Anger is starting to burn in my chest, and I’m shaking. “She’s not some fucking checkmark. Too deep is exactly where I want to be,” I throw those words at Wallace, and then I’m looking at Glenn again. “I never wanted to break up with Annabelle, you wanted me to break up with her so you could have me do this. At twenty-two. And now you’re trying again to make me do this. You’re the one that always called me the fucking Angler, making this shit up about me fishing for women. That may have been true at seventeen, but I’m a different person. Given the fact that we’ve been friends for years and we run a business together, I hoped that you would know that. But maybe you just don’t care about anyone but yourself. This is your fault to begin with, since it’s likely that if you hadn’t gotten in the middle, we would be married and you wouldn’t have this stupid contract over my head anyway.”
Glenn sneers. “You’re really going to blame me for that? She’s the one who got all pissed about it. That’s not my fault.”
“You threw it in her face. There’s no way in hell that you can pretend you weren’t trying to fuck us up. Christ, Glenn. Were you always such a dick? You’re so obsessed with the idea of getting pussy that you’re literally extorting one of your oldest friends to be a man whore or sacrifice everything we’ve worked for?”
“No, man,” he says. “I’m a friend that values fucking loyalty. And you haven’t been here for the last eight years. Where the hell have you been if you actually call yourself my friend? We talk all the time about the business, but only about the business. We see you whenever you swing by to visit your parents and that’s it. Nothing more. You never reach out to us, and you’ve never proven that you cared. That’s why I’m making you do this, so you can prove that you’re actually the guy I was friends with.”
My hands fold into fists. “It goes both ways, Glenn. You could have come to visit. Called. Reached out to ask how I was, anything. And if you think this is what loyalty means, or think that I would ever do this for that reason, then I’m not the guy that you were friends with.”
“Apparently not,” he says with disgust, “Have fun with your blue balls, then. You know that Anna is never going to be as good as this.”
No matter what I promised Charles, I can’t do it, and I’m the one who throws the first punch. It connects solidly, and he goes flying backwards. Not as good a hit as I would have liked since he was across the bar, but I can fix that. Suddenly Wallace is holding me back. I struggle, but he’s got me fast. Military training trumps what I’m putting forward, and I know that I’m not going to get out of this unless I want to pummel him into the ground too, and I’m not really looking for two on one.
Glenn stands and spits blood. I’m gratified by seeing the split on his lip. “Well at least you’re not a total pussy,” he says. “But nothing has changed. The contract stands. Marriage, Dirty Thirty, or your share of First Shot is mine. And we both know that you’ll never let that happen, and that you’re not going to get married in the next thirteen days. So be ready to get your cock wet and get off your high horse.”
I shrug off Wallace’s hold, striding out of the bar. That was not how I wanted that to go. I wanted it to be rational, get to the bottom of it, but we’re both too angry and whatever bone Glenn has, he’s not letting go of it. He thinks I can’t get married, but I think I can. I want to—now that Annabelle has said yes to being with me, I don’t want to waste any more time making her mine. I’m going to make sure we make up for lost time, and I hope that she’ll say yes.
5
Annabelle
The minute I walk into the store Monday morning, I know something is wrong. The atmosphere is off. It feels dark and tense where the store is usually light and open. I can’t explain it, but something is strange.
I clock in and put down my bag in the break room before coming up to the front of the store to get it ready to open. Eva, a high school student who works here part-time, is already there, and the look on her face isn’t encouraging. “Morning, Eva,” I say, trying to brighten the mood.
It doesn’t work. “Hi,” her voice is dejected.
“What’s wrong?”
She just shakes her head. “Margie wants to see you in the office.”