Pull (Push #2) (9 page)

Chapter 16

David—Present Day

After my shower, Emma and I hunker down on her couch and watch two movies,
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
and
Skyfall.
She’s splayed out on top of me with her head resting against my chest. She seems happy and content, which is precisely how I feel. I look down at her and brush the hair off of her face. She looks like a little kid. Her cheeks are arched up into her eyes, and her skin is bright and clear. I’m one hell of a lucky guy. Far luckier than I deserve.

                            -----------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Sunday evening arrives, Emma and I have effectively exhausted her Netflix queue. We’ve also gone to the grocery store, the dry cleaners, and Target. At five o’clock, we decide to take a long walk to the wine-and-spirits store down on Harborough. Emma wants a bottle of red for the pasta she plans to make for dinner.

From a block away, I spot Nikki leaning against the front of the building. Shit. She’s sucking on a cigarette and wearing a skirt shorter than a monkey’s attention span. One stilettoed foot is propped behind her on the wall and the other is on the pavement, a timeless posture that screams cheap hooker. What’s she doing here on a Sunday? She must be desperate. Nikki hustles outside the store. And she’s an acquaintance of mine. Not because I’ve ever let her touch me, but because I’ve given her cheeseburgers and fifths of vodka more times than I can count. And she’s my link to Ray.

Nikki’s eyes open wide when she sees me walking toward the store with Emma. A pulse of anxiety pushes through me when I realize I haven’t seen her since Emma’s brother Ricky was here to collect his goddamned blackmail money. She’d better keep her fucking mouth shut about what happened, because if she so much as mentions his name, Emma’s going to lose her shit.

When we get there, Nikki asks me where I’ve been and if she’s been replaced by “some homely little redhead.” She’s junked up on something again. Not that it’s an excuse.

I look over at Emma and see her face flush pink. The veins in her neck shine through her skin, and I think for a second that she’s going to either curse at Nikki or punch her into oblivion. But she does neither. She just looks over at me with a smile so fake it nearly makes me laugh. I don’t though, because then I’d be the one getting punched into oblivion. Instead, I decide I’d better switch to offense.

“Now, Nikki, be nice.” I slide my arm around Emma’s waist. “This is my girl. Don’t fuck with her, man, ’cause I’m telling you, she’ll take you down.” Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Emma take her eyes off of me and plant them on Nikki’s face. She isn’t smiling anymore.

“Shit,” Nikki says slowly, her body swaying with drunken arrogance. “Ain’t nobody gonna take
me
down, sweetheart. If Ray-Ray can’t do it, no little ginger gonna be able to.” She looks over at Emma, and when their eyes meet, I see Nikki’s fucked-up meth teeth mold into a smile. Emma smiles a fake smile right back at her, and all her muscles tighten.

After a second-long stare-down, Nikki turns to me. “You bring me somethin’ today, love? You got some McD’s for me? You owe me, you know. After what happened the last time.”
Keep your mouth shut, Nikki. Don’t say it.

“Not today.”

“Shit, man. See? She already takin’ you away from me, cookie. I’ll tell you what, you bring a little bit o’ hooch out the store for me, I’ll hook you up with somethin’ from Ray-Ray. You want somma those A-bombs again? They fucked you up real good. Remember them, sugar? They make it
allllllll
better.” The smile on Nikki’s face is part she-devil and part road kill.

In a strange way, Nikki is something to be appreciated. Everything about her is both elaborate and heinous in equal measure. But Emma must not feel the same appreciation for Nikki’s appearance, or her words, because her entire body pulls away from me, and she walks over toward the store’s entrance in a hurry.

“Come on, baby, you want me to get you some more?” Nikki adds, just as Emma’s hand hits the door handle.

“No. No, I do not,” I say loudly as I turn to follow Emma.

“Aww, come on, sweetie. I just wanna make sure you don’t forget about me, that’s all. Bring out somethin’ for your sugar, will ya? Then we’ll call it even,” she shouts as the door closes behind me.

Emma is twenty paces ahead of me, and the stiffness in her walk tells me I’m lucky she kept her hands to herself. She’s on fire.

I catch up to her as she stands in the middle of the store, looking at a bottle of Merlot.

“Christ. I’m sorry.” I shrug my shoulders and raise my palms.

“For what?” she bites, her eyes pretending to examine the row of bottles as she puts the one in her hands back on the shelf.

“For that whole conversation. Nikki’s clearly rocked out of her mind.”

Emma turns to me and stares me down.

“I’m not a fucking moron.” Her voice is sharp but quiet. “Obviously, Nikki and you know each other well.” Emma’s hands move to her hips, and her head tilts to the side.

“Did you fuck her?” she spits. “Am I going to regret not having you tested for fucking diseases and shit? I swear, if you give me some goddamn cootie-funk you got from that whore, I’ll put
you
in the hospital.” I can see the energy searing through her body. Her fuse is lit, and she’s not about to step down. It excites me to see her this way, and my skin prickles with eagerness. A streak of exhilaration runs through me, and I have to stifle a smile.

“Come on, Emma. Are you fucking kidding me? Do you honestly think I would stick
anything
into
that
?” I say as I point my finger sharply toward the front door. “And I don’t have cootie-funk. From anyone.” I put up three fingers in a pledge and add, “Scout’s honor.”

She lowers her face into her hands and rubs at her skin. When she looks back up a minute later, she takes a deep breath. Her skin is glowing.

“Then what was that about? And who the hell is Ray-Ray?” She’s bitter. Really, really bitter.

“Ray is her pimp,” I say, as quietly as I can. The liquor-store man is watching us from his post at the checkout counter. I guess he’s making sure we don’t stuff any bottles down our pants.

“
And
your dealer?” The accusatory tone in her voice makes another lump of exhilaration rise up into my throat.

“
And
my dealer.” I fold my head forward and cross my arms over my chest. I’m not sure why she’s so upset about this. I mean, she had to know that I have a dealer.
Had
a dealer. She knows about all the crazy shit I did after Lucia. My so-called ape-shit phase was front-page news a few weeks ago, thanks to my friend Saz and his big fucking mouth.

“But I haven’t had a hit from him for a long time,” I add, trying to fill my voice with appeasement, even though her fired-up temper has me completely aroused. “Actually, not since the night you came to my apartment in those blue panties and sat on my lap.”

She’s looking at me with her head twisted to the side and her lips pursed into a pucker. Like I’m a goddamned eleven-year-old who just got busted for having a joint in his underwear drawer.

“I haven’t done any of that stuff since I met you. I swear it,” I say eventually, just to break the uncomfortable silence ringing through the liquor store. “I haven’t needed to. Because I have you.”

Emma turns her body away from me and looks at the row of bottles again. She takes a deep breath and a long pause before she talks.

“Of course I know you have a dealer.
Had
a dealer. It’s just that it’s a piece of your life I’d rather not be reminded of, especially not by someone with a plethora of venereal diseases under her belt.” She’s calmer, now, but her skin is still pink.

Before I can come up with a response, she picks up one of the bottles and starts walking toward the liquor-store man. I pay for the wine and the fifth of Svedka Emma puts on the counter next to it. When we get out of the store, she takes the vodka and walks over to Nikki.

“Hey, ginger,” Nikki says to her when they are face-to-face.

“Hey yourself, sugar pie,” Emma says with a shitload of completely bogus sweetness. She hands the bottle of Svedka to Nikki and sharply adds, “Let’s call it even. Oh, and tell Ray-Ray we said hi.”

And just like that, she turns her back to Nikki and walks over to me, grabbing my hand and tugging me down the street. I turn my head and look back at Nikki. She’s standing there holding the vodka with her mouth open and her brow raised, like she can’t believe what just happened.

By the time we’re halfway home, it’s obvious that Emma’s still upset about something because she hasn’t said a single word.

“I don’t understand why you’re still so worked up about me having had a dealer,” I say eventually.

“That’s not why I’m upset.” She stops in her tracks and turns to me. She’s trying to snuff the anger out of her voice and replace it with forced niceness. Why?

“When I questioned you about whether or not you’d fucked that skank and asked you if you had cootie-funk,” she continues, “you got excited. You got
really
fucking excited. Do you not realize that I can totally see how happy you get when I’m pissed off? I can
feel
it, for Christ’s sake. Hell, I’ve been able to feel it since the morning I found you putting the floor down in my new kitchen without my permission. And
that’s
what I’m upset about. Not your fucking dealer. Smoke crack till you’re blue in the face, David, but stop finding my temper so goddamn amusing.”

Wow. She can
feel
it?

“I can’t help it,” I say jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. “I just think it’s fucking hot. And, despite what you may think, it’s not like I’m riling you up on purpose. I’m just not putting out the fire as quickly as I could because, frankly, it turns me on.” I hitch my free hand onto her waist, pull her against me, and grind my hips.

“See what I mean? You’re doing that on purpose, just to piss me off!” she says, but this time her voice is lighter. She’s joking now, too. “It’s like you’ve got some funky-ass form of sadism,” she adds with a forgiving little giggle.

“I can think of a whole lot of other forms of funky-ass sadism that would be way worse than this one,” I say in jest, pumping my hips against her like a horny little dog, “and I’ve got some of those, too.”

She freezes.

Shit.

I stop moving and let go of her body.

She steps back from me, her face serious again. Fuck me. I know what she’s thinking, but what the old me did was
far
from some funky-ass form of sadism. I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t sadism. It wasn’t cruel or sexual. It wasn’t some form of punishment. And it
never
turned me on. Not sexually, at any rate. It was not sadism in any way, shape, or form. It was control.

I need to turn this around. I need her to know that just because I enjoy seeing her angry, doesn’t mean I’m some sadist. Funky-ass or otherwise.

“I’m kidding. You know that, right?” I see the smallest bit of doubt soak into her eyes. Keep talking, David. Make this better.

I take a deep breath, put my hands on her shoulders, and start talking.

“Every nerve in my body leaps to attention when we’re together.” Her eyes are wide now, and I feel her shoulders start to relax. “Seriously. It’s been that way since the very beginning. And when you get angry, it just sends me right over the fucking edge of sanity. It turns me on. I can’t help it. But, it’s not sadism, Emma. It’s love. I love you. You
and
me. Together. Like I said, I can’t help it. But, if you think it makes me some kind of funky-ass sadist, then bring on the therapists, 'cause there’s no way I can stop liking the way it makes me feel. The way
you
make me feel.”

“Oh, gag.” She rolls her eyes up into her head, making the Texas Longhorn sign with her right hand and holding it up to her ear. “Calling Dr. Phil, calling Dr. Phil, come in, Dr. Phil. You’re nuts, you know that?”

“Yep.” I drop my hands off her shoulders and tuck them into my pockets. I raise my body up onto my toes and kiss the top of her head. “And I’m not sure Dr. Phil would have the faintest fucking idea what to do with the likes of me.”

“Well, I sure as shit don’t,” she says with a small, light smile.

We start walking down Harborough Street again, heading back toward the apartment building. A few minutes of silence pass before she speaks again.

“Let’s make a deal.” She keeps her eyes straight ahead as she talks. “I promise to get fired up from time to time so you can have your fun, if you promise to never, ever touch another woman again.”

“Well, that’s the easiest deal I’ll ever make,” I say, but I’m suspicious. “I’m curious, though. Why do we even need to make a deal about that?”

“Because back there, when I thought that maybe you’d scrumped that ugly-ass whore, I got insanely jealous. I mean, jealous like I wanted to kick you both in the face. Hard. You for being so stupid. And her for even existing.”