After the Rain (The Twisted Fate Series Book 1) (11 page)

13

Bring home
the bacon and sarongs

The market assaulted every one of Stormy’s senses. For starters, it was boiling hot outside, and the air felt sticky and thick. Makeshift stalls had been set up along narrow, dusty paths and were selling everything from fresh exotic fruit and pungent fish, to huge bags of brightly-colored spices and intricate beaded jewellery. There were just so many sights to take in; there was something new and interesting around every corner. Intense smells filled the air – the sweet perfume of ripening fruit, the deep exotic scent of spices and the hearty aroma of corncobs cooking on fires. The biggest bunches of bananas that Stormy had ever seen lined the dusty walkways, alongside bright orange mangoes and rows upon rows of handmade brown leather sandals.

But what really caught her eye were the rows of brightly-colored fabrics that were blowing in the breeze, as well as the brightly-dyed straw handbags. All were completely ethnic, printed and decorated with the most beautiful traditional imagery. It was culturally different from the African imagery that she was used to in South Africa – this was unique to Kenya.

One of the local vendors offered Stormy a slice of juicy mango, which she took enthusiastically. But Marcus practically jumped on her from a few meters away and pulled her back by the arm.

“Hey!” he whispered urgently in her ear. “You can’t eat food given to you by complete strangers on the side of the road!”

“Of course you can,” she responded, popping it into her mouth.

Marcus grabbed the mango out from between her lips. “They probably wash it in unsanitary water. You don’t know what germs you’ll catch.”

Stormy burst out laughing. “Oh Marcus, Marcus. You worry too much!” And with that, she swiped the mango back from him and ate it. It was so sweet and succulent that some of the juice escaped her lips and run down her chin; she wiped it away with the back of her hand.

“That is amaze-zees. We have to buy some.”

“I am
not
buying street food,” he said adamantly.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

Marcus looked hesitant as he thought for a moment. “I am, but not for anything bought from here. I have some protein bars in the car.”

“Protein bars!” Stormy scoffed loudly. Who ever heard of such a ridiculous thing? “You call that food?”

“They’re perfectly nutritious,” Marcus insisted.

“Whatever,” Stormy shrugged and walked off, sampling some other local fruits that the vendors were only too happy to give her as she wandered through the stalls. Stormy came across a stall selling the most incredible looking and smelling vegetable kebabs. Her mouth watered as she watched the vendor take them straight off the fire, slightly charred.

“Very nice,” the vendor, an older woman in a bright purple headscarf, said as she held one out to Stormy.

“It looks amazing, but I don’t have any money,” Stormy said apologetically.

The woman smiled and pointed to one of Stormy’s bracelets, a funky plastic thing that she had picked up in a charity store.

“You’ll exchange?” Stormy’s face lit up.

The woman nodded and Stormy quickly pulled off her bracelet. She walked off eating the kebab; it was delicious, and there was some kind of spicy sauce on it that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But again, the hygiene police pounced.

“Are you crazy? Stop eating stuff here,” Marcus hissed in her ear, suddenly appearing at her side out of nowhere.

Stormy eyeballed Marcus incredulously. “These are veggies, probably better than the ones we get at home, plucked fresh from someone’s truly organic veggie garden, watered by loving African rains and fertilized by falling leaves. Try it.”

“I’m not trying it.”

“I
dare
you.”

Stormy shot him a challenging look, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to refuse. Marcus was definitely the kind of guy that didn’t back down from a challenge, ultra super duper competitive as he was. Sure enough, something changed in his expression, and he pulled the kebab away and took a bite.

“Satisfied?” he asked, not looking particularly thrilled as he forced it down.

Stormy nodded and smiled. Maybe she could loosen him up a little, prove to be a good influence on Mr. Uptight and In Control.

They had already been walking around the market for ten minutes, a fact Marcus made sure to tell her by tapping on his big, shiny watch. She sighed loudly, but started walking back to the car. She had said ten minutes, after all – fair’s fair. But on the way out, she couldn’t help stopping at the fabrics stall to try one on. It was one of the prettiest things she’d ever seen: a bright, lime green color, with what looked like hand-dyed darker green flowers printed on it. There was a delicate blue stitch around the border, as well as bold purple stripes. It was a sarong, but Stormy wrapped it around her shoulders like a shawl. The woman tending the stall indicated through gestures that the colors suited Stormy’s hair.

“Buy it?” she asked.

Stormy shook her head. “I would love to, but I have no money.”

Marcus walked up behind her. “How much?” he asked the woman, reaching into his wallet.

Stormy swung around and took the sarong off quickly. “No. I don’t want you to buy it for me. You’ve already bought me clothes, I couldn’t…”

“Don’t be silly, Stormy.”

“No,” she shook her head emphatically.

“But I want to,” he said with a look in his eye that Stormy was completely unfamiliar with. It was that whole,
I’m a man let me provide for you and
bring home the bacon and sarongs,
type of look.

“Okay. What about an exchange?” she asked.

Marcus eyed her up and down. “Um… I don’t think you have anything I want.” Stormy couldn’t help but notice his guilty expression as he quickly looked away, though, and realized that he wasn’t quite being truthful. But that wasn’t the kind of exchange she’d had in mind
.

“How about I give you a Reiki crystal healing session, get those chakras unblocked?”

Marcus shook his head. “Absolutely not. There will be no massaging happening, Stormy. You know how that would end.”

Stormy rolled her eyes at him. “There’s no touching involved. I’m just going to put some crystals on your throat and draw out some negative energy, that’s all.”

Marcus eyed her suspiciously. “Is that the only way you’ll let me get it for you?”

“Yes. I don’t want your charity.”

“It’s not charity –” he tried to argue.

She held her hand up to stop anything else coming out of his mouth. “Reiki healing vibes, or no deal.”

“Fine,” Marcus sighed, pulling the money out of his wallet and handing it over to the vendor.

Stormy turned and extended her hand. “Deal. Let’s shake on it. A business transaction.”

Marcus shook her hand, dropping it quickly when they were done. And then she skipped off to the car happily, watching as the bright fabric billowed out behind her.

She was like an excitable puppy with a squeaky toy. Marcus had never seen anything like it. She flounced around from one stall to the next; everyone who saw her smiled and made conversation. She had even kicked a ball back (very badly) to a few kids that were playing a game of soccer and scratched the head of a stray three-legged dog – which Marcus hadn’t thought was a terribly good idea. She was like a breathe of fresh air; but there was that other side of her, too, that side that was less innocent puppy and more sexual she-wolf. When the mango juice had trickled down her chin, he’d actually had to fight the urge to lick it off, despite his misgivings about rancid water and exotic germs.

And when he’d seen her wearing the shawl, he’d been overcome with the desire to buy it for her. In fact, he would have bought her the whole damn stall if she’d asked. When he thought about what she had – or
didn’t
have – like a car and money and new clothes, he wanted to make that all right. Although it wasn’t his job at all, or his right even. But still, he didn’t like the idea of her taking taxis and shopping at charity stores, where a person could have died in the dress she was buying.

Fuck,
if she’d asked him to buy the whole market for her, he would have. He had the money, and no one to spend it on. But she was proud and stubborn, and now he was going to be inflicted with some weird, hippie crystal ritual. He’d definitely try and wiggle his way out of that.

They finally climbed into the car and got back on the road. He hoped there wouldn’t be too many of these impromptu stops, because it would make them seriously late. She put her rainbow toes back onto the dashboard and her skirt slipped down her thighs again; thankfully, she laid her new sarong over them.

But something was niggling at him. “Do you often exchange services for things?” Marcus asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yup, all the time.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I needed to have a pair of shoes repaired the other day, and I gave the man a neck massage – he had a knot that was giving him trouble.”

A bolt of discomfort shot through him. “So you often give massages?”

“Not always, sometimes I’ll do a Tarot reading.”

“But you do give massages sometimes?” Marcus was harping, he knew he was, but he couldn’t get that image out his head.

Stormy caught on to what he was thinking. “If you are trying to imply what you’re trying to imply then your implications are way off what is implied,” she said indignantly.

“Huh?” Marcus hadn’t understood a word of that.

“The guy who fixed my shoes, Luigi, is about a hundred years old. He was having headaches, and I wanted to help him. We exchanged services – simple. I often do it.”

Marcus still didn’t like it one bit. He wondered how many men bartered with her just to get a back rub. No, he didn’t like it one little bit.

“There is nothing sexual about it!” Stormy added. “You’ll see tonight when I work my magic on your chakras.” She smiled at him innocently before putting her head back and closing her eyes.

It was boiling hot and extremely unpleasant in the car without aircon. Marcus rolled the window down and let the wind rush in. He hoped it wouldn’t disturb her – she’d clearly fallen asleep. He glancedover and noticed that a strand of her hair was blowing around in the breeze. He reached over and gently tucked it behind her ear so that it wouldn’t wake her. He let his fingers linger too long on her cheek.

She stirred ever so slightly and as he was about to take his hand away, when she grabbed it and held it next to her face. Still asleep, she tucked their hands together on her shoulder and rested her head on them. She obviously had a bad habit of cuddling when she was asleep.

Marcus left his hand there; it felt good to be so close to her, even in a non-sexual way. He could easily steer with one hand. Suddenly, the irritation and worry he’d been feeling a few minutes ago seemed to evaporate, and he found himself smiling softly as he fixed his eyes on the road ahead.

14

You
want to take a selfie?

Stormy woke up suddenly and realized that Marcus was no longer in the car. They were parked on the side of the road and the driver’s door was wide open. A bolt of panic gripped her and she shot up. Where was he?

Alien abduction? That was very plausible; it often happened on long, deserted roads like this. But then again, it was daytime, and most abductions happened at night.

Spontaneous combustion? She checked the seat, but there was no ash.

De-atomization? Possible, not likely though, not with our current technology, anyway. Although she did have it on good authority that they were currently experimenting with that technology in Area 53 in Nebraska.

She was just about to consider vaporization when….

She saw him standing on the side of the road a little way back.
Aaahhh,
nature was obviously calling. She was about to look away when she saw him bend forward and hold his head. Something was wrong. She jumped out the car and ran over.

“Marcus, are you okay?”

He waved his hand for her to get back. “Fine. Fine,” he sort of shouted-mumbled-choked.

“No you’re not. I can see something is wrong.”

He waved his hand some more as she edged forward. “I just feel a bit nauseous. It’s probably from that kebab you forced me to eat.”

Stormy actually laughed out loud. “Nonsense!”

“You can’t eat stuff off the side of the road. I
told
you. Look what happens!”

Stormy shook her head dismissively. “It’s psychosomatic, Marcus. I’m totally fine. There was nothing wrong with –” Marcus turned around and looked at her. He was positively green; his brow was furrowed and his lips clamped together as he fought off the obvious urge to gag.

“Oh God! You really are sick.”

Marcus gave a faint nod. “Just get back into the car, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

She approached him and his hand started flapping at her again. Clearly, he was the type of guy who didn’t want anyoneseeing him when he was sick and vulnerable –
typical.
But as she approached he threw up, and the arm waving became even more violent as he tried to shoo her away. Jolted by a stab of sympathy, Stormy ran up to him and rubbed his back.

“Stormy, seriously, leave me, I’ll be fine,” he choked.

“Marcus will you stop being such a macho…” She put on a mocking, exaggerated manly voice. “
I’m a manly man
and don’t get sick or show weakness and wrestle
bulls to the ground with my hands tied behind my
back
kind of guy.”

He ignored her jibe, wiped the back of his mouth with his hand and swigged down some water. She rubbed his back in large circles. “Do you know how many friends’ hair I’ve held back when they’ve had too much to drink in a club?” she tried to reassure him.

“I don’t really want to know that right now,” Marcus bleated.

“I’m just saying… that’s what we girls do for each other. It’s no big deal. You don’t have to be embarrassed.” Marcus finally stood up and straightened out. He looked way less green but still a bit sick. Stormy reached out and laid her hand across his forehead to see if he had a temperature. He felt clammy.

“It’s a good thing you’ve thrown up, actually – you got whatever was bugging you out of your system,” Stormy added, feeling a massive swell of empathy for Marcus in that moment.

“Stormy, can we not talk about this, please?”

“Okay,” Stormy smiled as Marcus walked off to the car again and climbed into the driver’s seat. She eyed him worriedly; he didn’t look well enough to drive.

“Why don’t you lie down in the back for a while and I’ll drive?” she offered.

Marcus hated this. He hated showing weakness of any kind and he hated not being in control and letting someone else take over. But he was feeling too sick to drive, and it would probably be irresponsible to do so in his current state.

“Are you sure you can drive?” he asked nervously. “Do you even have a driver’s license?”

She smiled that heart-melting smile again. “Sammy and I have an understanding,” she said, as though he should be reassured by this. Which he wasn’t. Even though he felt like crap, he managed a little laugh.

“Just feel better,” she commanded, reaching out and putting her hand on his shoulder. It felt good. Really good.

He climbed into the back of the car and tried to make himself comfortable, though it was much too small to accommodate his large 6’3 build. Although he was mortified that he’d been sick in front of her, he was really touched by how caring she’d been. Emily would never have done that, but nothing seemed to phase Stormy. And she seemed to have this natural urge to take care of people – and dogs with three legs.

As they pulled onto the road again, Marcus tried really hard to relax, but soon realized that wouldn’t be possible – Stormy was officially the worst driver he’d ever met. The car was moving at about 20kms an hour (a snail could have moved faster, for pity’s sakes) and every time she changed gears, the car sounded like it was going to explode and lurched forward for a second.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” she would croon every time the car made a noise. “Easy girl, you’re doing great!” And then she would proceed to pat the dashboard encouragingly. Thankfully, after several very, very long and terrifying kilometers, he was starting to feel a lot better.

“Okay, stop the car,” he finally said, sitting up in the backseat.

“Why? Sammy and I are having so much fun together!” She looked at Marcus with a smile in the rear view mirror.

“Mmmm, how can I put this tactfully, Stormy… We’ll only get there next year if I let you carry on at this pace, and that’s assuming you don’t destroy the gearbox first.”

Stormy turned around and glared at him, and the car momentarily veered to the left.

“Hey! Watch the road!” Marcus yelled. “Ok. That’s it. Stop. Pull over.”

“Fine, big macho man. Drive the car then!” Stormy swung the steering wheel wildly and the car swerved onto the shoulder of the road. She climbed out in a huff and went back to the passenger seat.

Marcus resumed his spot in the driver’s seat and started the car up again. But he soon became acutely aware of the fact that Stormy was silently glaring at him with those piercing green eyes.

“What?” he asked, turning towards her.

“Just interested,” she replied simply.

“In what?”

“In you, Mr. Marcus Lewis, Aries.”

“What about me?” Marcus was feeling a little like he was under attack.

“You’re an interesting person. Under that big, hard, powerful, in-control, macho exterior lies a vulnerable little person who hates to appear so,” she informed him matter-of-factly.

“Oh God, are we really going to do this? This esoteric, touchy-feely crap?”

“It’s not esoteric, it’s factual. I mean, look at you – you would probably still insist on driving if both your arms were eaten off by wild, rabid lions.”

“Rabid lions?” Marcus was amused now. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

“Stop trying to maneuver the conversation in a different angle.”

“Direction,” he corrected automatically again. “And I’m not, I’m just not comfortable talking about stuff like this. Personal stuff.”

“That’s because you have a blocked throat chakra. It makes it hard to express your emotions or speak your truth.”

“That has nothing to do with it.” Honestly, if Marcus had to hear the word “chakra” one more time that day, he might actually go mad. “I’m just not the kind of guy who’s going to air all my laundry in public, that’s all. It’s too personal.”

“Marcus,” Stormy tutted loudly. “We’ve had sex,
really good sex,
twice – what could be more personal than that?”

Marcus swallowed. He really didn’t need to be reminded of that, and certainly not how good it had been. His first instinct was to ask her “How good?” – and then show her that it could be even better (over and over again). But he resisted the urge.

“Fine! Then how about this, Stormy-Rain Rainbow Storm, Sagittarius: let me tell you something about
yourself
, since we are on the topic of exteriors not matching interiors.”

“Sure!” she agreed, sounding perky and upbeat, as if she actually enjoyed such conversations. She probably did.

“I think that if anyone in this car has a mask on, it’s you. A bright, crazy colorful one that hides someone else entirely inside.” Marcus flashed her a look. “That deep and touchy-feely enough for you?”

“Really?” She was starting to sound slightly tentative now.

“You’re already unique, you don’t need to over-advertise it with all that glittery, fluffy crap and crazy scarves. Your hair is growing on me, but you don’t need all that other stuff . I mean, do you have any idea how beautiful you are without all that…” Marcus bit his lip, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. But he had.

Stormy smiled. Beautiful, he’d said – he thought she was beautiful. Her heart was doing weird seesaw things in her chest. “You like my hair?” she asked, twirling it around her finger, not because she was agitated this time.

Marcus cast a sideways glance at her and shrugged. “No one else in the world could pull it of. But that scarf and sunflower dress… truth be told, I’m glad your bag is lost, if those clothes you were wearing are any indication of what else there is.”

“
What
?” Stormy screeched playfully and smacked him on the arm. “I can’t believe you don’t like Milly!”

“Who’s Milly?” he asked, bewildered.

“My scarf.”

Marcus shook his head and smiled to himself. “Of course you named your scarf. Why wouldn’t you? It makes perfect sense to name clothing.”

“Stop!” Stormy suddenly shouted, almost making Marcus jump out of his seat. “Giraffes! Look!”

Marcus looked in the direction that the finger, which was attached to a heavily bangled arm, was pointing. There were several giraffes standing just off the road.

“We must be driving past the game reserve,” Marcus said as he slowed the car down and pulled onto the side of the road.

“Can I take a super quickie look?” she pleaded. Marcus was surprised that she’d actually asked this time, and since he was starting to feel like he couldn’t say no to her, and that smile, he agreed. “Two minutes,” Stormy crossed her heart with her hand. “Cross my heart hope to die, stick a pin in my eye.”

“I haven’t heard that since I was about six,” Marcus said, hardly noticing her mistake – he was getting used to her creative use of idioms, not to mention that fact that she blatantly made up the most nonsensical words. He got out of the car and followed her to the fence separating them from the giraffes.

The giraffes were close. They were majestic animals, so strangely disproportionate and yet at the same time, perfectly designed. “I wish I’d brought my camera,” Stormy sighed longingly. She had an old camera that still shot on film. A friend of hers developed the pictures for her, since everyone was digital these days.

“You have a camera?” Marcus seemed shocked at the idea.