“And you helped me.”
“Yeah, but I get something out of that.”
“The fucking,” she whispers, sounding brokenhearted.
Nuzzling her head again, I sigh. “I could have fucked you out on the road. Made you do what I wanted. Bribed you, whatever. If it was just fucking, I’d have fucked you. I want something else.”
“What?” she asks in a shaky voice.
“I want you to love me. I’ve been wanting that since you talked about how much you loved your family. I imagined you looking that happy about loving me, and I knew I was going to keep visiting you until you learned to love me.”
Pixie squirms around in my arms until she breaks free. Resting on her knees, she studies me.
“I already love you.”
“Not like you love your family.”
“I’ve known them for a long time.”
“Not Future.”
Pixie narrows her eyes as if unimpressed by my stubbornness. Then she sighs and places her hand on my chest.
“You’re cruel.”
“I know.”
“You shouldn’t be that way.”
“I’ll try.”
Pixie bites her bottom lip. “I’ll try not to threaten to punch you anymore.”
“I don’t care if you hit me.”
“No, maybe not, but I care. Too many people hit you. It’s bad for your head and your heart to get hurt all the time.”
Studying her big brown eyes and the half-smile she offers me, I can’t imagine anyone more beautiful.
“I’m sorry I made you cry.”
“I forgive you.”
“Really?”
Pixie nods. “But I won’t forgive you in the future. Well, maybe I will in the near future. But not in the faraway future when you should know better.”
“I know better now.”
“I think you know in here,” she says, touching my forehead before moving her hand back to my chest. “But not here.”
“Probably.”
Pixie smiles a little more. “What’s a stripper?”
“A naked dancer.”
“Did you see Lana naked?”
“Yes.”
“Is she naked better than me?”
“No one is better than you.”
“You’re lying,” she says, poking my gut.
“Not really. I’d rather see you naked than see Lana naked. That’s not a lie.”
“I don’t want to see Bronco naked at all.”
“Don’t tell him that. It might hurt his feelings.”
Pixie grins at my teasing. “I’m sorry your father was the devil, and your mom hurt you, and your grandparents were terrible. Your story is very sad, but it brought you to me. I’ll try to make your story better now.”
“When I think of you at the Village, I feel as if your story was sad, too.”
“It wasn’t sad with the Dandelions and Papa. I enjoyed more good things in my life than bad things. Now, I have you.”
“I like knowing you’ll sleep in my bed again.”
“I like knowing I’ll wake up next to you. This morning, I was so nervous about Mama, Dove, and Future. I didn’t get to enjoy your pouting lips.”
“Do you want to go in the hot tub?” I ask, thinking of how she said the orgasms hurt her. I know that means I caused her pain. The hot water might help.
“I don’t know what that is.”
I gesture toward the pool. “The little tub is like an outdoor bathtub, but you don’t clean yourself in it.”
Pixie gives me a frown that makes me chuckle. “It’s relaxing,” I add, standing up and pulling her to her feet. “We’ll go naked.”
Despite her uncertainty about the hot tub, Pixie follows me. First, I open the lid on the food tray and dig around for a chicken leg. Pixie drinks water and pops a raisin in her mouth. Though I consider explaining how she’ll never get at a healthier weight if she eats like a squirrel, I’ve bossed her around enough for the day.
PIXIE
Anders should smoke more pot. He is so much calmer after he gets stoned. However, serenity is probably bad for a biker man. Tough men have to pretend to always be strong. Like how I pretended to believe the prayers at the Village. I was just lying so I could stay there. Anders isn’t lying, but he can’t be a silly version of himself around his scary, tattooed friends.
With me in the hot tub, he starts laughing and keeps going until his face is red. I giggle at his amusement, despite having no idea what he finds funny.
I really like the hot tub. People in the outside world sure need a lot of dumb stuff to entertain themselves with. Yet, this one, at least, feels good. Especially on my vagina. I refuse to call it a pussy in my head.
“What’s a titan?” I ask Anders as I bounce in the center of the hot tub and enjoy the bubbles going in my vagina.
“That’s my club name.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m big like a titan.”
“Why not call you big or giant?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t pick the name.”
“Why?”
“Bronco’s sisters wanted to call me Beanstalk or some shit. Topanga came up with Titan and then had the bunnies vote. They obviously didn’t want Beanstalk.”
“What’s a beanstalk, and how can bunnies tell you what they want?”
Anders chuckles again. “Beanstalk is from the kid story, ‘Jack and the Beanstalk.’ Also, bunnies are what we call the club girls who party with us.”
I just smile at him like he does at me when I tell him what the Dandelions believe. “So, Titan means big?”
“Yes.”
“What did they call you with the Killing Joes?”
“The Antichrist.”
“Why?”
“My dad was The Devil, and the devil’s son is called the Antichrist.” When I just stare at him, he adds, “It’s from the Bible.”
“Oh, well, that anti thing sounds terrible. Titan is better.”
“I agree,” he says, reaching out to run his big fingers against my wet cheek. “Do you like your name?”
“Sure.”
“Do you wish you had a normal name?”
“Like what? Topanga? Or Lana?”
“Lana’s pretty normal.”
“But
