Page 11 of Tony

I should’ve known. I mean, I see it now. Why would a twenty-two-year-old man want a seventeen-year-old girl?

There is only one reason.

Control.

I wish I could say that first time was magical. Oh, I came. I came hard and fast. And then he made me come again. Several more times. But magical? No. It wasn’t magical. It was hot, and sweaty, and dark.

We weren’t even in a bed. We were in the dugouts of the baseball field at the high school. This happened outside, in the middle of the night, on a bench, while I was high and a little bit drunk too.

And then my whole fucking life got tipped upside down by this man. He was all I could think about. I almost didn’t graduate! I was so obsessed with him. With the sex. With… all of it.

He took over my life.

For two years, he took over my life.

It was twenty-five months and seventeen days of yelling, and jealousy, and hate-fucks.

And even though I was unhappy, and filled with rage almost every second of the day, and sick with the thought of him walking away from me, I stayed in that relationship.

I lost so much weight. I went days without eating when he disappeared on the ocean in his boat. I stalked him. I used to sneak through Kraken Karen’s backyard and stalk up to his house and peek in his fucking windows.

And it wasn’t his house! The Dumas family didn’t own the whole street back then. Tony lived at home. So I was peeking into his parents’ house.

I was fucking sick over this man.

And then, slowly, we both moved on. The first year after we broke up for real was rough. I did a lot of graffiti painting back then. I got busted a few times, too. And when Tony found out I was in jail for the last bust, do you know what that asshole did?

He bailed me out. Got me a lawyer and everything. And that lawyer got me off with community service. That’s when I got that first commission for the mural. A legit, public mural.

My first job as an artist.

But did Tony stick around? No. He didn’t answer my calls. And all I wanted to do was say thank you. But did he pick up? No.

He disappeared again.

I couldn’t eat. The whole sad mess started over from day one. And it took me an entire year after the bailout before I could think straight.

Tony Dumas wrecked me.

And now he’s back to shatter all my pieces for good.

I grab the pillow and scream into it again.

The next day he’s all I think about.

Tony. Tony. Tony.

I want to stab myself in the eyeball. At least then I’d be screaming in pain and not be muttering Tony, Tony, Tony inside my head on repeat.

But of course, when I walk in to the Fort Collins Theatre to get my noontime coffee, there he is.

I almost turn around and walk out.

Hell, who am I kidding? There’s no chance in hell I could turn away from the heated glare he’s sending me from across the coffee shop.

His eyes lock with mine. And this is when I realize—he really is stalking me. I come here for my noontime coffee every day before work. He has my schedule down. And he’s gonna… what? Follow me around until I give in and let him hate-fuck me?

I don’t think so.