Tap Dance (Dance Series)

chapter Thirty Two



Ram didn't want me waiting for Steve alone so he swung by his place and picked up an extra uniform and spare clothes before meeting me at my apartment.

We stayed in my bedroom which couldn't be seen from the street, cuddling and talking, laughing and reminiscing.

"Who are you fooling?" Ram asked on a chuckle. "You would've laid back and given me your all that morning you discovered I liked Pop Tarts, too."

I narrowed my eyes and shoved my pillow against him.

"That is so not true, Ramjet Harold Patel! You're the one who wanted to do me as soon as you saw I wore lacy nightgowns."

"Can't deny it, Pyari. I was so hard for you. I was afraid Cait and Jake were going to make me stand up and you'd see it."

"Honest to God. How can men be so stupid? Don't you know if we cause the damn hard on, we want to see it, for God's sake? It's the times when you stupid people get hard elsewhere that we're not freaking interested."

He blinked his big, beautiful, brown eyes at me as he considered this.

"Is that true?" he asked.

"I don't know about other gals, but for me, yeah. It's true," I reluctantly admitted on a sigh.

"So if you're looking sexy as hell and I get hard, then you'll get turned on if I show you?"

"Uh-huh, honey. I would," I agreed. "But don't you get excited seeing how you've aroused me?"

I got a whole new set of blinks with this question.

"Yes," he kind of hissed. But I could see his brain was working overtime.

"What time is it?" he asked finally.

I glanced at the clock.

"Nine-thirty. Do you think he's not going to show?"

"I don't know, Pyari."

"Do you think he made you, Ram?"

Ram's back had been against my headboard, with me scrunched up to his side when I asked the question. And, to his credit, there was a couple of seconds between my question and his reaction.

But, there's no other way to say it, Ram lost it.

He was laughing so hard that he let go of me.

Was laughing so hard he couldn't keep his legs still.

Was laughing so damn hard he was starting to piss me off, if you want to know the truth.

I sat.

I waited.

When he was kind of coherent, and I'm giving him props even saying he was coherent when it was evident he really wasn't, he finally spoke.

"Made me? Made me, really, Marianne?"

I stayed quiet.

"How many TV police dramas do you watch, Pyari?" He was wiping his eyes because he'd actually laughed until he cried.

Damn him.

"You knew what I meant, Ram," I said huffily.

He blinked at me again.

Note to self, big Kahuna of a boyfriend knows exactly how to use the big, brown eyes to get what he wants.

"I parked around the corner, MG. I don't think he'd know I'm here with you," he said trying, and failing, to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"Okay. But, Ram?"

"Yeah, Pyari," my big Kahuna replied with a small smile before letting go with a jaw cracking yawn.

"You need to teach me the correct law enforcement terms in order to speak with you about these things. Okay?"

"No, Pyari," he said sliding down onto the mattress before reaching to pull me against his side.

"No?" I asked, not even bothering to hide the chilly note in my voice.

"No. If you can make me laugh with such a simple question, why would I ever want you to speak differently?"

Why indeed?

I smiled myself as I moved to turn out the light and entwine myself around him.



*.*.*.*.*

It wasn't until my first break and when I was grabbing an iced coffee at Buxby's that I saw that Greg called. Had called at two-ish in the morning.

His voicemail was garbled and even though I'd listened to it more than a dozen times, I still couldn't understand what he was saying.

I called him back and actually got him on the first ring.

"I couldn’t understand you, Greggy," I began softly, my heart hurting that he had lost his mom which meant he was without parents.

"I left you a voicemail, Cuz," he said sarcastically, "to ask if you knew where she kept her medical insurance paperwork."

I thought fast and hard.

Oh, boy.

This was going to be a bad conversation I could tell.

"I don't think she had additional insurance, Greg, beyond Medicare."

"You're f*cking kidding me, right? You're the one she talked to and depended on and she didn't even have f*cking medical insurance in addition to what the government provides?" he screamed into the phone.

"How dare you, Gre…" and the call disconnected.

The rat bastard hung up on me.

Sure, I got it.

Greg had finally discovered exactly what I'd been trying to tell him. His mom was broke. Someone, somehow, had fleeced her out of everything my uncle had wanted her to have, everything she was deserving of, and now poor Greg was having to see it.

He was going to have to explain why he couldn't, wouldn't and shouldn't pay for her medical bills.

He was probably seeing it now in unrelenting black and white.

And was trying to justify it to himself as well as the other people lining up to call him.

My heart hurt for him, but there wasn't anything I could do to help.

Except send a text message with Sam McKenzie's info along with a prayer Greg would make an appointment and meet with him.