Zia… Inside the Lair

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Going inside the building was rather uneventful.

They stepped over the threshold and were greeted by some of the others she’d seen before. The first person to greet her was Quinn Bradford, a mutual friend of her friend, Wren Douglas.

Zia had expected to see Wren here but didn’t want to appear rude to the woman to ask where Wren was. When she was around Quinn, the thought that the other woman was looking for a reason to start something was never far away.

Instead of the cruel inspection she expected, Quinn came up and hugged her. When she released Zia, Quinn continued to stare at her for a moment as if she waited to see if Zia would react in some unusual way.

That wouldn’t be something Zia gave her so easily. Everything within might want to come up with projectile vomiting, but Zia was still herself on some level. She could handle the intense scrutiny. Her ability to deal with that was second nature.

Her entire life folks had always stared and asked what she was based on her exotic looks from both sides of her family. She was the daughter of an African-American, or black as he preferred, father from the Creole deep roots of south Louisiana. Her mother was a proud Afro-Puerto Rican.

Together, her parents had raised her in Texas with the Texan spirit. She was taught to rule the world; there was never going to be a day now or ever that Zia would back down from showing strength—even if it wavered here and there.

Plastering on her best smile, Zia focused on showing genuine warmth toward the shorter woman.

“What a wonderful sight you are.” Quinn looked over her shoulder to spot Miss Connie. “I see you were true to your word. You’ve been a busy little bee as usual. I’ve got to give it to you. You’ve got skills, Miss Connie.”

Zia watched as her escort blew past her and Quinn to look around. Turning around in a tight circle, the older woman ignored the young, handsome couple who approached to greet her.

When the tall, gorgeous guy with the dark hair—what was his name again? Jack, Jackson, oh that’s right, it was Ajax, bent down to kiss her, Miss Connie dutifully lifted her chin to grant him access.

“Where’s Greg? We came to see him. Can you get him for me?” Miss Connie started straightening his clothes like he was her child.

“Miss Connie, not you too. How many times must I tell you all I’m not the damn bell boy, Butler, and errand boy around here?” He looked over to where Zia and Quinn stood and lobbed a question her way. “Please don’t tell me you have a lot of luggage I need to bring in? I’d like to be able not to have to lug it up three flights of stairs today.”

“And why not?” Miss Connie asked Ajax fussing with his t-shirt to try to tuck it in. “You’re as young as the first day of spring.”

After he successfully shooed her hands away from his t-shirt, Ajax looked at his girlfriend. Zia didn’t miss the smoldering look of love he shot her. “It’s because Hildy doesn’t believe in the power of the word UNCLE. I’m sore and tired. She won’t let up while we’re training.” Then to his girlfriend, Hildy, he said, “Bae, I love you something fierce, but you gotta stop with the violent attacks out of nowhere.”

“And you need to speed up your response time. I’ll stop attacking when you prove your reflexes are as fast as they need to be to take on whatever comes through that port—” The pretty woman who was a little taller than Zia cut off what she was about the say and looked over to Zia. “Pardon us, where are our manners? Zia, it’s so good to see you up and about.”

Hildy came over and extended a hand to shake hers. Ajax followed as Miss Connie sidestepped to allow them access to Zia. There was something about Hildy that Zia liked. It was as a shared mutual understanding and appreciation on a deep level radiated between them, or so she hoped. Call it Black Girl Magic or whatever, but Zia wanted Hildy to like her. She gladly shook the woman’s firm hand. It wasn’t long before the group was making chitchat and laughing at a funny story Hildy and Ajax told about a traffic stop they’d had.

Still not comfortable with her new surroundings, in case he appeared Zia kept a watchful eye. Miss Connie had a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes as she asked, “Where are the lovebirds, Matt and Wren? I need to make sure they know their great fortune.”

“What great fortune is that?” Quinn pushed Ajax over, almost making him stumble, to close in on Miss Connie.

“Hey, excuse you, you Lilliputian. Do I have to remind you not to push my mate around? Y’all gone learn today that Ajax isn’t your little brother to walk all over. Isn’t that right baby?” Hildy asked as Ajax stood back to allow Quinn space to press in on Miss Connie’s secret.

Quinn waved a hand as if dismissing what Hildy said. “Yeah, yeah, but he’s so adorable when it comes to us girls. You know that Hildy. Look at him. Isn’t he the cutest when he’s letting us get away with murder?”

“Not cool, Quinn. The closer Ajax gets to joining with his Drag—” The woman shot Zia another look before continuing. “I mean coming into his own, the more energy he has to use to stay calm and cordial. I know you think it’s cute, but my mate is doing everything he can to stay civil around here. Don’t make it harder on him than needed. Do we understand each other, Quinn?”

Quinn made a little face as if waving off Hildy’s admonishment.

Hildy didn’t stand down. “All right, you want to go there? What’s your Stripper name?”

What Zia could only describe as embarrassed irritation skirted across Quinn’s face. She remained silent in some weird game of defeat.

“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought. How about we try that again?”

Ajax spoke up, “Behave you two. We have a guest. No sister spats on display today.”

In unison, Hildy and Quinn said, “Shut it, Jax.” To which Hildy gave Quinn another evil eye or whatever that was she did to make the space feel like a Hippy-dippy trip.

If she didn’t know better, Zia would have sworn Hildy’s voice did something that made her almost want to do whatever she could to please the woman. But it was how dark her eyes got that gave Zia the hebbie jeebies of what the woman could do.

Zia held her breath sensing that Hildy would start throwing fists if the other woman didn’t agree. This scene was some straight-up confrontational TV happening right here within striking distance. Zia caught herself taking a few steps back as she waited for Quinn to respond.

She had to admit her assessment of Hildy had been spot on. She did like her. Hildy didn’t take no shit, and that was right in line with how Zia liked to roll. Yeah, if she would’ve been staying, Zia could see herself becoming real friends with Hildy.

Quinn turned to face Ajax and gave Hildy a smile that looked more like sisterly love than upset. “Hildy, you’re right. Lucien mentioned the same.” To Ajax, she said, “Jax, cutie pie, I apologize for pushing you out of the way. You know me and how I can be, but that’s no excuse for rudeness. Please accept my apology. And, speak up. I know you respect all us women, but don’t let us get away with murder. That should be reserved for your mate, Hildy. I was wrong. Like Hildy, you’re totally within your right to call me out on it. I’m going to work on doing better. I don’t want you to have to use more energy or suffer because of my callous behavior. Are we good?”

“Yes, but since we’re being honest, please don’t call me cutie pie. Technically, I’m older than you. It makes me feel like you’re petting a little boy on the head whenever you say it.”

“Oh,” Quinn’s cheeks got a little red at that. Zia could tell she’d had no idea that her term of endearment had been taken that way. “Okay then, I’ll make every attempt not to call you that. But, I do ask that you allow me to find a new nickname for you that we can both agree on.”

“Sure, but how about we start with Ajax or Jax.”

“Ajax! Work with her,” Hildy said. “You know it’s a big deal for Quinn to try to change. Don’t go from one extreme to another.”

“All right then.” His eyes brightened as a new thought came. “If there’s some less cherubic term of endearment you’d like to call me that doesn’t sound like I’m a toddler, then go for it.”

Quinn’s face exploded with a bright, beautiful smile. “Ooh, thank you! I have just the one—pumpkin!”

“No!” Ajax groaned and threw up his hands.

It took less than a second for Quinn to round back to Miss Connie. “Okay, old woman, spill what you know about Wren and Matt’s great fortune.”

Miss Connie lowered her eyelids and mimed a round belly as she smiled. Quinn squeaked.

“No way! You sure? I thought that was like impossible. And so soon?”

Zia was at a loss, feeling left way out of the conversation. She watched as Quinn and Miss Connie jumped up and down squealing with delight.

Not a part of the other two women’s conversation, Zia occupied herself with exploring the surroundings. The Lair more than lived up to its grand reputation. Its high ceiling collected their voices and turned them into acoustical beach balls.

Her line of sight followed the closest brick column that decorated the wall. What she’d thought were columns where more like the pillars from pictures of ancient temples. Zia’s eyes had scaled the length of the pillar up to reveal arches that fanned out to pour into the ceiling.

Her eyes fixated on the sight of such grand beauty. No wonder they got the acoustic effects they did in here. Enough arches fed into the ceiling to create a whispering gallery effect. It was an easy bet that someone standing on the other side of the large space could hear a hushed conversation from here. She made a quick note to keep that in mind if ever she wanted to have a private or confidential talk.

The brick interior walls boasted of grand history and character. Morning light poured in over the top of the huge entry doors and the tall windows that surrounded the entire perimeter of the building. It was already bright enough in here to render the industrial hanging lights ineffective to compete.

The massive fans that looked like originals from a bygone era of superb craftsmanship kept a lazy pace. Their long blades of steel caressed more than sliced through the air. They added to the chill mood and easy tone with whispers of ambiance. She stood almost mesmerized as they moved the atmosphere of the Lair around in an unhurried grace.

When she looked over at Hildy, the woman smiled, looped an arm through Ajax’s and rolled her eyes. “Not going to be us for a while, isn’t that right, Baby?” she asked Ajax, picking up on Miss Connie’s baby announcement.

His eyes were huge, and for a moment Zia could have sworn he wanted to say differently. Then she was sure. Ajax wanted them to have kids sooner than later.

She spoke up hoping to open the line of communication for the young couple when she said, “You two have already decided that? I bet you’d be great with a little one of your own. They take work, but you’re both young and would be able to handle it with no problem.” Satisfied with her meddling, Zia shut up and waited for them to pick up the conversation and run with it.

They were in a full-on comedic argument about who’d have diaper duty. Wren, Matt and who she’d expected was Lucien by the size and demeanor of him, approached. Quinn rushed over to Wren before she could blink, beating Zia out of surprising Wren. She watched as Quinn blurted out that they knew Wren was pregnant.

The one who had to be Lucien burst out laughing when Wren looked at her boyfriend with confusion. Then most of the group surrounded the couple for congratulatory well wishes. Miss Connie stayed back next to her. It might have been five minutes of this before Zia’s stomach flipped again. Her case of butterfly flutters rebounded with a vengeance.

She looked up in time to see him approaching. The first thing she noticed was that he’d cut off his beautiful shoulder-length hair. Zia wanted to mourn the loss, but the haircut gave him a youthful look she hadn’t remembered. It worked on him and made her get a severe case of the feels.

As he approached her, the others gave him a wide berth. Zia held her breath. He ran a massive hand through the mop of hair. A hand that captivated her. It hinted at great power and strength as it roved over his now close-cropped mane of thick, golden hair. What she wouldn’t do to be able to do that before she took her leave.

He was here. Greg was in the room, coming toward her.

He came to stand before Zia. She looked up at him. He said, “I’m so glad you’re here. Are you planning to stay in town?”

Zia launched her best smile at the gorgeous giant, as he closed the space between them.

“That depends.”

Yes, it had taken a lot for her to come here. After all the weird stuff that had happened over the last two weeks, she’d wanted to tell the nice lady from The Diner no. When she’d asked Zia to come back here to thank Greg and the others an internal protocol overrode her answer. Zia didn’t want to remember any of the night that had changed everything about her life. But, she couldn’t say that simple no. It was like a huge magnet pulled at her to come back to Atlanta. And, she still didn’t know how Miss Connie had tracked her down at her parents’ home in Texas.

A deep voice that reminded her of hot toddies, butterscotch and caramel responded. The golden voice blanketed Zia with a sense of comfort she couldn’t deny. It wrapped her in a cocoon of peace as Greg spoke.

“I hope you’ll allow me to sway you into staying in town.” The golden giant Viking that was Greg Griffin said, “I want you to stay.”

And like that, Zia found it impossible to tell him no. All plans to leave went out the back of her mind. On the drive to Atlanta, she’d told her mother that she’d most likely be coming back in a few days. There was something about this man that Zia couldn’t shake. She owed it to herself to give whatever this was she felt when she was around him time to play itself out. That was even if he might not be all the way human.

Deciding to play it coy and have a little fun, Zia said, “And people in Hell want ice water.”

When he chuckled, low and throaty, she caught the moan that tried to make a run for it in time. Did he know how sexylicious his voice was? Zia countered with another well-practiced smile. By the stroke of a miracle, she managed to keep her cool. Zia launched a suggestion to gauge his interest. The golden giant wasn’t flirting with her. Still, every word he’d spoken hit the spot with her that made Zia want to give in and touch him.

She took the plunge blurting out, “How about this? I was supposed to head back home in a few days. Just came back to finish cleaning out my apartment. I can stick around for a week and take my time packing up the last bits and bobbles. That way we can hang out a little bit more.”

He said nothing but ran his hand through his hair again as if contemplating a response. She couldn’t help but watch with rapt attention. Then her tongue went all slutty. Instinct drove it to trace the outline of her lips in tandem with his languid movement.

Power and promise of seduction played with her imagination. She locked in on how large and perfect his hand was. Zia had never given thought to how spellbinding a man’s hand in action could be. As his hand fell back to his side, she noticed the perfect nails that still couldn’t hide rough use and work. A single vein mesmerized her as it danced across the back of that hand. His casual nonchalance taunted her. Zia wanted him bad. Tearing her focus away from his hands, the others around them flooded her with a new set of concerns.

It was the heat generated by an intensity of stares that brought her back to the room. Hot, displeased and concentrated, the audience circled them to listen in. Greg hadn’t responded to her offer to stay longer.

What the hell?

And it grew worse with the group’s stares. The weight and rejection she endured were worse than if she had an albatross around her neck. Her statement about moving back home had gone over like a bad joke with the crowd if the glares she was fielding from everyone, but Greg were an indicator. No matter, this was between him and her.

Her offer hadn’t been important enough to register a response from him. Embarrassment and rejection were a pair of ugly bitches Zia had dodged all her life. Now she was firmly in their crosshairs in a take no prisoners situation. It was as if the emotions were making up for lost opportunities by the devastating and debilitating impact on how this felt.

Greg stood before her in all his golden gorgeousness. He remained as calm as he’d been when they first started speaking—unfazed. Did he care if she was leaving to go back home or had his early pronouncement been lip service? Had his request for her to stay been something cordial that he said to anyone visiting his home?

Zia didn’t know if she liked this about him. He was too hard to read, maybe even wishy-washy. Not good, not good at all. She needed fire, power, and spark from him, damn it.

This wouldn’t work if she were more into him than the other way around. There was no way she’d get caught up in a guy who could take or leave her. Plus, she’d have to find out exactly what she was dealing with before she allowed herself the few more inches it would take to finish falling for him.

This meeting was turning out to have been better in her head than in real-life. She hoped this wouldn’t fizzle out and turn into a dud. Nothing about her feelings had changed. She still wanted and wished something exciting and lasting could happen between them. Squashing down stupidity for thinking he might be into her and not just being nice as an act of duty took a lot of effort on her part.

Zia’s mother had always stressed that she never become that girl—the stupid one who fell for the guy who wasn’t that into her. The rule was to have them liking her more than the other way around. That way, she never got hurt. The way she felt about Greg was a clear violation of that rule.

It was faint and fleeting, but at that moment she saw it. A hint of interest that was way more intense than his actions betrayed flashed in those stormy blue eyes of his. Ah, so he was feeling her too. There was chemistry between them. The hook of common sense reeled her back in.

The Latin heritage from her mother’s side was strong with her. She wanted him to make a fuss and show her how this affected him. She needed him to fawn over her—like she was used to. He needed to be obvious about his intentions.

Zia had never learned to read subtlety with men. There had never been a reason for her to learn. They were usually all in her face. This was hard, and she didn’t like it one bit.

That must be it! Zia liked overt shows of interest, strength, power. She required way more emotions than what this dude was giving off. Greg’s muted responses were tripping her up, causing confusion and self-doubt. That would never do. He was acting like, well a lion, scoping her out. And, this is what made him different from any other man she’d ever encountered. Greg Griffin was different in more ways than she’d thought, including his reaction to her.

Gone was her fear replaced by a strong need to square off with him. If it were the last thing she did before leaving Atlanta for good, she’d win Greg’s affection. She'd know that he was into her more than she was him.

Launching another one of her smiles that made most men putty in her hands, Zia put her hands on her ample hips. She permitted herself to indulge in the joy of saying his name out loud.

“Greg.” The sound was throaty, sensual and packed with need, but she wouldn’t take it back. His presence this close to her warranted that amount of vulnerability.

“Zia?” His response enrobed her with a promise unspoken.

This had been what she’d come back for. A chance to have one last taste of a life that could never be with a sexy, dangerous, man-creature. It was settled. Before she left, Zia would make sure it was Greg and not her who fell the hardest. Yes, he’d be a formidable opponent, but the electricity of life, power, and promise was too strong to resist. As they stood there smiling at each other, Zia doubled down on her new quest. Greg Griffin might be a fearsome creature, but as a man, he was well worth the challenge.

Let the games begin.