Free Motown Throwdown by K.S. Adkins Page B

something they trusted me to use my head and supported me, even in my failures. They were also fans of Rome and didn’t see his conviction as an issue any more than I did.
    My dads had their own firm and always rooted for the underdog. They believed in justice and knew the system well. They’ve seen it work and in Rome’s case, watched it fail.
    With dinner almost done, I sit next to Rome and softly run my fingers down his arm to wake him. Having him here with us for dinner was exciting for me because well, he’s the first I’ve ever brought here and for me it meant something.
    With a deep exhale, his head lobs toward me and I lean in to look at the flames tattooed around his throat. The outline was thick, the flames angry. This piece spoke of misery fluently. “I was in hell,” he whispers catching my staring. Fighting back the tears, I offer him a small smile but when he says, “I want to see what heaven’s about,” it was the softness of his eyes that made me do it. Leaning in I frame his face in my hands, then slide them down to span his throat and kiss his full lips softly.
    “Heaven’s attainable, Rome.”
    “I want a shot with you ,” he says kissing me this time. His breath was hot and his lips tasted of citrus. Drowning right here on the couch would happen if I didn’t use the common sense I was sometimes known for. But with him I wanted to be reckless only that wouldn’t be good for Rome. Rome needed stability. “You’re heaven to me.”
    “Let’s start with friendship,” I offer pulling away even though I’d rather be in his lap.
    “Forget it,” he mumbles moving away. Instantly he shut down on me. Tossing the cover off, he doesn’t even say goodbye to my parents as he storms out of the house. Following him out, he ignores me in favor of getting in his car. It was becoming a habit, but this time I sat on the hood of his car and if he drove off, he was taking me with him.
    “Get the fuck off my hood,” he yells at me.
    “Get the stick out of your ass,” I yell back.
    “God dammit, doc, I don’t want to be here with you, so get the fuck off.”
    “Bullshit,” I argue adjusting the strap of my dress before I lost a boob. “You don’t want to be anywhere but with me, you just become a little bitch when you don’t get your way.”
    “I didn’t need the show and tell with your fucking family,” he growls almost standing between my legs. “You had no right asking them to defend me. For all you know I was fucking guilty. Ever think of that, Einstein?”
    “What did you just call me?” I growl standing up. Getting in his space I put my index finger in his sore chest so he sees I’m not fucking around. “You know what? I was trying to show you some humans aren’t assholes, some of us are open-minded, we don’t see skin color or judge others.”
    “Some of you, huh? You date black guys often then?”
    “No, I don’t, but none of that matters to me.”
    “Call the NAACP for a charity case, doc,” he grunts opening his door. “I don’t need shit from you.”
    That’s when I snapped. Standing between him and his door I get right in his face and scream. “Don’t you ever fucking play the race card with me again, Rome! You don’t want a friend? Fine, then fuck you. It’s obvious you don’t know what you want. When that day comes that you finally do just know I won’t be waiting. I’ve waited ten years too long as it is. You’re on your own, Rome. I’m not the enemy, it’s too bad you can’t see that.” Then slamming the door I was about to head back in to apologize to my parents for his behavior then changed my mind. Pulling his door open I lean in giving him my parting jab hoping it hurt.
    “You throw Einstein punches at me like it’s an insult but guess what, Rome? I am a fucking genius, you want to know why? Because the night you said that to me in front of everyone I knew, I fucking knew I’d prove you wrong and I did. You ever cross paths with me again you