ReDefined Page 5

  In a dimly lit basement in a rundown neighborhood not too far from the abandoned house where he was camping out, Brian found the stranger, who he'd decided to call Joe, and seven other people. Four of the men and two of the women looked around nervously. Joe conversed with two men and a woman. He waved at Brian, but he didn't come over. Since Brian wasn't sure of the nature of their relationship—friend? mentor? dealer?—he joined the group milling around the small space.

  Pretty soon, one of the guys in Joe's group got louder. "It's these special interest PACs and SuperPACs that own the government. The public is too stupid to realize that every candidate groomed to look good has been bought and paid for." He went on to explain how the wealthy elite had control of the politicians and how the concentration of wealth among the one percent meant no regular people were ever going to get ahead.

  Brian didn’t care about politics or how overprivileged asswipes spent their money, but the man had a way of speaking that made it impossible to not listen. Plus, he might be a source for more of the free rock.

  "They conspire to keep us poor, pay rock-bottom wages, and take away welfare. If we're too busy worrying how we're going to make the rent and feed our families, then we're not paying attention to how they keep all the wealth for themselves."

  You want a nice car? Fuck you!

  You want a decent house? Fuck you!

  You want to not worry about affording a doctor when you get sick? Fuck off and die!

  Now he had Brian's interest. It was like he knew exactly what kinds of hardships had slapped Brian around and why he needed a little something to help him get through the day. By the time Joe handed him two more rocks on the way out, Brian knew he'd be back for the next rally.

  Chapter Six

  “That one.” Malcolm pointed to a card with a fancy font. “I like that one.”

  Darcy looked at him, calculating, Amy knew, whether he’d said that to get out of looking at more invitations. She picked up the one next to it. “What about this one?”

  “The L looks like a G. This one is classy, yet legible. Don’t underestimate the importance of being able to accurately read the invitation. Then people know who’s involved, where to go, and when to be there.” Malcolm slid his choice toward Amy.

  Her gift to her sister was to plan her engagement party, which Malcolm insisted be informal, and her wedding, which Darcy insisted be elegant. Though she’d toted over most of her samples, she’d marked the ones she felt Darcy and Malcolm would like best. That way they could speed up the choosing process, which could be overwhelming. Since they only had a month before the big day, time was of the essence.

  “Mal, the priest you wanted to use refuses to perform the ceremony. I brought a list of people you can contact. All of them have performed perfectly lovely ceremonies.”

  He frowned. “I called him last month. He said he’d be happy to do it.”

  Amy put a sticky note on the font and colors Malcolm had chosen and traded her invitation samples for menus. They already had a venue booked, and so their catering choices were limited. “He thought you were M.J., who apparently goes to church, whereas you do not. Not only that, but Darcy isn’t Catholic. He won’t marry you unless she converts and you show up for regular services. And he wants you to attend marriage counseling classes.”

  Malcolm exchanged a look with Darcy who merely arched an eyebrow. Turning back to Amy, he sighed. “Are you calling people on this list, or are we?”

  “How much say do you want to have in who performs the ceremony?”

  Darcy shook her head. “None. You pick, Amy. You’ve seen their work, and I trust you to pick someone who will perform a beautiful ceremony.”

  “Yeah,” Malcolm agreed, jerking his thumb in Darcy’s direction. “I’ll concentrate on getting this one down the aisle, and you make sure romantic and legal things happen when we get to the end. Deal?”

  Amy grinned. “Deal. Did you want to do flowers or food next?”

  “Food,” Darcy said. “I don’t give a rip about flowers.”

  “You like roses.” Malcolm looked appalled. “You said you like roses.”

  Darcy kissed the tip of his nose. “I like when you bring me roses because you always have a thoughtful reason behind how many you bring. Maybe you should handle the flowers.”

  Amy loved seeing her sister so happy. It was contagious, and Amy couldn’t help but beam. The warm, fuzzy feelings brought back pleasant memories from the night before. “Food, then. I had the best cheesy biscuits last night.” She spread out the three catering choices on the coffee table. “You probably want beef or pork, and chicken and fish choices. The caterer closest to Mal also offers vegetarian, vegan, and gluten-free options.”

  Darcy searched all the pictures. “I don’t see cheesy biscuits.”

  “Oh, they aren’t offered, though we could probably special-order them from the vegetarian-friendly place. Their bread is decent.”

  “Is that where you had them?” Mal picked up a glossy flyer that Amy had made herself. She’d found her clients liked to have pictures to go with the descriptions, and the places she liked to use didn’t always have nice brochures. Sometimes fantastic caterers spent their time cooking instead of marketing.

  “No. Jordan took me to eat on the Huron Belle last night as a way to thank me for talking some sense into his sister. She’d planned to move in with her boyfriend, and I convinced her that she had other options. It’s her first year of college. The view and the food were amazing. If you want to go one night, I’d be more than happy to watch Colin.”

  Darcy and Malcolm exchanged a significant glance. Amy wasn’t sure what silent conversation they had, but she figured it had something to do with asking if the other wanted to try the new restaurant.

  Picking up a menu, Darcy scanned the descriptions. “Jordan took you to an exclusive, romantic restaurant just to thank you?”

  Amy thought about the awkward start to the evening and the mixed signals she seemed to get throughout the night. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t too romantic, but I see how it could be with the right person.”

  Malcolm cleared his throat. “Did you ever get together with Matt? I know you two were talking about a face-to-face.”

  After she’d indicated an interest in the B part of BDSM, her sweet brother-in-law had helped her set up a profile on an internet dating site, and potential dates had to go through him to get to her. “We met for coffee last Thursday.”

  Darcy smacked Amy’s knee. “You didn’t say a word! How did it go?”

  Amy shrugged. “I don’t really find the in-your-face dominance appealing. He made me feel defensive and claustrophobic. I don’t think he meant to. He’s probably a nice guy under normal circumstances, but he had some definite expectations about me submitting to him that made me uncomfortable.”

  Malcolm nodded. “Noted. I can see how Matt could come on a little strong, and that would be off-putting if you didn’t know him. I’ll keep looking.”

  “You can take a break,” Amy said. “With planning your wedding and being in the middle of my busy season, I don’t have time for trying to find someone to tie me up. Right now I need you to look at flowers. I think Darcy’s picked out the caterer.”

  Darcy handed over the menu she’d been perusing. “I like the idea of a vegetarian option instead of chicken.”

  Amy put a sticky note on that choice too. They worked until Colin woke from his nap and Amy had to leave for another appointment.

  “I appreciate everything you’re doing for us,” Malcolm said as he hugged her goodbye. “Darcy was crying last night when she was telling me how lucky she is to have you as a sister.”

  Darcy hugged her next. “I was crying because I was minutes away from starting my period and my hormones are raging, but you are pretty wonderful.”

  Jordan called later that evening. “I had a great time last night. You’re a wonderful listener.”

  “Thanks.” Amy laughed at how much it sounded like a post-date follow-up cal
l. “So are you.”

  “I try to be. What are you doing right now?”

  “I just had dinner, so I’m contemplating washing the dishes.”

  “How about skating?”

  As it was the middle of summer, she knew he meant roller skating. She was surprisingly good at it, and she’d even spent a season on a roller derby team. The skating part had been fine, but she wasn’t aggressive enough to be any good at it. “I’m game.”

  “Cool. I’ll pick you up in five.”

  “Five?”

  “I had a case that brought me into town. I’m five minutes away. Is that a problem?”

  “Not at all.” She beelined for her bedroom. “I’ll see you in five.”

  Skating in sweats might be comfortable, but the pair she was wearing weren’t very flattering. Maybe Jordan didn’t want to date her, but that didn’t mean she was going to look anything less than her best. She had pride. A nice pair of jeans and a cute yellow top with a big, floppy bow in the back did the trick. She finished changing just as he knocked.

  Answering the door revealed the same Jordan she usually saw. The shaggy hair that she rather liked was back, as were his black tee and battered jeans. A pair of dark shades dangled from his grasp. The corners of his mouth turned up with a soft smile. He looked her up and down, and when his gaze didn’t linger anywhere specific, she didn’t have to hide a sigh. She’d figured out that Jordan wasn’t the kind of guy who ogled women, especially not those he respected. Part of her wished he’d respect her a little less and stare at her assets a little more.

  “You didn’t have to dress up for me.”

  “You’re just supposed to tell me I look great, and then you can ask if I have my own skates.”

  He laughed, but he didn’t comment on her appearance. “Do you have your own skates? I have a saddlebag on my bike.”

  Amy’s mouth worked to form words, but her brain needed a second to catch up. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.”

  “You’ll love it. Grab your things, babe. Open skate started ten minutes ago.”

  She handed over her skates so he could hold them while she locked up. He didn’t need to see her dirty kitchen or the stuff scattered all over her house. “I should warn you that I’m a pretty decent skater.”

  “Can you go backwards?”

  “Yeah.”

  He stuffed her skates and purse into his saddlebag, and then he put a helmet on her head. Amy waited patiently as he tucked her hair in around her face and snapped things into place. “How does that feel?”

  “Fine. My hair is going to look amazing when this comes off.”

  Flashing a wolfish grin as he adjusted the strap of his helmet, he said, “Just shake it out. That’s what I do, and I’m told I look fine.”

  He looked fine all the time. He’d look fine covered in mud. Or chocolate and whipped cream. Amy shook the image from her head. “We’ll see.”

  He swung his leg over the seat and did that jumping thing that started the engine. Though it was loud, it was quieter than she thought it would be. That explained why she hadn’t heard him arrive. “Get on behind me and put your arms around my waist.”

  That sounded like heaven. Amy did it, but she held him loosely so she didn’t press her breasts against his back. He adjusted her hold, forcing her to lean forward so that her girls were pleasantly flattened anyway.

  “Relax against me. When I lean, you lean with me. Try not to stiffen up or counterbalance. I’ll take care of all that. Got it?”

  “Yep.”

  “It’s about trust. Do you trust me?”

  “Of course.” He’d never given her a reason not to. She snuggled against him because he’d pretty much told her to, and he took off. The bike made louder sounds as it accelerated. He navigated the streets like a pro, driving conservatively, she knew, because it was her first ride.

  She’d read about the vibrations of a motorcycle and how they were supposed to simulate masturbation, but she didn’t feel anything that intense. Her butt took the brunt of the action, and it went numb after a few minutes. When they got there, he had her dismount first. She handed over her helmet and shook out her hair. “How does it look? And don’t lie.”

  He removed his helmet and set it on the seat as he studied her flattened hairstyle. Wordlessly he ran his fingers through it a few times, fluffing it in some places and smoothing it in others. “It’s good.”

  “Sometimes being a man of a few words doesn’t work in your favor. You know I’m going to look in the mirror as soon as we get in there.”

  He shrugged. “Sexy. How’s that?”

  Like when he’d called her gorgeous, it wasn’t what she’d been fishing for. Instead of letting it make things awkward again, she let the compliment roll off. “That’s awesome. I could always use more sex appeal.”

  Handing her skates over, he shook his head. “I suck at giving compliments. You should know this about me.”

  She smiled to let him know no harm had been done. “I wasn’t looking for a compliment. I was hoping my hair wasn’t sticking straight up or weirdly plastered down.”

  “Then, no. It looks very similar to the way it did when I picked you up. I might have given it a little more body. After all, you have to compete with me, and I have awesome hair.”

  He did. She ruffled his hair. “Let’s go skate. Are you any good?”

  “I learned ice hockey when I was three. Played until I went to college.”

  While they waited in the admissions line, she glanced over and saw her reflection in the mirrored back of the claw machine. He was right. Except for it being a little fluffier, her hair looked exactly the same as it had when she’d left the house. However, the wide-eyed excitement in her expression was new. Riding on the back of a motorcycle had landed pretty high on her list of things she wanted to do again. With those saddlebags, maybe he’d be up for taking her on a longer ride, one where they stopped for a romantic picnic at the halfway point.

  They skated for a couple of hours, talking as they zoomed around the rink. He held her hand for the couples skate, and then each of them entered the fun skating contests that had a free game of laser tag for a prize. Since some kids who looked like they spent their entire lives on wheels were there, neither of them won.

  During their hot pretzel break, Jordan held up two shiny tickets. She eyed them curiously, reading the neon words on the label. “Laser tag? You didn’t have to do that.”

  He grinned. “You were so disappointed when we didn’t win any contests. I can’t have that.”

  “You should know that aiming isn’t my strong suit.”

  “That’s okay.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I’m very good.”

  They headed for the laser tag entrance once they finished eating, and Amy couldn’t stop herself from jumping up and down with excitement. She thought she’d have to wait for her nephew to get older before she’d have someone who would enjoy playing these kinds of childish games with her. Yet here she was with a man—friend?—who not only indulged her, but who seemed equally happy to participate.

  An employee took their tickets and ushered them to a room where they had to listen to the rules and watch a short video. She stood in front of Jordan, and he rested his hand on her shoulder the whole time. She liked how it felt proprietary and comforting at the same time.

  In the next room, he grabbed two red vests. One he put on her, adjusting the straps until it fit better, and the other he donned himself. They greeted other players who had also chosen red, and in the ten seconds before a different employee started talking, they agreed not to shoot one another.

  “The object of the game is to find the enemy bases and shoot them. At the same time, you have to keep them from discovering and shooting your base.”

  Amy leaned closer to Jordan. “Where are the bases?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t played here before, but keep one eye on the ceiling. They tend to be overhead.”

  Her gun buzzed a
s it went live. “I’m going to get shot a lot.”

  “Stay close to me. I’ll protect you.”

  The doors opened, and people flooded through. Jordan held her back so they were the last ones inside. “A few will stay close to the entrance, but most will have run to find high ground and look for the bases.”

  She got shot the moment they entered the room. Illuminated with black lighting, it was enough to make out glowing graffiti that marked the edges of walls and places where the flooring was uneven. Jordan shot quickly, taking out two preteens and a parental figure. He grabbed her hand. “Come on, babe. Let’s kick some butt.”

  They ran up and down ramps and through the maze. Amy quickly adapted to the funky lighting and topography, and she felt that she landed as many shots on her opponents as they landed on her—though that was mainly due to Jordan, who kept shoving her out of the line of fire. She learned to turn around and guard his back against opponents who snuck up from behind.

  Once when he did that, their enemy got in a clean shot, and Jordan went down. He slammed into the wall and let his body crumple down in slow motion. With a dramatic gasp, he dragged her closer, not stopping until her mouth was inches from his. She thought he might kiss her, but he only whispered, “Rosebud.”

  Mouth open, she stared at him, and in the silence, he closed his eyes and let his head loll back. She caught his upper body before it slumped over. “Oh hell, Jordan. I never made it through Citizen Kane. I don’t know what it means.”

  His vest vibrated as his life powered back up, and he opened his eyes. “Nobody does, but it’s fun to say.”

  She helped him to his feet. “All right, Rosebud, let’s find a base.” She tried to run off, but he caught her around the waist.

  “That name is not working for me, little one.”

  With the way he was holding her body against his larger, harder one, she certainly felt little. She squirmed, but he didn’t release his hold, and so she stopped. “Would you prefer if I called you Sir?”

  Slowly he relaxed his hold. “Not particularly. I’m not a fan of that title.”