Page 22 of Driven By Desire

H e’d heard her leave in an angry squeal of tires that still echoed in the emptiness of his room.

Grimly swigging his beer, he dragged his mind back to work.

When he realized he’d been looking at the same proposal for more than half an hour, he shut the laptop with a decisive snap.

Tossing his empty beer bottle into the trash, he walked down to grab another one from the fridge.

One pink head bent industriously over a sheet of paper at the dining table he crossed on his way to the kitchen.

Popping the beer open, he kept going through the kitchen door and out into the backyard.

Walking over to where the cars where garaged, he left the beer on the wrought iron table to the side and yanked the car cover off the MG.

She’d been busy. Not that he could make sense of the technical aspect of it but he knew progress when he saw it.

Cherry red. He should tell her to paint it cherry red when it was ready. It was the color his father had chosen all those years ago. Memories settled in a heavy cloud around him. Throat tightening painfully, he blinked back the tears that burned his eyes.

“I miss you, Dad,” he whispered, reaching across to stroke the faded upholstery. “I’m screwing it up. All of it. I wish you were here to show me how to do this right. Do all of it right.”

“If he were here, you wouldn’t have to do most of it.

” Chirag’s quiet voice had him stiffening.

Keeping his back to the house, he took his time resettling the car cover.

When he had both himself and the car under control, he turned and picked up his bottle.

Taking a slow, deliberate sip, he kept his eyes trained on the house framing his brother’s silhouette.

“You shouldn’t have to either.” Shrugging when his brother finally looked at him, Chirag said, “It’s not fair.”

“What’s fair got to do with anything?” Exhaustion seeped into his bones making him feel ninety years old. Leaning against the table, he asked, “Do you think I was wrong?”

“No.” Chirag walked over and turned to stand shoulder to shoulder with his brother. “Adi’s an adult. If he wants to look like an idiot, that’s his choice but Pooja should have asked permission.”

“Max gave her permission.” Even saying her name started a slow burn in his gut.

“She played Max.” The dry response had Krish swiveling to look at his brother. “You know Pooj. She’s probably been planning this for weeks and her day out with Max must have presented her with the perfect opportunity.”

“Max should have called one of us.” Stubbornly refusing to let go of his anger, Krish emptied his second bottle. Aiming for the trash can in the corner, he chucked it in with one perfectly aimed shot.

“Yes, she should have.”

The easy agreement deflated his rising temper like a pricked balloon. Irritated but not entirely sure by what, he muttered, “It was irresponsible.”

Chirag just made a non-committal noise in his throat and kept looking towards the house. Framed in the kitchen window, Pooja continued to work on her lines. After a moment, Krish said, “Can’t really blame her, I suppose.”

“Mmmhmm.” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his track pants, Chirag hunched his shoulders against the chill in the night air.

“Not like we’re perfect. Still, she should have known enough to contact one of us,” Krish continued to ramble.

“Uh huh.” Deciding there was nothing more fun that watching his responsible, steady elder brother come apart at the seams, Chirag settled in for the show.

“I’m sure the temporary hair color was her idea,” Krish added, a trifle defensively. “Bet Pooja pushed for permanent.”

“Sure.”

Rolling his shoulders, Krish wondered exactly why he was so annoyed by Chirag’s affable concurrence with everything he said. Until it occurred to him that Max wasn’t the only one who’d been played.

Giving Chirag a friendly shove, he chuckled, “I can see where Pooja gets her skill for manipulation from.”

“Learned at the knee of a master.” Rubbing his palms together to generate some heat, he straightened. “Right, so I’m going to handle the rebel army in there. You go make nice.”

---***---

Parking on the secluded street, Krish got out and walked over to Max’s house.

The garage was in darkness barring one light that burned towards the back.

The inviting yellow glow pouring out of the windows of the house had him quickening his step and ringing the doorbell with more enthusiasm than was required.

That enthusiasm withered slightly when faced with an angry, mutinous expression.

“What?”

“Can I come in?”

“I’m not sure.” Cocking one insolent eyebrow at him, Max said, “I haven’t asked you yet what my response should be.”

Guarded eyes met furious ones. “Can I come in?” he repeated.

“Whatever.” With that bad tempered non-reply, she spun on her heel and stormed off down the long corridor.

Krish shut the door quietly behind him and followed a lot less dramatically.

Entering the living room, he found Max piled up in a corner of the couch.

Body folded in, arms and legs tightly wrapped together, she was an angry, defiant human pretzel.

Lowering himself into the sofa opposite, he kept a healthy distance between them. “Is your father home?” Additional protection was always a good thing.

“Out of town.” The succinct reply didn’t help the situation much. Leaning forward, Krish reached for Max only to have her scoot further away from him.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper.” Proffering the olive branch, he eyed her hopefully.

Smacking it and his again-reaching hand away, Max shot to her feet. “You snotty, sanctimonious, arrogant, pompous, overbearing, egotistic-“

“I think you might be repeating yourself.” Getting to his feet as well, he said mildly. “A lot of those words mean the same thing.”

“You, you-“ On an incoherent splutter of rage, she put both her hands on his chest and shoved. Her ire rose as she realized she hadn’t budged him an inch. Looking around wildly for something to throw at his hard head, she spied a book she’d been reading on a side-table.

She was reaching for it when Krish grabbed her arm and hauled her back.

“Don’t.” Temper rising to match hers, he gave her a little shake. “I came here to have a civilized conversation. If you’re incapable of that, say so and I’ll leave.”

Wondering if she should knee him in the balls and show him just how civilized she was, Max wrenched her arm out of his grasp. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she fought to regain control of her rather infamous temper. The sooner he said what he came to say the sooner he would leave.

“Talk.” The curt order was all she was able to manage through the haze of fury that still blanketed her vision.

“I probably didn’t handle the situation earlier this evening very well but you have to see things from my point of view.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do I have to see things from your point of view?”

“Because-“

“Your point of view is boring, old-fashioned and repressed.” The words flew out of her mouth before she could think them through.

Krish flinched at the perfectly aimed hit. “It’s responsible.”

The stiff words had Max wincing. Guilt pinched her heart at the quiet hurt she saw in his eyes.

“Krish-“

“The three of them are all I have left of family in this world. They’re my responsibility, my promise to my parents and a daily reminder to be the best I can be for them.

If that means I’m irrational and obsessive when it comes to keeping them safe, to helping them carve out happy, complete lives, to seeing them be the people my parents dreamed they would be, then so be it.

They’re my heart, Max, and there is nothing in this world I wouldn’t do to keep them safe. ”

Pushing to get words out past the emotion clogging her throat, Max whispered, “Pooja was never in any danger. I would never have allowed any harm to come to her.”

“Every time she lies to or manipulates one of us into giving her something she’s not meant to have, she learns that it’s okay to use her wiles to get around people.

Every time she lashes out, either out of temper or selfishness, she becomes less than the wonderful person she truly is.

Every time I let her get away with it, I do her harm, Max.

Make no mistake about that. Old-fashioned, repressed and boring it may be but I will not do my sister the harm of letting her grow up into a selfish, bad-tempered human being who thinks of nothing and no one but her own enjoyment. ”

Squeezing the nape of his neck to try and release the fatigue that had a vice like grip on him, Krish turned away to stare blindly at the wall in front of him.

Why had he thought he could do this? Have a relationship in the middle of the manic chaos that was his life.

A wave of hopelessness had his shoulders sagging.

A second later, slim cool fingers enclosed his loosening them from around his neck.

Slowly massaging the tense muscles, Max slipped around to his front and looked up into those serious, intense eyes.

The wretched emotion in them had her breath hitching.

“I’m sorry.” The soft whisper had him closing his eyes and dropping his forehead to hers. Her fingers continued to work their magic as his traitorous muscles loosened and stretched languorously under them.

“It’s hard to completely comprehend from the outside the intricacies of what it takes to keep it together like you do. I’m really sorry about the language and about not checking with you before saying yes to the hair color.”

“Don’t.” Keeping his eyes closed, he soaked in the scent of her, the warmth of her. “Don’t apologize. That’s not what I came here for.”

“What did you come here for?”

“You. A moment of time with you. Just you.”