An industrial park near downtown Detroit 2:04 A.M. on a
Friday night...
"Pooky! Watch out!"
Callie watched in horror as her cousin stood in the middle
of the seemingly deserted street in a zombielike trance.
So captivated by something in a store window, he never
noticed the speeding car heading in his direction.
Callie vaulted over the workhorse, through the
construction area, and dashed out into the street. The
bright headlights of the red sports car shone on her face,
right before the sound of tires screeching led her to
believe the driver had finally noticed the pedestrians in
his path.
The smell of burning rubber was strong and ominously
close, but Callie had no time to think about that. Her
complete attention was focused on reaching Pooky before
the car did.
Although Pooky was a solid hundred pounds heavier and
several inches taller than she, Callie threw her full
weight of 102 pounds into her cousin. She felt a slight
breeze and saw a flash of red out of the corner of her eye
just as the two entangled bodies went tumbling across the
grassy knoll.
"My shoe! I just bought those yesterday!"
"Forget your shoe. Are you okay?" Callie did a quick
inspection of her cousin, giving him the once-over. Her
heart was still pounding at top speed, and she felt short
of breath when she allowed herself to think about how
close she'd come to losing the only family member she
acknowledged.
Pooky attempted to sit up and felt the slight weight
bearing down on him. "Callie."
"Yes."
"Will you please get off my back?"
"Oh." Callie sat back on her knees, still studying every
inch of her cousin for injury. The bright fuchsia skirt
was stained with oil from the pavement, and there was a
gaping hole in the fishnet stocking, but beyond that
everything else appeared to be normal. Or as close to
normal as Pooky ever came.
Pooky held up the surviving shoe. "Damn. These were
originally priced at one hundred and twenty-five dollars.
I got them on sale at sixty percent off. Do you know how
hard it is to find quality designer shoes — in a size
thirteen — at sixty percent off?!"
Callie felt her bottom lip tremble with laughter, even as
the water filled her eyes. She couldn't imagine what she
would do without Pooky. This odd creature, despite all the
flamboyant looks, was the only thing standing between her
and complete devastation. No one could guess with a look
the type of bravery and strength of will that was hidden
beneath that burgundy wig. Unable to stop it, Callie felt
a single tear slide down her face.
Pooky stood. "What are you crying about? I'm the one out
seventy bucks, not to mention the cost of this outfit."
Pooky reached down and lifted Callie to her feet as if she
weighed little more than a child, which in truth she did.
Callie dusted off her worn green coveralls and haphazardly
swiped at her eyes. "We both know that dress only cost you
the price of the fabric, since you make all your clothes
yourself."
Pooky reached up and carefully adjusted the wig that
amazingly enough had survived the fall. "That's not the
point. I still —" Pooky stopped in midsentence, noticing
Callie's trembling body for the first time. "Hey now,
sugar bear. I'm fine, really." Pooky twirled in a circle
with arms outstretched. "See?"
Callie grabbed her much taller cousin around the waist. "I
almost lost you."
"Girlfriend, please," Pooky called over a shoulder,
limping back out into the middle of the street to collect
the other shoe.
"God's not ready for me yet, and the devil knows better
than to mess with this."
Callie shook her head and swiped at her eyes again,
feeling closer to calm. When would she learn that nothing,
not even a near-death experience, could rattle this menace
to society she lovingly called Pooky.
"Well, until God's ready or the devil gets braver, I guess
I'm stuck with you."
"Guess so," Pooky answered distractedly, too busy
inspecting the damaged shoe.
Only then did Callie remember that they were not alone on
the empty street. She turned her head in the direction
where she'd seen the flash of red. The car had finally
come to a stop several yards away. It had crashed up
against the side of a Dumpster.
Callie covered her mouth with both hands. "Oh my God," she
whispered, breaking into a dead run. She heard the
clippity-clap of Pooky's one-shoe gait and realized her
cousin was right beside her.
Ten feet from the car they both stopped in their tracks as
the passenger side door slowly creaked open. One long leg
emerged and clumsily flopped to the ground, soon another
joined it. They waited, frozen in time, for the body
attached to the legs to make an appearance, but it never
did.
Julian Cruise attempted to sit up. He willed his
considerable strength to move his aching body but nothing
happened. It seemed that getting the far side door open
had zapped him of what little reserve he had remaining
after the traumatic impact. His driver's side door was
jammed, and he vaguely remembered slamming against
something large and metal.
His vision was blurred, and when he lifted his arm to his
face, he discovered there was no pain in his upper
portion. He did a quick mental inventory and realized his
lower body took the brunt of the blow, but as far as he
could tell, nothing was broken.
A vision came into his blurred sights, and he recognized
the outline of the woman he'd swerved to avoid hitting. He
took comfort in the fact that she was apparently all
right. He casually noted that she was much larger than he
first assumed, not more than an inch or two shorter than
his six feet. She was a big-boned girl. Really big boned.
His analytical mind quickly took in what he could discern
of the image in front of him.
Her bright fuchsia dress was the definition of tacky, and
the fact that it almost matched the burgundy wig exactly
only added to the overall tastelessness. He promptly
concluded that she was a streetwalker, but as she bent
over him, he gave up that hypothesis. Julian decided that
this had to be the ugliest woman he'd ever seen. If she
had to make her living seducing men, he was pretty certain
she'd starve to death. And that darkening around the chin
area that suspiciously resembled a five o'clock shadow
certainly did not help matters.
"Mister? Are you okay?" Her soft, husky voice sounded like
a siren alarm to his pounding head. He tried to nod but
was unsure if he was successful.
"Is he okay?" A head popped out from under the large
woman's arm.An adorable little face that was twisted in
concern.
"I don't know," the woman answered. "He seems
disoriented."
"Mister, we're going to get some help for you, okay? You
just stay right there."
"Where is he going, Callie?" came the woman's sardonic
reply.
"Maybe we should try to get him out of the car."
"I don't think we should move the body."
"He's not dead, Pook! Just hurt."
Julian silently listened to the strange conversation. He
rubbed at his face again, trying to make sense of the
image. The second figure was as confusing as the first.
The cover-alls and twisted baseball cap gave the
appearance of a workman, but the size of the person
clearly suggested a child. And there was something about
the face, that rich golden skin and soft mouth. He
surmised that this must be the amazon's child, a
preadolescent boy.
"You know first aid, right?" The boy looked up at his
mother in frustration.
"The Heimlich maneuver, but I don't think that's going to
help us now, Callie."
"Well, hell! At least I'm trying to think of something!
Stop being your typically sarcastic self and help me out
here."
Julian frowned, thinking that if this was his
disrespectful child, the boy would be quickly brought to
task for speaking to him in such a manner.
"Look, I'll go find a phone. You stay with him." The
mother turned to leave; her son grabbed her arm.
"Be careful, Pooky."
Julian thought that was a strange nickname for one's
mother. He saw the mother's faint wink of an eye.
"I told you the devil knows better than to mess with
this." The mother disappeared from his line of vision, and
he was left with the child.
"Hang in there, mister. Help is on the way."
The boy leaned over him, and Julian caught his first clear
image of soft brown eyes framed in the longest lashes he'd
ever seen. He thought it odd that a woman that ugly could
produce such an attractive child.
Julian fell back on the seat in exhaustion, thinking that
for the kid's sake, he hoped the boy developed some more
manly features soon or else high school was going to be a
really tough four years. With that thought, he fainted.
Callie leaned over the unconscious man, looking for signs
of life. The slight lift and fall of his chest gave her
some small comfort. Amazingly enough, the man seemed
essentially un-injured. Other than the slight
disorientation he displayed, the fact that he was
semilucid was a very good indication. He might come out of
this practically unscathed, which was more than could be
said for his classic car. She leaned forward a little more
to get a better look at his face.
Callie Tyler had two distinctly unique abilities at her
disposal. Her phenomenal gift for fixing anything on
wheels and her uncanny ability of reading people. With one
look, she knew without a doubt that this well-dressed,
overly handsome man was gonna be trouble. He was
unconscious now, she thought, but eventually he would wake
up, and when he did, he would have retaliation on his
mind.
She studied the milk-chocolate man laid out like dessert.
He had a finely featured face that did not seem to jive
with the brawny body that came with it. His build gave the
impression of a man who used his physical strength often.
Even in a relaxed position, the bulging biceps were
pressing against the light blue dress shirt. But his face
was...Callie twisted her mouth in thought and decided
scholarly was the only word that fit. Yes, he looked
scholarly. A thinker, not a builder.
She tilted her head to the side to study his profile and
realized that at his temples, short-cropped curls were
just starting to show signs of a little salt being added
to the pepper. What a lovely profile it was, accentuating
full sensual lips that begged for attention. Callie found
herself mystified by the perfect heart-shaped mouth
outlined by a thick black mustache. She felt something
like a compulsion to reach out and gently run her finger
across his full bottom lip. So she did. That's when she
noticed the cleft in his chin and found herself cooing
like an idiot. How could something so small add so much to
a face?
She felt the urge to follow her finger with her tongue,
tracing those beautiful lips and then moving down to the
little cleft. Only with the shake of her head was she able
to break the spell. Something about this unconscious
stranger was pulling her in like quicksand. She stood
straight and stretched. It was really no great mystery
when she thought about it. It had been almost two years
since she'd been in anything resembling a relationship.
Face it, Callie, your horny hormones are on overload. In
fact, this was probably the closest she'd been to a true
member of the opposite sex in months. Callie smiled to
herself. Sad as it was, an unconscious man was turning her
on like crazy. It was understandable — in his sleeping
state he seemed close to perfect, but Callie knew that
wide-awake he would be anything but. "And it doesn't take
a scholar to figure that out," she whispered to her
sleeping ward.
Left with nothing better to do until Pooky returned with
help, she turned her attention to the banged-up vehicle.
She stepped back several feet and surveyed the damage from
all angles. A 1965 Corvette Stingray in cherry apple-red
with a soft white drop-top. Now this was the ideal male.
She ran her hand along the smooth body, simply in awe of
the craftsmanship that went into each and every curve.
Callie didn't doubt for a minute that this car was built
with loving hands. She finally came to the driver's side,
and her lust turned to sorrow.
She could not see the extent of the damage because of its
position against the Dumpster. From what she could see,
most of the damage looked superficial, but she would have
to see the driver's side door to be certain. It was a
small car, and Callie knew she was strong despite her
size. She braced her body against the car and her feet
against the Dumpster and tried to pry the two apart. It
didn't work. She needed a crowbar or something similar.
She went back around the car to get the keys out of the
ignition, hoping there would be some type of tools in the
trunk.