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Vince mulls this over. “Heard you were out looking for me last night. Lenny sent me a text, said he saw you at Sully’s.” He jingles his key ring at me. “Let’s go out.”
“I wasn’t looking for you. I’ve got other plans tonight. Beat it, shithead.” I point at the road.
“Wow. Way to make me feel used and abused.” Vince adds with a sly smile to Tom, “She only wants me for one thing.” He’s technically correct. Tom raises his eyes to the sky like he’s praying for strength. At this rate, I’m going to have to dig a small, thin grave.
For the last few years, Vince and I have used each other repeatedly in the little gaps of time when I arrive back in town. I don’t even bother telling him when I leave, because who cares? Not him.
Sex with Vince is like going to the gym; I feel slightly better after having done it as the sweat cools on my body, but I make a lot of excuses to myself as to why I shouldn’t go.
Tom’s dealt with enough of my boys to know that the best response is to be infuriatingly polite. “Where are you working these days, Vince?” You’d never guess he called him a little piece of shit two minutes ago. Butter wouldn’t melt in that perfect mouth.
Vince looks sideways at the decal on Tom’s truck. “I’m between gigs at the moment. I’m trying to get Darcy to hook me up with a job at the bar, but she’s holding out on me. I could get into construction, though.” A lingering, job-offer-sized pause is left here.
I s
hake my head. “Like I’m going to babysit your ass at the bar. You can work there when I leave.”
Tom stares at Vince. “And what do you think of the fact she’s come home with a bruise from working there? From a guy?”
Vince looks me all over but can’t see anything amiss. “She handles herself. I bet she fucked him up.” He falters under Tom’s eyes and adds awkwardly, “Are you okay though, Darce?”
“Fine. And you’re correct. I can handle myself.” I like how Vince sees me. Unquestionably tough and with no need of saving.
“Who did it?” Vince is more curious than outraged.
I huff. “Keith. The big dumb dipshit.”
“Shiiiit.” Vince whistles. “He’s got a thing for you, you know. Pretty obvious. The boys all laugh about it.”
“Well, you could have given me a heads-up. Did a barrel of Viagra roll into the water supply? Because last time I checked, I wasn’t irresistible.”
I scuff my boot around in the gravel. I’m still embarrassed every time I think about how I’d joke around with no thought of keeping my guard up.
“He was trying to tell me something I didn’t want to hear. He grabbed my arm to make me listen. That’s all it was. It wasn’t some violent thing. It was an annoying thing.” I’m telling all of this to Tom.
“It was a grabbing-someone-at-work thing. A bruise thing. Absolutely not okay.” Tom’s eyes are Valeska orange. In my black and white world, it’s the only color. For one deep throbbing instant, I want to be in his arms, those big hands cradling my head. No one could put a bruise on me.
“You don’t want to take him on, man,” Vince advises Tom. “That guy is huge.” He’s noticed Tom’s expression and looks away with a grin, half obscured by smoke. “Well, you might do all right. You’ve been hitting the gym.”
“Nope.”
“This here is a hard-work body,” I tell Vince. I’m starting to get annoyed at him and his light, snarky, sexy banter. A conversation with Vince is like trying to thread a live worm onto a hook.
Then I realize something, and it’s enough to stop my heart. Vince is the same as me. How does Tom even deal with me? Oh shit. I’ve got a type all right: It’s me. His tongue stud winks in the dusk light. My variation winks back from the dark cup of my bra. We’re so similar we could be twins.
“I’m serious, I’ve got to leave.” I unlock my car. “You’re blocking me in.”
“She sure is good at leaving, huh?” Tom says to Vince in an unexpected moment of kinship.
“She’s a pro. So what else is up, man? I heard you’re marrying that hot brunette. Congrats.”
Vince heard about it during one of my drunk sad Sully’s booze fests. I didn’t think he was properly listening. Who knows what I said.
I’m starting to get a hot, embarrassed face. My key ring is being an asshole, every key twisted and caught on the next. I’m shaking them in fury and I cannot bear to hear even one piece of wedding news.
Tom’s voice cuts through everything. “No, we broke up.”
I turn on the point of my boot and frown at them both. He never lies. Why would he feel the need to?
