She clapped her hands and spun around, while hot tears fell out of her eyes, her body electric with fear and hate. She was going crazy, and she couldn’t stop it. She lost complete control, surrendering herself to a wild dance.
“Generational curses don’t exit stage left, Jack. No, no, no, my dear!” She snapped her fingers and shimmied about while Diesel barked and yelped. “Naw, baby. They keep going like the lies and bitches that birthed them! Ya happy now?! I’m not so wonderful and classy anymore to you, now am I?! BLACK ICE BABY!”
Jack got to his feet.
“That’s enough, Kim! Enough!”
He grabbed her as she fought him, squirming. Wailing. Crying out. He held her to him, rocked her, and she held onto him so tight, her nails dug into his arm. She stared into the flames of the fireplace as the tears kept coming, finding comfort in the way they danced and the big man’s heat that consumed her. Those flames kept on moving… twirling… no matter how hot they got. How ruined they were. How, when it was all said and done, they’d exist no more. Light snuffed out—just like her…
Dance, Lila, dance… Burn this motherfucker down…
Chapter Fourteen
He stood there watching as Kim trembled and began to undress while the water filled the basin. Nostalgic renderings were seldom an enticement for Jack. And yet, this was different. The antique ivory clawfoot basin propped by gold lion paws were more difficult to find around town, but Jack’s mother had one in her childhood home. It was now in his possession. How lucky was he? When Mama’s old place was being demolished after a bad storm had taken the roof away like a scene from the Wizard of Oz, he managed to take out a few pieces that survived, one of which was that old tub. He had it restored and placed in a corner bathroom on the second floor of his cabin, his own domain nestled in the woods. The tub sat right in the middle of the room—the star attraction.
Kim slid into the tub, and he turned off the water. As his fingers gripped the spigot, he thought about where he’d bought it. He’d changed the hardware to gold, to match the lion pedes.
He rarely used the opulent bathroom, decorated in gold, sand and beige marbled walls, a spotless ivory floor, and gleaming mirrors. He wasn’t certain why he’d gone that route as it wasn’t his style, but he figured on some subconscious level, it was a tribute to his deceased mother. She’d always wanted a bathroom just like that. She’d describe her dream home in great detail, while tearing pages out of magazines, and amassing them in a giant organizer over the years. Bathtubs had been her thing. He rarely took baths, for he found them awkward and confining. At that moment though, he was in a safe space, helping the woman he was falling in love with. He knelt at her side on a small white rug, recalling fondly how his mother used to wash his hair in that same tub. I miss you, Mom. Her raspy voice would ring from years of cigarette smoking, drinking, and laughing far too long at things that weren’t funny, but painful.
“Lean back.”
The water sloshed around slowly as Kim tilted her long neck, closed her eyes, and rested her head on the folded cream towel. Soundgarden’s, ‘Black Hole Sun’ played through the ceiling speakers, two large white candles flickered in the corners of the room, and a stick of vanilla incense burned, creating the perfect ambiance. Kim’s long arms hung off the sides of the basin and her knees peeked through the suds, which floated around her beautiful form like tiny white islands on the move.
“I’m sorry.”
He dipped the washcloth in the warm water, then started gently cleaning the smooth curves and dips of her shoulders.
“For what?” It was more of a statement than a question, but he figured she’d respond regardless.
“For having a nervous breakdown in front of you. I’ve never behaved that way before. I promise you that.” Eyes still closed; she raised her hand briefly to scratch the tip of her nose.
“You’re worried that I think you’re crazy now?”
She was quiet for a long while, then gave a weak nod.
“Well, we’ll just be crazy together.”
He was elated to see her smile at his comment. After she’d fallen apart in front of him, he tossed her over his shoulder, kicking and screaming, and took her upstairs, Diesel on his heels. He wanted her to be quiet. He wanted her to stop moving. He wanted to let her know that she was mistaken. She had a name—and she wasn’t Black Ice. He knew a lot about black ice, and Kim didn’t fit the bill. No, she was Black Warmth. Black Serenity. Black Peace.