Page 72 of Dangerous Rhythm

“Nuh-uh. The men are looking at you. I don’t think they see many girls like you. They can tell you can whip them into submission, and I think they’re secretly dreaming about that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have this dominatrix look going.” His eyes scanned her from her shoulders to her toes. She was wearing her black leather jacket, zipped up snugly, fitted black jeans, and black boots. It was pretty much what she wore almost every day.

“Plus those ever-alert eyes and the badass expression you always have on,” Curtis said. “Man, you’re giving me a hard-on just talking about it.”

“Well, you better keep it down, because we’re almost there.” She shook her head with a chuckle.

“We need to go shopping,” he said with no segue at all. Sometimes talking to Curtis was like talking to a five-year-old. He jumped subjects without warning, and he’d say the damnedest things.

He could also act like a five-year-old, all pouty when he didn’t get what he wanted, but then he turned around and was insightful and understanding. It was mind-boggling. She’d never felt compelled to unburden herself to anyone the way she did with Curtis. It was odd how she’d cried in front of him twice now. But even at her most vulnerable, he never once looked at her differently.

“We need new outfits for the new year,” Curtis added. “Popo always says it’s for good luck.”

Her mother and grandmothers said the same thing.

“And you need a burst of color,” he added. “Though I dig this look, you know black is a no-no. Maybe we’ll get you a red whip.”

Lina couldn’t help but laugh at his outlandish suggestion.

“Can we go shopping later and be a normal couple for once?” he asked.

A normal couple? Are we a couple?

Lina sighed at the pleading smile Curtis gave on her. “Fine. We’ll check out the new year’s market. Maybe I’ll get you atangzuang.”

She could picture Curtis in a traditional red silk jacket with the upturned Mandarin collar or even the ankle-length dress Chinese men used to wear in the old days. He’d look good starring in one of those historical kung-fu movies she’d loved growing up.

“Only if you get one of those sexy Chinese dresses,” Curtis said.

He was talking about acheongsam, the traditional silk dress with a similar high collar like thetangzuang, except it was well fitted to a woman’s figure and had high side-slits.

“I can’t fight in acheongsam,” Lina argued.

“You can fight in anything,” Curtis brushed off her argument. “Fair is fair. I’ll wear atangzuangif you wear acheongsam. Come on, it’s new year.”

“We’ll see,” she said noncommittally, but she knew she’d end up wearing one.

Lately, she realized she had a hard time resisting Curtis’ requests. And after this morning, where once again, he’d known what she’d needed more than she had, Lina would wear whatever he asked her to wear—whip or no whip.

He’d said to her—albeit during the height of passion—“Be alive with me. Be with me.”

Right then, Lina had realized she wanted that. She didn’t just want him. She wanted to be with him. He made her want to live again.

Maybe we can be a normal couple.

The thought of being normal with Curtis spurred Lina’s steps. But as they arrived at the restaurant, her nerves stopped her from crossing the threshold. She could see her family sitting on one of the big round tables toward the back, and her heart got stuck in her throat.

“What’s wrong?” Curtis asked.

Lina backed away from the door. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Lina, they’re your family. They love you.”

“You don’t even know them.”

“I know enough from what you told me and from what Ed said last night,” he said. “You shouldn’t punish yourself for something that’s beyond your control. It’s time to forgive yourself.”

---