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And honestly, I get it. As fucked up as he is, he’s not like my dad. He doesn’t use alcohol to hurt people, and there’s something about him that’s…different.
“What the fuck do you want?” he asks, using the same words I used on him. “If you think you’re going to get your fuck here, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“That’s not what I came for,” I say.
It sounds so much like what I said to him the last time I was here.
“Then what?” he asks.
I sigh. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
He scowls at me. “Bit late for that, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” I ask. “Aren’t you tired of this bullshit?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You know, I don’t understand you.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that.”
He shakes his head and pours a glass of bourbon before sitting down on his bed. He points to an armchair with a pile of clothes on it. I push the clothes onto the floor and sit down.
His room is nothing like mine. He has a double bed, a bar, an armchair, a large closet, and a television that takes up one whole wall. I didn’t notice much of this the first time I was in here. Granted, we were busy with other things…
“Why don’t you have a roommate?” I ask.
“Because I don’t want one. I get to choose around here.”
“Must be nice to get it all in your lap like that.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” he snaps. “You think it’s that easy? I just snap my fingers, and I get what I want?”
“Don’t you?”
He’s bristling with anger, but he doesn’t answer me. I suspect I’m right; hedoesget it just like that.
“You keep telling me I don’t have a future,” I say. “But you don’t get what it’s like to have to fight for anything in this world. You can’t tell me what I don’t have; you can only tell me what I’m not willing to fight for.”
Stone studies my face over the rim of his glass as he drinks his bourbon.
“Who says I’m not willing to fight for anything?”
“What have you had to fight for?” I ask.
“You have no idea,” he says softly, and his voice is laced with an emotion that makes me curious. I feel bad for jumping to conclusions about him when that’s what I’m accusing him of doing to me. But he’s an asshole, and he asks to be seen the way they all see him.
“My dad is a dick,” he starts. “They cut off his arms, legs, and head, and all that remained was his dick.” He grins at his stupid joke. “And boy, does he like using it. That’s all he fucking cares about: fucking. Do you know how hard it is to compete with that? I don’t even feature in his life unless I’m doing something that’s screwing with his image. I better keep my shit on the straight and narrow, or else. He’ll bend over backwards to give me what I want as long as I don’t say anything about his shitty habits, the fact that he’ll find his way into any pussy except my mom’s, and…” Stone stops and looks at me. It’s almost like he wasn’t aware that he was telling me all this.
“You won’t get it,” he finally says. “I bet Mommy and Daddy just love you to bits.”
“Sure,” I say. “My dad loves me so much it hurts.”
My words are barely out when the door crashes open, and my dad—speak of the fucking devil—stands there with a smirk on his face and a promise of pain in his eyes.
Chapter 11
Stone
“What the fuck, man?” I ask, jumping up when the low-life, piece of shit hobo crashes into my room.
