Day and Night Ch. 01

Please note this story was originally titled "Flirting the Fence" but has since been changed to "Day and Night".

This was one of my first stories, when I was still learning how to write, build worlds, and craft complex characters. Now, I look back and cringe, but my readers don't. So this is for the readers who fell in love with these characters. It's lightly edited, but the heart remains the same.

Rosi

***

"God, I'm so stupid," Beth muttered, walking quickly down the street while she shifted her eyes. She'd always loved hitting the town, seeing the new nightclubs, visiting the hottest restaurants, and taking advantage of the New York City nightlife. Of course when she did this she was usually surrounded by friends and people she trusted, not out alone at three in the morning like she was now.

It's all his fault.

She burrowed further into the fur-lining of her leather jacket, listening for any sounds other than her three inch heels hitting the pavement. The reason Beth had gone out tonight was to celebrate. She'd just broken up with her fiancé of two years. Truthfully, she hadn't even liked him, let alone loved the guy. Beth planned to marry him as a business deal, a mutually beneficial contract for both of them.

Jason Brucksworth II had money, influence, and a last name known around the world. Beth was an up-and-coming criminal attorney from a farming town in Iowa that never really fit her. He wanted the pretty little wife who cooked and cleaned and she wanted his last name.

Everything had been going as planned until she came back from her friend Ty's birthday bash a bit early and found Jason screwing her best friend on the kitchen table. Well... ex-best friend.

It was all so cliche. So played out. Of course Simone had fucked Jason and of course it had been on the kitchen island where—had they actually gone through with the marriage—Beth would have spent most of her life. Instead of reacting with hysterics, Beth calmly closed the door and left, hailed a cab at the corner, and gone to the Black Flamingo on the East Side.

The restaurant and club suited her mood. The drinks were spicy, waiters friendly, and atmosphere a mix of safe, sexy, and friendly. While she'd grinded on a few men to some of the more risque songs, she'd also danced her ass off and laughed to the more upbeat tempo jams with a group of forty year olds out on the town. It was exactly what she needed, not drowning her sorrows but celebrating her liberation.

Too bad for her celebrating liberation went hand in hand with indulging in libations. Beth's taco-to-ginger caipirinha ratio had been a bit skewed. Closing time flashed with the bar lights, and made her actually aware of the melting sensation across her face where her makeup had been earlier in the night, and the blisters quickly making themselves known on her feet.

But home was a dirty kitchen island, fuckboi fiancés, and slutty former-best friend. A hotel was one option, but it wasn't the right one. Beth knew she needed to go home, but freedom called to her in the form of a still active city. So instead of taking one of the dozen or so cabs near the club, she walked.

And walked.

And walked.

Walked until sights became unrecognizable, streetlights dimmered, and sidewalks heavily littered with trash. Bars popped up on windows, not unusual for the city, but these were at awkward angles as if people had tried to pass them.

She looked up as she hit a corner, an intersection of Gates Avenue and Grand Ave. New York didn't always have numbers marking the street and when they weren't Beth was acutely aware of her small town routes with only a few hundred streets to memorize in the hole of the town. Most of them so old, their posts weren't even there to mark them but you knew all the same.

"Fuck," Beth cursed, making a snap decision to take Grand in the hopes it would lead to a street laden with signiture yellow cabs. "I can't believe I'm lost."

***

Day watched the redhead in a designer jacket better suited to Manhattan hurry down the street. He decided she must be either lost or really stupid to walk in his neighborhood at this time. Alone.

Brian, his son, had woken him not more than two minutes ago because he had heard some funny noises. Though noises turned out to be four adolescent boys making obscene comments about a woman. With the window partially open to the alleyway Brian's room faced, it hadn't been hard to smell the alcohol below. All of which boiled down to a very bad mix.

"Go to the guest room, son," Day urged, closing the window and escorting the little boy across the small apartment. The fact they even had a guest room was a miracle with New York prices.

Once Brian was situated, Day went into the living room to look through the windows there. He had seen the redhead keeping her head on a swivel. Smart move, but with those shoes she has on...

It didn't take him long to figure out what would happen if he didn't step in. Alcohol, hormones, and group mentality made stupid, reckless boys do horrible, henious things. Of course her could ignore it, blame the woman, but that wasn't who he was. Bad things happened, but they didn't always have to.

It took less than a minute to squish his feet into a pair of old tennis shoes. He grabbed Brian's baseball bat and his keys then headed out the door, taking the stairs two at a time.

***

Beth was about half way down the street when she heard footsteps behind her. Following the footsteps were crude hoots and hollers, along the lines of "Damn baby!" and "Why don't you bring that white ass over here?"

Beth picked up her pace, almost running, while simultaneously looking over her shoulder. She heard laughing and someone say, "Baby, why you runnin'? Why you runnin'?"

She was nearing the end of the street, turning and looking over her shoulder when she slammed into a wall. Losing her balance, Beth began to teeter on her heels. Before she could fall a hand reached out and steadied her. It was only then that Beth realized it was a man and not a wall. But with his build, it was an easy mistake to make.

In the seconds that followed him grabbing and steadying her, it seemed that fear was a living breathing thing in her body. Before she could scream or think to scream, she was behind the man-wall staring at a grey t-shirt covering wide shoulders.

"I got you," the man-wall said as the footsteps and hooting come to a stop.

Instinctively, Beth took a step closer to the man. Perhaps something in her DNA recognized him as one of the decent guys, maybe she was just really cold and he was giving off some serious body heat, or maybe she was just still super drunk. Beth thought the later, even though she'd had her last drink sometime after midnight and had danced most, if not all of it, off.

"Yo, Day. What you doin' out here at this time?" She could hear one of the guys who had been following her ask. "Real dangerous. You get me?"

Day?

Curiously or maybe stupidly, Beth peeked around the man's shoulders, seeing four guys with glazed eyes, weaving where they stood. Only one looked sober. He stood slightly in front of the group, head tilted with such a relaxed expression she wondered if he was on drugs.

"Shouldn't be dangerous at all. Should be able to go out any time I want to handle my business, Marcus," man-wall replied in a voice that belied the tension straining his back. Beth shivered at his voice, so deep and raspy, like he'd just woken up.

"Nah, see, that ain't right. Any business you gotta handle at this time goes through me." He spit off to the side. "'Sides, what's that kid gonna think of his pops fuckin' round with drugs?"

Drugs?

"If your mother heard you talk like that she'd beat the black outta you," man-wall growled, taking a menacing step toward the group. "Now let me make myself clear, boy," he stressed. "You sell anything illegal in my neighborhood where my son lives... It'll be real unfortunate when your mother's gotta grieve another son."

Beth heard what sounded like all of the boys shuffling back. Beth watched the muscles in the man's back flex underneath the shirt, agitation clear in his posture.

"Go home," Man-wall said in a low controlled voice. "Before you can't."

"And what you gonna do with her?" a voice spoke up from within the group. "Think you'll be safe with him, baby?"

Beth looked over her shoulder down the dimly lit, grimy street. There was no way she could run in these shoes and no way she could take them off and run barefoot. Already the twinkle of broken glass was reflected at her. No cabs meandered down the street and no police cars or sirens were around. She would have called for help, but her phone died early in the night at Ty's party and part of the reason she'd left early to her apartment was because she needed to charge.

Stupid Jason and stupid Simone having stupid sex and forcing me to make stupid decisions.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The other members of the group grunted in agreement as if to say, "Trust us."

Yeah, not likely.

"She's safe with me," the man said softly, "Seeing as Mary's my girlfriend." He turned and wrapped his arm around her, bringing Beth close so all the boys could see his claim.

Beth squeaked out a very unrealistic, "Sure am."

The boys looked at each other then back to her then at the man-wall. Their expressions were slow, actions languorous as if it took immense effort. The boy Beth thought might be the leader—and on closer inspection definitely on drugs—cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "You fuck white bitches now? Tasha wouldn't like that."

Man-wall had the kid up on his toes, dangling by a fist curled in his shirt. "Say it again. I dare you."

The kid's eyes bulged, arms struggling up to weakly fight against the one who held him. Man-wall sneered before dropping the kid. "Go home, Marcus."

"It's Bonecrusher," the kid whined from his place sprawled on the ground.

"Fuck off!" Man-wall dismissed, coming back to her and mouthing, It's going to be okay.

Beth doubted that. Her life was crumbling and this was just one more landslide destroying what was left of it.

"You can't fucking do that to Bonecrusher," one of the boys complained, flipping out a knife and weaving from side-to-side. "You gotta pay for that."

Man-wall stepped in front of Beth in an instant, his already alert stance sharpening to a predator's loose limbed readiness. This man, who had no clue who she was, was willing to risk himself to protect her. It was madness, and Beth did the only thing she could think of.

Wrapping her freezing arms around her protector, she rubbed up against him in a move she'd seen many of her coupled-up friends pull. "I missed you so much, but I'm tired and cold. " Beth said, drawing the words out and putting heat behind them. "Can we go inside so you can... warm me up?"

If Man-wall noticed her horrible shaking and pale, worried expression her chose to ignore it and play along. "Well kids," he muttered, looking over her head at the boys and tapping the bat he held in his hand hard against the concrete sidewalk, "Fun chat, but I gotta get my woman inside before she freezes to death.

"But," he paused dramatically, and Beth was glad she couldn't see his expression, "If I catch you doing what I know you were going to do tonight again... What you do in this neighborhood effects everyone who looks like us. Everyone. You wanna go and break the law and fuck up people's lives do everyone a favor and just kill yourself. You might spare a Black boy minding his business from catching a bullet."

"We didn't mean—"

"You knew," her protector ruthlessly cut him off. "You knew. Do better. Go. Home."

Beth had never heard a person talk like that. Talked with such sorrow and such exhaustion and blatant truth. It was in everything her both didn't and did say. Too heavy to deal with after a night of dancing and everything else. Beth sagged in the man's arms, so tired.

Slowly the boys began to shuffle away and Beth chanced a look up. Their faces were drawn, eyes slightly clearer. They didn't weave as they walked, didn't stumble. Shoulders drooped and heavy, they turned and disappeared down the street into various apartment complexes.

The leader was the last to go, trying to stare her protector down. Just as he turned to leave, Man-wall called out to him, "Marcus!"

The boy turned around and looked at him, reaching deep in his pocket. "Say hi to your Ma and Pop for me. I'll see 'em at Sunday services. You too."

The boy looked stricken, fingers reaching for the heavy gold cross around his neck. His eyes darted to her and it was the first time she thought he saw her as a person. "Okay, Day. Okay."

Day? Weird name.

"Here," Day said, handing her a set of keys but keeping his eyes trained on the disappearing group of boys. "Go inside the apartment behind me, up to the fourth floor—4A. You can wait there and call a cab. My son's there. I won't hurt you. "

Beth was hesitant. The boys were gone and weren't likely to come back, but she still had no clue where she was, and it was more than obvious cabs did not come over here. Her options were slim, so she took the keys and rushed to the apartment complex he'd come from.

Ignoring her screaming feet, she reached for the door and unlocked it. Day was right behind her, watching her back as they trekked up the stairs and into his apartment. It was only after they were safely inside that she slid against the door and let the past few hours crash over her.

***

Day watched the woman sink to the floor and break down in silent tears that rocked her small frame. The adrenaline that had kept him up and alert started wearing off as they climbed the stairs, and now a yawn cracked his jaw and brought tears to the corners of his eyes. Exhaustion fogged his brain as he rubbed at his eyes. Still, he wasn't sure what to do with the tearful redhead, so he side stepped her and locked the door. He took a couple steps back and awkwardly scratched his shaved head.

The woman looked up at him through bleary, red-rimmed eyes. Her mouth opened and shut as if she was speaking, but no words came. Until finally two did, "Help me."

She wanted him to help her but he could barely help himself. There were days when he felt completely submerged, weighted down with his responsibilities while grief ate a hole in his life. Even so, Day didn't stop to think about his actions, just opened his arms and beckoned her over.

She tried to stand up, but pain flashed across her face and she sat down heavily, tiny fingers going to the strappy heels on her feet. When they were off she tried again to place weight on the appendages, but winced. Frustration mixed with the devastation on her face before she gave up and crawled over to him. He squatted and wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into him.

Broke down.

She was so small, so soft, and she smelled wonderful. When was the last time I held a woman? Day tried to remember as he buried his nose in the woman's hair and breathed in her fragrance. He missed it—the contrast, the warmth, the intimacy.

A few seconds later Brian came out of Day's room, rubbing his eyes and staring at his father locked in an embrace with a strange woman. Day silently shook his head and mouthed, Go to sleep.

Brian nodded and headed off to his own bedroom, giving his father a little wave. Day sat still as seconds ticked into minutes with the woman moving from body-wracking sobs to deep, chest-rattling breaths.

The floor was less than comfortable, so with as much gentleness as he could muster, Day picked the woman up and moved them to the couch a few steps away. Instinctively, her arms wrapped around his neck, small body curling into his as he sat them on the couch with her in his lap. Very gently, he disentangled her from his soaked shirt and placed her a little distance away from him.

"Are you okay now?"

"No," her voice was quiet and hoarse.

He scratched his head, feeling like an asshole, as he said the words, "Let me call you a cab."

She flashed her arm out, stopping him. "Please, no. Just. Please, wait."

"Look," he sighed deeply, eyes moving to the blinds covering the windows. "It's late, I'm exhausted, and I don't know you. I can't let you stay in my—"

She forced a rectangular card on him, and his brow quirked up as he looked over her license. Beth C. McNair.

"Just for the night," she said quietly, as he glanced away from her license to her face. "I'll leave once the sun's up but I can't go back there. Please. I can't."

He looked at the address on her license, not surprised to see she lived in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods of the city. "Why don't you want to go home, Beth?"

"I just... I just don't. Can't."

Day rubbed a hand across his head as he thought about it. "A cab could drop you off at a hotel."

"I don't have enough cash for a hotel, and I don't want to use my credit card. Just, please." That 'please' just about broke Day's heart, and the accompanying tears weren't helping any.

Reacting on impulse, Day dragged the woman against his chest again, gently rocking her back and forth, whispering soothing nothings to try and calm her. A yawn crept up and took him by surprise. He turned his head and covered his mouth.

"One night. We both need sleep," Day said around another yawn. He tried to set her away from him, but she clutched onto his shirt.

Never had Day had a woman cling like this to him, and he wasn't exactly sure what to do. She seemed devastated, like her world had collapsed around her. Maybe it had.

Day rubbed a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I need to get you some blankets."

"No," Beth said quietly, her voice hoarse and thready.

"Well the alternative is sleeping with me," he bit, tone harder than he intended. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just exhausted and—"

"Okay."

Day blinked a few times, not sure he had heard her correctly. "Okay, what?"

The woman took a deep breath, pulled back, and looked him straight in the eye. "I'll sleep with you."