Page 81 of The Gambler's Prize
“Now, should I let you change before we go into town?” I say. “Or should I make you walk around in dirty underwear all day as punishment for teasing me?”
“Up to you, Boss,” he says.
But behind his back his hands tense slightly, showing me what he really wants. He wants to be allowed to change clothes. We have our safe wordkiveflowers, but he’s never had to use it. I’m too good at reading his desires, his limits. It’s a responsibly I take seriously. I accept it for the gift it is.
“Are you sorry you teased me?” I ask.
“Yes, Boss,” he whispers.
“All right then. Stand up and face over there.”
He does what I say, turning his back to me. I swat his butt a couple of times with my palm.
“Okay,” I say. “That’s punishment enough. Go and get cleaned up and changed. Quickly now.”
“Thank you, Boss,” he says.
He scuttles for the door, suitably chastised, then turns and looks back at me. His smile is wide, and his eyes are almost drunk-looking with happiness. The worddreamycomes to mind. It’s not a word I ever associated with myself before I metFlorian. I never knew I could make someone look like that. So satisfied, so… happy.
**
I hate to bring him back down to earth. But as we walk into town to meet the hairstylist, I have no choice. I’ve procrastinated long enough. He deserves the truth.
“Florian, we need to talk… about what we’re going to do next,” I say, gritting my teeth. “Let’s sit.”
We settle down in the shade of a gnarled tree. It feels a little easier to talk about it here, away from my house and the gym foundations: the evidence of my ruined dream.
“We need to decide what we’re going to do for work,” I say.
Florian looks at me, surprised, his face shadowed under the wide-brimmed hat he always wears to protect him from the sun.
“What do you mean?” he says. “What about your boxing gym?”
He sounds almost as excited about it as I am. Just another thing to love about him.
“I’m sorry, flower,” I say. “I know how hard you worked on those foundations and I’m so grateful for that. But the gym isn’t going to happen.”
His eyes widen in shock. “Why not?”
“I was refused a bank loan because of my prison sentence.”
He clenches his elegant fists, and I get my first glimpse of his fighter side. Didn’t Prevana say he’s the best at his boxing gym? For the first time, I can see it.
“Half the business owners in this town have been in prison,” he says. “Not to mention half of the authorities.”
“I know, I know.” I shrug, trying to hide my pain. “I guess I must’ve pissed off the wrong person.”
“But that’s so unfair,” he says.
“It’s okay. I’ve made my peace with it. I have other dreams now.”
I kiss him, trying to melt his anger. But when I pull back, he still looks stubborn.
“This isn’t right,” he says. “Surely there’s something we can do.”
I look at the baked red earth stretching for miles in all directions. It’s broken only by wizened trees and sentinel cacti and the occasional sharp rocky outcrop. For a fanciful moment I imagine the outcrops shoving their way through the level ground at some ancient time by sheer force of will, eager to face the brutal sunlight. The flat line of the horizon meets an equally uncompromising deep, unbroken blue sky. A scorpion scuttles across the path, and the grunt of a vulture drifts on the wind. There’s no doubt that the desert is a place of stark beauty. But it isn’t our home. We came here fleeing our demons, and now we’ve beaten them.
“Maybe Galbrava isn’t the best place for us anyway,” I suggest, tentatively. I don’t think Florian wants to stay here forever, but I don’t want to assume.
