Hannibal still had labeled Cherry in his mind, stayed in Rod’s trail, following at a respectful distance. She didn’t seem as comfortable in the heels or in the atmosphere as the others were, but her tentative smile expressed a brave effort to show she had what it takes. Hannibal stopped in the middle of the room, looking at no one in particular.
“Hey, Bucktooth. Any of these other people got names?”
A quick flash of anger rose and just as quickly faded in Rod’s eyes. “It’s Mantooth, dude. My man here is Derek. He takes care of people who can’t remember my name right.”
The younger man stepped forward and shook Hannibal’s hand. “Derek Steel,” he said through an exaggerated smile.
“Derek Steel?” Hannibal repeated. “That your real name, or you work in porn?”
Derek’s face darkened in a diluted imitation of Rod’s. “Do it say Smoke on your birth certificate, wiseass?”
“All right, don’t get excited,” Hannibal said, already knowing that at some point he was going to have to kick this boy’s ass. “Derek it is. Now what about the ladies?”
“I guess you already know Sheryl,” Rod said. The platinum blonde lowered her gaze to smile at Hannibal’s shoes. “Mariah, she’s the queen bee.” To Hannibal’s surprise, Mariah also faced him and lowered her eyes. “The new girl is Missy.” Again, eyes lowered and her head bowed. Derek chuckled and Rod wore a look of pride. Hannibal’s impression was that he was fishing for a compliment.
“You sure got them trained good.”
“Ah, a man who knows,” Rod said. “Sheryl, get Smoke a beer.” Sheryl’s head bowed slightly again, and she walked as quickly as she could without running toward the kitchen. Like that, Hannibal was accepted. Rod pressed his fists into his waist and made another proclamation.
“You girls get those groceries put away while I show Smoke around the place.”
Rod ushered Hannibal upstairs for a tour. They peeked into three bedrooms with queen size beds and another, Rod’s of course, that held a king size bed. Hannibal also noticed the alarms wired to every window. On their way back down a hall they met Sheryl. She was holding a tall mug with both hands. As Hannibal approached her, she presented it to him with a smile and another small bow of her head.
“Thanks,” he said, accepting the mug. Then, unsure if thank you was expected under the circumstances, he added, “Good girl.” Better to be condescending, he thought. Sheryl’s face brightened, and she glanced at Rod as if she had made some point. Rod ignored her and moved Hannibal on through the house.
They returned to the ground floor to see the two smaller bedrooms. One of them held only a single bed. The fifth held no bed at all, having been converted into an office. A computer and every peripheral Hannibal could name were crowded onto a cheap desk, the kind you buy as a kit and have to assemble. The computer’s flat screen monitor still bore a small sticker indicating that it had been a free upgrade. Brand new, Hannibal thought. He noted the stack of CD ROMs on the desk, but doubted that the disc Rod stole from Anita would be lying there among the clutter.
“Nice setup,” Hannibal said. “How fast is it?” He stepped forward toward the computer desk. Rod’s right arm shot forward, barring Hannibal’s progress.
“You don’t go in there.”
“Hey, I just wanted to see…”
“It’s seven hundred megahertz,” Rod said. “The house came with the high speed cable internet connection. And, you don’t go in there.”
“Okay. I’m not the kind that gets in somebody else’s stash.”
“That’s good,” Rod said with a cold smile. “Bad things happen to that kind.”
Hannibal’s voice dropped low and he held Rod’s eyes. “Yeah, like the shit that happens to guys who threaten me.” Then he raised his palms, smiled and stepped back. Challenging Rod was not the way to get into his sick little family. Hannibal would have to surrender the alpha male position but retain enough respect to capture, and maintain a firm grip on, the number two spot.
Turning away he noticed that Mariah had seen their exchange. She diverted her eyes from his but her smile communicated far more than her eyes would have. Then Rod snapped her name and she almost shivered. The warm frisson of fear, Hannibal thought. A chill. A tingle. That same feeling he enjoyed on a good roller coaster as a kid. She got it from Rod, and she seemed to like it.
“Go tell Missy it’s time for her to model those new swim suits. Want her to look just right for our little party. We’ll be in the living room waiting.”
Mariah dared a pout. “You’re going to pick her,” she said in a voice dripping with disappointment. He raised an eyebrow, and she hurried away.
In the living room Hannibal surveyed the scene for dynamics. A white leather sofa sat beside a black leather recliner. A white easy chair was turned at a ninety-degree angle to the recliner. A small coffee table was in front of the sofa. Sandalwood scented smoke drifted up from a stick of incense burning on the table. The ottoman at the end of the coffee table was accessible from either chair.
Rod plopped into the big recliner. Derek planted himself in the center of the white leather sofa, his arms stretched across its back. He was comfortable in his place as second chair, dominating the part of the room that Rod didn’t hold. Too bad for him.
Sheryl entered the room from the far side, nearer Rod than Derek. She paused as Hannibal crossed in front of her, hooking the ottoman with a foot and dragging it closer to Rod’s chair. He turned to sit on the ottoman and face Rod. Sheryl started to pass him, moving toward the sofa.
“So tell me big man,” Hannibal began, “what’s this big party you were telling Mariah about?” As he spoke his left hand darted out, fingers sliding into the back of Sheryl’s waistband. Without losing eye contact with Rod, he pulled her down onto his knee. He could only imagine the exchange of expressions between her and Derek. He had to keep his attention on Rod to demonstrate that Derek’s reaction, and Sheryl’s feeling on the matter, were of no concern to him. Rod’s grin told him that he had made the right move.
“You know, I got an instinct for people,” Rod said, pushing the chair back and raising the footrest. “I like you. I think you and me, we’re from the same school.”
While Hannibal tried to keep the acid bile down out of his throat, Mariah stepped back into the room. Hannibal noticed that the other two men had dropped their shoes at the door. Mariah had changed from her beach flip-flops to white spike heels. She tapped over to Rod, whispered, “She’s ready” through a seductive smile, and lowered herself to her knees in one smooth motion. Shifting over onto one hip she rested both hands on the arm of the chair with practiced grace, and centered her chin on the backs of her hands. It was “I Dream of Genie” cute, and Rod rewarded her with a pat on the head. Hannibal had seen it described in writing on a screen, but watching a woman actually move through those motions was entirely different.
“She’s exquisite,” Hannibal said. “I take it the sister is newer.”
Rod actually glowed at the compliment. “Yeah, well, some guys raise retrievers, right? This is harder, but a lot more rewarding. Okay, Missy, you’re on.”
All eyes followed Missy’s entrance. She wore a one-piece suit in the same cherry red as the bikini she had on before. She stepped across the room as if she was on a runway and flipped her long, thick mass of straightened black hair in a childish imitation of a fashion model move. She turned slowly, arching her back a little. Even on the exposed parts of her perfectly rounded behind her complexion was uniform, smooth and even, like Belgian chocolate. Rod nodded and smiled, and waved her away.
“Isn’t she the sweetest?” he said when Missy was gone. “Mariah found her. Practically begged to get in with us. I think she knows who can train her right. The party I mentioned before will be her, uh, her initiation. After that, I’m thinking of a long sea voyage. I’m getting sick of this place.”
“Really?” Hannibal said. “Wish I could just get in the wind for a while. Had to leave D.C. in kind of a hurry.”
Missy returned in another red outfit. This time she wore a satin tank top that didn’t quite hang to her navel, and a thong that left her rear completely exposed. After noticing the perfect shape of her legs as they moved, Hannibal’s gaze moved up to her eyes. The smile was real, but he could see that Missy wasn’t totally comfortable in this bathing suit. He didn’t understand why a woman would agree to embarrass herself this way, but it reflected a weakness of spirit that made him ache in a place he couldn’t identify.
“So, a big party, eh?” he said, keeping his emotions out of his voice. “Sounds like big fun, especially if this
