Tracy

016:

"I came to see if there was anything I could do to help you." His voice was low, knowing, and very calm. The black long sleeved polo shirt accentuated his very shrewd eyes. She could see the watch on his wrist and the dark hairs on his arm, as she scanned even this arm for track marks. Fuming she turned away.

"You can maybe help her-- or better yet, go get Casey to tend his baby momma."

Richard Mann's hands clapped slowly, mockingly. Tracy's eyes flew to his in rising anger. "Well! You heard what she said!"

"I did. Every word. And your performance right now is to die for."

"Oh, for Pete's Sake! I'm not performing!"

"No." He came forward, moved past her and looked out the door, noting that Jolie had made her way down the side of the house. "You're reacting to the news that your fiancé has cheated on you. But apparently it wasn't too big of a surprise, as you're obviously cheating on him with Fly Boy out there."

A flood of adrenaline preceded the crack of her slap against his dimpled cheek.

It was reaction, pure and simple.

She'd slapped before. And been slapped too.

She stood her ground, shaking, color high. "How dare you? You know nothing about me!"

Richard's hand was against his cheek, his mocking eyes penetrating, but not hostile. "I guess I deserved that."

"You're damn right." She trembled, and pushed herself back as far as she could to the sink.

"Or maybe that was what you wanted to do to him." He flexed his jaw slowly. "You pack a solid punch girl."

"Get out. Get out right now!" Her voice was low and controlled but her eyes fairly blazed. He chuckled, the palm lowering to reveal a perfect imprint of her hand.

"Does this mean you won't even discuss the film with us?"

Exasperated, heart pounding, she flung the sponge for good measure. Richard caught it-- one second his hand was at his side, the next it held the sponge. He flung it into the sink and took that step to crowd into her space. His eyes were sincere-- maybe that was his blessing or his curse-- she took a deep breath and raised her hand one more time, but this time he held it firmly, too firmly for her to slap again.

"If you're going to hit me, it would be better done in a gym, on a mat. Fair fight and all."

"Maybe I'm a street fighter. Let me go!" She hissed, her eyes darting over his shoulder frantically. Her knee was getting ready to pump up--

He felt that slight tension, and crowded even closer, moving his leg so she couldn't hit him in the balls. "I'm not going to street fight you." He had both wrists at her sides now, and his eyes were deadly serious. Tracy started to struggle.

"You'd be able to get out of this if you'd meet me in the gym. I'll teach you."

"There's nothing in this world I want you to teach me. Let me go, or I'm going to scream!" She wrenched her hands, tightly pinned, and her torso, adamantly wishing to not touch him.

"Come outside and listen to our proposal about the film. It's why we're here, yes?"

His breath in her face still smelled like cream of broccoli soup. She turned her face away. He let her go instantly. Stepped back. Still staring into her eyes intently, longer than most people would have looked directly. It was disconcerting. Tracy rubbed her wrists even though they didn't need rubbing. Her knuckles twanged for effect reminding her that she'd had a recent altercation that involved physicality.

"Look, I'm sorry for judging you." Richard finally lowered his gaze and backed to his space at the far counter. "You're right, I don't know what's going on with you and Casey. Your life until recently was such an open book-- public domain, you feel more familiar than you actually are to me."

Without looking at him she nodded and turned back to the dishes. "I'll come out when I'm done in here."

He stepped quickly to fill the spot Jolie had vacated. "Here, I can load the dishwasher."

She took a deep breath and then blew it out, striving for composure. No, she didn't really want him to help her, nor did she want to fight with anybody.

His hands joined hers as she rinsed bowls and spoons, bread plates and tureens. They loaded in strained silence. Tracy feeling morose about the revelations she'd received from Jolie, and taking the next logical step in her mind-- she'd have to get full custody of Danny. With everything going on, she might have to put school on hold. This was disappointing if not downright frustrating.

"Momma!" Speaking of the little imp.

She wanted to turn faster, whirl around and scoop him up, but her depression forbade it and she simply waited for him to arrive in front of her and lift him to her shoulder. He was jabbering in his little foreign language where she understood about every fifth word. Her eyes met Richard's again, and she was surprised to find that his now held a reservoir of compassion.

She felt her insides shaking, responding.

It was what she needed, wanted. Compassion.

Her life was shattering, her worlds were colliding.

She put out a hand to ward him off and instead, he shook his head, bowing, as if to say he understood, and one palm encompassed her neck, bringing her into contact once again. The warmth of another human touch was overwhelming and she felt the sting of tears.

"It's okay." Richard murmured.

"It's not okay."

"No. You're right."

"He's unfit. She's unfit. There's going to be a fight. I can't make these decisions! I mean, your film, the band, school-- it's too much!" He stroked the base of her skull with his thumb, murmuring against the crown of her head, silky hair crushing his lips. His eyes squeezed shut at her pain.

"Um hm..." Someone cleared their throat. Someone was Raine Maverick.

Richard set her away gently, as she discreetly wiped her eyes and turned to the sink to get Danny some water in his sippy cup. Richard excused himself, not looking at Raine as he passed him.

*****