June 28, 1925
Zora was exhausted and incredibly frustrated. She felt that she was going to wear a hole in the floor from all of her pacing, but she couldn't stop. The sun was starting to rise, but she had barely slept. It wasn't like her to get in a lather about a guy giving her the icy mitt, but Daryl wasn't just any guy. Aside from his intriguing rugged nature and her heavy attraction to him, he was also her business partner. His reaction to her kiss had been confusing, as at first he had reciprocated, but the way he had stormed off made it clear to her that such an action was not wanted. She was afraid not only of losing his friendship, but also of losing their business relationship. What if he was so angry with her that he didn't want to do business anymore? Their partnership was still new, and while she could just go back to selling Louis's mediocre moonshine, she was eager to see how she and Daryl's business could grow. But at the moment, she didn't even know if Dixon's Vixen was still standing.
For the hundredth time, Zora cursed Daryl for not having a telephone. The inability to pick up the receiver and give him a ring to ask about all this was infuriating. She knew her exasperation with his lack of a telephone was silly, considering how rare rural electrification was, but she couldn't help her frustration. She needed to talk to Daryl.
Zora looked at the clock. It was only 6:30 a.m., and the sun was just coming up. She huffed to herself and then decided that she didn't care what time it was. She needed to talk to Daryl and the only way to do that was to drive out and see him face to face. He seemed to be a morning person, judging from the times she had slept at his house, but even if he wasn't, she still would have gone. She went into the bathroom and checked her appearance in the mirror. Her hair still held its style from the night before, and she wore no makeup, but she still looked a lot better than she had those mornings she had woken up at Daryl's house. She told herself that it didn't matter what she looked like anyway, as Daryl was clearly not interested in pursuing any kind of romantic relationship with her. With a sigh, she shoved her feet into some shoes, grabbed her purse and keys, and hurried down to her car.
As Zora drove out of the city, the rising sun spilled golden light on the peaceful surroundings of the country. Zora wished she could feel as peaceful as the scenery. She drove as fast as the Model T would allow and made it to Daryl's house in just over half an hour. She pulled her car in behind his truck and made her way up to the front porch, feeling determined.
She rapped at the door and waited, half expecting Daryl to appear at the side of the house as he had in the past. She heard footsteps inside and was suddenly faced with a grouchy-looking Daryl.
"Damn, woman, can't you ever give me any peace?" he growled at her. The house smelled of coffee inside, and Zora was relieved that she hadn't woken him with her intrusion.
"Sorry, but we need to talk, and since you don't have a damn telephone, here I am."
"Ain't got nothin' to talk about."
"You're all wet about that," Zora retorted with narrowed eyes. "I'm not leaving until you talk to me."
"I'm talkin' to you now," Daryl said gruffly, his body still blocking the doorway. She shot him an exasperated look and he sighed somewhat dramatically before stepping aside as a nonverbal invitation. She walked inside and he made his way past her back toward the kitchen with Zora following him.
"Java?" he grunted.
"Sure," Zora said, leaning against the kitchen table. Daryl poured her a cup from the pot on the stove and handed it to her.
"So why're you 'bout to break my door down not even an hour past dawn?" Daryl asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee as well. He leaned against the counter facing her, and his expression told her that he was highly uncomfortable.
"You know why. What the hell happened last night?"
Daryl shrugged, his eyes darting around the kitchen and refusing to meet her gaze. "You were there. You tell me."
"Lay off, Daryl," Zora snapped, her patience wearing thin already. "We kissed and then you ran off. Literally. I'm sorry if I crossed the line when I kissed you, but I don't understand why you were so upset about it."
Daryl shrugged again and said nothing. Zora glowered at him and he cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Sorry for runnin' off . . . I just, I can't. I can't do this with you."
"Do what?"
"What d'you think? Neckin' in dark alleyways and such! I just can't do it."
Zora studied him for a moment and took a long sip of her coffee.
"So does our partnership still stand?"
Daryl blinked, confused. "Course it does. I just can't make it more'n that."
She nodded slowly. "Okay. I understand." She tried to suppress the fact that she was a little hurt by Daryl's words and instead focused on her relief that their business arrangement still stood. Daryl watched her and said nothing. She took another sip of her coffee and put the cup down on the kitchen table behind her.
"I'll get out of your hair," she said. "Sorry for barging in and casting a kitten about all this. I just had to know where we stand."
"We're good," Daryl said gruffly.
She nodded once. "Okay. I'll see you in a week for my next order."
Without giving him much chance to reply, she turned on her heel and walked back to the front door, shutting it a little harder than necessary behind her. Daryl let loose a long breath and ran a hand over his face. He hadn't expected her to drive all the way out here to badger him about last night's events, but he realized that she probably had the right to. He'd literally fled from the alleyway and left her alone and extremely confused. He cursed himself for running away, but at the same time, he knew it was for the best. Daryl wasn't ready for the level she had taken things last night.
It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman, and none of the women he had seen in the past had been serious. The last roll in the hay he'd had was about five years ago with a woman he used to casually sleep with, a farmer's daughter by the name of Maggie. He and Maggie had messed around for a while until she'd gone and gotten herself a real husband and a farmhouse of her own to tend to. He hadn't seen her in years, not that he had any real desire to. Daryl had proven to himself that he didn't need women. They just complicated things.
That was probably why Zora's actions had scared him so much. He didn't want to admit that he was afraid to let a woman in his life, but he was. Very much so. He'd done just fine on his own until Zora had pushed and shoved her way into his life, and now nothing was how it used to be. He wasn't ready to take things to the next level, and he'd pushed her away as he so often did to those who tried to get close to him. He couldn't help it. Getting close to people who weren't Merle was something Daryl had never been good at.
Daryl moved to the kitchen table and picked up Zora's empty coffee cup, turning it over in his hands. He realized that with the exception of the kiss at the end of the night, he had had a good time with her in Atlanta. She was fun and fresh and new, and she was showing him a world he hadn't ever experienced. He vowed to try to maintain his friendship with her, because her boldness and frivolity were good for him. He just couldn't push their relationship beyond the level of friendship. Daryl didn't think he would ever be ready for that.
"I can't believe he gave you the brush off!" Molly sighed. "What man in his right mind would turn down nookie with you?"
"Hey! It was just a kiss!" Zora retorted. "It's not like I was pulling his pants down around his ankles or anything."
Molly giggled. "I know, I know. But still, you're the bee's knees, Zora! He must be off his nuts."
"Can't win 'em all," Zora shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. She and Molly had decided to meet up for a drink and some chatting at Walton's. Molly had told quite a story about nearly evading arrest at the large speakeasy that had been raided the previous night, and Zora had ended up spilling the beans about the disastrous outcome of her and Daryl's kiss. She was still sore about Daryl's rejection, and Molly was a welcome distraction. She needed to focus on viewing Daryl as just a business partner, nothing more. It was harder than she cared to admit.
"He's a rag-a-muffin anyway," Molly said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Those country fellas can't keep up with us city girls. You need a man who's hip to the jive, y'know?"
Zora shrugged. "I guess. Daryl's just so different, though. He intrigues me. I find his mystery alluring."
Molly smirked. "Oh, I know. You always liked the mysterious types. But you gotta let him go. And look, I think I see the perfect distraction."
Zora followed Molly's line of sight to a well-dressed young man with black hair who was eying the pair of them shamelessly. She nudged Molly under the table and the two of them giggled.
"I think he likes you," Molly said with a smirk. She was right. The man's eyes were glued to Zora, and when she met his gaze, he arched his eyebrows a bit, as if inviting her to approach.
"Go get a wiggle on, go talk to him," Molly urged, practically shoving Zora out of her chair and in the direction of her admirer.
"Fine, fine," Zora sighed, and Molly slipped away toward the bar to order herself another drink. Zora sidled up to the dark-haired man and leaned against the wall next to him.
"So, are you gonna buy me a drink or are you just gonna stare at me all night?" she asked him playfully. He gave her a side smile.
"You've got a point. I'll buy you whatever you like, doll. What's your name?"
"Zora."
He took her hand and kissed the top of it. "Lovely to meet you, Zora. I'm Frank."
Zora gave Frank her best sultry smile, and, still holding her hand, he led her toward the bar.
"Get the lady anything she asks for," he told Cecil behind the bar.
"You know what I like," Zora shrugged to Cecil, and he grinned at her and began making her the usual moonshine cocktail she typically ordered.
"Chummy with the bartender, eh?" Frank noted. "So you must come here often."
"I do," Zora replied. "I used to be dancer here, too."
Frank arched his eyebrows in approval, and Zora knew he was picturing her in the risqué outfit Walton's dancers wore.
"That would be a sight to see," he said, and she winked at him playfully. Cecil slid her cocktail toward her across the bar and went to work making whatever Frank was drinking. Frank pulled one of the barstools out for Zora in an invitation to sit, which she accepted. She caught Molly's eye from across the room and suppressed the urge to giggle at the look of smug satisfaction on her face.
"So what do you do, Frank?" she asked, turning her attention to her admirer.
"I'm a bank teller downtown," he said. "And yourself?"
"Salesgirl," Zora lied smoothly. She couldn't exactly tell people she had just met that she was a bootlegger, even though she had spilled the beans to Daryl soon after meeting him. She blinked the thoughts of him away and tried to focus on the handsome man in front of her.
"Where're you from?" she asked. She didn't really care where he was from, but she needed to punch the bag to avoid awkward silences, and she was running through her usual questions.
"Jackson, Mississippi," he replied. He began talking about his hometown, and Zora couldn't help but to tune him out. She nodded and hummed when appropriate, but she wasn't taking in anything Frank was saying. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Daryl and what he may be doing now. Probably skinning some dead animal he had killed, or tending to the moonshine still. She wished she could rid him from her mind. Now that the possibility of their relationship ever moving past friendship was gone, it was as though he invaded her thoughts even more. She soon finished her drink, which Frank quickly replaced, and then another, and another. She realized she was attempting to drink Daryl out of her mind, but it wasn't working.
She wasn't saying much of anything, but Frank seemed content to do all the talking. He was clearly quite full of himself, but Zora didn't mind. She didn't have much to say anyway. She realized she was significantly fried, and she allowed her eyes to drift down to Frank's lips. They were smooth, and much fuller than Daryl's. She shook her head. No. No Daryl.
"What's the matter, doll?" Frank asked, noticing her shaking her head at herself.
Zora said nothing and leaned in to him, pressing her lips hard against his. Frank seemed to immediately forget his concern from moments before and kissed her back passionately. His tongue found its way into her mouth and explored aggressively. His face was smooth, not rough and prickly like Daryl's had been. Daryl also hadn't slipped his tongue in her mouth, but Zora found herself wishing for the fierce close-mouthed kiss he had reciprocated before pulling away from her the night before. She tried to focus on the man she was actually kissing instead of imagining that it was Daryl's lips on hers, but it was no use.
Here she was, necking with a man she had just met at the bar, and despite how handsome and suave this stranger was, she couldn't stop herself from constantly wishing that she could be kissing Daryl instead.