Chapter 4. A Knife in the Back

WEDNESDAY, 12:13 P.M.
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“Thank you so much for taking time to go with me.” I said to my dad.
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“No problem, baby girl.  I’m glad to help,” he murmured.
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He’d come down from his office in Doo Peas Corporate Towers to meet me and walk me up to the real-estate agent’s office.  I’d asked him to sit in on my meeting because even though I was an adult, technically speaking, I had no idea how to buy a house.  I’d done a little research, but I still wanted someone around in case I forgot something important.
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“I like seeing you on lunch break.  We should do this more often.” he said.  I agreed as we made our way into the building.
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Moments later, we were sitting across from Penelope Cho-Richards.  She’d helped my parents find their bungalow when they moved to Sunset Valley.
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“Thank you for seeing me on my lunch break Ms. Cho-Richards.” I said.
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“Please–call me Penny.” she said with a warm smile.
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“Then please call me Edith.” I said.  I was trying to be a grown-up, and my father’s mouth quirked in a small smile.
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“Now–what are you looking for in a home?” she asked.
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I was prepared for this question.
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“Something small-ish, but with an extra bedroom for guests.” I said.
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“So two bedrooms then.  What about bathrooms?” she asked.
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“Um…well, I’d prefer just one.  Less to clean, you know?” I said.
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“Good point.” she said, laughing.  “And anything else specific?  Do you want a big kitchen?”
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“Oh, not really.  I’m not home all that often and I’m hardly a gourmet.  A small kitchen is fine.” I said.
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“Well, we’re really getting a picture of the type of house you need, but now we need to think about areas.” she said, before proceeding to ask me questions about my lifestyle, habits, hobbies, and price range.
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“We definitely have some houses in the area that will fit your needs.  I’ll start making arrangements for showings.” she said.
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We discussed my schedule and she reassured me that most of the houses had realtor locks that would allow me to see them at my leisure, which was good because between the library and Rocca Investigations, I didn’t have much free time.
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We finished our business and I left my dad at his office.  I drove home with my mind reeling–I’d taken the first step to become a homeowner.
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WEDNESDAY, 8:30 P.M.
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Wednesday nights were self-defense training nights, so I reported to Sean’s house not long after I finished my closing duties at work and changed into some workout clothing.  I reached his house before the sun had finished setting.
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I knocked on his front door automatically, then stopped to look through the windows set into the doorframe.
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There was someone in there with him.
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Oh. Crap,I thought.
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“C’mon in, Eddie.  Hey, you don’t mind if Nicky trains with us tonight, do you?” Sean asked.
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“I’m getting a bit rusty.” Nick said apologetically.
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“Of course I don’t mind.” I said.  It was an utter lie, of course.  I’d already been a little nervous because I would be sparring with Sean–Sean, the great homework assignment of my currently non-existent love-life.  I had no idea how to proceed with Sean when it came to encouraging his attentions, and now I’d have Nick standing over my shoulder, inhibiting any advances I might have made tonight.
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I was happy that Nick took up a seat behind me so that I couldn’t see his face as I sparred with Sean.  I could almost forget he was back there, watching.  Unfortunately, whenever I did remember it made me worry about whether my butt looked big.
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“You’re getting better.” Sean said.  “A lot better.”
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“Thanks.” I huffed, trying to concentrate on landing my shots.   After a little more sparring, Sean declared a break-time.
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“My turn.” Nick said, hopping up from his spot in the grass.
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“Sure thing, man.  Ed, you’re up.”  He said, gesturing toward Nick.
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“What?” I squeaked.  Then I tried to recover.  “Ha, ha.  Funny.  Good joke.”
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“I’m not joking–it will be good for you to spar with someone different.  He has a completely different style.” Sean said.
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“But I won’t be of any help to him, and it will be a waste of his time.” I said quickly.
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“Nonsense–you’ll make a great opponent.” Nick said, with a strange gleam in his eye.
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We sank into our fighting stances and I valiantly tried to psyche myself up to hit Nick.
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After a few moments of us simply circling each other, I thought I can’t hit him.  He’s too nice.
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“I can’t hit you.  You’re too nice.” I said.  I heard Sean let out a bark of laughter, and I was almost certain I heard him say something like, “Never was a problem with me.”
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Before I could react, Nick reached out and swiped the side of my head with a slap that had me stumbling back in disoriented surprise.
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“How do you feel about hitting me now?” he asked.
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“Oh, I feel great about hitting you now.” I said, recovering my stance.  I was ready.
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“Glad we got that cleared up.” he said dryly.
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Nick took his sparring seriously.  While Sean would usually crack jokes while dancing around my strikes, Nick barely cracked a smile.  His style was different, as Sean had warned–there was less evasion and redirection and more surprise and brute force.  He was incredibly strong, and he moved faster than I expected.
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After Nick bested me three times, Sean called out, “My turn.” I gratefully slunk away and sank to the grass.
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“Hold on.” Nick said, before turning and peeling off his shirt.  “It’s hot as hell.”
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As hot as it was, I couldn’t help but feel like it must be Christmas as I drank in the beauty of Nick’s physique. Holy shit!
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I was watching him with stunned fascination and wondering how I was going to be able to ever get the image of his perfect body out of my head long enough to work with him when I noticed something else that was even more interesting than his glorious abs.
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I was more intrigued by the huge knife that was tattooed onto his back and followed by a line of characters that trailed down into the waistband of his shorts.
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While I wasn’t all that shocked that Nick had a tattoo–it seemed like everyone had them these days–I was taken aback by the fact that it was a knife.  Nick didn’t seem like the bloodthirsty type, but then I remembered his vicious swipe at my head and wondered if I should reconsider my view of him.
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What do I really know about him, anyway? I thought.  The truth was: not much. Not much at all.
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After Sean had beat Nick twice in a row and they were both starting to show signs of fatigue, they called an end to the sparring.  Sean went inside to get some water and grab a towel and I cautiously made my way toward Nick.
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“Shit.  I need to be doing this more.” Nick said.
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“You did pretty well.  You beat Sean once.” I said.
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“Not good enough.” Nick said.
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“I take it you’re competitive?” I said.
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Nick laughed softly before admitting it.  “Very.”
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I tried (unsuccessfully) not to stare at his pecs as I ventured to find out what I wanted to know.
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“So…that’s a pretty interesting tattoo.” I said.
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“What? Oh, yeah.  I forget it’s there.” Nick said, and I watched his expression become a little more guarded.
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“What do the characters below it mean?” I asked. Might as well be direct about it.
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He looked at me uneasily for several moments before saying, “It means ‘all the old knives that have rusted in my back, I drive in yours’.”
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“Huh.” I said.  I didn’t know what to say.
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“An old proverb or fable from a Roman poet.  Phaedrus.  I took a class in Greek and Roman literature in college and that quote stayed with me.  But the characters are actually Chinese.  The tattoo was….an impulse.” he said.
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“You were drunk?” I asked.
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“No.  I was angry.” he said.  “Well, I’m beat.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”
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I took his hint and dropped the subject, but I filed it away as something to figure out later.  On the one hand, I didn’t want to dredge up bad memories for him, but on the other hand–you don’t tattoo something on yourself that you want to forget.
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I’d followed Nick inside, but once he’d gone I was left alone with Sean.
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“Enjoy your show?” Sean asked, watching as Nick drove away.
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“The sparring? Sure…you are both really good.” I said.
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“I noticed you really snapped to attention once his shirt came off.” Sean said lightly.  There was the merest edge to his voice.
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He’s jealous!
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“You’re jealous.” I said.
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“Yes.” he replied.
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“You know…” I said, moving closer to him.  “I wouldn’t mind seeing you shirtless.  Someday.”
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His eyebrows shot up and he started to smile.
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“Ditto, my darling.  Now you’d better leave before I decide that today is ‘someday’.” he said.  I grinned at him and left before he made good on his threat.
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• August 27, 2010
• An Edith Prescott Mystery: Story 3
• 42 Comments