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Anton: When I was fourteen, I started down the path that would become my life. People had to fear me so I could be the man my father needed to replace him. He didn’t expect it to be so soon. He thought we’d run the business together for many years.
Me: Thirteen was when I fell in love. I took a job in the club bar, only collecting glasses but it meant I could be closer to Hulk. It was the first time I felt real heartbreak. He would make a show of flirting with every club whore he could. It set a path of toxic behaviour we never really broke.
Anton: I never took a girlfriend. My father warned me that women would ruin me. I had to be cold, ruthless and I had to keep my head straight. Games became a thing. If Tag and I could pass it off as a dare or a bet, feelings wouldn’t get involved. Everything became a game.
Me: I stopped looking beyond Hulk. The only men I ever spoke to, or kissed, were men to make him jealous. So I guess we played games too. We scored off each other’s pain.
Anton: Can I see you?
Me: I don’t know how long I’ll be. I’m catching up with the girls.
Anton: Call me when you’re done and I’ll pick you up. No matter what time.
Three drinks turn to four and five, and before I know it, we’re dancing on tables and blasting our favourite songs. It feels good to be back, like all my worries have gone and I’m the old me.
It’s almost three in the morning when Hulk saunters in. His glazed eyes fix on me, and he scowls. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see my parents.”
He sits down, pulling me with him. “Do you know your boyfriend wants me to work for him?”
“I don’t want to discuss business, Hulk. I don’t know what goes on between you and him.”
“He wants me to suffer. To watch you guys play happy family.”
Lucy spins past us, stopping to kiss me on the cheek. “I need my bed. Goodnight.” Mae’s already fast asleep on the couch, so I stand.
“Me too,” I say.
Hulk pulls me back to sitting. “Why would he want that when he hates me?” he asks.
“I have no idea.”
He brushes the hair from my face, and I pull my head back. He scowls. “Now, I can’t touch you?”
“It’s not appropriate,” I mutter.
“You scared you might fall under my spell?” he asks, grinning. It reminds me of what a big-headed prick he can be.
“Because I’m married,” I remind him. The words feel good on my lips.
“A few days ago, you were ready to rush off to the airport. You begged me to help.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight,” I say.
“Did you ask him about Aurora?”
I nod. “He told me the truth.”
He frowns. “He admitted it?”
I nod. “And it hurt me. But we’re working through it.”
“Fuck, what does he give you that I don’t? You wouldn’t ever forgive me.”
I scoff. “It happened so many times, I wouldn’t know where to start the forgiveness.”
He grins. “I’m a terrible boyfriend.”
