basket Daria was holding, she smiled on cue as she stepped forward.

"You don't know?" Frank Jr. stepped closer, shaking hands with each of them and leading them to the sofa, "Have a seat, can I get you a beer or something?" Daria recognized the shoes, the shorts, and the shirt - all of it bellowed wealth, new wealth, the nouveau riche next generation of immigrants who balked at their parents and left the immersion of their culture. Daria's mother had left her Irish roots, returning only for ceremonial St Patrick Day bouts of drinking.

"We don't know what?" Daria piped in as Marcus sat stunned, his turn to see the difference when a stranger comes into a home and begins the task of sorting the valuables out of a life time of belongings.

"Mom and Dad, they died Saturday night, within hours of each other. I flew in Sunday morning and handled their cremation, we don't have family around here so…." his voice trailed off as Marcus thought about his waving a hasty good bye when they accepted the check for the car. He never said a proper "good-bye" and his gut ached at this loss.

"You didn't even go thru their phone list? Connie had all the numbers saved on the telephone" Marcus pointed to the kitchen where her telephone hung. His voice was shrill then it wavered to near cracking.

"You were the only person they ever talked about, Marcus this, Marcus that….man, you really put up with their stories and their nit picking. I figured you wouldn't have time for a funeral, you being a working stiff and everything." Frank Jr. picked the 8 x 10 sepia photo from the past off the mantle and held it out, sharing the view with them.

Marcus was wiping at his mouth, running the back of his hand under his nose to keep a drip from escaping. His chest was tightening and his head was beginning to spin, this was the fury of near family breaking his heart. They didn't do it on purpose, their love just swept them up and when Frankie died in his sleep, Connie lay down beside him and passed within hours. If only he could earn that kind of woman, a lifetime of devotion and truth. How lucky was Frankie? Marcus thought he was pretty damn lucky.

"Working stiff? Me, not have time to say good bye to these good people?" Marcus' voice was raising to indignation he sat forward, that jaw of his jutting forward a bit as he sat forward his palms on his knees. Frank stepped back and made a perplexed face at the reaction he was getting.

"Did you want this?" Frank Jr. blankly held the portrait out to a frozen Marcus. Daria stepped between them and received the offering.

"Of course we do, it will be special" Daria's soft grace covered where Marcus' heart was screaming for more choices, for the chance to travel back in time and be there for them, to sit and reverently pay his respects to their lives, "Marcus bought their car, we came over tonight with this fruit to thank them for the good deal"

Well that opened up a new vein on Frank Jr., "YOU bought that heap? I mean it's a 90 Taurus, how much did they get you for?" Daria nosed to the check on the top of the mail and Frank picked it up eyeing the figure, he scoffed and shook his head."All you did for him and he had the nerve to charge you for the car?" he held the check in two hands and ripped it in two pieces, the two pieces again.

"I wasn't going to take it from them for nothing, they could have used the money for a bill or something" Marcus was indignant now."They hired me to work around the house; they paid me to fix his car. I did things for them because they didn't have family to do those things. When I was done they invited me into their home and your Mom cooked for me and sent me home with the food." Marcus was pacing the small path in front of the sofa and at one turn he came near chin to chin with Frank Jr. The testosterone was flowing and Frank Jr. backed up until his calves hit the wing chair that caught his fall.

Frank Jr. looked up at Marcus, "You should just keep the car, as hard as you worked to keep it running, you'll appreciate it" Marcus bit at his bottom lip and cut his arriving words off. He looked at Daria and she rose to join him, as she crossed Frank's path she turned and stopped to say, "I've sorry I never got to meet your parents and I'm sorry for your loss".

On their short walk home they seemed disjointed, their strides were uneven and they couldn't keep a conversation going. Daria's head spun from the sad news. They got to the door and Marcus unlocked it then held the door open for Daria. Once she was inside he stepped back outside, "Princess, I have to get some air, I swear I'll be home real soon, I just have to take a walk". Daria felt a powerful physical loss as he stepped off the curb and ambled down the street.

Daria had to sort out the mosaic of emotions she had walked thru in the past 6 weeks. She took another marathon shower then sat in a trance, cross legged on the sofa, combing out her hair. The 11 O'clock news was beginning when she heard the key in the lock; he came in head down and covered in the night air.

She spun to him and caught his gaze, "Are you OK? I mean of course, you aren't, I just needed to know you were safe."

"I had to clear out my head, that guy was a dick, I mean a fucking dick. How could two decent people have such a dick for a son?" Marcus was shaking his head while he ran his hand over the short stubble covering his head. They stood facing each other, another awkward moment fueled by his anger with Frank Jr.

"I already got my shower, why don't you catch a good hot shower then we can have a chamomile tea, OK?" She stepped back from his path and he nodded in agreement. How did she always seem to have a solution he wondered as he slid off his jacket and untied his boots? While he walked to remaining way to the bathroom he watched her begin her series of steps for making tea. He nodded in the thought that she needed a tea pot, yeah a tea pot.

Marcus leaned against the bathroom door as he ticked off the list of the day's casualties. Sure, the anger he felt at Frank Jr. was part of his terrible day, Wally's request was the other factor… his walk tonight capped it all. It was a trifecta of crappy conversations that would cause pain in some way, eventually.

Being creative, he found a thief, knowing full well it could lead back to him. It was a chance he had to take; it would buy him time to get out from under Wally. The boost would go down tonight and the Mercedes should be sitting in the garage when it opened tomorrow morning.

Wednesday Morning
The dry toast refused to settle his stomach, the coffee only churned within him. He couldn't face Daria and he was glad she slept until 8 every morning. This was a burn out of a day, and it was only 10 am.

Wally was only too friendly as he slipped him the envelope with several worn and tattered hundred dollar bills inside. Marcus had a word with a guy in a BMW, they argued briefly about the cost of brake pads and the car backed out spinning wheels. It looked convincing enough to everyone else and it transferred the cash from Marcus to the thief without him having to walk back into the bar where the guy hung out….. Marcus couldn't spend another minute in a bar.

At dinner, the plate of tacos sat uneaten while Marcus slowly swallowed mouthfuls of iced tea. Daria watched as she picked at the avocado on her salad, "No appetite?" and he grunted back at her dropping his head into his chest.

"You know what was wrong about last night?" his voice was soft, his head still down. Daria strained to hear his deep voice. "Hummm?" she asked leaning closer across the table. "You know what was wrong about last night?" he repeated.

"What do you think was wrong? I mean I have some ideas, I want to hear what you think" She wanted to open up his brain and scoop the idea out, she needed the clarity.

He opened his mouth and his raw emotions boiled out, certainly it was expected, his feelings had been sold short with the DeRosa's passing. Everybody wanted to be loved, and he knew they loved him. Although Marcus had a coarse exteriror, he was wounded with their passing. Daria listened without much to comment on until he pushed away from the table and came to her, kneeling to look up to her.

"Their life was built on love, and that love built their family with Frankie's hard work, you know he was a mechanic too?" Daria shook her head as her eyes begged him to continue. "They were married out of high school and had 11 children, one died as a baby. Miss Connie never worked. All their kids went to college, that asshole, Frank Jr. he's a lawyer."

"Then you saw firsthand how a real marriage works" Daria soothed him with the look in her eyes, the tilt of his head.

"And I know that if I'm going to earn any love in this world I have to be drop dead honest with the people who mean the most to me." He had moved ever so close to her, dropping his head in her lap. As her hands found a place on his shoulders and the flat of her palm brushed the bristly hairs on the back of his head she felt him tremble, her hand trembled in response.

"I haven't been honest with you, Dari, I need to be honest" Marcus raised his head and then stood, holding out his hand for her to join him on the sofa. Once they were face to face at opposite ends of the squared vinyl sofa, he began the truth as he could tell it.

"The night Annie stole the jewelry she was riding with me while I was boosting, stealing a car." He waited to hear her gasp or pass judgment and she sat stoic, waiting for his voice to silence. "Yesterday, Wally asked me, no, he told me he needed another car. I did not want to be involved. I found somebody who would do it and I gave them the money he was going to pay me. I was in a shit mood because it was bothering me; I didn't need to treat you as rudely as I treated you last night. I was wrong….. Not to tell you right off the bat what was going on. Now knowing the truth and acting on the truth…. That's two different things. I'm probably going to lose my job over this and there aren't too many places I can work. "

"Marcus, it's a job and this is an apartment, we can find other jobs and apartments. You have some money and I'd bet if we left tonight you'd never have to face Wally again." There she was, so young, how did she realize so much, he thought?

After the next hour of discussion it was settled; they gathered up their few belongings and loaded the trunk of the car. Marcus left the keys on the office desk and pulled the door tight. If it was an adventure, it was a solemn one. They rolled to the east side of the city to a one story extended stay hotel in the industrial district. In the silence Marcus drove, believing they would find their answers together, they would escape that old trap for higher, safer ground.

The kindness of strangers is not a myth, any other day would two people from opposite worlds come together so well?

They unpacked the car and moved their few things into the room on the end of the simple hotel strip. Marcus looked worn, ragged and mutely excused himself to take a shower.

He stripped off his clothes and ran the hottest water he could draw, these last few years had been a dark hole, and Daria was the sun and the moon to him. He soaped himself and processed reality as he knew it. Carrying that tension in his center since their first embrace, his second sense of her damages held him back, always keeping his stiff cock in check, figuring they'd be ready when she was ready.

He wanted to feel her naked against him, hair undone and stuck to him with their sweat. He wanted to bury himself into her to the hilt, show her an unhurried night of tenderness, replenishing her innocence where it had been ripped away. His deliberate strokes on himself drew his glutes tight as he felt the pressure rise out of his balls. The slip of the soap and the steady pressure of his hand performed where he hadn't asked her. The fantasy of his exhilaration with Daria exploded in a white light as he leaned his head into the back wall of the shower.

The tension on the air hung heavy, she knew he would want a root beer; she pocketed the key and walked all the way to the other end of the building for the soda machine and the ice bucket. She let herself back into the studio and extracted the plastic cups from the paper wrappers. Daria grabbed the candles from her shopping bag of belongings and placed them around the bedroom. Carefully she lit each one and whispered a prayer for her, for them. Her eyes were drawn to the half open bathroom door, where the steam rolled out drawing her to spy on him.

His muscular back flexed with the movements of his arms, she watched his glutes flex as he balanced from foot to foot. Deep inside she felt the stir and warmth she felt the last time he touched her. As she concentrated on his ink and the details she had only imagined she moved closer, removing item after item of clothing. Her fingertip pushed the door open the rest of the way without disturbing Marcus while he shampooed the stubble he called hair. Her breath hitched at the idea of being naked in the same city as Marcus, now she was 3 feet away from him. She took a brave step and pulled back the shower curtain and stepped into the tub. She pressed up behind him, and wrapped her arms around his chest.

His deep breathing began when the points of her breasts brushed his skin and he felt her bush at his backside, he exhaled as she snaked her hands around his front and her fingers walked to the crown of thick wet curls hovering over his spent sex.

"I think you need to know my girl just went for ice…."Marcus's husky voice whispered over his shoulder. Her eyes caught his then she kissed his shoulder blade. "Well you can have Ice or you can have all this".

"Are you sure, Dari?" Marcus turned slowly into her embrace and caught her hips in his hands. He stepped back to balance himself from the surprise of Dari's firm pale flesh before him. The water drizzled down her breasts, found its way to her flat belly and along her thighs.

"I couldn't be more sure" Daria smiled as she ran her fingers over the ink on his arms, fascinated by the man and his body art. "Are these things, ah, flavored? You know the red is cherry, the blue is blueberry?"

"I'm pretty sure they are not, although you are the very first person to ever ask me that" He reached for the washcloth and poured bath gel over her shoulders watching the gel follow the water down her curves. She surrendered to his gentle strokes of the washcloth over her body. Even though his hand was separated from her skin by a layer of cotton they each tingled with expectation.

"I don't know how to do this" she confessed as his gentle strokes cleansed the other world away.

"What feels good to you?" Marcus murmured in to her ear as he drew her closer. "Chances are it would feel good for me", She blushed and reached for his nipples lightly circling them with the pad of her thumbs. Marcus returned the favor with a swipe of gel to glide his calloused thumbs over her. They were hypnotized by the sensations they were sharing, and by the looks in their eyes, they were going to test every theory of pleasure until they were exhausted.

Marcus held out his arms and she fell into them, locking their lips in kisses while their hands blessed each other with light touches, gentle tickles and furtive clutching. He caught her bottom lip in his lips and sucked at her sweetness. She pressed her tongue to his lips and begged entry.

"You are catching on pretty well," Marcus rumbled in his chest from her attentions, "This just means I am going to owe you" he nodded.

"Owe me?" how is that?" She shyly asked, continuing her lips' gentle assaults on his collar bone.

"Do you want to get out of the water, so we can get more comfortable?" Marcus was feeling the taunt flesh on her buttocks as he pulled her closer. His kissed her forehead, then her nose and her chin… he smiled at the water drops on her long eye lashes and how the water welled up between them as they embraced tightly.

They turned off the water and took turns drying each other, she marveled at the mechanics of the male body, the dimpled texture of the skin around his balls, the veined topography of his hard on as it bobbed between them. She watched his muscles move under the painted skin as he moved the towel over her.

When he turned from the bathroom to the candle lit bedroom he stopped in his tracks, "WOW, Princess, this is something, I'd have left the old place sooner if I knew we'd be here like this….." Daria blushed at the thought that he could be affected by a few dollar store candles….. Yet the rose scent had filled the room in a delightful way for her too.

He pulled back the coverlet and she climbed into the crisp, white sheets, he followed her, drawing the sheet over them. They stretched to their full lengths pressing their cool damp skin against each other, on their sides they rolled back and forth in their embrace. Marcus kissed as the tender patch of skin in front of her ear and she found herself arching into his hips, he smiled and allowed her access. She hungrily kissed his earlobe and licked at his ear smiling between each pucker of her lips.

Marcus felt the heat between them and grinned at his fortune, what could he say to her? "Touch me, there" he took her hand in his and kissed her finger tips and ran her hand down his chest, following the line of chest hair down to his hardness. He watched her eyes as she first felt his silken skin so hard and alive. Her eyes closed with a whimsical smile as she circled his head with a delicate touch, "Touch me harder," he begged. She did and she gasped at his response, the twitch and kick of his eager hard on.

"Let me touch you here" he placed her finger tips on her folds of skin, gently parting the wet flesh. She lay back and moaned at the sensation of their joined fingers on her willing lips. Her hand fell away as his fingers trailed the sweet hollow of her inner thighs. The heel of his hand cruised lightly over her clit and she gasped as he pulled away wanting to dive into her with his lips and his tongue….could she enjoy his attentions there? Should he wait? He felt himself glide over her, feeling her softness under him he threw his head back and took a deep breath of the musk they generated together.

"Tell me what you want…." His breath was hot on her breasts; he kissed them before and after his question, leaving her nipples wet.

"I want you" She nodded, "Yes, I want you" she was smiling, breathing in deeply at having him over her.

"Do you want me to kiss you? You know, there." His eyes travelled down her torso and she bit a second on her bottom lip and nodded.

"Did you want me to kiss you there?" she returned the question, eyeing his lower body with a grin.

Then their bodies responded in a flurry give and take as he pulled her over on top of him, watching the movement of her young breasts as he pitched his hips to jostle her. They giggled and kissed at the fun they enjoyed. Something Marcus expected to be solemn and serious was developing into a sensuous and happy give and take.

Back to lying on their sides, wrapped in each other's arms they seem fused front to front, legs entangled, her foot running up and down his calf, leveraging her light weight against him to roll on top again, where she rested her hands on the pillow on either side of his head. Pinned, he spread his legs a bit, hoping to keep her like this – rubbing her breasts on his chest, letting those red waves roll over him. How long can we stay like this? He curled his legs around her and whispered, "Gotcha", and then he touched her breasts with his palms, cupping her lightly.

Daria kissed her two fingers and place these fingers on his lips; he licks and kisses them and held her hand to his chest, then winked at her and returned a blown kiss.

They rolled together, spooning, he kissed her neck and whispered, "princess, it doesn't bother you if I call you princess does it?"

She murmured it didn't and ground back into his hips. Did she want his to stroke her gently from behind? He wanted to pull her hips back to him. Then she flipped on her back and asked, "I want to see you when you make love to me, I want to see your face" then she lowered her eye lids, fluttering her lashes and that was it…. Marcus knew they'd have the rest of their lives to kiss each other or play the many positions available. His princess was asking for an old fashioned face to face delivery and he wanted to please her.

He pressed against her wetness, then drew back to touch her with his hand, then he rubbed his swollen tip across her outer lips; teasing her desire for his first thrust.

Together they took a small breath and he pressed into her – she knew she'd always remember this… he seemed hard and silky as he entered. Daria's eyes widened and he retreated only to have her beg him back.

This thrust and parry opened her thighs that she wanted to raise her legs to wrap around his hips. It was all so natural and she felt some silent guide overtake her as a part of her flew to heaven. She felt treasured, loved.

Marcus watched Daria's eyes widen at the shared sensation, his eyes closed for a moment while his tongue escaped his lips; she felt his length as she met him to begin unhurried, short strokes. The sensuous glow they began to share gave them the consolation they had sought all their lives.

They rolled and clutched until he felt a heavenly pull from the bottom of his toes, this was sheer ecstasy that he hoped she was feeling as he was….. It was so difficult to know about girls… how would she know when she was coming if she had never come?

He pulled out quickly, so quickly she gasped at the loss of his heat. He retreated down between her legs to kiss and taste her. He smiled at her as she watched him; his lips were warm and soft, unlike any other part of this mechanic's body. She danced on a cloud as his lips measured tiny kisses at first, then built in pressure and tempo. His tongue caught a sleeping part of her and pressed it between his top lip while she arched into him with a deep sighs. Daria's mewing deepened and lengthen until she moaned his name from the bottom of her heart. The candle lit room brightened for her as he took her to her first climax and released her to the stars.

Delicate hands grasped the sheets and her head fell back as she sang his name like a hymn. Marcus wiped at his lips and kissed a trail up her torso, delivering his cock to her, again teasing her. She grasped at his hips and threw her legs around him, "Got YOU this time" and he slid rapidly into that first thrust while she caught him with her legs.

Daria held him so close he could barely take himself back from her….. And she tightly worked her hands over his thighs and buttocks until he felt those familiar sensations crawl up from inside his gut and force out of him. The sweat had rolled off his sharp profile, and she gladly caught it on her breasts as she held him within her…. She didn't want to let go….

With his little strength left over he fell back and pulled her to him. "Dari, Dari, Princess Dari" and she grinned in her afterglow with a single heavily breathed, "My Marcus"…..

Their sleep was punctuated by the cupping and smoothing of their hands over each other's faces… when Marcus would do this, Dari would respond the same way….. Their sleep complete for the first time in weeks.

Turning over in her sleep she felt a man's arm, heavy across her waist. She was stunned by the weight, Arthur never stayed after his plundering….. If she shuddered would he gather his boxers and take off? She rubbed at her eyes and looked closer in the half light leaking under the curtains she saw the ink and immediately woke knowing it was Marcus and that Arthur would never find his way into her bed again. She rolled over to see his profile, mouth slightly open, nostrils flaring with his inhalations, lashes fluttering on his cheeks. What a rush he is, Daria thought as she closed her eyes and fell back asleep on his chest.

His body woke this hour every morning… it was the one good habit he had acquired in the cell 9 months ago. The sight of this sleeping woman next to him fluttered his heart and caught his breath. He called her his princess and she turned out to be his warrior princess, mouthing off at the bank lady, wagering a better deal for his money. What overcame him when they met, it seemed to overcome him, confuse him, driving his thoughts to the images in his mind of all her expressions. So many times in the day a thought would hijack him to something she did or a look she gave him. From this day on, he wanted to be the first thing she saw every morning.

"Princess, Sleeping Beauty, come out come out, whoever you are" Marcus had willed her awake by staring at her. His dark beard a bit scruffier than yesterday but those eye lashes, oohh, she thought she felt a breeze when he was this close.

"How about your Princess comes back in an hour?" Daria answered, one eye open she spied the clock….did it say sex:45 am or 6:45am? The hour was early for her, late for Marcus. She peeled the other eye open to see his smiling face. How could such a tough looking guy be so gentle and sexy?

"We're in such close quarters I'd wake you up just by getting up and getting dressed" he stroked her back with light fingers.

"Then stay in bed and do NOT get dressed" she smiled back at his touch.

"I gotta get breakfast and coffee and a newspaper" He was up out of bed pacing to get to his jeans and shirt. Truth be told he would have loved a cigarette, and he was rethinking his oath to quit smoking right now.

"Yeah, I should get up with you; it will take longer to get to work" Daria swung her legs over the side of the bed and felt the gentle ache between her legs. She blushed as her hand covered where the sensation of her climax settled. His eyes fell to her and he followed, dropping to his knees between hers.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" his look of concern scared her, would he stop taking her twice in a night if she admitted she was feeling it this morning? She'd gladly feel like this to feel him love her like that every day.

With his face buried in her embrace she let him know it was magnificent to feel their afterglow just with her eyes. "Did you want breakfast in bed?" she whispered.

"What did we bring, I left the milk….." Marcus was originally oblivious to her offer until her fingers walked down his back to grab at his buttocks.

"OK, princess, I'm just going to drink you up if you don't let me go", Marcus' resolve to eat breakfast and buy a newspaper was crumbling as he remembered her soft flavor. He raised his head and pulled her closer to the edge of the mattress. His eyes spoke what he was about to, she fell back and surrendered to his lips on her sex. She felt her body surfing on the waves he sent thru her with his lips and tongue. His calloused hands held her thighs loosely and she grabbed at his wrists to not let her go.

She had to ask herself, could she ever want to get out of bed with Marcus beside her? She tripped thru the same sensations he introduced her to last night. She knew where he was taking her and she let herself fall, fall, fall into the darkness only to land in the center of a blue white explosion.

Her sweat was cooling as he posed at the end of the bed, smoothing back the warren of wet auburn curls and teasing her with his hard on, tingling an aftershock when he rubbed himself over her swollen clit. She arched herself closer to him and pouted that he would tease her.

"If you tease me, I'll pout" she confessed cutely.

"I can't have a pouty princess" Marcus' early morning rasp of a voice reverberated thru her. He filled her completely and slowly moved to his own beat. She met him and wrapped her legs around him, allowing only short strokes. He didn't last long this morning; she flipped his switch holding him this close. His legs shook as he throbbed inside her and he ground out a moan in her name.

"Ohhhhh, we'll be fine as long as people bring us food, right?" his laugh rumbled in his chest, "YOU are wearing this old man out" he lay beside her and smoothed her hair back from her face, throwing the log tendrils over her shoulder.

"I don't know what to say, usually I'm a smartass about things like this, right now….I have no words. Everything I start to say is so….. so not good enough" this was his humble pillow talk.

Daria knew words would fall short of what they felt for each other. She wouldn't have trusted an "I love you" from him at knowing each other 10 days.

While his heart was breaking down stone barriers of his childhood and his addictions, love was still a mystery to him, could the longing he held for her be love?

Daria had seen blind love; her father's love for her mother was such a love….She never wanted to hurt a man like that. She wanted it all, to give her heart to a friend, a partner and a lover.

By the time she was pulled together for work Marcus looked like a new man. He had shaved and dressed in his least shabby blue dress shirt and best jeans. She could tell by the dingy wash cloth on the sink he had tried to wipe his steel toed boots to some resembling a shine. He was an effort in the making.

They were leaving the apartment when he asked, "You have the debit card?" he asked knowing he had her hold it, dosing out cash only as necessary.

"Sure do, what you need?" she asked exactly the way he told her when he asked for her help in staying clean and sober.

"Nicotine gum, a razor, deodorant, we left our soap"

"Sure, when you pick me up after work we'll hit the store, do a little retail therapy" they rode in silence the short way to the restaurant, enjoying the music and the bright morning… their world was wonderful.

He pulled the car to the curb and put it in park, then leaned over the console to kiss her good bye, her first kiss good-by she thought as she leaned back to him. She left the car floating on a cloud.

The word on the street was out. Every contact Marcus had was a dry well. Garage after garage shut their door in his face. Evidently Wally wasn't thrilled that his lead mechanic and #1 Auto Thief had flown the coop under the cover of night. By 2:45 Marcus had wilted and he headed closer to home to a heavily air conditioned diner. He stepped thru the door and nodded to the waitress behind the counter, she bent over pad in hand for his order.

"Root beer, light ice, burger and fries" he said as he peered into his wallet and the single $10 bill inside. His foot tapped to the muzak as she served his root beer. The waitress watched him as he watched the regulars at this untraditional hour. Business men filling out stat sheets, turning calls over half eaten food, a school girl doing homework, perhaps a daughter of an employee.

As he squirted ketchup on his fries the doors swung open and two impressively built men in suits entered with clip boards in hand. They looked too fancy for the Board of Health Marcus observed as he ate slowly, extending his meal. The taller guy leaned over the counter to bump fists with his waitress and Marcus saw the hand cuff tie tack. He breathed deeply and checked himself, then relaxed. He was doing what he was supposed to do, job hunting; he was sober and wasn't holding drugs or firearms. One of the guys caught his eye and nodded at him, Marcus nodded back, then took a long draw on his drink and licked the foam on his upper lip. The waitress looked at the glass, "refill?" and he nodded with his mouth full of burger. "Why do servers wait until your mouth is full to ask a question?" he thought.

Before she got away he swallowed and asked, "No ice and this time, more foam, ok?"

"One root beer with head coming up" she snorted, returning with a inch of foam on the top of the soda and a smile on her face.

Marcus smiled at the comment and raised the glass to her before taking a long draw. He watched the two detectives eat lunch over the report they debated. All he wanted to do was find a job and blend in, he wanted to earn Daria's love.

6:06pm Daria pushed out the front door of the restaurant carrying a bag of Philly cheese steaks and sodas The fragrance of onions and peppers hovered as she floated toward her Marcus, leaning against the bumper of the gleaming black car. His face lit up as he caught the first sight of her. She held up the bag and came into his outstretched arms. There was a kiss, a wet kiss and a clutching open mouth kiss.

"Umnmmmm, you delicious kisser, you" she pulled away to see his smile.

"Must be the root beer" he rolled his eyes and licked at his lips as he opened the car door for her and took the bag of sandwiches to sneak a peek at them, "What's this?"

"Dinner, so we can drop in at the second hand store and the drug store before we go home" She buckled in and they headed for the neighborhood park across from the Goodwill Superstore.

They sifted thru racks of clothing and Daria found most of the brands she was familiar with for a few dollars. Did she miss cruising Nordstrom's with her Mother? Not really. He winced at some of the fashions she held up for him, and she returned the favor when he came back bearing 4 tee shirts and 3 pair of dickies pants.

"Would you consider something for me?" she winced comically as she held the clothes behind her back, He looked at her with a "what the fuck" expression and then took the cloths into the dressing room, emerging with a new look. He did a parody of a model's walk to the three way mirror and surprised himself. The outfit wasn't as lame as he expected.

"Where am I going to wear these?" he asked as he fingered the polo player on the black Polo shirt and the blue striped dress shirt.

"Wherever you want to." She was a little flip in her answer, then again he liked the way he looked in the mirror, "Plus, these are the kind of clothes I love to pull off of you" and that sealed the deal on the clothes.

Daria picked out a few items she almost swore she had owned a lifetime away and they left the store feeling like they had saved a few thousand dollars.

As they left the drug store Marcus stopped on the sidewalk, saw the sno ball shack and asked, "How about something sweet?" Daria pecked him on the cheek and he chuckled as he pointed to the people sucking down the shave ice cones. She faux pouted when her kiss wasn't the sweet thing he sought, and then he stopped on the street and wrapped his strong arms around her and pressed his lips on her. She tingled from his public display of affection; he welled up inside that she wanted him so much.

Monday

Marcus sat at the counter, Sunday's paper folded to the Skilled Trades, his red pen in hand circling the positions he was interested in. Some Columnist was spouting off about companies making jobs available for ex-cons and he was about to call the guy to see if anyone had come forward to offer those jobs. By now, the server, Gina knew he liked his root beer with light ice and a full head.

He gnawed at his knuckle as he calculated the weekly rent and their expenses. Sure Daria was bringing home good tips and her check would cover most of their expenses. He felt like a chump for taking a ride while she worked. He began to drain his glass for the last time and leave when a guy in a Minute Lube shirt held the door open, "Thanks" Marcus nodded and the guy mumbled a reply and ambled down the street, turned a right to a small shop on the side street. Marcus has missed the place before, and he could see why. The tree limbs covered the signs, and a lot of the building. The parking lot and sorry ass garden were over run by weeds and the building had a lot of the previous color peeking thru the blue paint.

"How easy would that be, Minute Lube" he asked himself. He crossed the street and walked into the office, "Hi is the owner here?" He straightened himself up and presented his hand, "My name is Marcus" The fairly lethargic pair of technicians were in the shop working on the sodas the one guy had brought back from the diner.

"I am, what is it, son?" A frumpy older woman stepped up; she removed her glasses on a chain and let them drop onto her ample bosom.

"I'm looking for work, I'm a mechanic and I could get those trees trimmed and the parking lot weeded, you know general maintenance" His eyes smiled, she didn't look like too many people smiled at her he thought.

"Son, I've got all the mechanics I need. I need customers" She cranked back at him.

"I've been up and down this street for 3 days and never noticed your business. You need those trees trimmed and the parking lot weeded…."He listed off all the chores that would spit life into the garage's curb appeal.

"And, you'll do it for what, $2500? Take your gypsy ass down the road, son" she dismissed him with a wave of her hand and he stood there.

"I'm no gypsy, hire me as mechanic and I'll do it between jobs", his shoulders were squared tall and he wasn't too proud to beg.

That afternoon he put on the Minute Lube tee shirt and weeded the parking lot, rendering the place almost clean. That week while the other mechanics were sitting between jobs, Marcus had sorted and oiled all the tools, mounting them back on the peg board where they had initially been hung.

By Friday the bathrooms had been steam cleaned, the trees trimmed and the sorry excuse for flower beds mulched. When Mae saw him trimming the trees she realized hiring Marcus was the smartest thing she had done all year.

Daria saw a new man beside her, the work he did during the say seemed to fuel his vigor in the early evenings. They took walks to the neighborhood's old playground where he pushed her on the swing so high she felt airborne. They'd chase each other like children and one night they fed the ducks the free bread from the day old bakery.

Then when the lights went out they worked each other into possessed sessions of groaning, sweating love…each morning he woke up hard for her and she met him wet and wanting every inch. He thought if he had died in bed it would take the undertaker a week to wipe the smile off his face. His satisfaction tank was on "full", waking up to the most gorgeous girl in the world. She pinched herself before she got out of bed each morning, thinking she was still dreaming.

Daria would drive the Taurus to work; Marcus would walk the few blocks each day and return to the studio for his lunch. She'd return from work and find the cooler outside door set like a table, with their dinner waiting. Sure it was guy food, hamburgers or prepackaged ribs from the market….. it was his gesture that spoke to her heart.

In the middle of their second week at the studio, suddenly he felt slammed. Although this one particular night they had a great time playing at learning how to tango at a South American street fair and they came home completely exhausted Marcus tossed and turned in the bed. He lay there, wide eyed and anxious. His closed eyes brought nightmares that jolted him straight up in bed, his arms around a pillow.

He thought to himself, be patient. The hospital had told him that the road to recovery could take as long as two years. Two years could feel like a long time if you're in a rush to get through it. He recognized he couldn't hurry recovery, but he could get through it one day at a time.

Daria would watch thru half closed eyes, frightened at what was happening, worried it had something to do with his taking her into his life. She didn't know if he tried to rush recovery, or try to bulldoze his way through, he'd become exhausted.

Marcus knew when he was exhausted he'd think of using to break out. He did know that he had gone for a few weeks without any withdrawal symptoms, and then one day he woke up and his withdrawal would hit like a ton of bricks.

He slept poorly. He was in a bad frame of mind, no get-up-and-go at all. It was when he wasn't prepared for it, it was if he thought that post-acute withdrawal only lasts for a few months, or if he thought he'd be different or it wouldn't be as bad for him, then he'd get caught off guard.

He didn't know what to expect and he was worried could he do this? Then as quickly as he fell into the hole, he bounced out of it and they joked that they'd never tango again….it wore him out.

Mondays were always special for them….. They'd joke about Monday being laundry night or they'd be at the laundromat and Marcus would pass her the money and urge her to "feed the washer", she'd give him a sideways look and stick out her tongue….

He had watched her pay close attention to an ornate silver ring in the window of a pawn shop near the newsstand. She'd eye it, tilting her head up and back to see the carving and admire the onyx set inside it.

This particular Monday they took their pizza to the Sudsville and ate while their clothes spun. When the dryer stalled, Marcus nodded to her, "I'll pull them out if you sort and fold" What kind of a deal was that she thought….and she sauntered over and made a face while he walked back to the car for hangers. She sorted the underwear and began to smooth their tee shirts, then she got to his jeans and felt a weight in the pocket…."Marcus, I can't wait to see what you left in your pocket" she thought as she fished into the front pocket. The object didn't move, then she found a large safety pin, and on the pin was the onyx ring….THE onyx ring.

He stood across the room, all the time watching her expressions as she had to fold the laundry. She looked up at him and shook her head while she held up the ring to him.

"I just wanted you to have something nice…. I knew you liked it… I could tell, I mean" his words dwindled off as she took a run toward him to jump into his arms….. 4 weeks since they shared their first sandwich.

Thursday

Daria drove to work with one eye open…. They had spent half the night giggling and rolling around. Marcus couldn't sleep again and she had tried everything to relax him, even after she had taken the longest time to straddle his hips and massage his back deeply he was still wound tight. She kneaded his buttock and thighs, whispering restful thoughts. Then when he seemed to coil tightest she pushed him over on his back and climbed to straddle him,

"What's on your mind, Princess?" his hair had grown out about a half inch and tonight it was every which way, giving him a bit more of a disheveled look. She snickered and shook her head, retreating down his thighs until she crawled between his legs….., "Oh…there you go, in the driver's seat about to make me crazy…"

She knew he loved when she took the first step, especially for this. She caught his breath as she kissed the inside of his thigh and laved her tongue to the very center of his balls, licking in slow deliberate strokes until she circled the base of his growing erection. She grasped his shaft like an ice cream cone and licked his swollen head like it was melting, before too long he was bucking under her spell and about to meltdown… then as he was about to come, she stroked his head over her lips, working his hard velvet flesh like a lip gloss over her wet lips. The more he watched her work her magic over him, the faster he surrendered to her lips, her tongue and her fingers…. When he full on exploded then she brought back a wrung out warm hand towel back to bed and ran lazy warm swirls over him to push him further to sleep. She wondered if he's sleep all night this time…..but he didn't and when it was time to drive to work she was a bit drained. She used her usual route and it was about 6 blocks before she noticed the Mercedes in the usual mix of autos she traveled in every morning. A big guy in a Mercedes stuck out in a pack of American compacts. She figured he must have just started using this route, maybe the Beltway was bogged down.

"Marcus, you going home for lunch today?" Bernie asked as he hung the air hose up after filling the tire on their recent client's Nissan.

"Yeah, left over ribs, you need something?" Marcus was at the sink rinsing the GOJO from his hands.

"Could you bring back sodas?" Bernie was kind of a freeloader, but if you asked up front he generally had the cash.

"Yeah," Marcus held out his hand and Bernie shook his head but relented by digging into this wallet for the cash.

"I'll be back in an hour, OK?" and then Marcus clocked out and was headed to the studio.

He slid the key in the door and pushed it open, then opened the drapes on the dark room.

"Don't be so surprised, Marcus." Wally was comfortable on the sofa, his feet on the coffee table. "It took me a while to find out you didn't boost that car. The little jackass that did the job for you came back about a week later looking to see if YOU had any more work for him"

Marcus stood frozen in place.

"So it all made sense since you took off in the middle of the night. What's your problem, you get a straight woman and you get too good to work for a living?" Wally accused, his tone dripping all of his resentment.

"I do work for a living" Marcus rebutted. 'How did you get in here?"

"Yeah, I've got friends in low places. I know what you do for a living, and you do it for me. Did you forget I dug your maggot ass out of the dumpster when you got out of jail?" Wally ground his fist into the palm of his hand while he spoke, a sure intimidation move…. It had worked in the past; it just wasn't sinking in that hard this time.

"I wouldn't steal for myself now, Wally, I wouldn't steal for you" Marcus had taken a step forward and rested his hands on his hips, a few feet in front of Wally.

Wally looked at the snapshot of the two of them taken at the Street Fair, "Would you steal for her, Marcus? Cause she's a pretty little thing, what 18, 19 years old?"

"She's none of your business…." Marcus' chin thrust forward as he chest heaved with his deep breaths, "Wally, get out of my place, and don't come back. I have settled any debt I owed to you, find someone else to steal for you, understand?" Marcus felt the boil of his anger roll up from his toes.

"Oh, I was just leaving after I spoke with you. The debt will never be settled, by the way. So when you're thinking about how pretty this one is, think about how she'd look if there was an accident. How would you look at her if something happened to her face, you know? Could you look at yourself every morning knowing you ruined her life?" Wally stood and adjusted the lapels of his sports coat and saluted Marcus on his way past then paused before he exited the small studio. "I'll need you in another 48 hours and I just wanted you to be ready, I'll be in touch"

Then Wally was gone and Marcus was forced to sit down, his knees weak and his chest imploding. All of his thoughts collided and survival became his most urgent instinct. One name sprung into his mind, Gloria. He would figure out a way to get Daria to Gloria until this was all over. She wouldn't be safe there with him. He went into the bathroom and closed the door and sat on the commode and cried like a child. Have you ever thought that where you are today is merely the end point of a long line of very poor choices that you have made?

He cleaned his tearstained face and forced himself to eat some fruit then stopped for the sodas and returned to work, he had to keep everything on the down low.

Thursday Evening

"You talk so much about Gloria, have you ever thought of visiting her?" He posed it as an innocent question as they picked the roasted chicken apart on the front porch.

"I know exactly where she lives; she just had her daughter move back in with her. She brought her baby with her; it's just the three of them now." Daria's expression relayed her love for Gloria and all the truly good things she stood for.

"Why don't we give her a call and drop by tonight?" Marcus needed to have Daria away from him, away from Wally's treacherous eyes.

"Does she like flowers? Those pink things are pretty, you like them what are they?" Marcus watched her spin the onyx ring on her finger as they talked, she looked so casual, sitting back in the lawn chair, one foot up on the chair's edge, he could see the delicate hollow where her shapely leg met her fanny and he bit at his lip.

"Gerbera daisies" she smiled at his idea and jumped up to clean away the dishes. She jumped into the shower and he followed her into the bathroom, closing the door behind them. This time together had to last for a while; he wanted to remember everything about her.

"Hey, Princess, would you walk over to the market and pick up those flowers? I want to check the tires OK?" he peeled a bill out of his wallet and retreated inside, shoving her belongings into duffle and shopping bags. He watched for her as he opened the trunk and pushed them inside.

Daria co-piloted him thru the neighborhoods where the city broke way to small plots of grass in front of the row houses; they were a bit wider and a bit more Victorian. These painted ladies stood proudly in the glow of the streetlights, their residents sitting on the porches while the children rode bikes on the sidewalks or the girls jumped double dutch in the vacant street.

They parallel parked and walked arm in arm to the third house from the end. He could feel her excitement as they drew closer and although he was disturbed at what he was doing, he was sure she'd be safe. Gloria answered the door and whooped a hello in pure joy at seeing her "Dari girl", she had a bit of a suspect look at Marcus' tattoos then within the hour she warmed up to him.

Their conversation on the front porch covered how good the lemonade was, the beautiful flowers and her newest grandbaby, a boy, Antwoine. When Daria mentioned Marcus was a mechanic, Gloria's eyes widened, "Then I know the Lord sent you here tonight, I have a dickens of a problem with my car and since I haven't found a full time job yet, how about you help this old woman?"

Marcus couldn't refuse her, he was a witness to how her heart had reached out to Daria all those years and after what he was about to do…. He needed to do almost anything Gloria asked him to do.

"Marcus, I'm going to spend time with Kendra and the baby, OK?" Daria was rocking on the glider with them and didn't want to be involved with autos one bit. He winked at her and followed Gloria to the alley where the car was parked in the back driveway.

The 1999 Mercedes Diesel looked great, Gloria must have babied it…. "It's a little hard to start, and this light comes on, "she popped open the hood and got into the car to show him the light. He listened and moved a few things, checked the hoses.

Then he stood back,"Did you drive it today?" She nodded yes and he agreed, "It's running OK because it's still warm, you've got a problem with the glow plugs, you need to find a foreign mechanic that wouldn't rob you blind. It only gives you problems when it's been sitting, right?" His conversation stalled and she turned the motor off, he walked to the open driver's door and crouched down to see eye to eye with her.

"Now I need to ask a favor." His voice was solemn and Gloria's expression changed to one of confusion.

"Son, what do you need from me?" her eyebrows knitted in concern for her Dari Girl.

"I need to find a safe place for her to stay for a while. You're my only hope, if she doesn't move away from me she could be hurt" Marcus was earnest and the hurt pushed up from his gut almost bringing on his tears again.

"What do you kids do to get into trouble? She was a good girl until her Daddy died, it is a pure shame she can't straighten out her life." Gloria had her fill of wasted youth…..

"Look, they are after me. I won't steal for them and they want to hurt her to force me back into it. I need to clean up my life; I don't want to let her down. I can't let them hurt her". He was on his knees now beside her, his hands on her forearm, praying to her.

Gloria shook her head and bit at her lip, her wincing expression scared Marcus that she'd refuse his request. He figured she couldn't refuse the chance to save Daria's life.

"What do you aim to do young man?" Gloria removed her eyeglasses and bit the ear piece.

"I packed her things, they are in my car. I just need to leave her with you"

"YOU mean you were going to ride her by and dump her?" Gloria found that alarming by the rise in her voice.

"Well, no, I was going to bring her in and visit like we did and then I was going to bring her stuff…" she cut him off with a hand and her closed eyes.

"Marcus, that's the worse damn idea I have ever heard of. Did anyone ever leave you on a doorstep?" She was riled by his plan, "Do you love her? Is that the way you treat someone you love?"

"I love her so much it hurts, if they hurt her I will die, I can't gamble on that" Marcus opened his wallet and reached for the accumulated spending money he had saved from his weekly allowance, "I can give you more, I can, please keep her safe"

"You keep your money; it can't buy her peace of mind. You need to tell my Dari girl, and you need to man up on this. "She pointed to the house, "My daughter is sitting inside with a new baby, and do you know where that baby's father is? No, and I don't either. The men of your generation need to stand up and be men." She was on a roll and Marcus figured it was his payment for what he needed, "Now I am going to bring her out here and you are going to tell her what is going on and when it is all done, you leave thru the front door, just the way I expect you to come back for her" She turned on her heel with a purposeful walk.

Daria walked out the back door and down the porch in measured steps toward him, her fingers picking at each other , "Gloria said you needed me". He nodded and approached her, reaching out for her hands.

"Wally is after me, he broke into the studio today when I went home for lunch. He broke in. We aren't safe; you aren't safe, he threatened killing you or worse." Marcus shivered against Daria as she began to cry deep sad weeping, "Gloria has agreed to let you stay. I'll be back for you when the dust settles, when we're safe"

All Daria could say were weak "why's" her happiness was snatched from her heart and she was powerless. Once again a man was removing himself from her life….. And she could effect no change in the situation. Her world was crashing down around her. She worried for Marcus, if he had been shot months ago what could happen next?

"Daria, Princess, I love you with all my heart, I do, I truly do" Marcus whispered thru his tears and they trembled together as they walked back into the home together. She nodded back to him as he spoke; did that mean she loved him too? Of course he thought, she couldn't tell him she loved him after he did this to her.

Me and my guitar play my way.
It makes them frown.
But little pieces by the highway bring me down.
Mine is not a heart of stone, I am only skin and bone,
And those little pieces are little pieces of my own.

Why don't you give me some love?
I've taken shit-load of drugs.
I'm so tired of never fixing the pain.

Valium said to me, I'll take you seriously,
And we'll come back as someone else,
Who's better than yourself.

Many faces at the doorway all hang round.
Watch me fighting in the hallway but make no sound.
So I'm standing all alone, and I'm only skin and bone.
So many faces but they all look out for their own.

Why don't you give me some love?
I've taken shit-load of drugs.
I'm so tired of never fixing the pain.

Valium said to me, I'll take you seriously,
And we'll come back as someone else,
Who's better than yourself today

And some day soon they'll drop the bomb and let it all out
Someday.
I know that someday soon we'll all be gone so let it all out,
Let it all out today.
And give me some love,
Yeah, give me some love,
Come on, give me some love today.

Perception- if it looks dangerous and stupid to everyone else…it probably is.

Marcus wore his devastation like a wet cape. His shoulders withered from the weight of leaving Daria with Gloria so abruptly. His lips curled down, his movements were measured, alert to any suspicious new stimuli. He'd go back to the studio because Wally would expect him to run. He had 48 hours where he figured he'd work to maintain the image of hisnormalcy.

There in the bed he smelled their sex, the fragrance of her shampoo on her pillow. He had forgotten to pack his Led Zeppelin teeshirt she slept in so he clung to it as he tried to sleep.

Everything about the 4 walls screamed Daria and it took all the control he could muster to shower and go to sleep. In the shadows of his dreams his demons rounded him up and ceremoniously tied his limbs and peeled the flesh from his bones as he writhed in pain. The gallery of faceless onlookers screeched for his torture then cheered at his cries. He woke at 3:33am and shivered in the sweat drenched bed. He showered, thinking warm water would wash the wretched stink away. That failed, all he could do was remember their last time together in that shower….. He dressed, thinking of picking up a pack of cigarettes and chain smoking the entire pack.

Dressed in the clothes Daria had chosen he got into the car and cruised the lonely streets as he chewed three pieces of nicotine gum. He found the diner open and entered cautiously, evaluating the different set of players from his usual crowd.

He nodded to the waitress at the counter and asked for of all things, chamomile tea; didn't Daria drink that to relax at night? He stared into the steeping tea cup and watched as the tea colored the hot water. His muscles felt as if he had been torn apart, his mind spun out of his reality. He dreamed of finding someone who would listen to him and have the power to stop the shit Wally had begun years ago. Could anyone care enough to believe him? He finished the tea and felt the tension slip enough to drive home and catch a couple of hours of shut eye before work.

Marcus took singular note of his lunch time to catch the detectives. He beat them to the diner and slid into the booth across the aisle from their usual spot. Marcus sat with his back to the wall, his eyes on the front door. By the time his root beer was in his hands they rolled into the Diner, same confident walk and greeting with Gina. They ducked into the booth without regarding Marcus and began their lunch conversation.

At a break when the waitress left with their order, Marcus turned to them and got their attention, "Could I have a word with you?" They both shrugged and the shorter guy slid toward the wall to make a space for Marcus to join them.

"So, sport, what's on your mind?"

"I need to talk to someone about stolen cars" Marcus was maintaining his calm, quiet demeanor.

"Not us, guy" the taller detective deflected.

"OK, who?" Marcus pressed.

"Call the department's non emergency number" the dominant personality reached for a business card and slid it to him. Marcus picked it up and stared. These guys were blowing him off!

"Look, I've been threatened, my girl had to move because of the physical threats. I have names and info about the cars. I know these have to be open cases" Marcus jammed his index finger into the Formica table top to make the point as he spoke in a hard whisper.

"Yeah, they'll take care of it at that number" the big guy apathetically poked his finger at the business card.

"So, I just try and make an appointment to save my ass?" Marcus shook the card at the bigger guy in disgust. He sat there, his muscles wavering, his hands beginning to shake.

"Call now" the guy pointed to the pay phones behind the booths. Marcus got up, disgusted, flustered. He had a cell phone; he didn't need a pay phone. He needed a receptive ear and maybe a shoulder to lean on. He went back to his lunch that had just arrived and ate staring at the door as if Wally and his goons would bust in and carry him out.

His phone vibrated and he looked at the caller ID, it was Wally's garage. "Marcus, It's Juan, Wally wants you here Saturday night, 9pm, you got it?"

"I got it" Marcus cut the call off and attempted to finish his meal. The next few bites tasted foul, like ash and he pushed the plate forward, placing his elbows where the plate had been. He buried his face in his hands. He had to think straight, he had to make that call. He sat too long, the detectives had their food and his server had stood back, seen his "funk" and had dropped the new root beer off without speaking.

He cut a harsh glance at the detectives as he got up and left the diner. "Bastards" he reflected as he pocketed his change.

He stopped back at Minute Lube and prowled the busy shop and knocked the rest of their work out in record time. They shuttered the shop and went their separate ways, Marcus believing he'd never see these folks again. He thought about sitting down tonight and listing out all the boosts they had done, would something hand written lend any better credence to his confession? And finally, did he want to send Daria a postcard to let her know he thought about her every hour?

"County Non Emergency" the operator was all business, speaking in precise, clipped words.

"I need to speak with someone about Auto thefts, I have information on open cases" He didn't want to sound cocky, he just knew they were unsolved.

Their cool, collected attitude upset Marcus; his experiences told him these thieves were dangerous people who shouldn't be ignored. Then there was the calm attentive voice, Marcus made his best pitch and earned an appointment at 9:00am on Saturday morning.

That meant they'd have 12 hours before Wally expected him to show up at the garage. 12 hours to do something to obstruct Wally from his plans. Marcus went to the store and bought a composition book and pen and returned to the studio to list his transgressions to the best of his memory. He wanted to drive to Gloria's…. would Daria be in front of a window that he could catch a glimpse of her? Then he decided it would just hurt way too much to see her and not be able to hold and stay with her.

Once all the details of the thefts were reconstructed he looked at the composition book and assessed his life. It was all too much to think the authorities would believe him. He had everything to gain by getting out from underneath Wally and who would give him a hand up when he couldn't climb out of the cesspool by himself?

His parochial school upbringing told him to believe, his broken spirit hovered in despair at being the lowest guy in the chain of command, the bottom of the food chain. When you just know that the heartless bastards at the top of the food chain believe you are going to taste great on a cracker.

Daria pushed herself to work Friday. She told herself over and over that Marcus was doing the brave thing, the right thing even though it hurt terribly now. When she wanted to give way to her broken heart a spark inside told her, "He's not dead, he's doing this so we can be safe together… … This isn't like when Daddy died" and then her feet would take another step and she'd have to remind herself why she was walking.

Gloria and Kendra had welcomed her; they had modest means and shared it all. That first night there after she cried herself out she realized if she could go to bed and remember his smile, the feel of his lips on hers then her dreams would carry her to tomorrow and tomorrow Marcus might call and give her the "all clear" notice. Yeah, that's the way she'd go to bed each night, believing that tomorrow would be the all clear notice.

The 9 am appointment ended up being their chance to pick a former criminal's brain. They read what he had, they even copied it. They gave him no indication they wanted the information he was offering them. By 10:45 he was waiting for the next round of questions. The room seemed to become smaller with each hour of their conversations, his legs seemed to quiver, and he wanted to pace. His addiction had nowhere near been extinguished yet he was thrown into all the tension that caused him to use drugs in the past and his craving for those drugs beat him into a cowering shell of himself. How long would he be there? The longer they talked; did it mean they'd help him face Wally tonight?

"Marcus, we need to get this info cross referenced. You have a lot to process here. When did you say he expected you?" Det. Howell tapped the book confidently.

"Tonight, he expects me tonight at 9" Marcus was gnawing on his thumb now, folded into himself.

Det. Kerry, a round faced nearly bald guy watched Marcus's persona deteriorate as the dialogue continued. The close confines, the repeated questioning seemed to wake up old memories of his sordid past. When Det. Kerry had spent too much time under cover he spent time in a drug treatment program. He had known Marcus' pain and he saw the near future collapsing for the tattooed guy who meant well.

"We need you to go as if nothing is different, you can wear a wire, and we'll watch, OK?" Det. Howell threw down the offer. Marcus sat and stared at the reflective glass, he wondered, is my shit together or is my shit together? Then nodded, he'd do it, but not with a wire. If they found a wire he was a dead man.

When he left the back door of the precinct he wondered if he needed to go to confession. He was stewing about all of it, he wanted to bust Wally's head wide open like a 4th of July melon. He drove back to the studio, packed up his gear, settled his account at the rental office and checked out. He in fact did go to the church in his old neighborhood and sat in the back pew as the neighborhood women bowed and crossed themselves with holy water before disappearing into the confessionals for moments at a time.

He couldn't make his feet carry himself behind the ruby velvet curtain separating the repentant from the unremorseful. He sat thru the Saturday evening mass and felt like a heretic when he walked to the communion rail for the body of Christ. He needed the reinforcement of someone bigger than Wally or the cops; he wanted to believe that Christ was on his side.

The garage was filthier than Marcus remembered. He entered the semi darkness and saw the glow of the desk lamp as it lit Wally's face.

"Ok, man, you got me here, why did you need me so bad?" Marcus spoke quietly to his nemesis.

"One more job, well if you can believe it, one more job. Then you can run off with your little red head." Wally withdrew papers from his desk draw, a list of addresses and passed it to Marcus.

"Great, peachy keen. Tonight we are done, thru. No more jobs." Marcus countered as he received the list. "You give me till 6am, right?"

Marcus stood still while Freddy and Conrad frisked him, pulled up his shirt checking for wires.

"I couldn't be too careful, Marcus, you had 48 hours to go crying to someone" Wally admitted. Wally stood toe to toe with Marcus and cupped Marcus' crotch feeling for more wires or maybe just to fuck with him.

"Right" Marcus shook his head in disgust and turned away from Wally, then left the garage in the Impala, headed toward his damned destination, followed by Freddy and Conrad. He thanked God to himself not Juan, whatever evil Wally could spread, Marcus hoped Juan wouldn't fall into the crap trap he had. They parked a few blocks away as Marcus approached what he thought was the first car.

Advancing from behind, Freddy smacked Marcus at the back of his knees taking him down. Together they began a barrage of kicking and stomping. Marcus fought them and gave it his best effort. He went down hard and when he stopped fighting, eyes open and still, they left him. A bloody body in this neighborhood wasn't much news.

Marcus' consciousness was out of his body. Laying broken on cold pavement again, he seemed to think this was what Nick went thru… he seemed to think it all felt better when he went numb and cold….. or so he seemed to think.

The unmarked police cruiser dispatched to follow got waylaid by a bar shooting. By the time they found Marcus the only service they could provide was a police escort to the ER. It wasn't still at Holy Angels that night however the police car preceding the ambulance bought them immediate attention. Marcus was dashed in and treated, broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, broken nose, too many stitches to count. The admitting clerk kept badgering the officer for a "next of kin" on the John Doe until they could get into the blood soaked wallet in the jeans they cut off him.

"Detective Kerry, this is Holy Angels, we've got a police escort that brought a Marcus Bohem into the ER, can you get out here, we don't have a next of kin?" The sympathetic clerk asked in her kindest almost midnight voice, "He's coming out of taking a shit kicking and you may want to be here".

Marcus lay, devastated by the pain as they manipulated his left shoulder back into the socket. The shock drew him back into consciousness wide eyed with all the confusing sensations and fighting for understanding of where he was. While he was unconscious the ER staff had been able to start his IV, his Foley catheter and get his CT scans done. The tearing sensation of his shoulder drew him back into the land of the living, screaming for understanding of his circumstances.

"What are you doing to me?" he spied the IV and the hanging bag, he saw his clothes had been cut away, he tried to rip at the IV line and froze when he saw the nurse with the injection moving toward him.

"Mr. Bohem, you've been beaten badly, we've been treating you for broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and we have to fix your nose, it's been broken. Please lay still; we don't want you to disrupt your ribs." She looked like the angel of mercy now.

"What are you pumping into me?" his voice was ragged by the aches of his injuries, the fears of having them shoot him full of drugs he'd crave for far too long.

"Well, nothing but fluids, we can give you something for pain, how bad is… … … …" she was cut off by his loud insistence.

"I don't want anything for the pain, nothing do you hear me?" his tremors in his voice seemed to belie his claims.

"We do suggest some anti inflammatory meds to calm everything down, you are a bit torn up" She wasn't kidding he thought as he felt the broken nose with each breath.

"I can't take anything, you don't understand" He cried out, shaking his head and clasping closed his eyes.

"If you are concerned about the narcotics or anything addicting we can accommodate you. Right now, Mr. Bohem, let's get you treated, OK?"

From the other side of the curtain, Det. Kerry heard it all, the rasp in Marcus' voice, and the anguish of the physical pain. He knew the fiend Marcus fought and it wasn't a battle to fight alone. If he had only insisted on more backup, what would have made his partner take Marcus seriously?

Now Det. Kerry was reliving his withdrawal, his trip into the belly of the beast. He had to make up for their carelessness, Marcus needed to have drug treatment made available for him Marcus needed to be released from this physical suffering and become exposed to the pain of discipline or the pain of regret or disappointment.

HUMILIATION
The harder you try, the dumber you look. The simple act of trying to save his ass got the very same ass kicked, there he lay on a bed in the ER, the sun was rising and he was supposed to be driving to Gloria's to pick up Daria….. His plans had included their blowing out of town. He had fought off their pumping his IV full of whatever would fuck him up for more than today and that was his only success in the past 24 hours.

The nurse had returned with a very subtle antidote for the hammering he took, and he was sure once he soaked in a hot tub of water he'd feel almost human again. Just when he wanted to get out of the bed and leave, Det. Kerry announced himself.

"What?" Marcus shot back as he pulled the drape over his bare legs. This character had a lot of nerve coming in after the beating Marcus took.

"Det. Kerry" he announced his name along with presenting his business card to a very uninterested Marcus, "I think I can get you some help" he lowered his voice to a near whisper.

"Is this where you bait me into taking out a contract to kill Wally?" Marcus accused the Detective.

"What?" Det. Kerry stood back and looked around the room. He repeated his comment and Marcus' face twisted in confusion as he repeated his response.

"No, this isn't a sting on contract hits, and if I'm speaking out of turn, I'll leave, I wanted to maybe offer you some help" Kerry was treading slowly, Marcus was already agitated by the events that landed him in Holy Angels

"Help? How about you guys pay for this little vacation I'm having along with a one way ticket for me and my girl to someplace warm and safe?" Marcus attempted to sit up and fell back in pain to reach for the bed control, he wasn't going anywhere fast.

Kerry knew where this was coming from, all of Marcus's defenses were heightened, he was protecting what little sobriety he thought he had. Kerry leaned close and bent to Marcus' ear.

"I've been where you are, I've held on to the last thin edge of lucidity and it felt pretty lonely. You can try to white knuckle it or you can get help. I'm not a betting man; I gave that up a while back." Kerry drew closer to Marcus and scoped the foot traffic before he continued his monologue. "You have a problem, and as long as Wally has you by the short hairs you are going to have many more problems." Kerry's eyes narrowed and Marcus followed him.

"If you could kick being Wally's bitch you could kick whatever your drug of choice is" His rising eyebrows punctuated the end of his sentence.

"What's your interest?" Marcus retorted.

"I was in your position – just like this. I was a cop on the inside, using to fit in, got the job done and the job finished me. I lost my wife, my house, damn near my life", Kerry's crust was chipping away.

"So you think we can get to be buds, play some cop and CI games and I'll be healed? You just want your pound of flesh too?" Marcus' faith was near broken.

"Nope, I'm going to be your brother, I'm going to offer you some tough love, ever had tough love?" Det. Kerry posed.

"I used to have a girlfriend, she shot me" Marcus pushed back.

"Ooohh, that wasn't the kind of tough love I was thinking about" Kerry shook his head as he spoke, "let the department get you come help, get clean the right way, make some new friends, move if you have to!"

In Marcus' heart he wanted to be clean, he wanted Daria with him every morning and evening and a straight job.

"What's it going to cost me, my left nut?" Marcus shifted in the bed at the thought.

"Let me pull a few strings if it's a go, you have to be ready" Kerry dipped his head and looked over the top of his glasses. "Where can I get a hold of you?"

"In this bed until they throw me out" Marcus realized he checked out of the studio and his car was at Wally's garage.

"And then?" Det. Kerry pushed.

"On the street" Marcus then explained his situation.

"Then let me see how quick I can work this up" Kerry turned to leave and then returned to Marcus, "Don't let them discharge you, tell them about your issues. Let me see if we can firm up the meeting about the car ring". Kerry was invested in Marcus now.

Marcus nodded and blinked, even that hurt. He rode the wave of nerve plucking pain by returning his heart and mind to his first time with Daria, how she melted around him. He drifted in that mind blowing climax again and again until he willed himself to sleep. Within that sleep he dreamed of climbing Daria's body like a mountain range. Her pale skin rose out of the sheets as a dune on a beach. He climbed, small and nimble over her length, finally close enough to her ear, whispering, "I love you, wait for me, I love you".

"Mr. Bohem" the new nurse tapped her ring on hr clipboard. He jumped as the sound of her voice and rubbed at his eyes, blinking to focus.

"We have a room for you, Dr. wants to observe you for 24 hours." All business, all the time Marcus thought as he heard her dry voice.

"What time is it?" He was exhausted.

"7:45, Sunday morning" was all he needed to know. He digested the current time and tried to figure when he last saw Daria, was it Thursday night? He was rolled to the end of the short hall with a view of the harbor. It simply reminded him of their meals eaten on the waterfront, the night Daria reported her experiences with Arthur. He tried to doze and ended up using his one pain free finger to work thru the TV channels.

"Mr. Bohem" a new voice preceded Det. Kerry into Marcus' line of sight. A pretty face with soft blue eyes and blonde hair the color of corn silk, he thought about white sweet corn and that he was hungry, and then he blinked to "right now".

"Yea, it's me" he said, "who else would want to be here like this" Marcus regarded his injuries and the room before looking at the woman.

"I'm Beverly Dawson, Det. Kerry's told me you have an acute desire to get cleaned up and combined with what you know about Wally it may be beneficial for you to hide for a while."

Marcus' head began to swim, hide, clean up, what's going on?

Det. Kerry stepped closer, "You blew the top off Wally Slotsky's racket, he was a little showy with you and it's a good thing you wrote everything down and a bit unfortunate so did he."

Marcus closed his eyes – nothing was making sense. He held up the remote and turned off the TV, its chatter was too much.

"Marcus, he's connected to the Russian mob, been moving things for the past 3 years. You didn't realize that, did you?" Det. Kerry grinned as the coup he had with Marcus' statements as they were panning out.

"Right now we want him to think you're dead. We've towed your car; we'll be moving you to a safe house when you get out of this 4 star joint. Then the hard part starts, the authorities are going to grill you on each detail.

"What about my car – where's that going?" funny how really stupid things meant so much at odd moments.

"You don't want to be connected to that car just now, let things cools down" Kerry waved his hand at Marcus." And while all this is going on you'll be getting help from Beverly's agency." Marcus felt a rush of new responsibility thrown at him along with the pressure to clean up his act.

The physical scars were evidence of Wally's crossing Marcus path and his sad eyes were the badge he wore for being restricted from contacting Daria.

The new treatment center was without a doubt the poshest place he had parked his duffel bag. The trees hovered over the log homes painting a pastoral theme for the skittish clients. By Tuesday evening Marcus checked in as "Mark Bowman". He was putting his few remaining belongings in a dresser separating his bed from a 40something guy name Ted. Ted kept to himself, it was his 3rd day.

The requirements tripped Marcus; he naturally kept reaching got his nicotine gum to find an empty pocket. His blackened eyes would fade before he could get used to waiting for mail that never came. He wanted; he craved to hold Daria, to tell her to hang on, to tell her he was going to be better than ever. Between the walls the police threw in front of him and his drying out her was forbidden to contact her. All he wanted to accomplish was completing the program and survival depended on blending in and lasting thru.

6 Weeks after that Thursday Daria moved in with Gloria-

Gloria's home was the usual bastion of a matriarchal society. Kendra and Gloria balanced little Antoine's child care as each of them held full time jobs. A decreasingly less hopeful Daria rode the light rail into town each day for work, returning each evening about 6:45. When she didn't work a double she'd dig in and help with Antoine's care. She celebrated her 20th birthday with one of Gloria's carrot cakes and wondered what Marcus would have done had they been together, when she developed a headache she finished her piece of cake and slipped into a cool shower before turning in for an early night.

All week she checked the mail slot in the front door daily for any type of letter from her lost love. She contacted the bank and had the address changed to Gloria's. She had tucked away the Debit card with Marcus Bohem embossed on it into her Vera Bradley jewelry case. She watched the bank balance grow, if he was alive he'd be spending the money, she was sure of that. He knew he could go and get another card even though they had parted without her handing this one to him.

Each evening she recorded a few thoughts in a journal from the dollar store before sleeping on the twin bed in the guest bedroom. On the odd evenings the three of them were together they watched DVDS and popped popcorn. Regardless of what they watched, she developed silent tears at the end of each film.

They walked to the nearby University for the eclectic concerts on Friday nights. The thought of meeting new guys gave her a stomach ache, and although she found herself several weeks away from Marcus she was no further from being totally devoted to him or at least the idea of their eventually being together.

She missed the nightly walks for a snow ball, and suddenly the idea of having a root beer snow ball with marshmallow on top made her think of the smile it brought to his blue green eyes and she set out on foot to bring one back to the wide front porch.

Daria woke to the jazz music; it was a Monday, still a special day for her in her mind even without Marcus. She hadn't slept well Sunday evening so dragging herself out of bed was a real chore. In the 6am darkness she padded quietly to the bathroom. Her period surprised her, was it time for one? She dug for a tampon and dressed for work, in a trim black skirt and smart white shirt. She ate a bagel and grabbed her backpack and left for the restaurant by 8:30. The rocking light rail upset her stomach and she ran for the door two stops before her usual exit. She had to get to the bathroom so she fairly jogged to the back door of the café.

"Looks who's green in the gills today.. … .. Too much Guinness Saturday?" Caleb, the Irish dishwasher ribbed her as she ducked thru the kitchen into the bathroom. She stuck her tongue out at him and slammed the door behind her. The super tampon had leaked in a half hour, so she stacked a new tampon with a panty liner, washed her hands and returned to the dining area to begin her workday.

"Anybody see Daria?" Mike bellowed back to the kitchen staff, "She's got a table out there waiting for silverware" heads raised and shook, then returned to their kitchen duties. Mike threw open the back door, lazy servers hid back there to smoke, no Daria. He ran down the steps to the basement, he'd really rip her a new one now; this made them all look bad, no she wasn't down there either.

Mike heard the footfalls going to the ladies restroom and them the scream for help. Nothing dramatic, just a long, loud "SOMEBODY" that brought the kitchen staff to stand in the doorway and stare at their passed out friend, blood pooled between her thighs.

When all the medical attention was rendered and the emergency had passed, she was a shell of a girl in a lonely bed. Gloria and Kendra paced the ER hallways as they stabilized their friend. They promised they'd be allowed to see her once the Dr. finished with Daria.

"Ms Bromwell, you've lost your pregnancy, his is typically caused by chromosomal abnormalities. In most cases, a baby lost to miscarriage has a problem in the chromosomes, such as extra chromosomes or missing genes that cause the baby to stop developing and eventually to be miscarried. Because chromosomal flaws are usually random, one-time events, most doctors don't initiate testing for miscarriage causes after the first miscarriage. You and your partner should have no problems when the time comes for another child" That comment was touching in his empathy for a young couple, it's just that she was alone and her partner wasn't there to hear it.

"How pregnant was I?" was all she could think to say.

"Looks like about 8 weeks" He flipped back the papers to view the medical notes.

"I was on the pill" she defended, as if it denied what had just happened.

"When was your last pill?" He countered dropping the chart into his lap.

"A couple of months ago, I had been on in since I was 16, I had read it took a few months before you ovulated when you were on the pill for 3 or 4 years." She could not have been pregnant; they had only been together less than 5 weeks.

"That's where every woman is different. You got some bad information. Let's take a look at you being back in the gynecologist's office within a week, you've had a D&C and you had a rough time of it. Stay off your feet for a couple of days, take the antibiotics and follow the directions on the discharge sheet, any questions?" The Doctor was thorough and she was thoroughly wrung out.

Daria shook her head and quietly asked, "May I go home now?" Her physical pain had been attended to with prescription drugs; there wasn't anything to take for her heartbreak.

Gloria was her rock; in a lonely time Gloria kept her mouth shut except to say she was sorry. They rode home in silence, save for Daria's intermittent sniffles. Today was her worst day she thought to herself. Tomorrow was going to be a better day, she was sure of it.

Ted was an all around nice guy, the last guy you'd expect to have a drinking problem, that's the way this place seemed. You know, the way a prison never has any guilty inmates. When they weren't working on their sessions and their individual therapies they talked cars, Ted was a Service Manager for a good sized Mercedes Dealership in town. Since he had good longevity before his wife died of cancer and he took to the bottle they saw him thru for treatment, they knew there was a good guy deep inside Ted.

The days they spent in counseling and therapy sessions, at nights Ted taught Marcus to play chess while Marcus told him all about Daria and their short time together. By the end of 40 days they were making their plans for moving into the Halfway house apartments for their intensive outpatient treatment. They joked a lot about being roommates and they got along well enough to have been released together into the complex adjacent to the inpatient hospital. When Marcus carried his duffel bag out of the treatment center the first thing he wanted to do was punch the numbers for Gloria into his telephone. Would Daria still be there?

Daria's period returned within a few weeks and with it she expected some physical release from the lonely twinge she felt without Marcus. She had circled several vital dates with Marcus in the Hallmark Store datebook and now she regarded the little pocket book as a chronicle of their short love affair. She regarded the date of the D&C as a loss for them and tucked the little book inside her underwear drawer.

"Dari girl, you ever going to look up from your lap and start your life again?" Gloria posed the question this particularly quiet night.

"I think I'm going to go to school, and if I can't get into the culinary college, I'll go to the community college" Gloria was hoping she'd have the follow thru to do it. Daria's ebb and flow had been more waning since the miscarriage, Gloria was sure that school would be the thing to put the zip back in her Dari Girl.

While Daria was riding the light rail into work a young woman jumped on board in the black and white checked trousers and white jacket of the Culinary School a few blocks off the rail line. After a few days of seeing the girl she made a point of starting a conversation with her. On her day off she went to the school to make inquiries about financial aid and the programs she could take while working. It was all hinging on financial aid.

The day the letter approving her student loans arrived she whooped and hollered; it thrilled and scared her….. She was a real adult now she thought as she fingered the letter. School started in 3 weeks!

It's nature's way of telling you something's wrong
It's nature's way of telling you in a song
It's nature's way of receiving you
It's nature's way of retrieving you
It's nature's way of telling you something's wrong

It's nature's way of telling you, summer breeze
It's nature's way of telling you, dying trees
It's nature's way of receiving you
It's nature's way of retrieving you
It's nature's way of telling you something's wrong

It's nature's way, it's nature's way
It's nature's way, it's nature's way
It's nature's way of telling you something's wrong
It's nature's way of telling you in a song, oh-h

It's nature's way of receiving you
It's nature's way, It's nature's way of retrieving you
It's nature's way, It's nature's way of telling you
Something's wrong, something's wrong, something's wrong-

The snow had been cleared from the street, pushing it up onto the sidewalk. Marcus shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and retraced his steps from so many months ago. Was it the third or fourth house from the end? He fearfully walked up the steps and knocked on the quiet front door. No one was home, he could understand that. He tore a page from his little note pad and left his name and number along with, "Daria, I love you, call me, 410-333-5959. Once he tucked it inside the frame of the storm door he turned and walked away, knowing what he did was right, would she see it that way?

Kendra pushed the strolled up the steps and backed up to the front door, catching her house key she yanked open the storm door and unlocked the front door, shoving the front door into the home she rolled over the little 2 x 3 piece of paper. It fell to the porch floor and was swept away with the next hearty gust of wind.

Marcus sat in the common area of the halfway house. The fire roared and he watched for demons to dance in the fireplace. The flames seemed to spell a word, "DOUBT" as it danced in reds and blues. It had been 3 days since he left his telephone number on Gloria's door and he was feeling that in the battle between him and the world, to bet on the world.

No one knows what it's like To be the bad man
To be the sad man Behind blue eyes

No one knows what it's like To be hated,
To be fated To telling only lies

But my dreams They aren't as empty As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely My love is vengeance That's never free

No one knows what it's like to feel these feelings
Like I do and I blame you

No one bites back as hard on their anger
None of my pain and woe can show through
But my dreams they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely my love is vengeance that's never free

When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool

If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat

No one knows what it's like to be the bad man
To be the sad man behind blue eyes

Baby, do you understand me now?
Sometimes I feel a little mad
But, don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel
When things go wrong I seem to be bad

I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

If I seem edgy
I want you to know
That I never meant to take it out on you
Life has its problems
And I got my share
And that's one thing I never meant to do
'Cause I love you

"Marcus" Ted called amiably from the doorway.

"Yeah, Ted" Marcus still focused on the dancing flames, they burned out his loneliness.

"You were awfully uptight at group today" Ted had a way of reading Marcus, like an older brother read a younger brother. Actually Ted learned a lot about reading someone close when he watched his young wife waste away with cancer. Ted stood behind the sofa and patted his hands on Marcus' shoulders, then walked around the end of the sofa and sat on the wing chair opposite Marcus. Ted recognized the red rimmed eyes, Marcus usually cried alone and he had to give his friend that privacy.

"You know the deal with relationships, about how we start out with a plant and then a fish and stuff?" Marcus asked as he looked at his hands. "I don't even recognize myself, my hands are clean, and my calluses are almost gone" Marcus shot Ted a sideways glance and smirked, "I've been away from my life so long, who am I?" Marcus' eyebrow cocked at Ted and he shook his head as if it would deliver him certain knowledge.

"You're a guy who saw he had to change to survive" Ted leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped as if he were in prayer for Marcus right now.

"Yeah, I did, I figured if I changed things would go right, maybe I wouldn't take a daily beating" Marcus' voice tapered down to a whisper as his head bowed to his chest.

"we had to be willing to lose everything when we came in here – just to lose what was killing us" Ted was down right philosophical about it and Marcus thought Ted was the voice of reason. Marcus saw Ted's journey more clearly than his own.

Ted had lost a wife, Marcus was sure he lost Daria. Ted had a job waiting for him, Marcus had nothing. When Marcus put those thoughts into words he felt like a whiner.

"Maybe Daria's still out there waiting for you", Ted attempted to comfort his friend.

"I gotta get a job, Ted, she can't count on me the way I am" His shoulders squared against the sofa and his eyes widened as he wiped the remaining moisture from both eyes with the backs of his hands.

"I know you do, and since I've been back to work I've seen a few opportunities for you. We've got an evening mechanic position that could lead to something." Ted had gone back into the service department at the Mercedes dealership, being the manager gave him an opportunity to give a good word for a buddy.

"Seems I can kick a bottle, I just got used to having you three steps behind me so I might as well help you get on board with some benefits."

"That's righteous of you, man" Marcus ran his hand over the hair that had grown in the past 8 weeks. His habit of bristling the stubble turned into his running his fingers thru the new wavy growth.

"Are you open to some advice?" Ted nearly squinted at his next statement. Marcus nodded and shrugged so Ten continued, "You remember that Dermatologist who came in about a week after us?" Marcus shook his head and waited for the Ted to speak. "He lasers tattoos off those of us who want to get rid of some of the old life"

"You got old ink, Ted? I had no idea" Marcus made a face that he was surprised that straight laced Ted had ink to lose.

"No, I don't, I just got interested in the whole technique, so anyway, you might want to laser off anything that shows outside a dress shirt. You grow more of that wavy hair and Hollywood might come calling" Ted gave him a joking thumbs up.

"Sure, why not, what do I have to do to catch this guy?" Marcus's curiosity was up; he wondered if it would hurt, oh hell, lately…everything hurt, "I guess I could try some other look than the skin head thug" Marcus ducked with a bit of grin now at the suggestion of "Hollywood"

"Sure, you can always pull out the Menace to Society look for Halloween" Ted nodded actively and the two of them began to smile.

So Marcus went to bed having made a couple of decisions. He showered and spent the mirror time thinking of the old Marcus and made plans for a new Marcus to fit his new habits. He was a couple of years away from 30 and it made sense to quit looking like Slim Shady. Before he turned off the bathroom light he took a long look and wondered would Daria still love him with a little more hair and a little less ink?

2 months after we last saw Daria

"Dari, when all this is done" Kendra waved her hands over the half of the dining room table covered in books and kitchen implements, "Are we going to eat whatever it is you're making?" Kendra balanced the baby on her hip while she read over Daria's shoulder about kitchen chemistry.

"This is my homework, so NO, we are not eating any of it" Daria smiled, thinking of all the times her teachers would make a joke about a dog eating homework. Now she had roommates to eat her homework, "I promise I'll cook this weekend, "That promise was enough to whisk Kendra and her son out from under Daria's feet.

Daria was working twenty hours at the café and taking 16 hours of classes each week. When she was online she'd eke out a few moments to check the bank account as if it would tell her something certain about Marcus. Had he been killed? Had he been injured so badly that he couldn't remember her? After than Saturday the cell phone number she had for him never answered again. She didn't even have a photograph of them; she carried all the images in her heart.

"Gloria, it's Dari, have you got a minute?" Daria stood at the pay phone at the café.

"For you sure, honey" Gloria was folding laundry at home.

"What would you think if we started a business?" Daria posed the question optimistically.

Gloria stuttered at the offer, "What are you thinking of doing, baby?"

"One of my classmates is leaving school, immigration problems, so he has a sandwich cart he wants to unload. I don't have the cash to invest, if you bankroll me I'll pay you back as fast as I can!" Her enthusiasm was something Gloria hadn't heard since before Daria moved in.

"How much?" Gloria drew on the thought.

"He wants about $2000, but for me he'll take $1500." Daria was positively bubbling.

"And you need how much?" Gloria was estimating what her other expenses would be, Gloria was experienced at estimating costs of all kinds of things… especially young girl's dreams.

"If you can spot me the $1500, I have the rest for the startup, OK?" Gloria could just about hear her jumping up and down.

"When did you need to know?" Gloria slowed her down, wanted to get her to talk it out, build some responsibility into her dreams.

"He wants to know tomorrow, will you be home tonight to talk?"

And after 2 and a half hours of discussion, a gallon of Breyers' Chocolate Mint Chip Ice Cream and pages of math they went into the Sandwich Wagon business, all three of them. Each morning Gloria or Kendra would drive the car to tow the wagon to the street corner between Daria's college and Holy Angels Hospital, and then return around 4:30 to tow her home. Daria was in a win-win situation, hungry students and hungry hospital employees made for steady earnings.

Gloria and Kendra took turns while Daria sat in her classes. When their receipts covered their investment in the first two weeks, Gloria knew she had made the right decision to back Daria's dreams.

Daria dressed for the weather each day, wrapped her long lengths of wavy red hair in a pink bandanna and pulled a broad brimmed straw hat down to her ears. Her big sunglasses and a coat of SPF50 completed her "work" clothes. When the weather was foul she dressed in her Hot Pink rain boots and bright pink slicker. When the bank account was flush, Daria replaced the blue and white umbrella with a Hot Pink one a foot wider.

Then there was this one instance….The lunch rush had slowed down, classes had resumed and Daria was wiping the wagon down in expectation of the next batch hospital customers. As the light changed an ambulance burst thru the pack of vehicles at the intersection. One driver on a cell phone hadn't paid attention to the undulating sound of the siren and he pushed out in traffic only to hit the car ahead of him who had waited patiently for the emergency to pass. Car horns blew in a cacophony as cars jockeyed to begin and stop suddenly. The horns drew Daria's attention because she knew there was always the outside chance someone would jump the curve, it was a calculated risk of her current profession.

Her eyes followed the sounds and behind those sounds as a few people scampered up and down the sidewalk, mostly chubby women and men in brightly colored scrubs. Daria's eye rose to the tallest guy in the crowd, in tight jeans and a blazer his dark glasses sat on a profile a sculptor would envy. The sunlight caught the glint off his deep brown curls as his head bobbed in the rhythm of his walk. It was the walk, it seemed familiar, and it was the same kick out walk with a little saunter that was so "Marcus", jeez, Daria….

Then her internal conversation started… … .. .. You're on a city street in a city of 800,000. people. Of course there's another body out there just like his…. You've been hiding from men for so long how would you know exactly how many guys could look like Marcus? Walk like Marcus? Before she could do anything as stupid as jog off behind him, he ducked into the medical building and disappeared as swiftly as he appeared. She looked at her watch, 2:40pm. Would he be back tomorrow at 2:40?

Baby, do you understand me now?
Sometimes I feel a little mad
But, don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel
When things go wrong I seem to be bad

I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

If I seem edgy
I want you to know
That I never meant to take it out on you
Life has its problems
And I got my share
And that's one thing I never meant to do
'Cause I love you

Baby, don't you know I'm just human
And I've got thoughts like any other one
And sometimes I find myself, oh Lord, regretting
Some foolish thing, some foolish thing I've done

But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

Oh Lord, don't let me be misunderstood
Please don't let me be misunderstood

Baby, do you understand me now?
Sometimes I feel a little mad
But, don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel
When things go wrong I seem to be bad

'Cause I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

Baby, sometimes I'm so carefree
With a joy that's hard to hide
And sometimes it seems that, all I have to do is worry
And then you're bound to see my other side

'Cause I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

If I seem edgy
I want you to know
That I never meant to take it out on you
Life has its problems
And I got my share
And that's one thing I never meant to do
'Cause I love you

Oh, baby, don't you know I'm human
I have thoughts like any other one
And sometimes I find myself, oh Lord, regretting
Some foolish thing, some foolish thing I've done

'Cause I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

And if I say to you tomorrow. Take my hand, child, come with me.
It's to a castle I will take you, where what's to be, they say will be.

Catch the wind, see us spin, sail away, leave today, way up high in the sky.
But the wind won't blow, you really shouldn't go, it only goes to show
That you will be mine, by takin' our time.

Survival, instinct had gotten him this far, but there is also a time and place for Darwinism.

Marcus admitted he was powerless over alcohol, drugs, the stealing to make a living and surviving the shooting, the beating he realized his life had become unmanageable. His time in the outpatient treatment was time he worked hard at making worthwhile. One day he didn't want to wake up a 30 year old crook or worse, not wake up at all.

The time to rise above his past had presented itself with indictments and warrants; luckily they were for the assholes he had worked for all those years. Det. Kerry had run interference all these months, securing his secrecy and insuring his sobriety. Ted, the recent widower and recovering alcoholic, had been a comrade and surrogate brother. Between Marcus' rampant desire to get thru the program and reach back to Daria his success seemed to be "coming soon" as they say on the silver screen during the previews.

When he woke and felt the warmth in the bed along side him he remembered how he had let her "experiment". She had been awkward at first, so he encouraged her to ask for bearings at her hesitancies. He lay there while she drove him wild very slowly and methodically as she became acquainted with the roadmap of thick veins and roped muscles under her hands. She lapped on the hard velvet flesh she was most curious about while she cupped the dimpled flesh holding his balls. She amused them both until he wailed a prayer to God and let it all go. She inhaled hard from her exertion and then lay back and let him return the loving favor.

When he woke fully he realized the warmth was a phantom – in his tossing and turning he left warm patches in the twin bed. Marcus was alone and Daria was a zephyr in his mind.

Today was going to be a bigger day; this wasn't another room full of cops picking his memories apart like a bucket of fried chicken. Today was his interview at the Mercedes Dealership. Liz, the older woman across the hall reacquainted him with a steam iron and he pressed the blue dress shirt and the Polo jeans Daria had suggested for him. When he thought he was done, Liz showed him how to steam the secondhand sports jacket back to life. He smiled at methodical care Liz took in each of the steps; it reminded him of Daria and her tea making. He showered and shaved; trying to coerce his hair into a style then dressed and stood for inspection.

If there ever was a time to remember his Navy days, this was it. He stood tall before the mirror on the closet door, if it wasn't for the sparrow tattoo peeking out from his shirt collar he'd feel down right "ship shape" as they used to say. The first laser session had only begun to break up the ink and it would be 5 more weeks before he'd make the trip to the medical center again.

He picked up the keys to the Taurus and pulled his door closed behind him. When the car door swept open he was met with the fragrances of the DeRosas, her perfume and his aftershave were ingrained in the leather. He sat and adjusted the rearview mirror and his eyes fell to the passenger seat, no scents or souvenirs were there from Daria. He reached for his breast pocket and realized he hadn't reactivated his cell phone since he turned it in at his 28 day program. He was getting along without it since he had been forbidden to contact Daria and he hadn't wanted to talk to any of the other people from his past.

And if you say to me tomorrow, oh what fun it all would be.
Then what's to stop us, pretty baby. But What Is And What Should Never Be.

The day after we last saw Daria

"Gloria, let's drop the wagon on that corner today" Daria pointed to the corner on the other side of the road, in front of the medical building.

"Honey, why are you going to mess with success?" Gloria was facing the direction to drop the wagon right here, her request required a turn, what was Daria thinking?

"The bus stop is over there, and I'm looking for some new customers, come on, humor me!" She gave her best "puppy dog eyes" to Gloria who was already throwing on the turn signal to grant her wish.

The day wore on, same good walkups, and a few called her cell phone for larger pickup orders. She was popular because she was consistent, it wasn't gourmet, some guy called it, "Good to go" so that's the way she played it day in and day out.

2:40 came and went, no good looking dark haired man….. She didn't let it deflate her, Marcus was out there and there was a reason he hadn't called with the "all clear".

Catch the wind, see us spin, sail away, leave today, way up high in the sky.
But the wind won't blow, you really shouldn't go, it only goes to show
that you will be mine, by takin' our time.

A week after we last saw Marcus

Before the first light Marcus sat on the side of the bed and stared into the black morning. He had the job, today was the first day, and all he had to do was show and listen and work. No bullshit, no grandiose plays for locating cars to steal. He thought about that bank account that he hadn't touched in so long. He didn't have the debit card or the check book; he might as well open another account for direct deposit now that he was way up on the north end of town. Marcus reached for his little note pad and made a note that when he got a day off he'd go back down town and change his address, yeah, he'd do that another day.

Today he didn't want to be late for his first day of work. He laced his work boots up tight and remembered he was one day closer to being with her if she hadn't forgotten about him.

He fell right back into his shop habits only now he directed his methodical and reverential attention to the German engineered "motorcars" of a gentried population. He worked like a demon possessed, watched the foreman and took breaks when they took breaks, he ate when they ate and he remembered to make a new pot of coffee if he took the last cup. When the trash talk started or his bullshit meter picked up on a wrinkle in the hierarchy he just kept his head down.

Marcus was here to make an honest buck and of the two types of people in the shop the observers and the entertainers and this time he was an active observer. If he had cause to move thru the shop, Ted would shoot him a quiet smile and they'd keep their friendship confidential. That first paycheck in his hand was as special as a golden ticket from Willy Wonka; he came home with pizzas and root beer for his "small group" meeting at 7.

So if you wake up with the sunrise, and all your dreams are still as new,
and happiness is what you need so bad, girl, the answer lies with you.

Catch the wind, see us spin, sail away, leave today, way up high in the sky.
But the wind won't blow, you really shouldn't go, it only goes to show
that you will be mine, by takin' our time.

Several months after we last saw Daria

Daria woke to the sound of Britney Spears singing "Oops I did it again" and laughed at the thought of hitting the snooze button "again". Then she rolled over to feel that familiar ache, another month and another period began while she was asleep. She pulled herself out of the bed and threw back the sheets, upset that she had more laundry to do on her one day off with so many other things to get accomplished.

She listened for the sound of Kendra or Gloria and realized she was alone, in blessed peace and quiet. Antoine was in his babbling incessant noise period and the rare moments of silence were absolutely precious to Daria. She'd recall the walks with Marcus or their playing on the playground, if she was silent she could hear the bass of Marcus' voice, where it rumbled deep inside his chest when they were close. Would she ever be close to him again?

She made the naked run to the bath room with her bathrobe in hand and started the shower; the dried blood just drove her back to that day when she passed out. She never referred to as "the miscarriage", in her mind she just passed out. That way she wouldn't think about how far along she'd be or when their baby would be due. The flip side to her tragedy was that she wouldn't be raising their baby alone; right now she was raising her business which paid much better than single parenthood.

As she ran the water wand over the deep red stains inside her thighs she day dreamt of their being together that last time. He knew where he was taking her; he knew it would have to hold them for a long while. At a time when their bodies were most honest with each other, his heart had hidden his agenda. In those months apart she couldn't bring herself to even touch her self; she wanted his hands on her, his flesh inside her. Hadn't he said if it felt good for her, it would feel good for him? He had taught her to let go and be loved and then he let her go.

The soap slipped within her hands as she scrubbed furiously, leaving her thighs pink. What did she memorize in English Class? "Out, damn'd spot", didn't Lady Macbeth find the blood had dyed into her conscience? If prime literary characters couldn't exorcise spirits with physical actions, how could she? Yes, the Bard was right when he said "Hell is murky"

Somewhere in her murky hell she leaned against the cold tile wall and closed her eyes trying to conjure Marcus' image. She could see his eyelashes dripping with the water, she could see his six-pack abs and that chiseled "V" that held her attention. Her soapy hands wrapped the wand handle wishing it was him, that she could put the strangle hold on his slick skin and guide him to her. The water pulsed and throbbed against her inner thighs and when an errant pulse flew off her thigh it lit a spark that Marcus had last ignited. She surrendered to the jet of water and gave herself permission to feel good inside without him.

"Marcus Bohem, showroom, please, Marcus Bohem showroom please" The singsong of the receptionist drew heads out from under hoods in the shop. The crew whistled and wagged fingers as he wiped his hands off and took carefully measured steps thru the service area, thru the building and into the showroom. There were two of them, Det Kerry and some other guy that looked like he could afford better suits.

"Yessir?" Marcus presented a nearly clean hand for shaking; both accepted and pulled him into one of the sales room offices.

"Can you account for your where abouts last night?" Det. Kerry asked in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, I was at group in the halfway house apartments, then Ted and I played some Xbox, I got to bed about 11. Do I need an attorney?"

"I told you he'd be clean," Det. Kerry barked at his silent partner who nodded and swallowed.

Marcus held out a hand to keep them from leaving, "What is this about? I mean if you are going to ask me where I was, I ought to know what you thought I'd do"

"Wally, took two in the forehead last night at the garage, then his computer was gone along with most of his paper files"

"You know, I've already given you all the info, why in hell would I go back to shoot him and take his computer when all I know is up here?" Marcus tapped the side of his forehead; his face was rushing a shade of pink that began to escalate to red. He shook his head while the officers tried to look official.

"Marcus, you know we had to ask" Det. Kerry was emphatic as he wiped at his own face, he was beginning to perspire.

"I'd appreciate it if you don't ask Ted about this here at work. We do keep a bit of confidentiality about the halfway house; if you can help us we'd appreciate it." Marcus' lips were straight and tight, his voice very low.

"Yeah, I know, remember who got you into all that, right? " Det. Kerry nodded along with Marcus.

"Yeah, I do and it's really working, I don't want to have this fuck it up. Does this mean you'll be dropping all the investigation? This just puts a kibosh on me getting in touch with my girl, doesn't it?" a rush of questions flooded his brain.

"No, no, you gave us enough, it's continuing, you gave us bigger fish that just Wally. It still isn't safe for you to go after your girl. All they have to do is get a whiff of the two of you and it's sure to give them another target. You keep hiding in plain site, Marcus. Keep your eyes open and keep working the program" Det. Kerry knew Marcus would.

"You know, Det., I made my list of all the people I've harmed and I'm willing to make amends to them all. The problem is my parents are dead, my past friends, if you could call them that would kill me if they saw me and the one person I need to make amends with is in danger if I try to reach out to her. Live with that"

"Then, Marcus, humbly ask the good Lord to remove these short-comings, so you can get back to her. We could all use a little help right now, I'll take it from anyone who sends it, God or the Devil" and with that declaration, Det. Kerry and his silent partner made steps to leave.

A few months after we last saw Daria

"Miss Daria Bromwell" the guy stood at Gloria's door like a pizza delivery man without the tasty offering. He was mid forties, paunchy and a bit sloppily dressed. Kendra balanced Antwoine on her hip as she shook her head "No", then lowered her head and took a street wise posture.

"Who wants to know?" her lips pursed at the man as if she were aiming weapons at him.

"Holden and Bowman, Attorneys at Law" The guy turned the envelope over to read the return address. Daria recognized the name from the dining room where she was doing homework and she stood, hesitating for second, than she broke into a run and put a gentle hand on Kendra's shoulder to step aside.

"I am, what is this about?" She gave the man the fish eye and accepted the envelope. He stood there and she looked at him. "You don't expect a tip do you? Go away" Daria closed the door and threw the deadbolt then turned and sat on the sofa, peeling open the envelope. Armed with only allusions about whatever her Daddy's lawyers would want with her, she inhaled and held the breath before unfolding the papers. She scanned the letter,

RE: Succession of Charles Robert Bromwell

Disposition of Trust Fund at attainment of Majority…. This is about money, about money I never knew was mine. The words rolled off her tongue as she caught the understanding, Daddy had established a trust fund to be distributed at 21, she was weeks away from the birthday, to be honest she hadn't even look forward to it.

She didn't hang with her peer group and she really didn't look forward to drinking. As the laser printed letter droned on down the page all she wanted to know was how much and how did her Mother and Arthur manage to not get their hands on it?

Then flipping thru the pages, the answer sat there, what had Marcus asked her about coming into some money? Daddy had secured $434, 000. prior to his little trip. She was within sniffing distance of not worrying about her school loans, having her own place and being in business. Not with a stainless steel cart, but a brick and mortar sandwich shop. "Good to Go" was very close to being a reality. "Happy birthday to me" she whispered to herself as she sat in rapt amazement on the sofa.

Oh the wind won't blow and we really shouldn't go and it only goes to show.
Catch the wind, we're gonna see it spin, we're gonna...sail,
little girl do do do, bop bop a do-oh, my my my my my my yeah.
Everybody I know seems to know me well
but they're never gonna know that I move like hell.

Several months after we last saw Marcus

"Marcus, you want take out?" the guys were waiting for him as he washed his hands; he seemed preoccupied as they were beginning to lost interest in including him on their lunch run.

When the phone rang in the shop he waved them on, "I'll go when you guys get back, I'm OK for now" he took his hand off the receiver, "Marcus, Service department".

"Marcus, it's Ted, we got some mail up front, it's quiet now you might want to run up and get it"

Marcus' throat closed up as his chest drew tight, why the fuck did mail end up at his job? He hung up the phone and stood for a few seconds, his face in his hands, his palms pressed into his forehead. His heart beat like the opening chords of "Whole lotta love" and his breath caught as he stepped out to Ted's office. When he stuck his head inside Ted's office he knocked on the open door.

"Yeah, Marcus, come on in and close the door" Ted asked. To Marcus this was ex-con speak for, "Have a seat, you're fired"

"First I want to say how well you've fit in here, I don't want this to scare you off" Ted slid the letter across his desk as Marcus' bowels began to churn, what was happening?

"Are you letting me go?" Marcus accepted the letter and asked before he opened the envelope.

"Hell, no, I just figured once you got good news from these folk you'd be gone like a scalded dog." Ted sat back in his chair and paid attention to his thumbnail while Marcus read the letter.

The thrust of the letter was a thank-you for all the assistance in attaining fairly rapid indictments on the upline bosses. They outlined their gratitude in long legalese words that did not dare to offer any financial or professional assistance. Kind of like a "don't go away mad, just go away" and by the way, thanks big bunches for giving us the bad guys.

"It's over" Marcus threw his hands up in the air, letting the pages scatter to the floor.

"OVER?" Ted shook his head in confusion.

"I can go back to my life, I can find Daria, the legal shit is over", Marcus shook his head as his voice hitched from the tears that were sneaking down his cheeks, "Man, I never thought it would happen, is she even going to want me now?"

"Ted, I need this job more than ever, when I find her I'll need to really man up and get our own place, you know function like a responsible human being in an adult relationship…. I mean it's been almost a year. If I spend the next couple of months getting her sued to the new me that'll count, right? I mean they aren't going to throw me out of the program because I'm in love…"

"Whoa, Marcus Bohem in love?" Ted was excited for his friend, they had spent so many months together while Marcus recounted how precious she was to him.

"Yeah," Marcus sat back and chewed at his left thumbnail as he stared off in space, nearly dumbstruck.

"So, I guess you want to know if you can cut out for the rest of the day, right?" Ted accurately predicted, "Get out of here before you explode and I have to clean up the mess" Ted waved him out, "Don't forget to punch out" he bellowed as Marcus flew around the corner of the hallway.

Marcus jumped in the car and drove directly back to the halfway house apartment. He peeled out of his work clothes and showered, emerging as scattered as he went in only now fresher and cleaner.

He looked into the mirror and assessed the place where the sparrow tattoo had been. The laser had made it go away and he hadn't scarred from it. Even at lunch he pulled out the razor and lathered up for a shave. He had no idea where he was going first, he just knew he was going to look his best.

He drove to Gloria's, pulling a favor from God if anyone would be home at the middle of a workday. He took the steps two at a time to get to the front door, rapping actively as he stood waiting for signs of life at the row house.

He licked at his lips as he waited, his hands wringing as he balanced from foot to foot.

Gloria spoke from behind the locked door, "Who is it?"

"It's Marcus, is Daria here?" he positioned himself in front of the peephole.

The door flew open, "What the hell took you so damn long, boy?" She wanted to be mad at him, and then there was something about the way he was standing and the face he was making that told her he had come as soon as he could.

He opened his mouth and she put up a hand to stop him. Marcus figured out where Daria got the body language from now.

"She's at work; did you know she has a sandwich shop? My Dari girl has done pretty well for herself. Did you come to disrupt her life or put it back together with her?"

"I came back for her, where is the shop, how can I find her?" he was nearly bouncing. Gloria reached inside the house for a coupon flyer, Marcus read the name "Good to Go" on the heading.

"This is her shop?" his eyes scanned the little map in the lower corner of the half page insert. This was the sandwich shop the guys had just started using. He knew right were it was, although it hadn't been his turn yet to drive.

"Do you want me to call her?" Gloria reached in her apron for her cell phone.

"NO, no, I want to surprise her, please let me surprise her…." He was off the porch, down the sidewalk and into his car in seconds.

What would he say to her, would he just keep his mouth shut while she reamed him out for the time he left her? He hadn't even asked Gloria if she was still single. How many months had it been, Oh, Jesus Christ, what if she was done with him?

It was about 2:45, the shop was small, all take out. He could see a person leaning on the counter picking up their order, should he wait until there was no one but the two of them? He nearly ground the gears throwing the car into park. He pocketed the keys and took measured steps into the shop. The door sentry rang a bell in the seemingly empty shop. He heard movement behind the partition that separated the prep line from the customers.

"I'm coming" it was Daria's light voice; he could almost taste the honey on her lips. He heard footsteps of rubber soled shoes and he half turned around debating his first words. She arrived at the counter, reaching for her register key to take the order. She saw a third of a tallish, dark haired man and as he turned to face her she went wide eyed.

"I had this girlfriend make this sandwich, it had turkey and some avocado and the cheese was supposed to be like a fontana" he fumbled at the things Daria had built into that first sandwich she made for him….

"Have you got anything like that? . . . can you make that sandwich for me?" He stood, his hands shoved down deep into his front pockets, his shoulders a bit hunched. He found nerves shaking that he never knew he had.

"Fontina, fontina cheese" she nodded the correction to him, unbelieving that he was actually in front of her.

It was Marcus, he seemed taller, more muscled. His hair was to die for, she was convinced the man outside the medical building had to be him, the bird tattoo was gone, and he was clean shaven. He was heaven on two feet and he was in her sandwich shop. Her tummy did flip flops while she tried to remain calm, waited for him to say why he was here.

"I can make that sandwich" She stood nodding as she felt the wet sweat trickle down the center of her back.

"I didn't know if you would ever get a chance to make it for me again" Marcus bit his lip at the saying that.

"Well, they say that lighting does strike in the same place twice" She nodded, biting her lip, her body language copying his. She watched as a car pulled into the parking place in front of her shop, oh, no, not right now.

Marcus hadn't made an attempt to reach for her or come behind the counter; did he want her as much as she wanted him? She vaulted to the counter and swung her legs over it, pushing him aside to break for the door. As the man opened the door out to step in she yanked the door out of his hand,

"I'm sorry, the shop is closed, problems with power" The man looked perturbed, disturbed at her claim.

"Your lights are on, what's the problem?" He stopped in his tracks looking into the take out shop with some confusion.

"Lightning, lightning just struck, I have to close for safety's sake" and she announced sharply as she yanked the door out of his hand and quickly pulled it closed, locking it and then flipping the "OPEN" sign to "CLOSED". Her back to the door, she turned the wand on the blinds and walked back to the counter, toward Marcus.

"Lightning?" Marcus looked to the side to crush a laugh, then he looked back at her, "What about earthquakes or a tidal wave?"

"What ever you want to do, Marcus, whatever force you can bring, you just come on over to me and bring it with you"

Their tentative steps gave way to their rushing and they collided with the lengths of their bodies, hands grabbing, lips seeking each other, wordless exclamations of their happiness echoing back and forth between them.

Please come back for their Epilogue, Saturday Evening.

"What Is and What Should Never Be" Led Zeppelin

The medical machines blipped and blinked, the cold linoleum resonated the clattering of carts past them as the two of them made slow steps to the private medical suite.

What had 20 years together taught them? You "roll with it", thru fat and lean. Their unexpected liaison had delivered their family into an unassuming neighborhood of cul de sacs. Daria kept on building "Good to Go", adding Gloria and Kendra and eventually Antwoine as he grew tall enough to run the register summers. Marcus did what he did best, repair Benzs and love Daria and the kids.

Frankie came within the first couple of years of their wedding, all hale and hearty. He walked late and spoke early. His favorite place was falling asleep in Daddy's lap his little fingers tracing over the ink on Daddy's arms.

Marcus hadn't been with her for the first miscarriage while Daria was alone. He made up for it when she lost another pregnancy. Together they cried and prayed for nights, while he railed at the god who had seen him sober for so many years. At his darkest he understood he had to tighten his grip on reality while they plodded one foot after the other until they could digest the reasons for her losing this pregnancy. All of the sinister moods lifted when the sonogram of the next pregnancy showed a well formed girl child. When Charlotte was born early and small, Marcus would whisper, "come on Scrappy, Mommy and Daddy need you to be big and strong". Although the family knew her as "Tiny Princess" when it was just the two of them Marcus called her "Scrappy".

Marcus' coarse upbringing, or lack of it, had been sanded smooth with Daria's love and influence. His hobbies included riding BMX with Frankie and running with Charlotte while she trained for Cross Country. When his sobriety was threatened he'd head into the basement gym and slavishly work out until the craving passed and he was exhausted. The kid's rooms were on the other side of the house and they were raised to know you always knock on a closed door. Marcus and Daria still had the door closed a lot; it helped them "think" they told the kids when they were little, when "Mommy and Daddy talk". Yeah, they like to talk things out…

Daria and Marcus had raised them apart from Arthur and Linda so the late night call from Holy Angels seemed due, Daria had always expected some sort of a deathbed declaration.

Tonight's dinner dishes were in the sink when the call came. Marcus picked up the keys and they road in silence thru the city to the waterfront hospital. Tonight Marcus' clothing came from a department store, not a Salvation Army. He walked the talk of an altar boy more than the ex-con of his 20's. Daria was the image of composure considering they left the house suddenly on a school night.

The 20 years had changed Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Darby. Linda's heart problem wasn't that it was two sizes too small; she was 60 something and suffered from cardio myopathy. Arthur sat poised, eyes blurry from grief and alcohol. His eyes widened when at the sight of the girl he "had" a lifetime ago. He hadn't expected them to have aged so well. Daria's husband had the cool clear eye of sober precision, the body of a guy committed to 3x a week work outs. Arthur shuddered at facing Daria or her husband.

"She's lucid, she knows you're coming" Arthur rose, with a jingle of the change in his pockets of his pleated dress trousers. His vest was unbuttoned and crumpled from laying himself across the bottom of Linda's sickbed. The fancy necktie yanked down earlier to day at the emergency call.

Daria kept the hospital bed between them, viewing Arthur, straight lipped with firm eyes. She pushed the table away from the bed and brushed her Mother's platinum hair away from her forehead.

"Mom, its Dari" Linda's eyes opened slowly.

"Baby", was all she mustered with a labored breath, her eyes pale and scared.

Linda and Daria whispered about the prognosis and Linda gave Arthur a sharp look.

"You're Mother isn't a candidate for a transplant, too many things going on". Arthur was resigned to her end. Daria wasn't crushed by the news; she stepped down to the end of the bed and crossed the foot rather deliberately. She faced Arthur and crouched so she could look him eye to eye.

"It's a shame she isn't a transplant candidate, Arthur, because you could always give her your heart. You've never used it".

There is was, all out in the open after all those years.

Arthur hadn't an answer, his stony resolve chiseled in his lined face. Arthur adjusted his suspenders as he stood and nodded to Daria. He patted Linda on the foot and excused himself. Did he feel Marcus; eyes burning a trial behind him? He should have.

Marcus followed him to the empty family room and waited for Arthur to choose his seat. Arthur felt the eyes on him as he sat in the wing chair attempting to look regal, untouchable. Marcus pulled an armless chair right up to him and sat inches away from Arthur. This disquieted Arthur and he sought another focal point, all the while Marcus seemed to be making eye contact with him.

Marcus had a generation and few inches on him, not that this was the way Marcus was planning on handling it. From the first night that Daria had confessed what Arthur put her through; Marcus was waiting for this night.

Marcus sat back, squared shoulders leading to strong arms folded over his robust chest. The athletic cut of the blue blazer outlined his developed biceps and forearms.

"I wondered if I'd ever meet you" Marcus's soft voice belied his true feelings. He unfolded his arms and scratched at his 5 O'clock shadow as he leaned forward, one palm on his knee. Marcus' hand went from his scruff upwards to smooth back his salt and pepper hair, a habit he had from his days "inside". When he brought his hand down he regarded his wedding ring and thought about Daria before taking a deep breath.

"Right, I realize Daria hasn't been in regular contact with us" Arthur swallowed a bit harder than he needed. There was silence and then Arthur pursed his lips and added, "The two of you look healthy, happy". A stranger could look at Marcus and Daria and see more than that; their eyes sparkled in each other's company, they touched each other in simple ways that looked intimate and reverent.

"Did you ever hear how we met?" Marcus posed the question innocently enough and Arthur shook his head no.

"It must have been right after you raped her; she was living on the street and needed help with her laundry. She needed a place to stay and you know Arthur, even a swinging dick like me could leave her alone. Then we lost track of each other for a while for her safety. I turned in some really bad mother fuckers in the Russian mob and lived to tell about it. I made a lot of friends in law enforcement, to this day all I have to do is call one and drop a dime on you" Marcus' voice was barely above a whisper, it might as well have been a bullhorn at Arthur's body language.

Arthur was silent so Marcus continued, "I've spent long hours thinking about everything I know about you. At first I wanted to break into your place and cut your balls off and stuff them down your mouth. My luck I'd get caught and you'd bleed out and not suffer enough. Yet if I had done it 20 years ago I probably would have saved some other poor sweet young thing." Marcus watched as Arthur's breathing deepened, "You do like them young, don't you Arthur? I mean what was Daria, 17 when you started?"

Arthur's fingers went to loosen the collar that had already opened and he froze for a second, and then dropped his hand in his lap, covering his fly.

Marcus' eyes dropped to Arthur's hands, "Arty, do you get hard just thinking about it, at your age?" Marcus shook his head, "Arty, you are one bad boy. You see, you are truly a fortunate son. You know the song: "Fortunate One"

Marcus got up and moved the chair from in front of Arthur. He rolled his shoulders as if he were winding up for a pitch; the jacket outlined the power in his physique. "Great song, I used to sing it when I was all hopped up and feeling like I owned the world…..goes something like this "Yeah! Some folks are born silver spoon in hand, Lord, don't they help themselves, oh." Marcus included the air guitar performance while Arthur froze in fear of Marcus' next steps.

"So, I just want you to know I know all about your sick little appetite and I also know how to keep you in check. You see while Linda is alive Daria never wanted to raise hell about you, you really had Linda convinced it was Daria. You're good, really good. When Linda passes out of this world you better hope she's one helluva a guardian angel because you are going to need one. When one girl comes forward somehow they ALL come out of the woodwork, and it won't take much for a guy like you, all that money and visibility. The girls will remember you… all the way to the prosecutor's office."

Marcus leaned his palms on the arms of the wing chair and with his face inches away from Arthur's, his hot breath baptized Arthur with these words, "within 48 hours of Linda's death, you need to report to the sex crimes division, confess to them and take your medicine, Arthur." Then he popped himself upright and stood with his thumbs in his belt, "Because if you don't, some friends of mine will visit to remind you." Arthur's complexion went ashy.

"You can't force me to do anything; if Daria had wanted to she could have tried this a long time ago." The old man's sneer was actually paper mache against Marcus' granite tenacity.

"Like I said, I have friends in law enforcement now, not penny ante thugs. So are we clear on this, Arthur?" Marcus inhaled deeply as his eyes narrowed and he pulled out his cell phone, "I have their names right here, we've stayed in touch all these years." He had the phone poised to dial and Arthur's liver spotted hand waved him to stop.

"I heard you; I heard you, yes, yes….. Within 48 hours. Now leave me in peace, God Damn it" The tremors moved thru that sentence, he was a broken man after breaking so many young women.

The two of them were silent when Daria had entered the family room, "Mother wants to speak to you, Marcus". So Marcus kissed her forehead and walked with her back to the room, his hand at her waist and they nearly bumped hips they walked so close.

Pale and wane, Linda seemed to have melted into the mattress, the fluorescent bulb in the light over the bed did nothing to flatter the formerly beautiful woman. Marcus stood close and touched her fingertips to wake her, "Linda, you wanted to speak with me?"

"I was wrong, wrong about so many things, and thank-you, thank-you for taking her in and loving her" shallow breathes pushed out Linda's grateful words.

Marcus wanted to be softer for Daria's sake; he wanted to be warm hearted at the hour of his mother in law's remorse. Being human, all he could was nod and let her know what he thought all along, "She's so easy to love, Linda, it just came naturally".

"Then you were meant to be." Her eyes fluttered a bit and she weakly lifted the corners of her mouth.

Daria bent from the other side of the bed and kissed her mother's cheek, she smelled rubber tubing and medical tape, antiseptic and hospital laundry detergent when she was always accustomed to the fragrance of Boucheron and the French hand lotion she used. How sad Mother had fallen so far at the end, Daria thought as she pulled out the pocket tube of the same hand lotion and warmed some in her hands. Watching her, Marcus reached for the lotion and followed her steps. The two of them gently stroked the plant infused lotion into her formerly radiant skin. Linda's breathing steadied and she fell into a rested sleep, her eyes less tense, her lips gently parted.

"How long does she have?" Marcus lip spoke to Daria silently.

"Hours," Daria's eyes were beginning to puff from fighting tears this evening.

"Let me call Frankie, let the kids know where we are, OK?" Marcus excused himself and walked back to the empty family room. He didn't give Arthur any thought as he dialed the house and Charlotte answered. Not wanting to upset his tiny Princess he just said, "Princess, we'll be home in the morning before school, lock up the house and get to sleep, OK?"

"Dad, Frankie says Mom's Mom is dying, is Mom alright?" Charlotte was the tender hearted one of the family even for a teenage girl she hated to see Daria upset.

"Tell Frankie to drop the subject, yes, your Mom is upset, her mother is very ill, Get some sleep Princess"

Marcus walked to the station and asked for Mr. Darby, none of the staff has seen him so he returned to the suite to find Daria drawing a wide tooth comb thru her mother's hair, splayed over the pillow.

Linda Benson Bromwell Darby passed from this life around 3:12 am. Arthur was no where to be found, yet the AMG was parked just where the valet had parked it 10 hours earlier. After the turmoil of the end dulled to a low static hum, Marcus took Daria's hand and they grabbed hot tea from the family room and they left to walk along the harbor. Wrapped in a light hospital blanket, Daria held her tea with both hands while Marcus wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Both silent, both serious.

Was it 20 some years they ate their first meals in the shadow of the harbor? The buildings had multiplied, so many old ones torn down to give way to grander, taller edifices of wealth. They found a bench near the marina and watched the boats bobbing up and down with the water's rhythm as they took a seat to drink their tea and think.

Daria pointed to the tall sand colored condos Marcus coveted in another lifetime, "Are you ever sorry we never got a place in there?" She watched him blink and with a flutter of those long eyelashes, he looked down into his tea he shook his head no.

"I got what I wanted, I wanted you" he turned his head sideways to make eye contact with her as he wrapped her tighter to his chest, that smile of his was so sublime…..

"What about you, did you get everything you wanted?" He asked, his voice a husky mix of temptation and innocence.

"I'd say I have yes, we're still young, there's so much more for us to do once the kids are grown and that will be before we know it, then it'll be just us again" she was smiling again as she sipped the warm honeyed brew of chamomile and lemon.

"Remember that day," Marcus was slipping into his happy place, remembering their reunion at "Good to Go". He pulled her closer as he took a hearty whiff of her perfumed hair; she swung her legs across his lap and nestled to him. Marcus set down his tea and wrapped both arms around her.

"Lightning, what was it, tidal wave, earth quake? What else was I supposed to bring?" Now he was baiting her teasing her about the day she closed the door on the customer due to "lightning" then locked up the shop tight before dragging him back to the office where she had a futon for her late nights.

"Yourself, all of you…." She looked up at him and shook her head, the tip of her tongue passing along her bottom lip. "You are so bad" she blushed.

"Bad? I seemed to remember you were quite satisfied" her weight on his lap woke up old reflexes and urges. He took the cup from her hands and she melted into his arms. They signed together with soft giggles as they traded kisses as light as dragonfly wings.

"Let's get out of here…." He invited her to no particular destination. They gathered the blanket around her and made their way back to the valet station to retrieve their sedan.

"Where are you headed?" Daria didn't recognize the route he was pursuing.

"Making a stop," he admitted as he drove them to their sandwich shop. He got them into the building and dragged her, as she giggled to the office. In all these years it had been improved although a futon was still a mainstay for napping children.

"Oh, you aren't ready for a couple of rounds on stainless steel?" Daria giggled as she slid her hands under his blue blazer and flung it on the coat rack.

"I am a little bit older than then" Marcus laughed as he toed off his shoes while he unbuttoned the front of her blouse and peeled it away to reveal the ivory lace of her brassiere, soft flesh, lightly freckled mounds of flesh awaited for his touch, his lips. Their very fresh dance had been perfected in twenty years of ardent romance, spiced with their curiosities of what would make the other quiver to ask for more.

Within seconds they were twenty years younger, lost in the ambiance of the shop, flung back to their age of restored innocence when Marcus had sought her after being separated over a year.

"I've missed you so damn long, all the places I've been shoved, none of them smelled like us," Marcus confessed as he buried his nose behind her ear as his hands kneaded the cheeks of her succulent fanny, "Princess, I feel like I'm home"

"Does home smell like roast beef and smoked turkey", she humorously and impatiently asked as they hurried out of their clothes, flinging anything on the futon to the floor. He lifted her over him and she scurried down his body to grab and lick at his thick hardness coming to life in her hands.

"Home smells like you, like your hair and your flesh between here" he ran light fingers between her breasts, "home is wherever I can stroke you long and hard" Marcus grit his teeth as she bore down on him with both hands and her pink lips.

Their haste led to a hurried first time back, sweaty from the rush of her riding him at a determined pace they rolled on the futon until Marcus pinned her down under him, intent on stoking her deeply while her legs wrapped around him. "Remember what happens when you wrap me up tight?" He teased, thinking about how fast he came when she totally enveloped him and held him giving little leeway on his plunging strokes.

"That just means we'll have to do it again…" she was exuberantly enjoying each time their skin touched, relishing the electricity they made together… Yeah it was all of Mother Nature's unbridled forces: lightning, thunder and then their sweat covered them like a light rain when she lay in his arms, both of them spent feeling reborn with each other.

Tonight, after coming from the hospital, he respected her heartache and took it slowly, cupping generous pale breasts while he kissed each one reverently. Her sigh were the only music he wanted to hear as he strummed her like a delicate instrument, evoking audible moans that directed his lips and fingers to excite her and coerce her appetite to the fore.

Any grief she held over the evening's events was assailed by his devotion to stir up her longing and liberate her from grief's pain. If tonight her world was crashing down, he was going to hold it up with his shoulders as he separated her from the cold cruel world.

His lips soothed her, as she arched into his chest, pushing her hips to his hips, she strained to touch as much skin to his as he licked and lapped at the crevices of her elbows, her knees, and the hollow of her thighs where it ducked into her dark pink flesh. He went down on her with such a hunger that she had no resistance; she lay back and felt his tongue kindle deep and fervid sensations. She clutched at the cover and drove her hips toward him….

She tasted differently tonight as if rich in her grief it had imbued a new layer of succulence. He caught his breath at the thought of bringing her through all this sadness tonight and it gave him the urge to kiss a little deeper, touch a bit more delicately. She grasped at his skin, leaving him ablaze for her lips to dance across his flesh, yet he wanted to please her first, to make her smile in euphoria.

When she quivered and caught her breath in a possessed wail, Marcus poised on his knees between her legs and captured the sight of her soft flesh covered in a sweaty sheen, that rich aroma of her orgasm turning him rigid from the bottom of his balls to the head of his cock, he swiped at her gently and covered himself in her cream before teasing her gently. Their eyes met and she blew a kiss, and then reached for him, grasping him all the way down the shaft to slide her fist to bring him closer. He lunged and she let go driving him deep within her as she bucked to fuck him back.

Their thirst gave way to the fever and he burrowed as deep as he could before he'd retreat and power back into her. Her succulence drove him to ecstasy and when it all came down to his finishing strokes; he prayed these moments delivered Daria from her suffering to carry them to a stunningly contented place together.

It was never pretending with her, it was always the beautiful, brutal truth when they lay together…. And tonight, even with grief as their invisible guest, their love had conveyed them to rise above their heartaches.

He lay with her in his arms, their skin slick and he realized, for two people in love, pain and strife have no hold, that these torments, well they are… they are invisible.