Collision Course

Collision Course 3: Rio

Letty was at the garage the next morning and the sight of her dark, scowling face brought him instant relief. He had been worried about her -- worried about where she would go and what she would do in this still unfamiliar country.

Language wasn't a problem. Letty, like himself, could speak a spattering of the local language. Portuguese was close to the bastardized Spanish they had grown up speaking in the barrios of East L.A. It came quickly for them. Not that it really mattered; many of the local Cariocas were multilingual and understood at least some English.

The problem was, that even though they had been in Brazil for nearly nine months, they really hadn't made many close friends. Partly because they were on the run, always afraid that their past would catch up to them, but mostly because they were a closely-knit group. A team that had been made all the tighter by the betrayal of the last person they had welcomed into their ranks.

"She spent the night at our place," Vince offered quietly as he approached Dom. "Came bangin' on our door about three o'clock this morning. Hissin' n' spittin' like I ain't seen her do in a loooong time." Dom felt his best friend's eyes searching his face. "She catch ya rollin' some floozy in the hay again?"

"No," he said coldly and the look on his face must have warned Vince to leave matters alone, because his friend arched his bushy brows in wonder and moved away.

Dom crossed over to the tool bench and began to idly sift through the tools that rested on top of it. He wiped each in turn with a soft rag before carefully replacing it in its correct spot. He could tell that Leon and Vince had worked late last night. They were a couple of slobs, and no matter how many times he lectured them about putting the tools away, they still left them lying scattered around.

Sooner than he had hoped, he finished his self-assigned task and had to turn back toward his friends.

The three of them were huddled around the front-end of the slender, open-wheeled racer that they had been working on for months. Letty must have felt his gaze because she suddenly lifted her head from where they had all been staring at the steering column.

He held her gaze, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited.

"Sleep well, Dom?" she asked snidely.

Vince and Leon lifted their heads and glanced back and forth between the two.

He knew she would start the attack again, right where she had left off, right in front of the guys. Letty was like that, utterly fearless in battle. "No," he replied truthfully.

Her face softened slightly, not much, but enough so that he noticed.

"Your *dream*s keep you *up*?" she sneered.

Dom stiffened in anger and directed his glare at Vince.

"Come on, Leon," Vince said as rose stiffly from his crouch. "Time for us to seek shelter."

"Huh?"

"They're gonna fight again, you moron," Vince said as he leaned down and jerked Leon to his feet. "And we'll be safer on the beach." As Vince passed him, he reached out with his good arm and smacked Dom on the shoulder. "It's been nice knowin' ya, Dom." He gave a little salute of respect to Letty and left the garage.

They stood in silence for several minutes, until Letty broke it. "So...you gonna apologize?"

"For what? I haven't done anything."

"No?" She moved closer. "That's hard to believe, knowing how your tastes are changing and seein' as how there are beaches packed full of lovely young *barbies* just droolin' for you." She stood right in front of him and glared up at him. "You like them, don't ya, Dom?"

Dom directed his fiercest scowl downward, but she never even paused.

"I'm not surprised. I like Barbies too 'cause they're just like you. Beautiful ..."

She slid a hand up under his white T-shirt so that she could inspect his chest. "... tanned ..."

She stroked his hard abs and bulging pecs. "... buff ..."

Then, holding his eyes she reached down and cupped his balls through his thin cotton work pants. "... and male," she said, her voice turning into a hiss as she squeezed hard enough that he actually winced. "Only difference is I'm supposed to be attracted to handsome men. *I'm* female, you're a *guy*."

Dom had enough. He reached down, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her hand free.

"It's not like that," he growled.

She struggled, pulling and jerking to free her wrist until he relented and let her go.

"Then tell me how it is?" she snarled. "Tell me how come we could have been together for six years, *six fucking years*, and how come all the sudden you can't stand to touch me anymore? How come you call out a *guy's* name in your sleep? I bet yer even thinking about him when you come, aren't ya?"

He shook his head and backed away.

"Oh yeah. That's it. Ain't it, Dom?" she demanded through the tears that were welling in her dark eyes. "It's Brian ... Brian ... God damned, Brian!" she ended up all but screaming at him.

He shook his head, horrified. "No. I ... "

"I'll tell you then. Ever since Carnival."

Dom felt as if he couldn't breathe. He turned away, not wanting to hear her anymore. He couldn't look at her, he couldn't face what she might say, what she might know.

"Ever since the parade, ever since that blond he-she *puta* mauled you on the street," she said and Dom shuddered. "You liked it didn't ya? You liked kissing a man. You liked the feel of a cock pressing into yours, didn't ya?"

Dom kept his back to her trying to block her out, trying to block out the memory of the drag queen's kiss.

"You know what else, Dom?" she asked from directly behind him. "That trans, with the curly blond hair and blue eyes, ya know who he reminded me of? Brian, that's who." Dom willed her to stop, willed her to --

"Shut up, Letty. Just shut the fuck up," he said from where he slumped against the tool bench.

"Why? Can't face the fact that ever since then, you've been dreaming about a *man*? That, the few times you have managed to get it up for me, you've pretended I was him? What? You think I wouldn't notice the fact that you suddenly developed a preference for 'doggy-style'?"

Dom reached behind him and shoved at her. "Shut up," he whispered.

"Poor, poor, Dom. How disappointed you must be that I wouldn't let you shove it up my ass. Or maybe I should invest in a dildo and butt fuck yo--"

With a snarl, before he knew what he was doing, he spun around and swung. Even though he hit her with an open hand, even though he tried desperately to pull the blow back, still his hand connected with her face with a deafening crack. She twisted, rolling with the blow, spinning and falling and bleeding onto the floor.

Dom stood above her, feet spread and trembling with remorse. He'd never hit her before, never. They'd fought for years over a seemingly endless list of things. And some of their fights had ended in violence and bloodshed, but always, always, it was Letty doing the abuse. He would take blow after blow from her angry fists and, more times than not, laugh it off. Never had he struck her before.

Long black hair covered her face as she used her arms to press her upper body off the concrete floor. She twisted into a half-sitting, half-reclining position and then used one hand to sweep her hair back and reveal the split lip that was dripping blood onto the floor. She swiped at her lip with the back of her hand and then stared at the red smear with wonder.

"Fuck you," she snarled through the blood as she climbed slowly to her feet.

"I'm sorry, Letty," he said softly as he moved toward her, prepared to take her in his arms, beg forgiveness, promise undying devotion, anything ... everything.

She spat into his face.

"Not as sorry as yer gonna be," she snarled.

By the time he finished wiping the blood and spit out of his eyes, she was gone and Dom knew that this time she wouldn't be coming back.

.