20
Antonio
“Mia! Jesus Christ!”
This is not how I expected this day to end, but what was I supposed to do? She stares at me for a moment like a deer caught in headlights. I’m catching my breath while I tuck in my shirt and straighten my jacket. I notice the way Mia’s eyes fixate on the moaning sack of shit on the floor. She’s going to take off, I already know it, can practically see that switch of emotion sweep over her, the way she starts to blink and twitch her arms as that ultimate consideration enters her mind—fight or flight?
Yep, as if this night didn’t have enough excitement already.
“Mia! Come back, Mia!” My calls to her follow her out the door and down the hall, straight toward the exit. “Stop!”
She crashes through the front doors and out onto the street, as do I. People walking past pause momentarily to see what the fuss is about. She turns and faces me, breathing as if she’s having a panic attack or something. I try to grab her.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Whoa, take it easy,” I say “What’s got into you? Come on, let’s go back inside. We can talk about it.”
“I said, don’t touch me!”
“Alright, alright.” I put both my hands up. “I’m sorry, but really, it’s nothing you have to worry about.”
It really isn’t, showing the prick not to cross the line is pure business. Huxley and I were making our boundaries and our strength clear. But Mia had to show up at the peak of my anger, at the very moment I’m at my most ruthless. I never expected that she could handle that, but her reaction now has me perplexed. Didn’t she know, when she saw my bruised knuckles? Didn’t she know what I do for a living when I held her at gunpoint in her bathroom? This outburst is unnecessary, and frankly, childish of her.
“I can’t believe this,” Mia crosses her arms. “How stupid am I? I mean, for a moment I thought this was like a normal date.”
“Come on, what are you talking about? What you saw in there was nothing—the guy just overstepped the line, that’s all.”
She paces a few steps to the right, then to the left, shaking her head. I notice people from the queue at the restaurant staring at us, and even a couple of my guys working the door of the club have come over, standing by as if anticipating that something bad will happen.
“Look,” I say, trying my very best to stop myself from losing my shit. “I understand that you’re upset. But it is what it is. Let’s talk about it inside over a drink. You’re starting to shake, for Christ’s sake.”
“How do you see me?”
“What? What the fuck are you talking about?” I swear, what’s with women? Sometimes it’s like they talk in riddles just to try and trip you up. How do I see her?
“How do you see me fitting into your life?” Mia’s eyes are glistening as moisture starts to gather in them.
“Mia, seriously, what are you talking about? What is this? You want to have some big-ass discussion about us, here on the street? Are you fucking kidding me? Get your ass inside.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She shakes her head, backs away until she leans against a lamp post, and to be honest, the way she’s looking at me, with some sort of possessed look in her eyes, all I want to do is go somewhere quiet, away from all these eyes on us before I do something I regret. “Is this a normal night for you? You take a girl out to dinner, all the while you beat someone to death, and maybe, if the girl’s lucky, you’ll be back at the table before dessert. If you can get all the blood off your hands first, that is.”
My hand will be going straight across that smart-talking mouth of hers if she doesn’t watch herself.
“Mia,” I say, a warning in my voice, leaning closer, “remember yourself.”
“Remember myself?” She repeats back to me, my spatial awareness becoming more and more acute to the gathering crowd watching us. “Yeah, that’s the problem, isn’t it? I’ve forgotten myself—forgotten how I got here in the first place, and you know why? Because you fooled me into thinking that no matter how we ended up together, that somehow I was able to discover the real you, but now I know that I was just being naive. Brainwashed! That’s just what you do, though, right? Use people and never actually show any sincerity to anyone? It’s all fake. And the most fucked up thing about it all is that it’s probably so ingrained in your environment that you don’t realize you’re doing it.”
You know, I swear to God, women are all the same at the end of the day. No matter how much they try to pretend to be tough, or in tune with another way of thinking, in reality it always comes down to their feelings and how they fit into your life. Just when I thought I met someone who could handle this lifestyle, my hopes come crashing down. Now, it feels like I’m talking to a brick wall because she’s not understanding any of my warnings, she’s too busy jumping on this high horse of hers sprouting bullshit about the real me. What’s that all about?
The real me is the man who pulled her from her house because I didn’t want to kill her. The man who backed away when I realized she was a virgin. The man who made her first time a gentle, sensual dream! I didn’t have to do that! I could have taken her that very first night and had this same fucking speech the next day. I want to say this was all a waste of time, but I don’t truly believe that. Even if she kicked me in the balls and ran away right now, I’d still remember her as the best fuck of my life.
“The real me?” I answer, trying to keep my cool while she tosses dirty laundry into the waiting audience. “I swear, if you don’t—”
“You’re a sociopath, Antonio. A sociopath.”
“A socio-what?” The blood drains from my head, her insult hits me like a punch to the gut.
“Aye, Antonio, is everything okay out here?” My brother asks, stepping out of the restaurant.