Page 109 of Pierced

“My father is the man he is because he doesn’t bow to anyone. He doesn’t prostrate himself. Ever. Ever. To anyone. Ever.”

I open the fridge and grab another Perrier. I pop the cap and drink. After another few long moments, Andrew says, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah.”

“Since when have you wanted to be your dad?”

“Don’t—”

“I dunno, man. Just seems to me that part of being in your own power is being in your own power. Not the shadow of someone else’s.”

I nod, taking this in.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“You realize that asking if you can ask something is asking something?”

He ignores me and says, “When you came into my office and got all excited about what happened with Myrtle that first time you were in her, uh…”

“Dungeon.”

“I know, it just weirds me out. But that next day, you came into my office all excited. Why?”

I think back to just a couple of weeks ago. How it felt when Myrtle came into my office and demanded a Fifty Shades of Chevalier type contract. And how it felt when I showed up at her place and submitted to her.

“I guess because, for the first time in my life, I let someone else have some power over me. And it felt really amazing to be able to give over to someone and trust them and shit. I guess.”

“Someone? Or Myrtle?”

I rub both hands down my face and my palms land, pressed together, in front of my lips in what might look like a tiny prayer. “Yeah,” I say.

“Shit!” That’s Eden from the other room.

“What?” asks Andrew. “What’s wrong?”

“Chad Walter is gonna be the new mayor!” she shouts to us.

“I didn’t know you were so invested in local politics,” Andrew says.

“I’m not. I just hate seeing dickheads get what they want.” It’s possible that I’m being overly sensitive, but I could swear that’s a veiled swipe at me.

“Hey,” Andrew says, pulling my attention back.

“Yeah?”

“What’s Myrtle’s middle name?”

“What?”

“What’s her middle name, man?”

“Astrid. Why?”

“What’s my middle name?”

“Dude—”

“Pierce, what’s my middle name?”