Part 46 (1/2)
As we step into the bar-and-restaurant, a smattering of American accents reach us. I see Penny looking around, perhaps a little surprised that there's such a large American enclave in the form of a restaurant. The place is heaving, and the television above the bar is playing one of yesterday's college basketball games.
”This feels pretty authentic,” she says.
”How's that?”
”I don't know. Just the decorations, the atmosphere.”
”Well, it's popular.”
”With Aussies, too?”
”Oh, yeah, sure,” I say, flagging down a waitress. ”They love this s.h.i.+t over here. They pretend to hate the 'yanks', but really they're enamored with us.”
We get seated in our own booth, pick out a spinach and mushroom mix, and then order drinks. To my surprise, she gets a vodka-martini.
Penny shrugs when she sees my expression. ”Dad and I have this thing where we watch a James Bond movie every other weekend together. I don't really like them, but he does. Anyway, I've always wanted to try one.”
”The old ones are the best ones.”
She snorts. ”More like the most misogynistic ones.”
”So, what made you want to become a tattoo artist?”
Penelope grins, and peers at me. ”What is this? You pretending not to be a d.i.c.k?”
”Got a bite, do you?”
”Seriously, Pierce. Why are we here?”
”Why do you need a reason for everything? It's like you're always suspicious, always need to know every detail. Don't be so insecure.”
”I'm not being insecure,” she says. ”I just don't believe this whole act you're putting on.”
”What act is that?”
”The whole dinner date thing.”
”We're on a date?” I ask, smirking. ”You just can't say no to me, can you?”
”I'm going to leave,” she tells me. ”Really. I only agreed to come because I was curious as to what you might want.”
”You're so p.r.i.c.kly all the time. It's like defusing a bomb trying to get to know you.”
”Well, get used to it, because I'm not letting my guard down.”
I lean back. ”You going to tell me?”
”Tell you what?”
”What made you want to become a tattoo artist.”
”You tell me what made you want to become a fighter first.”
I shrug. ”Fair enough. My dad's brother, Uncle James. He was a boxer when he was young. He was pro, but not very well ranked. Before-”
”I don't need a retelling of your life story.”
”Are you going to let me tell you or not, Pen?”
”Fine.”
”Before my dad died, he showed me an old black and white recording of Uncle James boxing. He wasn't a hard hitter, and he had a bit of a gla.s.s jaw, but f.u.c.k me he could dance in the ring. He was so springy, always moving, like a rabbit on amphetamines. I was just mesmerized by it. He could dodge and evade like no other. I wasn't a big kid growing up. It wasn't until I was about sixteen that I hit a second growth spurt, so his style was attractive to me. I mean, half the time he wore his opponents out, and when their guard was down, that's how he scored his points.”
She frowns. ”There are points in boxing?”
”Oh, yeah, for sure. It's a technical sport. You get rewarded for good technique, and you can win off points, even if you're outcla.s.sed physically.”
”But in your illegal cage fighting, no points?”
”That's right,” I say.
”Why didn't you go into boxing?”
”Uncle James trained me, starting from when I was ten. Mom kind of checked-out after Dad died.”
Penny's beautiful features turn cautious, awkward. ”How, um did-”
”Car accident. He was. .h.i.t by someone.”
The atmosphere grows somber quickly. It's like grey clouds have collected above us.
”Sorry, Pierce.”
I smile at her. ”It was a long time ago. Anyway, so Uncle James took care of me, raised me, and eventually sent me to boarding school out here.”
”Why Australia?”
”He was moving here because he got offered a training gig. Anyway, I was good at boxing, but I wanted to try more styles. He was a traditionalist, didn't believe in all the new fighting approaches, especially with the emergence of MMA. We had a bit of a falling out. He died of a heart attack when we weren't talking. It was my own d.a.m.n fault, anyway. I pushed him away.”
”Color me unsurprised.”
”So I stopped boxing.”
”But you could have gone pro?”
”Maybe, maybe not. I'm not as good at boxing as I am in the cage. There are a lot of rules, a lot of technicalities. It feels stiff to me. But I mean, it's not stiff at all. Watch Ali, and there you see a fluidity that's just amazing. Even Tyson was a really fluid athlete, and he had all that power.”
”You like fighting,” she says, thanking the waitress politely as she sets down our drinks.