Tank
Page 37

 M. Malone

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“Again. No idea. Why would I know that? I took her on one date. One awful date and a do-over where I had to share her with a college boy and a roomful of feral cats.”
Finn snorts. “You enjoyed it. And you even like that ugly ass cat you adopted to impress her. She’s good for you.”
“She’s not my girlfriend Finn. She’s not my anything.”
“And therein lies the problem. You’ve been different lately. In a good way. I don’t care what dumb ass excuse you’re using not to be with her right now but just forget it. Call her up.”
“She doesn’t want me. Not really.”
Finn gives me a disbelieving look. “Try telling that to someone who didn’t see the way she watched you at dinner. I don’t know how you two originally hooked up but she feels something for you. I’m not sure what, but it’s something. And that’s all you need.”
He scrubs his hands back and forth over his face. “I can tell you from experience that looking back and wondering if you did all that you could sucks. You know what happened with Rissa. I still wish I’d fought for her. Don’t do that to yourself. If things don’t work out between you, let it be her fault, not because you didn’t pursue it. At least then you’ll have the comfort of hating her.”
I’m stunned into silence. Finn doesn’t talk about the past or what happened with his former fiancée. He blotted her out of his life so completely that it’s almost like she never existed. This is the most I’ve ever heard him speak about it.
He raises bleak eyes to mine. “Call her.” Then he gets up and walks back to his room. I let myself out.
I walk down the street leading away from Finn’s place. Taking a drive would make more sense but I need the physical exertion. I want the burn of the cold air in my lungs when I breathe in. After I’ve walked for a little while, the neighborhood changes drastically. Graffiti pops up on random buildings and everything looks older. A man shuffles along pushing a shopping cart filled with old magazines and books. As I pass, he says “Change? Any change?”
I pat my pockets. “No, I honestly don’t. Sorry.”
He shuffles along with a disgruntled expression. I think about all the money sitting in my bank account now. I’m a freaking millionaire but I don’t even have twenty-five cents in my pocket.
I laugh out loud. There’s no one out here to see me laughing and talking to myself like a crazy person. Not that I should care. I have money. Isn’t that supposed to make me happy? It’s like I’m caught in a dream turned nightmare where on the surface I’ve been granted this amazing gift but it’s just a facade. Because beneath it all, I don’t have any of the things that really matter.
I’m not even sure how my phone ends up in my hand but suddenly I’m dialing Emma’s number and holding on to the piece of metal like it’s the only thing tethering me to the earth. Seeing her, hearing her voice is all I can think of. She’s the one true and honest thing in my life. The only thing untainted by all the negative emotions I carry around like a suitcase.
“Hello? Tank, are you there?” Her voice echoes in my ear. I close my eyes and absorb the sound of her voice, the tones flowing over me and through me.
“I’m here.”
She’s quiet but I know she’s still there. I can hear her breathing. “Are you okay?”
I allow my head to hang loose on my neck. She’s one of the only people content to just let me be. Not a lot of questions, just the important ones.
“Sorry. I know you said this isn’t possible for you right now. And shit, I know I’m a bad bet any given day of the week anyway. I just needed to hear your voice.”
“Tank,” she breathes and that one syllable arouses me like she’s talking dirty to me or something.
“I need you, Emma.”
There’s a rustle on the other end of the line. “Where are you? I’m coming to you.”
I give her the address and then hang up to wait. The homeless man has moved on a little further down the street and it’s just me and the concrete wall. I don’t even want to think about my admission on the phone.
I need you.
There’s usually a timeline of acceptable behavior in any relationship. You aren’t supposed to need a woman that you’ve known less than a month. I should like her and want to see her again but need her?
I push off and decide to circle the block again. She won’t be here for another few minutes to pick me up. I haven’t been walking long when I notice the man behind me. When I speed up, he speeds up. I turn another corner just to see if he’ll stick with me. After a minute, he does.
He’s following me.
I turn to face him. I could easily evade him but I don’t want to run. I want the fight. I need it.
He seems shocked that I’m not running but recovers quickly. He pulls out a knife, the blade glinting in the moonlight. “Give me your money.”
I attack first, rushing him and taking him back against the side of the building. A grunt escapes his lips as he hits the bricks. I must have knocked the wind out of him because he doesn’t resist at first but then he headbutts me. He’s strong but not as big as I am.
He’s also slow. My fist connects with his ribcage, his gut and then his jaw. That familiar chill settles over me and I unleash all my rage, my frustration and my pain into hurting him. With my fists, I can right a few wrongs even if everything else in my life is going to shit.