Exes & Frying Pans

Four o'clock rolled around and Jet sobered up enough to drive home. I walked her out to the treed semi-circle driveway to her little purple Beemer. The hip pocket of the blue jeans I wore began to vibrate furiously as my cell phone rang. A glace to the screen revealed it was Willow. I answered and spoke.

"Hallo. What can I do you for?"

Her voice rushed out in a panic. "Mike is in town. He just stopped by looking for you. Said he heard you were here. I totally blanked and told him no, you lived off Currant Way nowadays. He left about five minutes ago. He remembers what your car looks like. He'll find the house." My heart thundered harder with each word that fell out of the earpiece and sank into my brain.

"Oh my god. Is Dmitri still there?" Please say no, please say no, please say no. Please tell me he left to come home about five minutes before Mike arrived. Tell me I'll see Dmitri before Mike...

"He came in the back as I closed the front door. He asked me who it was, and I told him. Dmitri just left – I called you as soon as he drove off." My lingering buzz was gone. My free hand clutched Jet's arm in a hermit crab-like vice grip of sobriety.

"I gotta go." Thunder pounded in my ears.

"Okay honey, and I'm so sorry. No more kava-kava before ten a.m., I promise. Do you want me to call the police?"

"No, if it gets bad, I'll call them. I don't want my private life printed in the paper. But I gotta go, Willow. I'll call you afterward."

I hung up and blurted to Jet, "Mike is on his way here. Dmitri is on his tail. Please don't go. Not until Dmitri is here. Please." There was no coherency, just fear and the desire for something safe and familiar to keep me sane.

She wrapped an arm around me and said, "I won't. Fucker better not even get out of his car or he'll find a stiletto heel buried in his eye socket, tickling his frontal cortex."

I dreaded this moment since the day I walked out on Mike and the history of him I never wanted to remember. I despised myself for going to pieces whenever he entered my vicinity. But after what he did... dammit, I can't start remembering. Dmitri will be here soon, I reminded myself. He'll banish Mike in a way I can't.

Speak of the devil, but who turned onto my cul de sac and made a beeline to my home? The one person I could happily live my life without ever seeing again. His beat up Impala slowed to a halt at the curb next to my mailbox. I saw him put it in park and take the keys out of the ignition. He palmed the keys and went to unbuckle his seat belt. My heart thumped and pounded something fierce against my ribcage. Fear rolled over me. I wanted Dmitri next to me, lending me his silent strength as I addressed the walking terror. Jet's arm was still around me. It tightened as she saw my reaction. She hated Mike with a passion not unlike a category five hurricane. He would do well to fear her; given a chance, she'd jump on his back like an Amazon warrior queen and hammer the dangerously pointy heel of her sandal into his cranium.

Mike turned and smiled at me. I did not smile back. I was in the midst of a panic attack. He'd seen me cry too many times. Never again. It had been five and a half years since I saw him last, and for what I thought was the last time I'd be cursed with his company. I would not give that man satisfaction or the notion that I enjoyed his presence. He'd once taken all of me I had to give; I will give him no more. That included my voice. Once upon a time I found his brown eyes inviting and his smile charming. Now, he reminded me of the snakes he collected as pets. A member of the constrictor family that could easily squeeze the life out of one, if caught in his coils.

Mike's words broke the silence like a plate thrown on cement. "Kaylis, darlin'! You're looking just as beautiful as I remember." The door to his car began to creep open, and Jet shoved me behind her in a protective manner.

"Get the hell out of here, Mike. You're like a whiff of dog shit... I don't know where you came from, but you sure as hell aren't welcome."

"Jetty-jet. Still anorexic, I see. I'm here to speak with Kay bay-bay, not you."

"She doesn't want to talk to you. Ever. Buy a clue and get the hell out of here. I will personally call the cops if you step out of your car." Her voice lowered, reminding me of a lioness's growl of warning before ripping the throat out of an interloper. A glance down to her hands showed fingers curved and poised for eye gouging. Her threat to call the authorities was her shot across Mike's bow. She'd call the cops, but only after she laid him out.

"I want to hear her tell me to go away and I will leave. Boy Scout's promise." Mike's hand was still easing the door open, and I feared nothing more than him getting out and approaching me.

"She doesn't need to do shit for you anymore. Go. Now." She was a tigress protecting her paralyzed cub.

Then, as beautiful as the sound of the Ride of the Valkyries played by a symphony orchestra, I heard the engine of Dmitri's blue Silverado rumbling towards us. It came fast around the turn onto the cul de sac and lurched to a screeching halt scant inches behind the green and primer colored Impala. Dmitri got out and came bounding towards me, ignoring Mike.

"You okay?" Dmitri touched my shoulder and face, looked in my eyes. I don't know what he saw, but his face darkened, and he shot a glare at Mike.

"She's fine, just shaken from Moobs over there. He just arrived, I told him to get lost. He wanted her to tell him to leave, but she didn't speak to him." A part of me smiled deep inside. Moobs was his code name for two reasons, the first and most important being that his body went to hell and now his tits were bigger than mine. The second and much more ironic reason was that it reflected his initials.

"I can answer for myself, Jet. Yes, I'm fine and he won't go." Using my peripheral vision, I could see Mike looking agitated inside his car. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. I could tame the wild beast of anxiety if I focused. That's what I told myself. I felt Dmitri's arms creep around me, and I relaxed.

"I'll talk to him. Go in the house. Jet, please go with her."

I turned and left, not acknowledging Mike as he bellowed after me, "Hey Kaylis, can I get your new number?"

I heard Dmitri answer, "No you can't, but I'll give you mine if you ask real nice."

Jet hustled me inside like a protective mama bear. Once the door shut, she and I both took up a position by the front window to see what was going on. My cell phone was in hand, 911 already entered. If things got ugly, all I'd have to do is push the green call button so I could save my Superman. Jet bounced off to the kitchen and returned with my twelve inch cast iron frying pan in hand. Her free hand held the door knob, and she kicked her heels off in anticipation of running Mike down and giving him a piece of her cast iron mind. We glanced at each other and she winked. "You know Kaylis, things are never dull when you're around."

I couldn't take my eyes off the scene for long. I dreaded the thought of imminent violence. My ex would be too arrogant to know when to stop and just take the advice my fiancé would unfailingly provide. It's not that I feared for Dmitri's life; but dealing with small town police and the gossip mill was another thing entirely.

Mike exited his car and stood on the sidewalk between the street and the driveway entrance. The dogwood trees stopped swaying in the summer afternoon breeze, as if in anticipation of the duel at hand. Dmitri stood with his arms crossed on the driveway next to my black Grand Cherokee, no more than six feet from Mike. His black tee-shirt, blue jeans and work boots were splattered in mud and grass clippings, his mud-encrusted work gloves hung out of his back pocket. He was immovable as a brick wall. Lips moved as they spoke back and forth. Then Mike said something that caused a look of amusement to appear on Dmitri's face. When Mike was mid-sentence, Dmitri said something that caused Mike to close his mouth and contemplate what it was he was about to say. After a moment, I saw Mike's lips mouth "Okay". He turned and my heart lifted.

He was going away!

Hopefully forever, never to darken my life again!

But then Mike pivoted and leaped forward to try and sucker punch my honey. Dmitri ducked and caught the fist, then planted his own fist firmly in Mike's open mouth. I saw blood on Dmitri's hand and gasped.

Jet chuckled, "He probably cut his knuckles on Big Mouth's teeth. Don't worry about Dmitri, he probably doesn't even feel it. Remember, he was in the Marine Corps? They aren't boys... they are warrior men. Let your man fight for your honor. Oooh, this can go in your romance novel!"

"Yeah, I don't think so." I watched in horror and glee as Dmitri planted another fist into Mike's bloated belly, and then gave him an upper cut to the chin. Mike spun around and fell face first onto the hood of his Impala, then slid into a pile on the sidewalk. Dmitri took a few steps toward the dazed heap of human excrement and spoke. Mike shook his head wildly and stood up. He moved gingerly. Blood dripped from his nose and lips-- I'm not sure if it belonged to Dmitri or Mike.

"Awwww. That weeble wobbled...and fell down!" Jet snickered. "They just don't make them like they used to."

Dmitri's lips moved while Mike scrambled into his car. Once he managed to jam the key into the ignition, he drove off and Dmitri walked up to the house with a lopsided grin on his face. I met him at the door so I could assess the damage done to his fist.

"What did he say to you?" I didn't wait for him to cross the threshold before I unleashed my version of the Inquisition. Jet and Dmitri shared a mid-stride high five over my head as he came in polished hardwood door.

He walked to the stainless steel kitchen sink, talking over his shoulder as he did so. Jet and I followed him in a state of anticipation.

"I told him you were done with him years ago and he should forget you exist. That we're getting married and he has no role in your current life." He let out a hiss as warm water washed his wound. "He said that he'd kick my ass if I ever hurt you. I told him if that's how he feels, he might as well bring it on now because you don't ever want to see him again. He tried jumping me, he got his ass handed to him on a platter. I also told him that Jet keeps a pair of steel toed boots and a Louisville Slugger in her car just in case she ever came across him in a dark alley...or she could finish up for me right now."

I gave a short nervous laugh. Jet held up the fry pan in her grasp and smiled appreciatively at Dmitri, encouraging him to finish.

"He got up, and I said he needed to get lost for good. He shows up again, we'll go and renew the restraining order." He smiled wryly. "I gotta admit, I didn't think a smack down like that would feel so invigorating."

I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his middle. My cheek pressed to his back and I could hear the steady thumping of his heart of gold. He smelled of earth and man, soap and sweat. He was my knight in shining armor, avenging angel and pillar of strength rolled in one. With a sigh, I broke away, and reached for the injured hand. There was a little flap of skin peeled back between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers. It wasn't an injury worth stitches, as I had feared. I placed a kiss on it, let go and walked over to Jet.

She stood by the couch, shoes in hand, rolling her eyes at me.

"Would you stop by Willow's and let her know everything is okay? She was really worried-- he took her off guard."

She nodded and bent to slip her foot into the ridiculously tall-heeled sandals she kicked off earlier. "I was already planning on it. He took us all off guard."

"Thanks. I'm going to try and relax. I...I...I didn't expect to see him ever again."

She gave me a hug, and said, "I know. But you did good, kid. You didn't give him jack shit and I'm proud of you. Go take a bubble bath and listen to some Massive Attack. That'll fix you right up."

I smiled wanly and silently agreed, a bubble bath did sound good after today's drama.

The thump of boot heels against the wooden floor from behind made my ears perk. Dmitri hugged me from behind, resting his chin atop my head. "Jet, thanks for being here. I know Kaylis and I both appreciate you wanting to whomp his ass."

She smiled her Cheshire Cat grin. "Honestly, Dimi, I wish you let him punch ya just once. It'd make Moobs think he had a chance. Then I coulda flattened his head with that pan. I wanted to work on my backhand swing." She adopted a regretful expression. Her green eyes morphed into puppy-dog eyes of longing and her chin wavered oh-so-delicately.

Dmitri chuckled. "Sorry to deprive you of the opportunity to make him your bitch."

Jet perked up with a smirk. "I'll live. There's always the possibility of next time. Mike doesn't know when to quit."

Dmitri held me tight and said, "There won't be a next time. We go straight to the police if he comes sniffing around here again."

I smiled. It felt wonderful to be so protected. I grew up in the next thing to a hippie commune. A sense of security outside of my grandparents was something I lacked until I met Dmitri. He was my rock, and I, his much-loved barnacle. It was as nature intended, he assured me more than once.

Jet left amidst the squeal of tires, Dmitri hopped on the computer to check his email and I wound my way to the master bathroom. The pale teal walls had cobalt blue and cream colored tiles that induced a feeling of tranquility. The roman style tub was large enough for two, as was the separate shower stall. The wall with the sinks possessed a mirror that spanned the width of the bathroom. The tub was in an alcove graced with a huge bay window bedecked with jungle plants that overlooked the back yard. It sat high enough that if one looked into the window, they'd see nothing but the philodendron gone wild.

I went to the linen closet and pulled out the extra pillows to reach my stashed treasure box of Lush goodies. I considered them on par with therapy of the highest kind. I delved into the amazingly pungent box and dug for my last bar of Blue Skies and Fluffy White Clouds. Normally, I'd cut it in thirds, but this wasn't a restful bath; oh no, it was pure therapy time. The entire bubble bar was to be sacrificed upon the alter of Good Feeling.

I cranked the tub faucet to toasty and crumbled the blue and white swirled bar into the cascading torrent. It dissolved into the scent of tranquility, complete with blue water and fluffy, abundant white bubbles. I stripped down and settled myself into the tub of relaxation. The scent of patchouli and frankincense enveloped me, and the thought of Michael Oliver Octavian Boyle and his litany of misdeeds began to fade from my mind.

About five minutes passed before Dmitri came in, boombox in hand, as I was chin-deep in my scented bubbles. "You forgot your music. Dr. Akbari would be most upset to discover you weren't following her instructions to the letter." He popped in a CD I identified as Mezzanine, put the boombox on the marble vanity top, plugged it in, and pressed play. A steady bass line began to make the steamy air throb.

"I'm gonna do it." I sank lower into the warm water, and blew a puff of air out my lips, causing some of the bubbles to dance mid-flight and land near my knees.

A crease formed on Dmitri's brow. "Do what, babe?" He sat on the edge of the tub and began taking off his muddy boots.

I felt awkward, as if admitting Willow could possibly be right would upset the balance of the natural order. "I'm going to see Willow's past life doctor. They are actual doctors of the non-voodoo kind, aren't they?"

"Don't know, You'd either have to Google him or ask Willow. Are you doing it to keep her out of the wedding planning?"

"No. I'm doing it because I don't like being useless where Mike is concerned. What would have happened if Jet hadn't been there? Or you?" My voice cracked with the emotion I was trying to keep inside. "I don't have the balls to tell him off like Jet does. I don't have the strength to knock the shit out of him, either... and he'd hit me back, anyhow." I looked up from the thousands of bubbles reflecting the upset look on my face and held his intense gaze. "The feeling I got when I saw him is the same feeling I had when I threw up on you last night... I don't ever want to feel that way again."

How I wish I could take those words back. The look on his face defied description. I hastened to reassure him, "You didn't cause that feeling, I know you didn't. I dunno what it was exactly, but I know it wasn't you. You are nothing like him... but if it's possible, I'd like to get to the bottom of why I felt that way, especially since I equate you with good things."

Dmitri's aquiline nose flared as he exhaled. "I can understand that... and I don't ever want to see you look that terrified ever again. If you think that going to Willow's shrink will help to empower you against that loser, I say go for it. Kick ass and take names, babe."

I beamed at him. "I'm glad I got rid of the zero and hooked up with my hero."

He stood up and laughed. "Is there enough room in there for me, or do you prefer to hoard the bubbles to yourself?"

"There's plenty of room if you don't mind smelling like a Middle Eastern spice market."

He smiled. "Beats an English rose garden." He grabbed his black tee shirt by the hem and lifted it over his head, before dropping it onto the tiled floor. I always admired the grace in which Dmitri moved. Fluid and elegant with a sureness of movement. The waistband of his jeans rode low on his hips, and the sight of him in a state of casual undress excited me. His warrior's body never failed to garner my admiration. He was a sculpture of muscle and skin. Dmitri's hands rested on his hips as he looked at me. "Stop eyehumping me. I'm not even naked yet."

"Then you shouldn't be so damn attractive. I'm just admiring you. I'll stop if you want. But I'm warning you, if you think it's not a good thing, you might want to reconsider marrying me because I plan on spending the rest of my life staring aimlessly in your direction and heaving teenybopper sighs."

"It's not a bad thing... I can just see the hamster on its wheel when I look at you... and all the things you're thinking of doing to my poor, helpless body with that lecherous look in your eyes. You are a lecher, Kaylis."

I laughed. "You say that as if it's a bad thing."

Dmitri's hands went to unbutton his jeans, and it was with some effort that I maintained eye contact. My gaze swept down to his collarbone, to his pecs. I bit my lip and locked my eyes onto his face. He winked at me as he removed his faded indigo jeans. His six foot two frame was clad only in black boxer briefs, and to my eye, he was never more attractive. Broad shoulders tapered down to a trim waist and well-muscled thighs. As he finished undressing, I moved to make room for him in the tub.

"I can't see where your legs are with all these bubbles in the way."

"Just get in, Dmitri. You not gonna step on me."

He stepped into my deliciously feminine tub and sighed. "It's the middle of June in northern California... and you're taking a hot bath?"

"Either get in and enjoy or get out if you can't handle the heat, hun. You're the one who wanted to hop in without asking how toasty it was."

He sat down, and I positioned myself between his legs, my back against his chest. "You mean roasty, darling."

I smiled. "I meant 'get over here and kiss me', darling." I turned around and leaned against his chest to look up into his face.

Dmitri smiled down at me. One side of his mouth quirked higher than the other. "It's awesome how much you want me." He kissed me. Bubbles shot into the air from the sudden movement.

Bubbles and blue water sloshing out of the tub didn't faze us as we celebrated our love for each other. Dmitri's rough hands roamed my slippery length, searching, teasing. I took his cock in hand and straddled his lap to slide down his hardness.

Excitement built, reached its zenith and faded, all the while our lips moved against one another in a never-ending kiss. As I felt him throb inside me he whispered mid-kiss, "I love you."

I shattered with completion. We rested in that tub until the water cooled and the remaining bubbles popped on their own volition.