Marcel marched toward the back room, determined to fix the source of his stress. For most of the day since he had given the note to Tony Garner, an irritation had nagged at the back of Marcel's mind. Sure, the young man himself had proven a man of quality, but trouble seemed to follow the young lady in his company. Tony had brought her to the side door in Selma's name, and Marcel had not refused her shelter, but he did not like the idea of harboring someone who had a target on her back.

On his way through the door, several sour notes had drawn his attention to the stage. Apparently, the band needed some direction, and with the evening clientele beginning to filter onto the premises, Marcel could not afford to leave them with a bad impression.

After two numbers and fifteen minutes, Marcel finished his trek through the back hallways and found the couple sitting at the small table outside Doris's dressing room. "Couple" did seem the word. Rarely had he interrupted two people so intent in conversation, and Marcel liked the look he had observed in Tony's eye. He didn't know much of the girl, Marissa, but she had won her way into the affection of both Leonard and Doris, and that fact spoke well of her. That's a lot more impressive than making Jerome like you, Marcel chuckled. Jerome generally chose his companions well, but he had made a few errors that had cost him several years in the political arena. Tony seemed smart enough, and he had charm enough to cool a cucumber, but those characteristics as often accompanied bad morals as good ones.

Of course, Tony had risked his neck and his reputation several times for Jerome, and Marcel had almost decided to trust the boy. Whether or not Tony could be trusted with women, Marcel did not know. He would ask Leonard later. Whatever the case, he seemed as in danger from Marissa as she did from him. Apparently, Marissa had gotten herself into some trouble. More trouble than Jerome needed so close to the election, Marcel knew that for sure.

"Hmmm," Marcel cleared his throat as he cleared the end of the hallway. The two young people, glanced up, and though Tony showed no embarrassment, Marissa at least seemed a bit discomfited. "Did you have a message for me to give Jerome?” Marcel prompted. “About the note?”

Tony seemed to come to himself at that moment, and he jump to his feet with an outstretched hand. "No. Thank you, Marcel," Tony curved his lips in a weak attempt at a smile. Whatever he had discussed with Marissa seemed to have affected his spirits considerably from Tony's usual upbeat demeanor. "Is Jerome back yet?"

"Uh, no," Marcel hemmed. "Apparently the meeting ran long."

The news concerned Tony. "I should be with him," he mumbled, torn between his duty to Jerome and his instinct to protect Marissa.

"I'm pretty sure it was a private meeting, so I don't think he would have let you go."

"Well, I think we'll be on our way soon enough either way. It’s late now, but we can head out before the morning crew arrives. Once Marissa has managed a couple more hours sleep." When Tony smiled again, he seemed to have gathered himself a little more, and Marcel turned away from the young man with relief and amusement. A moment before, Tony had looked like he needed a hand to maintain his balance.

With the memory of the note fresh in his mind, Tony couldn’t believe his distraction for the past half-hour. He had allowed Marissa to remain a sitting target at Marcel's, as if they could just wait out the storm that waited to engulf her. If he had listened to reason, he would have relocated as soon as she had managed a short nap. Instead, he had let her sleep for hours, nervousness restraining him from inconveniencing her in any way.

He couldn’t believe how his perspective on her had evolved since he had seen that first day in his father’s office. Perhaps he had seen her appeal all along, and it explained his constant interference with her life. Marissa held so many redeeming qualities, qualities she shared with those whom Tony admired most. She believed in people - just like Tony's mother had. Marissa could catch other people in her enthusiasm, like his father could. Unlike anyone Tony had ever known, though, Marissa could not be daunted for long, and she could not hold a grudge. Perhaps the combination of qualities had come across as naivety because they implied such dangerous vulnerability, but Tony couldn’t fault her for that.

In a way, his initial insight about her had proven correct. Her softness brought about danger, for herself and possibly for those around her. Of course, he couldn't blame her for Barbara's and Mario's betrayal. He couldn't blame her for Sam's conniving, and he couldn't blame her for the unscrupulousness of the McReynoldses and the Morans. Marissa stood so open to everyone around her that those looking for a victim couldn't help but find her.

To her credit, Marissa recovered quickly from trespasses committed against her, and she had kept a surprising amount of perspective on the preceding days' events. If he were to help her avoid more harm, he needed to throw off his hesitance and get her somewhere safer. Tony jumped to his feet.

“What is it, Tony?” Marissa begged. “Are you okay?”

The question seemed so ironic – after Marcel had awakened the thought, the walls of the club had seemed a prison, a trap holding Marissa in place for the people out to get her. With the though battering his mind, Tony was far from okay. At least the previous half hour had softened Marissa to him, and he held more confidence that Marissa would at least cooperate in her own protection rather than resist everything Tony suggested. Her response, therefore, slapped him in the face and set him off balance.

"Marissa," he reached down for her hand. "I want you to get a couple more hours of sleep, but then we need to go. Early."

Instead of acquiescing, Marissa leaned away from Tony, as if away from danger. "Where do you want to go?" she gazed at him suspiciously.

After he had torn down so many walls between them, how in the world had she erected more in record time? Still, Tony had to understand how insecure her position at the moment. "Marissa,” he pleaded, “there’s no need to go back to that, is there? I thought you would understand now why you could trust me – why I want to help you.”

Marissa bit her lip. Of course, she never intended to slight anyone, but her reaction to Tony took her down a completely unfamiliar road, and she didn’t understand how to continue down it safely. Only a few days before, Marissa had learned the frailty of trust thanks to Mario and Barbara. She wanted to trust Tony, both because he had taken such a risk for her and because their thoughts seemed in such agreement, but she doubted herself to such an extent that now she felt immobilized with indecision. Where she wanted to trust, she found herself resisting. But, illogically, only against Tony. "That's not true," she thought aloud. "I don't trust Sam Lincoln either."

"Only enough to go into Calloway's with him," Tony retorted, and Marissa started at the harshness of his tone. Tony lowered himself back into his seat, running his hands over the back of his neck – he forced himself to ignore the hurt emotions that stemmed from her unwillingness to reciprocate his vulnerability. Couldn’t she understand that everything he was doing was to help her? "Marissa, I don't want to pressure you,” he gripped her hand, “I don't want to be like Sam. But if I’m going to keep you safe – if we’re going to avoid creating problems for your friends – we need to move. It’s like you mistrust me more than anyone else! But you're going to put other people in danger if you stay."

"I know you're not like Sam," she started to cry, "I wasn't in my right mind when I went to Calloway’s with him. I know not to trust Sam. I just..." Marissa could not block out the crashing of the brass in the room next door. It built in the pit of her stomach and seemed to grow all around her. Suddenly, the sound overwhelmed her and her head began to pound. One minute, her compassion overcame her anxiety, but the next, she found herself scurrying away from anything unfamiliar or risky as if she stood in danger of unseen terrors.

She pulled on her arm to free it from Tony. Though he slackened his grip on her hand, he did not let go. "If you can see Sam's intentions, can't you see mine? Sam wants to use you; I want to help you. You don’t need to be afraid of me."

Marissa stood to her feet angered by the intimation of fear. "I am not afraid of you," she insisted contrarily.

"What other reason could you have not to come with me, then?" Tony spoke with hushed intensity as he rose to his feet and stepped toward her. " Damn it, Marissa! Be afraid of the right things! Not of me."

"The right things?" she gasped. "That just shows how little you understand! There is nothing I have to be more afraid of than you." As if to prove her words liars, Marissa realized just how close she stood to Tony, mere inches between them, and the memory of the dance washed through her mind. She could hear the music, waving and twisting from the nearby room, and part of her wanted to pull his arms around her and start to sway as they had before. Instead, she forced herself to stand immovable, sprung with tension. She did not know which way she would unleash if she moved. Away from him in rejection? Or toward him with abandon? "Who are you, Tony Garner?" she murmured, her eyes finding his and locking in place.

She had moved so close, and she wore such defiance – defiance that heated the air between Tony and the girl before him. Aloud, he complained, "You make absolutely no sense sometimes..." She stood so close that he could feel the warmth of her body up and down the length of his own. The memory of the dance played itself in his mind, melding with a new vision, one where he used the hand behind her waist to pull her in for a kiss.

From down the hall, the music had calmed, and Marissa no longer had to raise her voice to be heard. "I do make sense..." she whispered, and he leaned his face down to hear her. "Because no one else has ever wanted me before – it’s terrifying. And I saw it in your eyes the first time you met me. From that first meeting, you've wanted me."

Coming from the lips of any other girl, the words would sound boastful, but Marissa held such little self-importance that they came across as accusatory. To his consternation, though, Tony realized that she might have spoken truth. He certainly hadn't intended it, and he would have liked to have protested, but the words seemed to open his eyes to the reality. As he stared down at her lips, he pondered her insight – he had wanted her.

Without making a conscious choice, Tony slid his hand behind her back staring at her with a dazed expression for what seemed forever. He could feel her rapid breaths against his hand. Once she made the brazen claim – that he wanted her – her words seemed to have ignited the reality in his mind. Marissa stared at him, strung taut with a tension that drew her to him.

Without meaning to, she licked her lips, lifting her chin as her balance shifted. She didn’t know how she found herself pressed against him, and when he lowered his face toward hers, she raised her lips to speed the contact. The contact sizzled, and Marissa poured herself into the touch. Apparently, she wasn’t afraid enough of him, and when their lips met, Marissa turned molten in his arms.

Tony was the one who finally broke off the kiss, and Marissa gasped for air, though she did not step away. Instead, she stood, unsteady on her feet, seemingly suspended by the hand at her waist. When she didn't move, Tony discretely brought his other hand to her side, moving both hands to support her arms until he knew that she would not fall over.

The look on her face finally melted all of the frustration that Tony had felt over the past few weeks. Not only did she look drunk with pleasure, she seemed completely unoffended, though she had every right to find offense. Though not particularly daring for big city St. Louis, Marissa came from small-town Carolina. From what he had heard of small-town propriety, Tony had taken an unforgivable liberty with Marissa, and he wouldn't have felt surprise if she had slapped him and run into Doris's room crying.

Only when Doris herself stepped into the hallway a moment later did Marissa gather any semblance of self-control. Marissa stood firmly on her feet as the club's crooner strode toward her dressing room.

"Why so quiet?" Doris asked half in jest before she saw the look on Marissa's face. As she took another step, she turned to Tony, her mouth halfcocked in a knowing grin. "Well, Tony, what have you done now?"

On Marissa's part, she didn't know whether to cry or laugh at her friend's intimation. Doris knew too much, apparently, and Marissa expected that the sheepish look worn by Tony reflected the expression on her own face. Rather than subject herself to analysis, Marissa stepped forward and pecked Doris on the cheek. "Tony was just explaining to me," Marissa spoke as convincingly as she could, "that he needs to take me somewhere. I don't know where." The nervous look returned to Marissa's face. "But it seems rather urgent."

"The good thing is," Doris returned in a whisper, "you can trust this one to do the honorable thing. At least," Doris looked back at Tony with a grin, "most of the time, love. By the way, did he let you use his cologne? You're bathing in it. Next time just a spritz on the wrists." Doris's grin broke into a full-fledged smile as she turned and entered her dressing room.

Marissa bit her lip again as she peered shyly up at Tony.

"Did you mean what you said to her?" Tony queried, hope obvious on his face. Gone was all his frustration.

"Was Doris right?" Marissa countered. "Can I trust you?" She knew the question was silly. An untrustworthy man would say yes just a readily as a trustworthy one. Not only that, but she had already fallen victim to two "trustworthy" friends who had broken her heart. Still, she needed to hear the words from his own lips.

"In most ways, yes," Tony admitted. The excitement in his eyes as he stared into Marissa’s eyes thrilled her as much as it scared her. "In other ways, I'm not sure I trust myself."

"Then we'll go," she nodded. "Wherever you want to go."

Tony steeled himself with a deep breath, unwilling to dwell too long upon her words. Once again, he would have to keep her safely through the night, but this time, she trusted him. He just needed to make sure that he deserved her trust.

"Right," he agreed. "Get some sleep. We'll head out early."