Part 55 (2/2)
Penny lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. ”Yes.”
I get up from the sofa I'm on, and walk toward the one she's on. I wrap her up. She resists at first, but then quits.
”Pen, how about we just tell each other what we want, okay?”
”Okay. You go first.”
”I want you. I want to be with you, I want to f.u.c.k you, I want to smell you. I want to see you smile. What do you want?”
She hesitates. ”I don't know what I want.”
”Way to play fair, Pen.”
”It's not as simple as all that.”
”Then let me ask you something? Have you stopped thinking about me ever since you stopped talking to me?”
She doesn't reply, but she knows that her silence is an admission.
”And you think that our parents getting married means we can't be together?”
”Of course that's what it means.”
”Why?”
”Because it's wrong.”
”How?”
”It's just weird, okay.”
”So you have a hang-up.”
”I do.”
”Sounds like it's your problem to get over, then.”
”Oh, f.u.c.k you, Pierce.”
”What?” I say. ”I know what I want. You know what you want. I'm going to take what I want.”
”Not without my consent, you won't.”
”Then you're not taking what you want.”
”You know what else I want?” she asks, getting heated. ”I want you to not do this fight for the mob.”
I lick my lips. ”Well, now that is not that simple.”
”Why? Why can't you just say no? Is it the money?”
”No, it's not the money. They... didn't give me a choice.”
”How?”
”They just didn't.”
”Did they threaten you?”
I think about telling her the truth, that they threatened her. Her family, too... my family, too. But I don't want to scare her. I know that it's selfish, I know I'm only appeasing my own guilt, but I can't help it.
”Yes.”
”See!” she belts out, slapping my arm. ”I f.u.c.king told you not to get mixed up with them.”
”It was already too late when they rang my doorbell.”
”So you have to fight?”
”Yes.”
”Because two mob bosses have their favorite pit bulls and want to see who wins?”
”It's a d.i.c.k-measuring contest, yes.”
”And you're going to do it.”
I nod. ”Yes.”
”What happens after?”
”Well, I've made my terms clear to them,” I say. ”Only this one time. After that, I might just retire.”
”From fighting?”
”Yes.”
”Really?” she asks accusingly. ”I don't believe you.”
”Don't believe me, then.”
There's a slight pause, and then, to my surprise, she asks me, ”Can you remember your first fight?”
I laugh. ”Oh yeah, perfectly like it was yesterday.”