Black Rose

I’m going to go on up, get to some work I’ve put off.”
    “You haven’t had any dinner,” David reminded her. “Why don’t I bring you something?”
    “Not now. I’ll get something later.”
    David stayed on his feet, watching her walk out. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered when she was out of earshot. “Smarmy, sleazy, last-season Ferrogamo-wearing son of a bitch.”
    “Why don’t you and I go pay him a visit?” Harper stayed in his chair. His voice was still soft, as it had been, but now it had an edge to it, a predatory edge.
    “That’s a damn good idea.” Hayley sprang up, fists clenched at her sides. “Let’s all go pay him a call. Right now.”
    “Stand down, Xena.” David patted her shoulder. “While there’s little more I can think of that would be more entertaining than breaking a few of his caps, it’s not the answer.”
    “I hear four when you add two and two,” Harper said. “I say it’s the right answer.”
    “David’s right,” Stella pointed out. “It would upset and embarrass Roz, more than she’s already upset and embarrassed.”
    “Then we won’t tell her.” Hayley threw out her arms. “We can’t just sit here.”
    “I’m not,” Harper said. “You are.”
    “Just a damn minute—”
    “Hold on.” Like a referee, David stepped between them. “Think, Harper, past your temper. We go take a few very deserved hits at Clerk, his bruises’ll heal soon enough. And he’ll have the satisfaction of knowing he got to her, that he upset her. That’s the last thing she wants, and you and I know that. The most important weapon she has against him is indifference. She won’t have that when she has to bail you out on assault charges.”
    “I’ll tell you what else.” Stella continued to sit, her hands gripped tight in her lap. “The more we make of it, the more upset she’ll be. The best thing we can do for her is to take a page from her book. Treat it coolly, like business. And to remember, if it’s hard for us to do that, how much harder it is for her.”
    “I hate it,” Hayley raged. “I hate that you’re right, and I wish you’d been right after we’d beat the hell out of him. It shows character, Harper, that you want to stand up for her. And it shows character, I guess, to know it’s not the way.”
    MAYBE NOT, BUT Harper couldn’t quite erase the picture of Bryce in a bloody pulp at his feet. It probably didn’t hurt that he didn’t know exactly where to find the man. Oh, he could find out, a few calls would do the trick. But those calls might trickle back to the source before he got there.
    And in the end, he knew David was right.
    But he couldn’t just sit at home and stew. There was another matter he could deal with, and he didn’t give a damn whether or not his mother liked it.
    He was still spoiling for a fight when he knocked on Mitch’s apartment door.
    He half hoped he’d find Mitch with another woman. Then he could punch him in the mouth and defuse the sparking end of his temper.
    But when Mitch answered, he appeared to be alone. Unless you counted the noise that Harper recognized as a televised basketball game.
    “Hey. How’s it going? Come on in.”

    “I want to talk to you.”
    “Sure. Wait.” Mitch’s attention had already swung back to the huge television screen that dominated one wall. “Less than a minute to halftime. We’re down two. Damn it. Goddamn it, loose ball.”
    Despite himself, Harper found himself standing there, caught up in the action, calling out when number eight recovered the ball and, pivoting with a kind of magical grace, sent it sailing through the air.
    “Three! That’s three.” Mitch punched Harper companionably in the arm. “And there’s the buzzer. Want a drink?”
    “Could use a beer.”
    “Don’t have any, sorry. Coke?”
    “Fine, thanks.” He slipped his hands into his pockets as Mitch wandered off. Alone, he scanned the room, brow knitting over some coins dangling from red ribbons. “Hell of a TV,” he said when Mitch came back with a can.
    “Next to my son, my pride and joy. Have a seat.”
    “I’ll get right to it. Where’s this thing you’ve got going with my mother heading?”
    Mitch sat, studied Harper as he lifted his own can. “I can’t tell you, as a lot of it depends on her, and where she wants it to head. Obviously, since I’m not blind, deaf, or dead, I find her very attractive. I admire what she’s done with her life, and enjoy her company.”
    “If any of