Page 106 of Pierced

His expression changes. Pierce the ball-busting deal-maker emerges. I know what it looks like. I’ve seen it before. Just never directed right at me.

“Jesus, Myrtle,” he says. “I mean, look, I’m sorry. I really am. But… fuck.”

“Nice. Nice apology. Thanks.”

“Y’know, I’ve tried to… Jesus Christ. I’ve apologized for last summer. I’ve paid penance. I’ve, literally, prostrated myself. And this was, y’know, an accident. And it’s not my fault that you handed this party off to someone else and they misinterpreted what you wanted. I mean, to be fair…” He trails off.

I can feel my eyebrow arch. “To be fair, what?”

“Nothing.”

“No. What?”

He sighs and says, “To be fair… this”—he gestures around him—“is the impression you’ve given off for pretty much the whole time I’ve known you. That this is the kind of thing you’d be into. And—and let’s be real—it’s not unfounded, so…”

My eyes go wide and my mouth falls agape. Not in shock, but in anger.

“I’m just saying,” he says. “Stop taking it so seriously. Just let it go. I mean, goddamn, how many times are we going to wind up back here again?”

“Where? Exactly?”

“You pissed at me and me begging for your forgiveness?”

“You are fucking unreal.”

“Look, what’s it gonna take? You wanna have another contract? Some more ‘dominate Pierce’ time? Is that it? Hey! You wanna do it now? Here? How about we just go right over there, stick me in a cage, and you can pour candle wax on me or have a tiger lick my nuts or something. How about that? Let’s do it in front of everybody. Would that make you feel better? I mean, I’ve already told you that I love you and you’ve told me that you think I’m ‘pretty cool,’ so, you know, what difference does it make to put myself out there for you one more time just to wind up looking like an asshole?”

His hand is still on my arm, I realize. I look at it again, then I look at him once more, take a breath, and say, “Fuck you.”

And pulling away from his grasp, I go ahead and make my way down to coat-check.

I glance up at the second-story lobby, hoping. Hoping that he will come flying down those stairs, trying to make me understand. Trying to make me see it from another perspective. Trying to say anything that offsets everything he just said.

But he doesn’t.

So I feel like I have no other choice.

I walk out.

He doesn’t call. Not on Saturday night. Not on Sunday.

And on Monday morning I call in, leave a message for human resources that I’ve had a family emergency and I’m taking my two weeks’ vacation, then hang up and wait.

I wait for that call.

The one with Pierce’s voice on the other end, asking me to give him a chance to explain. Or asking to come over. But he doesn’t come over. I leave strict instructions at the guard house that no one be let in, but… I expect him to try.

When Samantha gets to work on Monday evening I call up there and ask her if there’s anything in the logs about Pierce coming by, but she says no.

Nothing. No call, no visit. Nothing but my own last impression.

And then, on Tuesday night, while watching the election results, I see that Chad whatshisface won and realize… I blew off Pearl’s very real save-the-community-center plan a second time because I was too busy with my very fake save-the-magazine plan that week.

I think that’s what does it for me.

I’m pretty sure that’s what does it.

The realization that I am: