The next Hagerstown Destroyer is being polished for you. And I’ve got GOODIES.
Here’s the COVER:
Isn’t it AWESOME! I just love Wombat, his Golden Retriever persona, the zen way he approaches life, and the hint of darkness in him that makes him a GREAT Destroyer.
In the background you can see the karesansui (dry landscaping) giving you a secret about Wombat’s nature. The large text is based off Tickled Pink (PANTONE 14-1910), and the title reflects Wombat’s dilemma. Honor is not a woman in need of rescue, but he’d love to be her champion. He’s a sweetheart (therefore the roses tattooed on his arms reflect this) who has more than enough love to adore his family (sisters), his club, and the latest Destroyer “ol’lady” one Honoria Ryder.
Here’s an excerpt for you:
“You’re making a mistake,” Jim warned.
Honor’s chin went up. “I don’t think I am. And let me tell you why. Wombat knew I wasn’t in a good mood, and dropped everything to come here and, I don’t know, rescue me? He’s much kinder than you ever were.”
Take that, Jim.
Undeterred, he pointed at me. “Kind? You met because he was riding his motorcycle through town and terrorizing people so badly an elderly piano teacher wrecked her car.”
“She was turning left against the light. Not my fault.”
Honor spoke over me. “Those charges were dropped, remember?”
Jim glommed onto Honor’s words. “No, I don’t remember that, because he wasn’t my client at the time. He was yours. Which means I’m right. This is a conflict of interest.” He motioned between Honor and myself.
If I broke that waving hand, Snake would slap me on the back and say, “nice work,” but Walt would probably have to bail me out. And that wouldn’t sit well. Especially if we lost our legal counsel over this. And that was the problem here. Influence. It was insight into Jim’s brain. “Do you think there’s some sort of power imbalance here?”
Both of them stared at me.
“I’m serious. Is that the problem?”
“Yes,” Jim said.
“No,” Honor said at the same time.
“He’s your client and much younger.”
“And yet I’m the one tying her up at night,” I said.
Honor froze. “We haven’t—”
I cut her off. “We will. And, I’m going to find out if you like spanking.”
Her mouth fell open. That wasn’t a no.
“Listen, Jim. I get it, you’re sore that you can’t keep your memories on a shelf where there’s always a chance to dust them off and see if she still cares about you. But we’re talking about human feelings here. They get messy. Hell, you cheated on Honor with a woman who might be my age. So don’t go bringing that in unless you want to be judged by the same ruler.”
“She’s a year younger.” Honor nudged me as she spoke.
“Yeah? Shame on you Jim. According to you, that is. Shame. But you’re making it work, right? You’re not holding a candle for my girl while you play house with another?”
His smirk dropped. Notably, he didn’t deny it.
“That’s not good, Jim. You’re going to end up divorced a second time unless you start paying more attention to the woman you got, not the one you lost.”
“I didn’t lose her.”
I glanced at Honor to see the truth of things written on her face. There was guilt there, but also a bit of anger. Maybe I was barking up the wrong tree, but I didn’t think Honor was one to cheat. My gut told me that Honor wasn’t to blame here.
“Jim? I bet you haven’t realized something about women.”
He scoffed and looked away. “What is a twenty-something-year-old high school dropout going to teach me?”
“Something really important. Women aren’t like men. They curl up into themselves when they’re in pain. And when they do that, the shell they make is like armor. And they’re really good at polishing that armor to the point you can’t even see it. And the harder their armor, the more they hurt. They carry everything. They pick their partners by who can take up the slack, and not be an extra burden. And that’s where it fell on you to be her knight in armor so all her pain didn’t get broadcast to the world. And you’re a dick for making her pain worse.”
I took a step away because Jim’s fist had curled on itself. I wasn’t afraid of him hitting me. I was afraid I wouldn’t stop if I swung back.
“She doesn’t need armor.”
“Bullshit. You don’t even see the real her. She’s a fucking battle knight suited up from head to toe. Granted, most of that is because of who she is, but part of it is your fault.
“And maybe that’s your problem. Guilt.” It was written across his face. “Well, I’m here to absolve you from it. She’s mine now. And I’m going to hand her a polishing cloth and a give her a safe space to get that sucker shiny.”
What do you think of Wombat now? Honor is one lucky woman to have him in her corner.
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