GRIND (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 1) (19 page)

Just then, the doorbell rang. His heart pounded as his eyes locked onto Paw’s and they stared one another down. They’d never had words like this before and he knew if the man still had the strength he used to possess, he would have attempted to knock him to the ground and beat him to death. He marched away and snatched the door open.

“Good morning, Denise. Come right on in.” He tried to fix his face, his tone, his entire demeanor but she paused, her brow raised. She looked him up and down, then crossed the threshold.

“Everything okay?” she asked while removing her blue and ivory floral print poncho and navy purse. She placed the items down onto a wooden chair that sat close to the door, then, with a stern series of tugs, she straightened the sleeves of her gray and pink striped blouse.

“Yes, everything is fine.” He cleared his throat as the lie barely rolled out without making him gag. Navigating past her, he re-entered the kitchen, which appeared less well lit from when he’d stormed out of it a few moments prior. He snatched Paw’s empty bowl from the table and set it in the sink.

“I’ll take care of that,” she offered.

He looked down at the woman, compelled to smile into her warm and welcoming expression. Once again, the scent of her sweet perfume soothed him, brought him down a notch or two, stroking his amped up spirit. She placed a hand over his own and gave a couple of light taps. “I have my key you gave me, but I still prefer to ring the bell in the mornings,” she explained without provocation.

“That’s fine.” He quickly looked away from her, grabbed the haphazardly hanging dishtowel, and dried his hands as quickly as he could. “I’m going to go ahead and leave. Give me a call if you need anything.” His feet couldn’t seem to keep up with his desire to move faster than the damn wind. It was as if a ghost had drifted into the place, only one that he could see and hear, and he wanted away from the damn thing, as fast as possible. Perhaps it was an apparition; the haunting from a past that tried to shake him up, rattle his chains. He snatched his jacket off the hook by the door, opened the thing, and felt the brisk air beat him about the face, causing his hair to swirl in a million directions.

He felt like he was looking at himself on a television screen. The long, black strands waved like vicious ebony vipers, whipping about, threatening to knot and interlock as they swirled and danced to the air song. He felt a slight sting, as if something were kicking it up a notch—something surreal, making his hair kiss and fuck the wind. His entire body, from head to toe, felt suddenly discombobulated—possessed. He snatched himself out of his trance then, and grasped the moment, the hard reality. Closing the door behind himself, he locked it and marched to his vehicle, but then paused.

His chest beat so damn hard and heavy, he feared he may be having a damn heart attack. Lips ajar, eyes slightly glazed over, he gripped at his shirt and winced with pain, hissing and cursing in whispers that refused to turn to all-out screams. His gritted teeth caught the icy zephyr as he slumped against his truck and a tear budded in his left eye. He had so many damn questions, but wouldn’t dare ask them. No, it was best to let sleeping dogs lie, to remain frozen in fear… Besides, being dead on the inside was an old hat; he’d gotten accustomed to the frigid fit. After a few seconds, he regained his composure and slid into his truck. As he drove away, steering his way down the road, he told himself to not worry. Yes, he told himself time and again that all was well.

Etched it in. Scorched it in. Welded it in. Drummed it in.

Just let that shit go, alright? Not everything needs to be talked about. You’ve been doin’ fine this far. No need to go fucking things up on account of some bad advice…

As he drove away, he prayed Paw wouldn’t bring the shit up again. He approached a red light and cursed the damn glowing, crimson thing out. He needed to go, go, go… run, run, run… and like Paw, it tried to halt him, put a stop to his very survival. He shook the shit away, memories of the showdown they’d had, the whole encounter, and hated how Denise had been somewhat a witness to a family disagreement, one that flirted with the very topic that was off limits to God himself.

He wanted no witnesses, no evidence of the truth. It was bad enough that Paw knew the real deal, and even worse, that he did, too…

“I
assumed you
were going to take me to the city.” She laid her napkin across her lap and opened a wet wipe package in hungry anticipation.

“What? That’s almost four hours away. Nah, that is the sort of date you begin like in the early afternoon and don’t go back home ’til like three in the morning.” Zenith beamed at her from behind his Dinosaur Bar-B-Que menu. “I only go into the city about once a month if it isn’t gig related nowadays; way too busy with work.”

Silver nodded in understanding, enjoying the soft background sound of Bread’s ‘Make It With You’.

“I haven’t been here in a while.” She looked around the restaurant, taking note of the changes in the place. The seats were different; newer, less broken in, and some of the artwork was new, too. “You could have messed up though.” Her brow arched. “What if I were a vegetarian? And you’ve taken me to this pork ribs and beef brisket place.”

“They’ve got coleslaw and beans ’nd rice…” They both paused and looked at one another, then simultaneously burst out laughing.

“I actually love barbecue chicken… It’s my all time favorite.” The wonderful smells lulled her into a state of culinary enchantment, causing her to nurse a flipping stomach eager to be filled with the sweet, hickory goodness.

“If I dress up as a drumstick drenched in barbecue sauce, would I be your all time favorite,
too
?” The man bit into his lower lip while his darker-than-the-deepest-of-depths eyes scanned her in a lascivious sort of way…dipped in the rich, savory sauce of sensual debauchery.

“I’m not even answering that.” Reaching across the table, she took a sip of her strawberry lemonade vodka. “Ohhhh, this is good! Shit!” She took another sip for good measure.

“So good it makes you wanna slap someone, hmmm?” He winked as he reached for his bottle of beer and took a hard swig.

“Yes.” Her lips creased in a nervous smile. She got chills up and down her body from the way he pierced her soul with his gaze. They lingered in silence for a moment, while her heart danced between seconds. Then, he took another gulp of his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing under his toasted, reddish, caramel skin as his lips parted ever so slightly. He gifted her with his hard, unflinching stare, kissed with a touch of dirty class.

“You want to taste it?” The man looked genuinely surprised as he sat a bit straighter, his sexy eyes wide.

“Well, yeah… but don’t question my manhood.” He smirked. “Just ’cause I’m going to sample this frou-frou drink doesn’t mean it’s my usual thing, alright?”

Rolling her eyes, she handed the glass over. In a strange, curious display, she watched the man turn the glass to and fro, staring at the rim of the thing. Then, he placed his mouth exactly where hers had been, covering her deep, red lipstick stain with his full, plush lower lip. Feathering the collar of her dark brown jacket, she felt a flush of warmth envelope her.

That was kinda sexy…

She turned away, just in case the bastard could read her thoughts.

“Mmmm, this is good,” he said smoothly, nodding with approval as he handed the thing back.

He leisurely rested against the back of his seat. She took note of the way he spread his legs far apart and relaxed his arm over the bench seat.
Cool… so goddamn cool.

“See.” She took another fast sip. “Told you it was good.”

“You were right. I should trust you more often.”

“Trust is earned. I haven’t earned anything from you yet. Give me time,” she chided, feeling more comfortable around the tall glass of sexiness.

“Want doesn’t need time, though. Yeah, trust is a different thing, but I like you… I’m feelin’ you. You’ve earned my desire; that’s a start. Tryna get to the finish line… I hope you let me.”

She hated herself for fucking blushing at the silly, tired ass lines.

“So,” he said, letting her off the hook. “We got started in the car but didn’t finish… Tell me more about yourself.” He toyed with his keys that lay splayed on the table between them.

“Well, like I said, I help fix computer software issues, like structure incompatibilities and glitches for companies with various systems and programs. I also assist with computer game problems; that’s my favorite part of my job, actually.”

“Oh word? Like what types of problems?”

“Like alternating fetch quests issues, time lags, things like that. They call me the Degauss doctor,” she joked.

“What games do you work on?”

“Some that we create and we also are contracted by other companies on occasion. For instance, just three months ago I worked on the ‘Dying Light’ from Techland. That was pretty interesting.” She tapped her fingertips against the table, getting a thrill about talking about her work with someone who at least pretended to give a damn.

“Wow… that’s cool, Silver! I’ve played Dying Light a few times. Let me guess, you had to work on the insulators?”

…He knows what it’s called. Damn! Pussy, please stop drooling on yourself…

“Yes, you’d be right. One of the complaints about the game was unfair though. It has a different infrastructure than other traditional, comparable games. It takes zombie outbreak to a different level. Overall, what did you think of the game? Did you like it?” She leaned in a bit closer to him, eager to delve deeper.

“Yeah, for the most part I did. If I didn’t work so much and enjoyed playing in the band I’d have more time for that. I know better though; that shit is addictive. It’s pretty fun, but yeah, when I have a little downtime I play sometimes. It’s a good game overall. It’s challenging… I like challenges.”

They rolled around in silence for a moment or two before he turned her loose.

“Damn…that’s cool…real cool.” He perked up and leaned forward, his brows drawn together. “You didn’t mention the video games before, just the software. Are you a gamer, too? I mean, do you just help design and fix or do you play a lot, too?”

She couldn’t help but grin; she liked that shit… He’d just walked up to her door and knocked. Her favorite topic was on deck.

“Yes, I
love
them! The scarier the better!”

“What are your favorites?” He leaned to the far left, his lips hitched in a seductive grin.

“Right now? Sniper Ghost Warrior and Quantum Break. I’m completely hooked.”

“Holy shit.” He cackled. “You like that blood and guts shit, right? I love it! Sniper Ghost Warrior is my shit. A chick that is gorgeous, smart, has a job, a slammin’ body, and likes video games. I’ve hit the motherload!”

Additional waves of warmth washed over her. “It seems you have.” She offered a flirtatious wink. “So what about you? You keep asking all about me and
trust
me,” she paused, looking at him seriously, “that is surprising but nice for a change, but I’d like to hear about you, too… like your work, your family.”

“Well, okay.” The man looked a bit disappointed in the change of pace, but answered her all the same. “As you know I’m a welder. I work at Eagle Metacraft right now. It’s a pretty good place; hope I keep it for a while.”