Meta:Ride the Night Wind (Excerpt)

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The responsibility weighed on him heavily in several ways, as he ushered Juanita to the bathroom. Part of him stood taller, felt a sense of quiet, resounding pride that a woman as beautiful as her actually thought of him as some sort of neighborhood knight. Him? A kid from the barrios without any real money beyond chump change to his name? But every glance she offered was filled with awe and respect like he’d never been given by any female eyes. Yet another part of him was extremely worried. What if his grandfather had been wrong and those things that attacked them came back… what if he wasn’t able to fend them off this time? What if they hurt her in some way? That outcome was totally unacceptable now, especially when she’d scooted into the bathroom behind him and shut the door seeking a lock.

“My grandparents don’t believe in locks in the house,” Jose said, turning his back to Juanita.

Her eyes darted between him, the window, the door, and the shower. The man hadn’t lied; the bathroom was so small that both of them could barely turn around within it, but every horror movie she’d ever seen converged in her rapid pulse.

“Check the shower,” she said, whispering. “Please.”

Jose flung the curtain back with bravado, brandishing the weapon, using the riffle barrel to hold back the white plastic. “It’s cool.”

She sighed and closed her eyes.

Perhaps it was the expression of relief on her face, or the way the statement had come out on a breathy rush, but it made him need to turn around to pull himself together.

“I’ll, uh, just stay like this till you tell me it’s cool. Okay?”

Juanita nodded and opened her eyes. The entire experience felt like a crazy, jumbled up dream. A part of her was scared to death, horrified by what she’d seen. Another part of her felt like she was embarking upon the greatest adventure of her life… and the man that had saved her, was the most handsome, sexy, hunk she’d ever been this close to.

Tingles claimed her belly as she hunted through the medicine cabinet looking for mouthwash and spied small Dixie cups. There was baby lotion and Jergens lotion. She tried to forestall getting undressed as long as possible. But she knew in her soul that this barrios prince who stood like a soldier, back erect, gorgeous eyes alert to the darkness, would not turn around or fail her by breaking his honor.

Little by little, she eased her jeans down and then quickly turned on the water. “Don’t listen. This is so embarrassing.”

“I’ll just sing,” he said laughing, and began humming a heavy rap tune. When she flushed, he laughed. “You’re gonna have to holla and stomp your feet to drown me out when I go, girl. That wasn’t nothing but a princess tinkle.”

She laughed as she washed her hands. “You so crazy.”

“Like, none of what we’re dealing with tonight is crazy?”

“It is crazy,” she said, stripping off her clothing, by shy degrees. “But, I’m not scared in here with you. And, I’m sorta glad we met, anyway.”

“You know, most guys meet a fine woman in a club, down on Venice Beach, walking down the street… but, no. I have to meet the finest babe I’ve ever seen while on a motorcycle tear down a demon-filled street. That’s they type of year I’ve been having. Truth be told, that’s the kind of life I’ve been having. So, my bad, if I wish I had met you under different circumstances… but I am glad we hooked up.”

Juanita turned on the water and slipped under the spray without a word. He’d said she was the finest woman he’d ever met. Wow. A guy like him? He’d also said, in so many words that, he was unattached, since it was hard to meet people, and he was having a bad year. Plus had said she princess-tinkled. She smiled as the warm water covered her and she doused her hair in it, finding a bar of Ivory soap on the rack. Her Papi used to say that to her when she was a little girl… go make a princess tinkle. She wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time.

“Your people are really nice, Jose. Thank you for sharing them with me for the night, and for taking me in… and for doubling back to pick me up on your bike. My family isn’t as cool as yours.”

“Yeah, well, you ain’t never met my Mom. She’s a trip,” he said, watching the window intently. The scent of Ivory soap was imbedded in his nose, creating a memory template that he’d never forget. Wet woman splashing behind a thin curtain… naked. Trust as thick between them as the growing steam and the heavy throb that had begun to cause a dull ache in his groin. Co-dependency—her dependent on him for safety; him dependent on her for hope, for balm to his wounded male pride… to make losing his mural, his last ditch dream worth it all, with both of them wrapped in the faith that, they weren’t crazy. They’d both seen it, had tribal elders confirm it.

“My Mom is a trip, too… that’s why I was out tonight,” she said so quietly and in such a sad voice that he was tempted to turn around, but didn’t.

“Moms can be like that,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but the response came out on a gentle rush of breath.

“You have any brother’s and sisters?” She peered around the curtain and drew his attention away from his neutral post.

“No,” he said slowly, unable to keep from looking at her squeaky clean face, and how the water ran down her wet hair, down her throat, and then slid away behind the semi-sheer curtain that barely concealed her wet, cinnamon brown skin. “Long story. But it’s just me and her.”

“Oh,” she said, ducking back into the water behind the curtain.

Conflict tore at him. He wanted to keep staring at her, and yet, also needed to turn around to keep her from seeing the state she’d put him in.

“You and your Mom had an argument?” He needed to talk, keep things moving in the bathroom. If it got too quiet, she might be able to hear him breathing through his mouth.

“I wanted to go out with friends,” she said in a tight murmur, just above the spray. “But she slapped me and called me a whore—and I’ve never even been with a man. All I do is go to work, watch my little brother, clean up the house after him and Juan, my older brother, who she thinks walks on water, no matter what he does. Cook, clean, do this Juanita, do that Juanita, that’s all I ever hear, ya know? I wanted to go to college one day, but wound up working in a drug store ringing a register, just to help Momma out. So, I just got fed up when she slapped me for wearing red and make up, and I ran away. But I didn’t ever think…”

“Hey, I hear you. Noticed you, like me, weren’t in a hurry to make the call home. Maybe when we get outta here, huh?” he said, trying to mentally catalogue everything this beauty had said in one rush.

She, that fine babe, was a virgin—he’d heard that first. Then, his mind processed the rest… she didn’t have a man. Had dreams that had been crushed by duty—he could relate… which meant that she had a good heart, a tender spirit, cared for people and put family first. She didn’t have a man? Sheeit. Problem solved.

“What were you doing out there?” she asked quietly, turning off the shower.

Jose let out a long breath. “I was almost dog meat,” he replied, leaning against the wall with a thud as the grim reality finally hit him. “I was up on the scaffolding of the building that the city gave me a contract to paint a mural on. Up there, at night, by myself, studying the bricks and where to lay down the design—then cops pull up, hassle me, make me come down. In a weird way, they probably saved my life.”

He heard the curtain yank back and steeled himself against the shudder of desire that ran down his spine.

“Ohmigod, you were out there by yourself, all alone, doing the mural and could have been killed? You’re an artist? Like a real artist, and went out there at night?”

The tone of her voice, the excited rush, and the awe that echoed in the bathroom made the muscle in his jaw pulse. No woman had ever listened to what he had to say with baited breath. No one had ever heard his tales of victory after near-death like he were some street warrior returned from battle—he’d never had anything like the other hombres had to tell an adoring, feminine crowd. But right now he had Juanita’s full attention, focused on him, her wet movements beneath a towel driving him to the brink of sanity, then the sweet smell of lotion and the sound of it being applied almost made him groan out loud.

“Yeah… I can draw,” was all he said.

“But you were out there by yourself, Jose. Ohmigod!”

“Yeah. But it was cool.”

“Whew,” she whispered. “Okay, you can turn around now.”

He shook his head no. “Uh… why don’t you turn around so I can jump in there?”

“All right. I’m not looking.”

She heard him drag in a deep breath and begin taking off his clothes. His sneakers fell to the floor in heavy thuds, and the vibrations made her belly quiver. This fine man was getting naked behind her back. This awesome guy had just stripped to the raw—this same man that had saved her life. He was an artist, single and unattached. The city thought enough of his work to give him a contract, at his age, so he had to be baaad. He was a man going places and a man unafraid. He made her feel safe and have hope and faith and something she dared not name. Just hearing him turn on the water and jump into the shower made her mouth go dry.

She peeped over her shoulder. “Want me to hold onto the gun?”

“It’s a rifle,” he said, chuckling, “but if it’ll make you feel better, just keep the barrel pointed away from me, aw’ight?”

She laughed and didn’t go near the weapon that rested on the floor. “That’s okay,” she said, stealing glances at his moving form behind the plastic curtain. Her body was responding against her will. The humid, foggy enclosure reminded her so much of the best parts of her crazy dreams… angry black smoke giving way to a thick, rainforest-like mist… primordial steam, the sound of a waterfall. She was a water sign, Cancer, and the element was a part of her. That had to be it.

“So you hungry?” he asked over the din of the spray.

She towel dried her hair harder, trying to wrest her thoughts back to appropriate topics. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Cool. After I get out, we can go see if there’s anything in the fridge.”

By the time the water stopped, her heart was thudding in mild arrhythmia. When he leaned out of the curtain to grab a towel, rivulets of water running down his body, she didn’t even bother to turn away. Toffee hued, bronze-tan skin cut through the steamy haze. Pure masculine scent mixed with the water and made her lean against the sink to stare. His chest was carved into two solid blocks of hard muscle, and as her gaze discretely slid down his torso, she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from going hang-jawed.