Pistol

Chapter Nineteen

Pete wrenched the door shut behind him with a less than satisfying thunk. All this time, he had kidded himself that she wanted this. Was he that perverse now that he couldn't tell when a woman was doing something out of fear?

You're exactly like ya father.

Too much so. Low-life mind-fuckery was the exact kind of thing his bully of a father would have done to get a woman in his bed. He'd seen it plenty in those impressionable years. Fuck, even as a five-year-old he could recognise fear in a woman's eye. An emotion he'd never seen grace his mothers eyes—not once. Not even when they read out her sentence, and led her away from her freedom.

The bitch would be here in two days. Two. Fucking. Days.

Pete wrenched the door of his rat-rod open, and slumped into the low driver's seat. How could he let this happen? How could he let Steph wrap him about her finger like that? Had he finally lost his marbles? Was he days from incarceration himself? He slammed a tight fist into the solid panel-work of the door, and growled at the pain. Fuck this. Fuck her. Remember who ya are Pistol. You're an asshole, a jerk that doesn't care. Ya better fuckin' remember it.

The key groaned as he wrenched it past the point of ignition. The engine shook the chopped body violently as it ignited with more fuel than needed. He gunned the gas, and a sadistic grin spread at the throaty sound. The shifter slammed into first gear, and as soon as the tread slipped on the road he dropped the clutch, and slung the car into a lengthy burnout. Fuck ya. Some nosey neighbour wandered to the roadside as he passed by. The rubber picked up traction, and the body whipped straight. He cruised at a comfortable speed further up the road, and brought his phone out of his pocket to dial Richard.

"Hey. We all good?"

"Yeah," Pistol agreed. "I've been thinkin' about me dear mam's visit."

"Yeah?"

"Thought we might as well throw her a welcomin' party."

****

Steph cringed as the tyres tore a hole in the tarmac outside her house. Thanks, Pete. Great impression for my new neighbours.

"You still there?" Ben asked.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry."

"Spill the deets then. What's so bad that Cass has walked out on you?"

"I shacked up with a guy she doesn't like."

"So? Since when have you let the opinions of others affect you?"

Steph glanced at herself in the bedroom mirror as she sat on the edge of her bed. Ben was right. Look at her. Tattoo's, alternative clothes, piercings. Since when did she care? "You're right, bro. I think this time I'm worried about it, because she seemed sure she wouldn't talk to me again. We said some pretty horrible things to each other."

He chuckled. "Do I need to remind you of that time she caught you wearing the same new dress she'd bought the day before? It's Cass, sis. She can get pretty feisty over nothing."

"Maybe." Steph drew her lip between her teeth, and worried the flesh to the point of pain. "I took it out on him, though."

"Damn. Was he there for it?"

"Yeah."

"Was it his fault?"

"Kind of. He didn't exactly help the situation, much."

"Why doesn't Cass like him?"

Steph paused to work on a better way to say it than with the exact words Cass had used. "She thinks he doesn't have my best interests at heart, because of stuff he's done, stuff he's said."

"Who is this guy, anyway?" Ben's lowered tone hinted at a burgeoning vendetta.

"I don't think you know him. Don't do anything, Ben. Leave him alone."

"Sis," he urged. "If he hurt you, I want to know what his fucking reason is."

"I think I hurt him worse."

Silence hung thickly between them. "Did he deserve it?" Ben asked.

Steph sighed. Did he? Had what he done to her over the last week been that bad? "I don't know."

"Come on. It's not hard to figure out. Either he's a fuck-wit who deserved what he got, or you over-reacted as badly as Cass."

Steph giggled. "Drama central over here this morning. Reality shows 'aint got nothin' on me."

He laughed. "Girls. You lot make things so much more complicated than they have to be."

Steph's face fell. Things were complicated. "There's more to it. I just ... I don't know how to tell you."

"You've booked a sex change to win the heart of a gay man?"

She snorted. "Hardly."

"Then what's that bad you can't tell me? I've shared some pretty fucked-up stories with you over the years."

Steph smiled at the point Ben made. They were close for siblings. If she had to choose anyone to be the least likely to judge her, it would be Ben. "I'm glad this is over the phone now, because damn it's embarrassing."

"Spill," Ben demanded with a hint of humour.

"He likes, um, kinky sex." Steph drew the phone from her ear as Ben let out a long whistle.

"What's the beef with that? Are you worried about it?"

"Yes ... I mean, no ... I don't know."

"It's totally up to you what you do behind closed doors, sis. Unless ... has he forced you to do something you didn't want?"

"Not in so many words."

"Either yes or no, sis."

"I thought I didn't want to, but I liked that he did it. So I guess I wanted it, didn't I?"

Ben sighed. "You sound rather cryptic. I think you need to go for a run, go to the shops, do whatever it is you girls do to clear your head. Try and have a day without thinking too much on it, and hopefully it'll be clearer later."

Two solitary tears trickled from Steph's left eye. "Thanks, bro. I love you to pieces."

"I know." He laughed. "Love you too, sis. But tell me who I need to hunt if that fucker makes you sad again."

"Deal."

"Now go buy yourself a dress, or something."