But he wouldn’t go there.
Without a word Max gave them one last look, turned and sauntered out the door.
***
“You did what?” Suave’s eyes grew wide as she stared at her sister.
“I went in there and told him off.” Silken shrugged then plopped down on the locker room bench and began to untie her sneakers.
“But I didn’t ask you to do that.” Suave’s voice rose sharply, as it always did when she got upset with Silken. Which was pretty often. “I told you what happened in there and I said I handled it. Didn’t I?” When Silken ignored her she marched over to stand directly in front of her. “Didn’t I?”
Both sneakers now off, Silken looked up. “Yeah, but we both know how you are. You probably gave the guy a pat and said,” she pursed her lips in her best impression of a school marm, “'now be a good boy and don’t do that again'.”
Suave glared at her, her face indignant. “I did not. I was very firm. And I don’t need you fighting my battles for me. You have to stop doing that.”
“I'm your big sis. What do you expect?”
“Will you stop saying that? You’re just one minute older than I am so that doesn’t count and you know it.” Suave’s eyes flashed and she looked just about ready to stomp her foot, which was about as mad as she ever got.
Silken wanted to laugh but she held it in. She loved teasing her little sis about who was older and she never failed to get a rise out of her sibling. She had to stop doing this.
Yeah, maybe when they were sixty.
“I can just imagine how you embarrassed the poor man in front of everybody.”
Silken sucked in her breath. “Oh, no, you didn’t. You did not just start feeling sorry for the man who was sexually harassing you at the bar.”
“Well, no…” The pink flush of guilt rose in Suave’s cheeks. “It’s just that sometimes you can be so harsh.”
“Harsh? Didn’t the guy deserve it?” Silken hopped up off the bench and reached out to rest her hand on Suave’s arm. “You see? This is why you need me, sis. People will walk all over you if I’m not around. You’re just too nice.”
Suave shook her off. “I don’t need you fighting for me all the time. I’m sick of it.” And then she proceeded to pout and refused to say another word.
Silken stared at her then shook her head. Typical Suave. Spoiled brat.
But as they changed into street clothes Silken had to admit that if Suave was spoiled, it was her fault.
They were the offspring of a teenage mother who had asked that the State take custody and give them up for adoption. But, for some reason, it never happened. They’d grown up in the foster care system, moving from home to home, until they gained their freedom at the age of eighteen. And all those years it had been Silken who’d taken charge, beating down any bully who so much as sniffed at her little sister.
And that was who Suave was, her little sister, even if their time of arrival into the world was separated by only one minute, based on what they'd heard from their first social worker. They took her word as gospel, especially as they got older and Silken grew bigger, bolder and far more savvy about the ways of the world…and about men.
But Suave had to grow up sometime, Silken guessed. And yes, she had to start fighting her own battles. She heaved a sigh. “All right, Suave. No more getting involved in your business. Promise.”
Her sister turned, her eyes full of hope. “You promise? Really?”
Silken nodded. “Yes, really.” Then she gave a little grimace and muttered under her breath, “As much as it pains me.”
“What did you say?” Suave came closer.
“Uh, nothing.” The smile Silken gave her sister was all innocence. She bent to pick up her gym bag. “Let’s get out of here before the traffic builds up.”
They were pulling out of the parking lot when Silken put a hand on Suave’s arm. She jerked her chin toward the gleaming silver Mercedes Benz convertible pulling out ahead of them. Top down, it left the head and shoulders of the driver clearly visible. Dark head of hair, broad shoulders and a square chin set in stern lines, there was no mistaking his identity. “There’s the beast who put his hand on you,” she said through clenched teeth. She was still more than pissed off by his audacity. The nerve of the guy.
“What? Where?” Suave turned the steering wheel then took her focus off the inside road for a nano-second to glance around.
“There. Ahead of us.” Silken pointed in the direction of the car that was slowly turning onto the road to follow the line of vehicles ahead, all of them making their way toward the parking lot exit. “Don’t you see him?”
“N…no, I don’t see him.” Suave peered ahead, her voice full of doubt.
“You’re staring right at him," Silken said. "There, in the silver Benz up ahead.”
Suave shook her head. “No, that’s not him. That guy’s hair is jet black. The man who bothered me had dark brown hair.”
“Are you sure?” Silken frowned, a niggle of worry just beginning to creep into her mind. “That’s the guy who was at the bar, wasn’t it?”
“Nope.” This time Suave’s tone was strong and confident. “That guy had a bull neck and short, dark hair. This one’s hair curls at the nape and I can tell he’s a lot more handsome.”
“From staring at the back of his head?”
Suave chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”
Silken exhaled and sank back in her seat. Well, I’ll be damned. She’d hauled off and slammed the wrong man.
She glanced over at her sister. “Uh, Suave?”
The response she got was a dramatic sigh. “Yes, I know. You cursed out that guy up ahead, didn’t you?”
Silken grimaced. “How’d you guess?”
“You know what that means, don’t you?”