Chapter 3:
Rain pounded the wooden boards of the back steps. Wind lashed cold drops against her face. Salty air and low-tide smells choked her as she gasped for breath and fought the panic that welled within her.
Lightening pierced the sky. Neil stood next to the trash dumpsters, black against black, and frowned at her.
Miranda felt suddenly foolish. The back parking lot held only her car, the trash containers, and Neil. "What is it?" he called. Water lapped over the sidewalks and gushed in gutters.
"I-I-I heard something." She rubbed her cold hands on her arms. Her fleece top and jeans were getting soaked.
Neil bounded up the steps two at a time. "What?"
"In the video room." She omitted what she'd seen. Together they went back into the shop. As they entered, she caught a whiff of sweat. It under laid the wet-animal scent as well as the salt and sand smell that were such a part of the shore community that they went unremarked.
Miranda held up a hand to Neil for silence. Not far from her front door, the Atlantic Ocean snarled. Wind rose and fell with a whine. Nothing else stirred. She tiptoed to her counter and pulled out a long metal bar that was supposed to be locked onto her car's steering wheel. She just couldn't remember to use it. As she brandished it like a sword, she slipped cautiously into the video room. Neil was right at her elbow.
Miranda took a deep breath, poked the bar around the curved wall, and followed slowly after.
Neil shoved past her and stood with his hands on his hips. With his work boot, Neil prodded the mountain of fur that lay on the floor.
Miranda relaxed at Neil's apparent unconcern. After all, she thought, polar bears did not wear boots.
Neil gave the lump a harder kick. "Yo, bud. Up and outta here." The small mountain didn't move. "Should I call the cops?"
Miranda frowned. And say what? " A polar bear in boots is snoozing in our shop." Now that Neil had demonstrated the thing's harmlessness, she grew brave and made a few fencing moves at the mountain. She prodded and poked and circled.
"Or maybe we should call the exterminator." Neil bent over, hands on his knees. "Come on, bud. This isn't the Seaview Motel."
The offended anime fan shifted. Miranda squeaked and danced away. The disgusted look Neil aimed at her made her straighten up and justify herself. "Well, it moved." She feigned nonchalance, but she did not lower her "sword."
While Neil cajoled, Miranda took in the small details. Dirty fur, like a matted bath rug, swathed the figure from head to toe. Boldly, Miranda poked the pile again.
Nothing happened. She prodded the flat, scuffed sole of one boot. The mountain abruptly shuddered. Miranda jerked away, her back coming up against the wall. The pile shifted and rolled. It then flopped back like a beached whale and snored-a decidedly loud snore.
"Sound asleep," she whispered in disgust.
"Maybe drunk," Neil whispered back.
"At this time of morning?" Miranda held the metal bar in both hands, ready to whack the man if he stood up.
"He probably sneaked over from Atlantic City." Neil reached down and dragged the furs open. "How the hell'd he get in here, anyway?"
Miranda dropped her bar. She hated it when Neil was right. Under the furs, the man was dressed like a Konoha ninja. Costumes were conceder normal at the convention as well as at the ball scheduled for tonight." He'd win any prize in any look-alike contest for Kakashi wouldn't he?" she asked.
Neil grunted. "Not unless he'd take a bath before final judging." Then he frowned. "Did you forget to check the back door last night?" His implied "again" didn't need to be said.
She winced and busied herself examining the man. He opened his one uncovered eye. "Come…warm…me."
Miranda found herself staring. His one eye was gray, his voice was low and seductive. His eye fluttered closed. A smile curved beneath his mask.
"Oh, great. A rude Kakashi impersonator," Miranda muttered. "What should we do with him?"
Neil scratched his chin. "I don't know. If you call the cops he might get thrown in jail."
"Anime fans are not criminals," she said.
"You're right. They also spend tons of money in shops like ours."
The man rolled his head and snorted like a large boar. It was then that Miranda noticed a long gash. Dried blood matted the front of his furs. "Oh, Neil, he's hurt." She dropped to her knees at the man's side. "And he's really dirty. It's his fur coat that we're smelling. He must've swiped it from a bear. A wet, muddy bear." She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
She reached out cautiously and touched the man's shirt. Heat zinged up her arm. She snatched her hand back. As if his body had become aware of his surroundings, the man began to shiver. He tucked his hands into his armpits and curled onto his side. The small chamber once again filled with his harsh, growling snores.
"We could at least clean his cut," she said. Neil frowned. "He's shaking; he must be cold. Shouldn't we at least get him upstairs? I could clean his cut."
"Yeah, I guess we don't need him lying here when we open up."
"Rin?" The man whispered. His eyes remained closed, but his hand groped toward her.
Involuntarily, she took it. He shivered. His hand was hot- feverishly hot. While she held it, the heat seemed to flow up her arm. The hair on her nape stirred. With difficulty, she extracted her hand from his grip.
She stripped the furs open all the way down the man's body. The garment revealed itself to be a long fur parka with a deep hood. The man's dirty, matted hair lay plastered against his skull- it could be any color from pale blond to silver. "This might be the guy the agency hired for my ball, Neil."
The man's breath whistled through his nose.
"Looking like this?" Neil shook his head. "Let's call the police instead."
In her mind's eye, Miranda saw herself locking the back door and checking it. "I know I didn't leave the door open. I just know it."
"Then he sneaked in while we were busy with customers yesterday and hid in the bathroom. No, that's ludicrous. How could a guy this big sneak past us?"
"Regardless of how he got into the shop, we can't leave him lying on the cold floor. And if he is from the agency, I can't exactly turn him over to the police either. The agency would never supply another event for me." No matter how imprudent it might be, she decided to help the stranger. She rose to her feet. "Let's get him upstairs to my apartment."
"Are you sure?" Neil asked. "He could be dangerous. He was reckless enough to break in here."
Miranda took one more look at the man. "You know, Neil, I think he just needed somewhere to sleep. Maybe he was broke and couldn't afford a hotel room." She put her hand on his forehead. It was cool. She grabbed his arm. The same zing of heat pulsed through her hands, but this time she ignored it.
Neil jammed his hands on his hips. "Are you sure?"
She tugged and pulled. The man did not budge. "I'm sure. After all, the ball's tonight. What's a few hours? Come on. Help me."
As Neil continued to catalog his protest they hefted the man to a sitting position. "Yikes," Miranda said with a gasp, "he's a deadweight."
"Smells dead too," Neil quipped.
The man's eyes rolled in his head, and then seemed to focus on them. "I was…not…quitting. I was just…resting," he said through his mask.
"Anything you say." Miranda grabbed one arm, while Neil grabbed the other. After several false starts, they succeeded in hauling the man to his feet and propping him against the wall.
"I'll unlock the back door to your apartment." Neil dashed from the room, leaving Miranda in sole possession of a very large male.
Her hands planted in the center of his chest, Miranda took a deep breath and staggered as the man's weight sagged forward. "Hurry, Neil, he's heavy," she shouted, looking up at the man who now towered over her small frame. He began to list to the side. "And huge!" She wrapped her arms around his waist.
The man opened his eyes and stared down at her. Miranda could not have looked away if ordered. His bewitching eye swept over her face and hair.
"I dreamed of you." His hands stroked up the column of her spine. His long fingers slid along her neck.
Hurry, Neil, she thought as the slow caress of his fingers wandered to the hair at her nape. The zing had settled to a warmth that flooded her system.
"You disappeared." He closed his eye and began to slide. She accepted the inevitable and tried to ease his collapse to the floor. He fell to his knees, his arms loosely clasped about her waist.
He nuzzled his face against the soft fleece of her top and sighed. In moments he was snoring again.
Miranda buried her hands in his matted hair and pulled his head back. His one eye fluttered open. She swallowed hard.
"I dreamed of you. Your…taste. Your scent." His hands moved over her hips. Heat pooled where his hands journeyed.
Drunk Kakashi wanna-be, he was providing an unwanted reminder of how a man's hands felt on a woman's body. His hands stroked down her legs.
He gasped.
His fingers gripped her tightly just above the knees and shoved. She squealed at the pain and landed on her bottom.
He lurched to his feet, stumbled backward, and gripped the wall. He swayed and stared down at her.
An expression of confusion crossed his cloth covered face. The cut on his stomach oozed bright red blood. Disbelief filled his voice. "You are a boy!"
Author's Note:Review me please. A few fixes have been applied.