7The sky opened and rain sluiced down, drenching everything in seconds. Startled, I looked up from my seat pnm am outside bench, book getting soaked as I registered it was raining. "Shit!" I cursed, fumbling with my little black umbrella. Just great – my new book! And now my umbrella won't open –
"Well now, my lady, having some problems?"
I looked up at the man standing next to me – holding an umbrella carefully over himself and me. "Oh, yes, thank you." He was wearing a black raincoat, which resembled a trench coat, if you ask me, with the collar turned up against the brisk wind that had picked up.
"Not a problem," he said smoothly, "is your book all right?"
"No," I said miserably, "I'll have to buy another one," I sighed, taking off my rain streaked glasses – then realizing a moment later I had nothing dry to wipe them off with.
"Here," he said, handing me a dry handkerchief. "My name is Panther Owens."
"Panther?" I questioned, wiping off my glasses hurriedly and putting them back on. Panther nodded and smiled charmingly.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Oh. Patricia Williams."
"Lovely to meet you," Panther said, "Can I call you Pat?"
"Oh, sure," I said absently, standing up to assess the damage done to my clothing. My jeans were thoroughly soaked and would take forever to dry, and my white shirt – white!
"Damn," I muttered violently, crossing my arms over my chest and shivering, glancing sideways at Panther. He chuckled lightly.
"Here, I'll give you my jacket, it you'll hold the umbrella, Miss Patricia," I took the umbrella and watched him take off the waterproof jacket and, carefully so it didn't get wet, handed it to me. Pulling it on, I almost sighed at how warm it was.
"Oh, but, are you sure," I asked worriedly, "I don't want your suit to get ruined," I trailed off at his amused smile.
"Don't worry, Miss. Come, my apartment is right there," he pointed to the brick, ancient looking building behind me, whose small garden we were standing in. "Let me lend you some dry clothes and call you a taxi."
I immediately refused. "No, I don't think I should. I don't want to intrude."
"It isn't intruding if you are invited," Panther pointed out, smiling, "I insist. A young lady like yourself shouldn't be out in the rain like this." He said it in such a fatherly way, all my thoughts of him being a sicko got shoved behind warm, DRY clothes.
"All right," I said reluctantly.
"This way, then," Panther moved beside me with cat-like grace, too near his namesake to be considered perfectly normal.
He led me to a side door in the building, one locked with a cyber-code; I looked politely away while he punched it in, for the first time sine Panther arrived hearing not his voice, but the pounding of thee rain. The formerly bright, semi-secluded garden was now swathed in grey.
Panther pulled open the door to let me slip in first so I could hold it open while he closed his umbrella. The security woman at the counter looked up, "Oh, Mr. Owens, I thought you were gone for the day."
"I encountered a damsel in distress," Panther motioned to me, "this is Miss Williams. Can you call a taxi?"
"Sure. Just call down a few minuets before you need it."
"Thank you," Panther said putting a hand on my back – upper, not lower – he seemed like a perfect gentleman, I had to say, as he led me towards the elevator.
"Why, thank you," he said graciously.
Did I have to say it out loud, though?
"Y-you're welcome."
Panther smiled charmingly. The elevator stopped and the doors slid open; he ushered me out. "This way, Miss Patricia." The way he said my name, it sounded sweet and gentle and at the same time, perfectly formal and reserved.
I followed him down a few doors to the end of the hall. "I was fortunate," he said, unlocking the door and holding it open for me, "to get a wonderful view. Please pardon the appearance, I hadn't expected anyone today."
Did he mean pardon the mess? If so, then what mess?
This place was immaculate!
The apartment had no foyer, it opened into a wide living room that, I imagined, took up half the apartment. Panther removed his dress over coat and hung it up on an iron work rack nailed to the wall, and dropped his keys, wallet, spare change and a few business cards into a pretty white bowl resting on a plain iron work table pushed against the wall. There was a fancy iron work vase with embedded shards of glass filled with small, red flowers I had no name for.
"So you like iron work?" I asked, admiring the rusty iron work mirror hung over the table.
"Not usually," Panther said softly, taking my book, setting it on the table, and helping me out of the jacket. "That is the extent of my iron furniture. I'd say come in, but I'd rather give you some dry clothes first. Would you wait here?" I nodded mutely.
Panther crossed the room quickly, entering a black door to the left. While he was gone, I took my time to look over his living room. Two of his walls were all windows, divided by hanging, soft yellow curtains that could be pulled shut. It was all polished wood floors, and, to protect it, his tan sectional couch (which could easily fit eight) rested on a huge oriental rug depicting a maiden emerging from a bamboo forest. The couch was facing the right side of the wall, all windows, with a black wood coffee table resting in front of it. Two plush looking black leather chairs faced it, stuffed with red pillows decorated with beads. It looked very cute – and very bare. There was no TV, no scattered magazines, no picture frames – there was one lone painting of a city decked in snow hanging in between the black door and a tan one, but that was it.
Suddenly nervous again, I fussed with my brown hair, which I had stupidly worn long today, so it was plastered down my back to my waist. "Damn hair," I mumbled under my breath, peeling some off my forehead.
"Here you are Miss," Panther reappeared and crossed the room, naming the items as he handed them to me. "A bag, for your wet clothes, a towel, to dry off with, another for your hair, jeans and a belt, a tank top, an over shirt – so no one will see you aren't wearing a bra, and boxers. I thought you wouldn't want to wear soggy underwear." He said with a sheepish smile and a shrug. "If you like."
"Thanks," I said blankly, a bit dazed.
"When you're done, come back out and I'll comb your hair. It must be hard to do it yourself when it's that long."
Before I knew it, I was agreeing and being ushered into a small bathroom – the tan door. I noticed a red door, momentarily, and thought it might be the kitchen.
Completely blown away by his generosity, I stripped down without a second thought, shoving my wet clothes into the bag and toweling down furiously. I hesitated upon wearing his boxers – I'm sure they were clean, and all, but I just met him! – but in the end, they won over soggy underwear, which would make my butt wet all over again. Quickly, before I changed my mind, I slid into his warm, comfy clothing. They were too big, but only a few sizes, so I could escape without a belt, but I used it anyways. My hair was looking too ferocious to towel down, not without a good brush, so I hesitantly went out into the living room, clutching my clothes bag.
He wasn't anywhere to be seen.
Suddenly the red door opened and Panther came out, holding a tray. "Oh, Miss Patricia, I looked at the clock and realized it was passed lunch time, so I made you something to eat – you can warm up a bit before you go." He looked down at the tray a little sadly. "It isn't much, but I thought you might like a sandwich and some warm coffee?"
My mouth watered immediately: I had skipped lunch so I could start on my new book (which was ruined as a result.) "Thank you so much."
Panther smiled charmingly. "Have a seat, Miss, I usually don't have guests, so I don't have a real dining table, but I'm sure the couch is all right." I followed him, sinking down into the soft leather. He placed the tray on the coffee table. "Go ahead, I'll be right back. Here are the sugar and milk for your coffee, I'm afraid the only cream I had was organic, I hope that's okay," he sounded apologetic.
"No, no, it's fine," I insisted quickly.
He smiled again. "I'll be right back."
I gazed at the tray, at a loss. The coffee was in a wide red mug, with a matching cream holder and a sugar bowel – with cubes of sugar and a little spoon. There was a tall glass of cold milk next to it, and the glass look chilled. A sandwich – turkey, lettuce, onion and tomato on wheat, I found – was cut into two triangles on a darling red dish.
I took a ravenous bite of the sandwich, chewed, and swallowed thickly. It was so good! The tomatoes were fresh, I noticed after another bite. Setting it back down, I poured a bit of cream and dropped one sugar cube into my coffee, using the little spoon to stir it up.
Leaning back, I cradled the mug, breathing in the rich, almost fruity smell. I took a tentative sip and sighed in pleasure.
"You like it," Panther sounded pleased, taking a seat beside me. "I hope you don't mind, but I took a peek at you book, and noticed I had the same one. Here, you can have it."
I stared at him, stunned. "No, I couldn't possibly! You've already given me too much already!"
"I've already read it," he said reasonably, "and yours is ruined. I really don't mind, Miss. Really." Panther pressed the book into my lap, skillfully avoiding spilling the coffee.
"But," I started.
"Why don't you finish eating and I'll brush your hair?"
I gaped at him, saying the first thing that came to mind. "You're pushy."
He raised an eyebrow, "I prefer to think I'm generous."
"Yes, you are," I said seriously, looking into his chocolate eyes. He had long lashes any woman would kill for. "But you're also pushy." I grabbed half of the sandwich, my coffee in the other hand, and turned sideways for him. It felt weird! Not even my older brother ever brushed my hair, let alone a boyfriend.
He chuckled and gently pulled all of my hair behind me. "I've never been called pushy before," he admitted, starting to brush the tips of my hair.
I took a huge bite of my sandwich and said nothing.
"What do you do for a living," Panther asked softly, getting out a knot in my hair. Surprisingly, he didn't pull my hair in anyway.
"I work at a bead shop," I mumbled, embarrassed. "I'm still in college."
"Ah," Panther said, delighted, "so you're on spring break."
"Yeah," I finished of the half of the sandwich, downed half of the coffee and almost choked.
Panther patted my back gently, "Easy," he encouraged. Reaching over, he picked up the plate, "here."
I snatched the last of the sandwich. "Do you do this often?" I demanded. "Invite strange people into your apartment?"
"You're not so strange," Panther replied casually. "And no, not really. This is the first time."
"Then why do it?"
"Because I can, and I'm pushy, as you kindly put it, Miss Patricia."
"Call me Claire."
"Why? I already asked to call you Pat," he smoothed out another knot.
"Which you haven't been," I pointed out. "Please?"
"How about Clara?" He ran the brush down from the top of my hair to the tips, checking for knots.
"Pushy. Fine, I'll compromise."
"All right," I could feel him smiling behind me. Panther sat down the brush on the table and began French braiding my hair.
"How do you know how to french braid?" I demanded over my shoulder.
"My sister made me learn, so I could do her hair; and being the younger, I couldn't refuse."
"What's her name?"
"Her name was Emily."
Horrified, I started to apologize. "Miss Clara," Panther silenced me softly, "it's all right, really. You didn't know."
I opened my mouth to reply, but my cell phone went off. Cell phone? Oh, God! I gently set down the coffee mug, grabbed my plastic bag and ripped into my (wet) pant's pocket, searching for it frantically.
"H-hello," I asked shakily, pressing the phone to my ear. Panther continued braiding my hair, gentle fingers severely distracting.
Giggling assaulted my ears. "What? Hello? Patricia!"
"I'm here," I snapped, recognizing my roommate Annie's voice immediately. "What is it?"
"Um, can you, um, spend the night somewhere else?" She giggled nervously, then a slap echoed down the line. "Jack! I'm on the phone, stop it! How can I pay attention when you're doing that?"
"Annie," I started, planning on giving her a complete guilt trip.
"PLEASE, Patricia! Pretty please!" She cried pitifully, using her you're-ruining-my-life-as-I-know-it-how-could-you?-voice.
"I have no where to go tonight, Annie!" I shouted furiously, regretting it when Annie started wailing and Panther said I could spend the night.
"Is that a guy?" Annie breathed.
"Recovered, have you," I growled.
"Tell Annie you've found a place to stay," Panther said into my other ear.
I put my hand over the speaker. "No, I can't stay."
"Yes, you can, I'll sleep on the couch."
"That's not the point."
"The bedroom locks from the inside."
"That's not the point either!"
"What is the point, Miss Clara?"
"Um," I said, flustered, "you're a boy."
Panther raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, a man! But I don't have clothes or anything!"
"So we go to your dorm and pick them up."
"I have no car."
"We'll call a taxi."
"I have no money."
"I do."
"If I go back there now, Annie will hate me!"
"So we go shopping."
"I have no money."
"I do."
"I can't ask you to spend it!"
"I wasn't asking."
"No!"
"Why?"
"Because you've already done so much for me! I'll find a hotel or something."
"You have no money."
"Don't use my words against me! Why are you so persistent?"
"It's my fault you're wet."
"How so?"
"I could have gotten there earlier, I knew it was going to rain," he insisted.
"You can't POSSIBLY blame this on yourself!" I said, dumbfounded.
"I will if you don't stay over – I'll think you hate me so much you wouldn't even stay the night, it must be because I didn't get there with my umbrellas soon enough – "
"I'll stay, just stop it!"
Panther smiled charmingly and started humming as he knotted the bottom of my braid and got up, taking away the dishes.
"Annie? Stop crying! I'm coming over to get clothes! I'll be there in thirty minuets, so be ready!"
"Really? FANTASTIC! Talk to you later!" And she hung up. I glared at the phone and hoped she had an awful time.
"Would there be any chance of more coffee?" I shouted.
"Cream, sugar, milk," Panther called back, sticking his head out of the kitchen door.
"Milk and sugar."
He vanished for a few minuets and I sat there, for the millionth time, wondering what I did to deserve this. Is this punishment or a reward? Not that I looked at it as punishment, but, I just – I don't know. And why was he so pushy?
"I'm sorry," Panther said from the doorway, holding two steaming cups. "I don't mean to be so pushy."
"Then why are you doing this?" I really needed to learn not to think out loud.
"Well, if you want the truth," he said, handing me a mug of coffee and taking the black leather chair across from me.
"I do." I curled my feet under me and blew on the coffee, waiting.
"I'm avoiding my family."
"Your family? If they are anything like you, I don't see why you should."
Panther laughed – a warm, crisp sound. "My mother and my siblings are, and normally, I wouldn't mind. However my father is home. We don't get along very well."
"I can tell, if you are avoiding him THIS way." I mocked, taking a long sip.
"Yes, well, he is hard to get along with – I know this from countless failures." Panther gave his mug a considering look, then took a drink.
"Why?"
"Well, my father believes that a woman's place is raising children and housekeeping and that they have no use in the work force of our country."
"Why would she marry him," I asked, incredulous.
"It was arranged by their parents since they were born."
"That's rather extreme," I said dryly.
"I agree."
"Tell me more. We have a half an hour to kill before it is safe to go to my dorm room."
"Um, all right," Panther said. "My mother had my sister, Emily, when she was nineteen. My father had this brilliant idea that every four years my mother could have another child."
I snorted, "this guy's off his rocker."
Panther hid a smile and continued. "So when Emily was five, I was born. My mother had a very deep sense of right and wrong, rudeness and politeness."
"Ah, so that's were your pushiness comes from," I laughed and was delighted when he laughed with me.
"Not exactly. This comes from my sister Emily."
"At the age of five?"
"Growing up, in my family, comes at birth," Panther said softly, dark eyes shadowed.
"I'm sorry," I started.
Panther held up a hand. "Come – let us go to your dorm now. It's still raining, but I have a car parked underneath the building. When he stood and went into the kitchen, I leapt up eagerly to follow, wanting to it. It was small, with a granite counter and sink, a stainless steel refrigerator, oven, stove, dishwasher and a small table set for one. The oak-looking cabinets were glass in the front, showing three different sets of dishes. The red set, which he had used earlier, a light blue and a peach set.
"Lovely dishes," I said admiringly.
"From my sisters," Panther said, setting the two mugs in the sink.
"How many do you have?"
"Two, now, these red dishes were from Emily."
"Blast, what a horrible guest I've been."
"Blast?" he sounded rather amused.
"Yes, I'm so sorry."
"You know, you have apologized three times and I haven't asked." Panther laughed cheerfully. "Come, let's go get your clothes."
"Okay."
"This is your car?" I demanded, slack jawed.
"Uh, yes," Panther said, surprised at my out burst. He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for me. Instead, I ran my hand over the sleek black car.
"Panther drives a jaguar." I laughed at my little joke as I slipped into the passenger seat, marveling at the smooth leather interior. "Whoa."
Panther shut my door and got into the driver's seat. "I never thought about it that way," he admitted, "I just like their brand of cars."
"Uh huh. I could never dream of owning a car like this. How much was it?" I knew it was a rude question, but God! I had to know.
"Oh, about fifty thousand."
"Holy crap." I ran my hands over the leather seat reverently, almost lovingly.
"You might want to buckle up, Miss Clara." Panther suggested, fitting action to words and starting the car. The engine hummed placidly.
"Right," I snapped out of it and buckled in as he pulled out of his parking space and out to the guard on duty.
"Hey, Jimmy," Panther greeted, flashing his tenant ID.
"Panther," Jimmy returned, raising the arm.
Panther pressed down on the gas and glided – yes, the car glided – out into the traffic. The cars seemed to part in front of his lovely jaguar. Stopping at a red light, Panther looked over at me. "What do you think?"
"About the car? It's lovely!"
"No, about what your roommate is doing now." Panther said, smiling, "but thanks about the car."
"Oh, well, she's probably having sex as we speak, will part from Jack enough to breath without panting while I'm there, and Jack, naked, will be shoved out onto the balcony, and then as soon as the door shuts, she will resume until Jack is completely limp with exhaustion."
Panther grimaced. "Oh."
"I really don't like her that much."
"Ah." He said again.
"I'm pretty sure you won't like her either," I said sternly, "she is very unlikable."
Panther just laughed gently. "I shall see."