Fidelity - SF6 (25 page)

"Think you’re pretty tough, don’t ‘cha, Butch?" The Mouth asked, an unattractive sneer contorting his features.

"I do all right," Ryan agreed, as they continued to circle each other, deciding that showing him her most confident side was the prudent move. "Ask your friend who’s probably blowing chunks right about now."

"Fuck you," he growled, making another lunge for her. He engaged her in a wrestling move, grabbing both of her shoulders as he leaned in close. His head was nestled right next to hers as they grappled, and she realized this was not a style of fighting that she could prevail in. He was stronger than she and nearly as tall, which gave him several advantages. But Ryan’s mind was working the whole time, plotting angles and running through moves that could disable him enough for the women to get away.

Without warning, he released her and reared back to deliver a knee-weakening slap right to the side of her face. Even though it was a physiological impossibility, Ryan could feel smoke coming out of her ears.
Slapping is just so…so…chickenshit,
she fumed, deeply insulted by such a weak move.

He had backed up just a bit to deliver the smack, and that was all of the room that she needed. Her right knee came up quickly, catching him right in the solar plexus. As the air left his lungs, he doubled over in pain, and that’s when she drew her hand back and returned his slap with significantly more force than the one she had received. The sharp sound that accompanied the blow made every one of her teammates gasp, and as the helpless man fell to the ground his friend took off, running towards the growing crowd on the boardwalk. "Slap me, will ya?" Ryan spat, kneeling on his shoulders to hold him in place. "Nobody picks on my friends," she fumed. Now that she felt able to let her anger show she was shaking all over, the image of her young teammates quaking in fear still very fresh in her mind.

Just as she got him under control, the police arrived, nightsticks waving. They paused as they took in the sight of this large, muscular woman kneeling on the back of an equally muscular, but quite docile man. Brushing past the other members of the team, the police grabbed Ryan, pulling her arm up against her back to render her helpless. "Hey! I’m the one who called you guys," she complained.

"We’ll get this sorted out in a minute, lady," the officer assured her. "Just hold your horses."

"Could ya ease up on the pressure there, officer?" she asked as politely as she could manage. "That’s my spiking arm!"

After a few moments of discussion, the officers allowed the women to depart, assuring them that they would remove the man from the premises. No real harm was done and none of them wanted to press charges, so they watched in silence as the police removed The Mouth, then everyone but Ryan started to talk all at once. Looking over at Jordan, Ryan patted her stomach and said, "Kicking ass always makes me hungry. Can we eat now?"

Over dinner the inquisitive teammates grilled Ryan and Heather and Cami about what had happened. Both freshmen were still pretty shell-shocked, and neither was very forthcoming, so Ryan answered as many questions as she could.

"I’ve never seen anybody look so calm in a fight," Ashley said, still wide-eyed over the events she had just witnessed. "How could you stay that calm, Ryan?"

"I’ve had a lot of training in martial arts," Ryan allowed. "Staying calm is absolutely essential to protect yourself. There’s not a trick to it," she insisted. "Its just part of my training."

"It surprised the heck out of me when you grabbed the guy by the throat," Amy said. "How did you decide what to do?"

Ryan shot a glance at Heather, still a little worried about the young woman, who was quite pale and seemed to have a hard time even making eye contact with Ryan. "I don’t know," she lied. "It doesn’t matter that much, really. All that matters is that we let those guys know that they can’t mess with the Golden Bears!" She let out a vicious growl, making everyone laugh despite their jangled nerves.

The rest of the dinner break was spent in idle speculation and conjecture, and by the time they were all finished eating, everyone seemed back to normal. As they got up to leave, Heather hung back and made eye contact with Ryan. "You okay?" Ryan asked, lowering her head to look into Heather’s warm brown eyes.

"I’m fine…thanks to you," she mumbled, obviously embarrassed. "Thanks, Ryan. I would have been lost without you."

"No problem, Heather," Ryan grinned. "We can’t afford to lose one of our best outside hitters!"

The luminous smile that lit the young woman’s face reminded Ryan once more of the importance of making these young players feel like they were an important part of the team. "Thanks," she mumbled, then turned and jogged a bit to catch up with her buddies.

"So," Jordan said when Ryan came alongside her. "Another day battling for truth, justice, and the American way, huh?"

"Yeah. Although it would have been nice if you hadn’t turned into Lois Lane." She bumped Jordan hard with her hip, nearly making her lose her balance.

"Hey, somebody has to look good for the crime scene photographers," she sniffed, tossing her hair dramatically.

Dinner at the Dunlop home was late again, and Jamie smiled to herself when she considered that Ryan would most likely be down in the kitchen eating with the staff at six o’clock if she were ever to accompany her on a trip to Rhode Island.

I wonder how she would feel about being here
, she mused as she idly worked away at her Scallops Provençal.
Well, for one thing, she’d absolutely hate the food. She’d be at the supermarket hoarding fresh vegetables and fruit on the first day.
Her lover took the admonition to eat five servings of fruit and vegetables every day very, very seriously. It was fine if her veggies were stir-fried or steamed, but she honestly preferred most of them raw, claiming that their nutritive value was at its peak in the uncooked state. To satisfy her craving, Jamie made sure that they always had fresh broccoli, cauliflower, jicama, and blanched green beans in the refrigerator for Ryan’s near constant snacking.

While vegetables were served with meals at The Cottage, they were not only thoroughly cooked, they were usually covered with some heavy cream sauce, an addition that she knew Ryan would not tolerate well. The food was very tasty and well prepared, but was usually of the classic French style. Nouvelle cuisine had not made any inroads with David Dunlop, and Jamie assumed that the lighter style of French cooking would never make an appearance so long as he was in charge.

She would also hate being waited on all of the time,
she decided
. I’m sure she’d want to get up and help clean the kitchen after every meal.
She giggled to herself at the thought of her partner trying to shove aside the kitchen staff to get at the piles of dirty dishes.

Catherine leaned over and whispered, "There’s nothing funny going on here, Dear. I’d wager that you’re having a little private vision of a tall, dark, and handsome woman."

Blushing to the roots of her fair hair, Jamie dabbed at her mouth with her linen napkin, trying to cover the worst of her embarrassment. "She’s on my mind nearly every minute," she whispered back. "I’ll try to focus."

Beneath the table, Catherine patted her leg gently. "I have a better idea. After dinner let’s go walk in the garden and you can sing her praises once again. I’d love to hear more about her."

"Really?" Jamie cocked her head, locking eyes with her mother. "Are you really interested?"

"Most definitely," Catherine agreed, a sly smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "I need to know all about her so I can start spoiling her!"

"Oh, she’ll love that!" Jamie rolled her eyes dramatically, causing her mother to giggle right along with her, to the puzzlement of the assembled family members.

"Damn, we’re outta tickets," Jordan grumbled as she handed over the last five to the attendant at the roller coaster.

"I’ll go get more," Ryan offered, having already been on the impressive wooden coaster twice.

"No, let us," Heather said, Cami right beside her nodding her agreement.

"Uhh…okay." Ryan reached into her pocket for some money, but Cami shook her head.

"Our treat, Ryan. It’s the least we can do to thank you for getting us out of that mess."

"It’s no big deal," she insisted. "Really."

Cami reached up and touched the still-visible handprint on the older woman’s cheek. "Yes, it was, Ryan. You could have been badly hurt."

"Nah…he was just a bully," she insisted.

"You didn’t know that at the time." Cami was sticking to her guns, and even though Heather wasn’t speaking, it was clear that she was in complete agreement. "We’ll be back in a few."

As the twosome scampered off to the ticket window, Jordan patted Ryan’s unmarked cheek. "Are you going to tell Jamie about this little incident? Or will this go in the growing ‘tell her when she gets back’ pile?"

"Funny. Very funny. My sides are aching from laughter," Ryan deadpanned, her voice devoid of inflection.

When dinner was finished, most of the family reconvened in the conservatory for brandy and cigars, but the Evans women made a quick getaway to the garden, managing to escape before they were missed. "I’m getting pretty good at sneaking out of the house," Jamie smiled. "Too bad I didn’t acquire this skill earlier in life when it could have come in handy."

"Were we that strict?" Catherine asked, surprised that her daughter might think so.

"No, you really weren’t," Jamie assured her. "Besides, I didn’t have anywhere I wanted to go that would have kept me out past curfew."

"Well, like mother like daughter, I suppose." Catherine took a seat on a cedar garden bench, and Jamie joined her. They were in the part of the garden furthest from the house, surrounded by dahlias, one of the showcase flowers of the Dunlop estate. Jamie had no idea how many flowers there were in the grouping, nor how many varieties were represented, but she did know that at their peak, her uncle and aunt always welcomed the members of the American Dahlia Society for a garden tour. "I was never much for breaking the rules in my house, either."

"So dating Daddy was your first act of rebellion?" Jamie asked, curious to know just what had attracted her mother to her father.

"Oh, I wouldn’t say that was rebellion per se, Jamie. I mean, I was already in college when we started dating. My parents were only unhappy that I decided to get married so young. Once my father really got to know Jim, he honestly thought of him as the son he never had."

"I don’t think my little act of independence will turn out that way," Jamie mused, idly drawing patterns in the buff-colored crushed granite of the garden path.

"Don’t give up hope, Dear. Ryan is terribly charming once she opens up. Once your father gets over his irrational fears about her lusting after your money, I truly believe he will come to like her."

"I just don’t get it," Jamie said, her frustration showing. "Especially since Daddy was treated as a gold-digger by your father. Shouldn’t he have some empathy for people who come from middle-class backgrounds?"

"He certainly should," Catherine agreed. "Have you ever noticed that all of his friends, even though they are wealthy now, come from backgrounds very similar to his?"

Stopping to think about it for a moment, Jamie realized that her mother’s observation was quite true. As a matter of fact, Jim had a very strong dislike of people who came from inherited wealth, and he took every opportunity to poke fun at the idle rich. "You’re right, Mom," she said slowly. "That makes it even stranger."

"But it also gives me hope that he will come to his senses, Jamie. He certainly wasn’t raised to think the worst of people."

"That’s the truth," Jamie agreed, knowing that her grandfather was one of the most open-minded people on the planet. "Oh well, I guess we’ll just have to be patient and hope he wises up."

"Let’s go walk around the Shakespeare garden," Catherine suggested, naming the formal garden composed only of plants and flowers mentioned in The Bard’s works.

As they walked along the dimly illuminated path, Jamie asked, "Did Daddy ever come here with you?"

"Just once," Catherine said, rolling her eyes. "Once was enough, I might add. I don’t think I’ve ever even invited him again."

Jamie stopped dead in her tracks, the gravel giving way with a loud crunch as she skidded a bit. "You’ve never invited him again! What did he do?"

"Oh, he didn’t do anything, Dear. It was just more trouble than it was worth to have him here. I was pregnant with you at the time, and I wasn’t feeling that well to begin with."

"Ooh…were you sick a lot?"

"No, not really. But I was just a couple of months along, and I had just started to have morning sickness. I’ll admit that I wasn’t the life of the party either, but your father had this idea that we’d be out sailing and hiking and doing all sorts of activities. I think he imagined it would be like camp." She laughed softly, recalling her young husband’s dismay at finding that the main activity at the Dunlop’s was idleness. "He had just taken the bar exam, and he was justifiably anxious to let off some steam, but I just wasn’t up to it. He wound up sailing or playing golf every day with John and Skip, and I barely saw him. Needless to say, I wasn’t happy with the situation, and we fought during most of our alone time." She sighed heavily, adding, "It’s not a trip I remember fondly."