Page 13 of Wounded Dance
“We moved on to theaperitif,” Blitz says, picking up the bottle. He holds one out to me.
I set down the salad bowl and take the beer. I’m still underage, but I’ve gotten used to drinking lightly when it fits the situation. In the past month, Blitz has had meetings at restaurants and sometimes at bars, and I prefer to blend in.
I know that the comment about theaperitifis meant to be a slight against his father, as I’ve only heard that word at fancy restaurants and brown bottles of beer wouldn’t qualify. The tension between them is pretty intense.
David takes a slug from the bottle and watches for me to sip from mine. We don’t drink beer often so I’m not used to it. It’s dark and bitter and fills my mouth with an overwhelming amount of flavor.
I try to control my expression, but David lets out a sharp laugh. “You brought home a real young one,” he says. “I guess you can teach her to be anything you want.”
Blitz brings the bottle down on the table with a thunk. “Be nice to her, Papá,” Blitz says. “I didn’t bring her here to be abused.”
“Bah,” David says. “You obviously fancy this one. She’s all right. But she’s such a skinny mite. How is she going to give birth to my grandchildren with those tiny hips?”
This makes my face flame.I’ve already had a baby, I want to tell him. But of course I can’t say that. I set my own bottle down, poorly, and it almost topples. I catch it, my hands shaking again.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I ask.
Blitz looks ready to explode, his face red. But he realizes my tactical retreat is better than a standoff. “I’ll show you,” he says, abandoning the beer and his father.
Blitz wraps his arm around my waist to walk me out of the room. I feel better, having him stand by me. I want to be strong, to yell back at this boorish man. But he’s part of Blitz’s family. My father would be no better. It’s what we endure.
We go down a carpeted hall and Blitz turns me into a door.
The bathroom is long and narrow with a curtained shower at the end.
Blitz comes in with me and closes the door. He draws me into his arms. “I’m sorry, Livia,” he says. “He’s being worse than I imagined. Or maybe I just forgot.”
I rest my cheek on his chest. “I’m okay,” I say. “I just needed a moment after the baby comment.”
“I know. But he doesn’t know. He won’t ever know about that.”
Is that true? Denham knows now. And he’s someone we can’t control. He could tell anyone, sell his story to the tabloids, even.
God.
“I have to face my past,” I say. “Others know now.”
“I’m so sorry I said anything about it in front of that guy,” Blitz says. “I should have been more careful. It’s my fault.”
I shake my head. “It’s my history. It happened.”
“But he didn’t know,” Blitz says. “If it wasn’t for me, he never would have.”
I embrace Blitz, my arms around his sturdy body. “I don’t blame you,” I say. “We didn’t expect him.”
“I just saw him, and how he affected you,” Blitz says. “I lost my head.”
I look up at him. “What do you mean, how he affected me?”
“You were so upset. He was so in love with you. It was so obvious. It caught me off guard.” He runs his finger down my cheek. “You loved him a lot too, I’m sure.”
I can’t deny that. Denham had been my everything for a while. But I wasn’t going to think about that. Blitz was here. And he is what I want. I’ve shown the whole world that by walking onto his show.
“I think you have an edge on him on a thing or two,” I say. I meet his gaze and press tightly against him.
“Do I?” Blitz says, the lazy smile I love coming across his beautiful mouth.
“You do,” I confirm, and press my hand against the back of his head so that he will kiss me.
