Part 53 (1/2)
”What?” she says, appearing from the bedroom. She's put on some eyeliner, and has corralled her hair.
”We need to talk.”
”We're not talking.” She spits the words at me, all venom.
”Why?”
”Because you just made a deal with f.u.c.king mobsters.”
”It's only a fight.”
She points a finger at me. ”You're an idiot Pierce, if you believe it's only going to be one time.”
”Pen, it's practically retirement money.”
”Oh,” she challenges, hands on her hips. ”That's what this is about, is it? Retirement?”
I grit my teeth, but say nothing.
”I thought so. Retirement. f.u.c.k you, Pierce. Don't get me involved in this.”
”The fight is next Friday. I need you there, Pen.”
”I don't care.”
”Pen,” I say. I walk up to her, but she pushes me violently away. ”Pen, I need you there. I'll fight better if you're watching.” What I tell her is partly true. But the other part of it is that I want her where I can see her. I don't want them getting their hands on her.
”Well, this is a fight I'm not watching.”
”Why?”
”Because you didn't listen to me. You didn't even consult me before accepting whatever shady deal they gave you. I don't care how much money it is, it's all dirty.”
”Consult you?” I ask. I can feel my temper starting to flare. ”Why the f.u.c.k should I consult you?”
Penny stops her exit, and turns around. ”Because you want me there. Because you want me.”
She leaves, and slams the door.
And G.o.d f.u.c.king d.a.m.n it if she isn't f.u.c.king right about that.
I do want her.
It might just be that I need her.
Chapter Twenty Four.
The whirlwind enters my tattoo shop. All swagger, smug c.o.c.kiness. But it means nothing to me, now. He's just a whirlwind of trouble, scooping up all the s.h.i.+t he can into the eye of his storm.
Like I need that f.u.c.king turbulence in my life. Like I need all that d.a.m.n collateral.
It's been one day since I found out our parents are getting married. It's been a day since he agreed to fight in some shady mob setup that is sure to land him a and anyone connected to him a in trouble.
There is no way I want to see him, and I already told him that.
But, still, there he is, p.i.s.sing me off.
”We need to talk,” he says.
”About what?” I ask, pus.h.i.+ng him into the small supply room in the back so Tina won't hear us. Vials of ink, spare tattoo machines, books, and medical supplies sit on shelves. There's a vacuum and a mop and bucket, too. We barely fit in.
”You already know what I think about this. You and I are over.”
This annoying grin parts his lips.
”It's not funny.”
”It is funny.”
”It's not,” I say. ”Plus, now you're involved with the mob.”
”Christ, Pen, I'm not involved. It's one fight and I'll win it.”
”Oh, you're sure of that, are you?”
”I watched the tape. The guy's powerful but slow. I'll dance with him until he's ga.s.sed, and then hold him. Easy.”
”You've got it all figured out, haven't you?”
”All of it.”
He steps closer toward me, I notice that the veins on his arms are sticking out more, and that I can see muscle fibers under his skin.
”What's wrong with you? Are you sick?”
”No. Just getting ready for the fight.”
I wait for him to say more, but he doesn't. Growing exasperated, I shake my head at him. ”So? What are you here for? What do you want to talk about?”
”I need you at the fight, Pen.”
”Why?”
”Because you'll get to see me in tiny shorts.”