“Oh, yeah, right.” She remembered how Blondie dreamed she’d grow up to be Marilyn Monroe or a sexy star like her. That didn’t happen, but then her dreams of loving a half-wild, yet gentle, man turned out to be an epic fail too. Blondie wanted to become Marilyn. Tamara just wanted to play Belle to some Beast worth redemption. She’d tried a few guys, but the redemption turned out to be the issue. Tamara could find the bad boys, sexy macho men with wicked grins and evil ideas, but after the deed went down she always realized they had no quality worth redeeming. “She’s cute.”
“Aw, thanks,” Blondie said. “You want a ride home? I could take you.”
Tamara stared at the beaten-to-hell-and-back old Ford, the floorboards littered with hamburger wrappers, empty paper cups, soda cans, and other trash. She took a deep breath and inhaled the rank aroma of dirty diaper, one fresh and another aged to true stink somewhere in the mess. “Thanks, but I’ll walk. I like the exercise. Besides, I promised my grandma I’d bring her some donuts.”
She held up the white waxed bakery sack as proof she wasn’t lying. Her grandmother lived up by the old walled cemetery, out of her way home, but she’d like the pastries even if they were day-olds from the bargain rack. Tamara planned to eat them at home, dipping them into chocolate milk––but plans changed easily enough.
“Oh,” Blondie said, her face flushed enough that Tamara knew she’d caught the lie. “Okay, then. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah, sure,” Tamara said but knew she’d walk blocks out of the way to avoid her old pal. Whatever they might’ve had in common once, they lacked now. “See you around sometime.”
With that, she put up her red hood as a light mist began to fall. She could see it in the glow of the streetlights as she headed off down the business thoroughfare, toward the short cut to Grandma’s. As Tamara walked down the cracked, aged sidewalks she thought how the urban setting maybe wasn’t so different than some forest. In the woods, there were trees and hills and rocks and animals. The city had plenty of animals, half of them human, and instead of trees utility poles and streetlights stretched toward the sky. There were a few hills, some actual trees, and pavement could be as hard as any rock.
Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea, but she ducked down between the old shoe store, now closed, and the little bakery to reach the alley. Most of the light failed to reach the narrow space and she almost fell over a collection of trash cans. Something scuttled off into the night and she shuddered, almost sure it must be a rat. When Tamara reached the alley she turned left, her footsteps echoing in the quiet. Her nerves crawled with something almost like fear and a sense she wasn’t alone grew along with her uneasiness. Just as she was about to emerge from the alley back onto a street, a figure stepped out of the darkest shadows.
Fear filled her throat as she realized she’d been an idiot to come this way alone. The black silhouette came nearer and light from the adjacent street illuminated his face: long, lean, and familiar. His thin lips curved into a grin as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her without saying a thing. His mouth tasted hot and sweet, like cayenne and candy all in one. Tamara tried to push him away but she liked his kiss and surrendered to it, her body arousing with speed. Tingles of pleasure skated through her body with the speed of roller blades as she leaned against him, her red jacket rubbing against the black denim one he wore. His tongue pushed into her mouth, bold and insistent, but the French kiss heightened her body’s growing delight. Just when Tamara thought she’d give in for once, he pulled back and stood, his arms still wrapped around her.
“You should be more careful out after dark,” he said, his voice deep and rich the way she thought dark chocolate would sound. “You might have run into somebody or something else.”
“Hi, Wulfric,” Tamara said, thinking as she always did how much his name suited him. His German-born mother had chosen it as if she’d somehow known her baby boy would grow up to be wild. Wulfric sounded powerful, as if it conjured up images of wolves howling their plaintive cry beneath a full-bosomed moon.
He grinned. “Everyone but you and Mutti call me Ric,” he said. “Most people don’t even know it’s not my name.”
“I know,” Tamara said, savoring the small fact. Maybe she’d run him off, and maybe he didn’t belong to her anymore but she still had personal, private knowledge. “But you never did look like a ‘Ric’ to me.”
“Is that good or bad?” Wulfric asked, his thumb trailing along the edge of her cheek. His touch sent all kinds of delightful messages through her nervous system. She tried not to shiver with pleasure, but did, and he noticed.
“Good,” Tamara told him, ignoring his pleased smile. “It’s a good thing because there are lots of guys named Rick out there, but I don’t know anyone else called ‘Wulfric’. You’re unique.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Mutti always swears they broke the mold when they made me … but if I’m so great, how come you hate me?”
Tamara shifted in his arms, hoping the shadows would hide the blush heating her cheeks. “I don’t hate you and you know it.”
She loved him, more than ever, but she didn’t plan to share the knowledge any time soon.
“I wish I did know it,” Wulfric sighed. “I used to think you cared…”