“You saw him, didn’t you? Oh my God, you went to him.” She covered her mouth with her hands, thoroughly fucking mortified.
“So what if I did? The cunt had it coming, he won’t be bothering you now, Faye, not if the wanker’s got any sense.”
“You think that will stop him? Punching him in the face isn’t going to stop him, Andy. You don’t know him.”
“I’m not sure about that,” I said. “I hit him pretty fucking hard.” I shook my hand out, and the knuckles were puffed up nicely. “He’s a stupid old prick. I was expecting more.”
“It’s not about how he looks. It’s about how he is.”
“How heis, is a stupid cunt with a sore fucking jaw. How heis, if he’s gotanypissing sense, is on priority flight numberget the fuck lostback to Venice.”
I saw something flash in her eyes, something slightly less hostile. “I’ve never seen you like this,” she said.
“Like what? Angry? You’ve seen me angry plenty of times, Faye.”
“Not so… caveman. Did you thump your chest like King Kong?”
“So you think it’s funny now, do you? Make up your fucking mind.”
“I’m just surprised.”
“Yes, well, maybe you shouldn’t be.”
“Maybe.” She smiled. “Thank you, it’s sweet, but I think you’ll be disappointed. He won’t be going anywhere, not just because you thumped him in the face.”
“Sweet? Is that what you think this is?” I scoffed. “It wasn’t pissing sweet, Faye, I would have torn his spleen out if the place hadn’t been packed out with wannabe slave girls.”
“Well, let’s be thankful they were there, then,” she smirked. “I could do without bailing you out of prison on assault charges.”
“Murder charges, Faye. I hope you’ve got some cash stashed,” I said. “Would’ve solved our little power crisis, at least. Vincent without a spleen, me locked up behind bars.” I managed a laugh. “You probably still wouldn’t have managed to get the banking done on fucking time.” I gestured to the pile on her desk.
“Alright, smart arse.” She slapped my back and pulled my chair out from my desk. “Let’s get you a bloody ice pack, and I’ll go and do the bloody banking.”
***
I left my bedroom door open, and she dithered in the corridor. We still hadn’t spoken, not really, and it was getting too tense for comfort. Too fucking tense for peace. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my reflection, I looked exhausted and felt it, too.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s left open for you. You can come in.”
“And this is how it is now?” she quizzed. “We kiss and cuddle, you thump Vincent, and now I sleep in your bedroom?”
“Is that so fucking bad?”
“Is that still thelet me be in chargetone I hear in your voice? I think it is.”
“Why fight it?”
“Because I want more.” She folded her arms and sighed, and I used the moment to beckon her closer. She walked over, and fell onto my lap without protest, but her expression was still petulant.
I rested my chin on her shoulder, eyes hard on hers in the mirror. “We’re good like this, Faye.”
“Yes, we are.”
“So, what’s wrong with this picture? Why is this not enough?”
She turned around, until her eyes were on mine and not on the reflection. She adjusted herself, straddling me the opposite way around, her long legs wrapping around my waist, her breath so fucking sweet against my lips. “Because I want more,” she whispered. “I want everything.”
“Why?” I sighed. “Why do you have to have everything? Why does it have to be such a fucking battle?”