Page 32 of Punishing Penelope
or wine, definitely red, a Pinot Noir. Rare steak to go along with that, fries, and veggies only for decoration.”
“I’m a vegan.”
“Bullshit.”
I laugh, and some of the tension leaves me, the atmosphere lighter.
“Give me the meat.”
I snap my mouth closed. Oh.
He heard me.
That light atmosphere… suddenly, it’s so thick, it’s hard to breathe.
Peter turns a corner, and we’re facing a door to an underground garage beneath a not too shabby-looking three-story apartment complex. I look around me. So caught up in the strange experience of being the sudden subject of Peter’s attention and trying to juggle his weird mood swings, I haven’t been paying attention to the city.
“Where are we?”
“Culver,” he says curtly and drives down the steep slope into the garage. “Was my first place when I moved to the city. Came back a couple of years ago after moving around a bit.”
“Culver’s a nice place.”
“Not like West Hollywood.”
WeHo. I had to sell an arm, a leg, my future firstborn, and both kidneys for a small place there, but damn, I love the neighborhood.
Then it strikes me.
“Wait. You know where I live? Stalky much?”
“As if you haven’t kept tabs on me over the years.”
I scoff. A little, maybe. At least I haven’t dug up where he lives.
“What more do you know?”
We move toward the double steel doors of an elevator, then ride to the third floor. I’m so tense, I feel as if I’m about to shatter. What am I doing? What do I really know about this man? It’s Peter, but in many ways, it’s not. He’s lived in my memory as a tender boy, so full of promises of something more. We were going to be more, but it was taken from us.
Adult Peter…
He scares me a little.
No, not a little…. a lot, but it’s a good scare… I think. Being in his presence does things to me, makes me feel what I’d forgotten, emotions I’ve suppressed for fear of the depths they’ll pull me back into. Now I think I need exactly that, crazy as it sounds.
Normally, I can hold my own in any company and any conversation, but tonight, with him, I’m not myself. There’s a chill in his blue eyes I’ve never seen, but at the same time, his rough demeanor, the unpredictability is enticing, and I crave more, want to know more. Why did he become a cop? What has he done since we split up? Is he in contact with any of our friends from back then?
Who is he?
“You worked for shitty, smalltown presses, then suddenly, you got what must’ve been your dream gig for the big beast. What I don’t know is who you fucked to get your shoe in the door.”
A bell dings softly, and the doors slide open. We step into a hallway with a soft carpet and four dark brown doors. There’s a sound from a TV and water flushing.
“I didn’t… What the fuck, Peter? Did anyone tell you that you’ve turned into a real asshole?”
Stopping in front of one of the doors, he puts a key in the lock, shoulders it open, and makes a little bow as he throws out an arm.
“After you, princess.”