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Tough Love	By : tstearns Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 808 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
"So tell me
about Betsy," Tseng said conversationally. We'd pretty much ran out
of things to bitch about work, and I suppose this was his half-interested
attempt to delve a little into his employee's personal life. I wasn't
buying that he really cared. He was no doubt just making small talk to be
polite, but he swirled the amber liquid in his shot glass and poised it between
his lips and the table, then almost as a second thought, set the glass back
down and waited for me to respond.
"Betsy?"
I frowned, wondering why he picked that particular topic. The he nodded
slowly, and figured I'd try to humor him. "Betsy..." I repeated
distantly. "Well... It was love at first site, what can I
say?" His eyebrows arched dubiously for a moment, and I took that as
a sign to go on. "I saw her sitting by herself out in front of a gas
station and knew immediately that I loved her," I shrugged breezily.
"...so then
what?" he urged.
...Then what, what?
I didn't know why he wanted to hear this stupid story, but for some reason he
seemed really interested. "I made an offer for her right
there," I answered simply. "Took her home, gave her an
overhaul, and we've been together ever since."
Tseng's blinked,
slowly, calculatingly. Like he was trying to figure an algebra problem in
his head. I�d never seen him have this kind of problem with math before,
though, so I knew something really had puzzled him. "What--" he
began.
Then suddenly,
he laughed--not a courtesy chuckle like the ones I�ve heard him give before, a real
laugh. It was deep, rumbling, purring...sort of like the engine of his
car. I never put much stock into that phrase, 'You are what you drive,'
but between my squeaky rust bucket and his sleek little speed machine, I was
beginning to wonder.
He pinched the
bridge of his nose, trying vaguely to compose himself. "Not your car,
Reno,� Tseng continued chuckling. "Your girlfriend."
Now it was my
turn to give him the dumb looks. I wish I could have shared in this
incredibly funny joke, no doubt at my expense, I really did.
Unfortunately, I just had no idea what the punch line was.
Girlfriend? I never had a girlfriend named...
Then it hit
me. "Oh. That...� I dismissed it with a
wave of my hand and snorted. I couldn't believe he'd taken me seriously
from my joke before. I should really start writing down my own material,
not because I think anyone would find it particularly amusing to read, but
because I can never remember what I've told people. "I never had a
girlfriend named Betsy," I admitted. "I don't think I've ever
even known anyone named Betsy. Unless you count the name of that chick in
the comic book I used to read when I was a kid.�
Tseng looked
back down at his drink and scoffed softly, shaking his head, then downed his
shot in one gulp. I couldn�t help but think he looked sort
of...disappointed. "My first girlfriend�s name was Angela," I
volunteered. "She was really great. I, unfortunately, was a
prick." Tseng hummed and nodded thoughtfully as if my last statement
had said volumes. Actually, this is one of the reasons it pays off to be
a guy. We speak in grunts, nods and short phrases and it all makes
perfect sense to us.
I reached for
the Communal Pack of Cigarettes from the middle of the table and flipped open
the lid. Two hours ago, this had been a brand new pack, and now there
were four left. I shook one out, placed it between my lips and held out
the open box to Tseng who didn�t hesitate to take one for himself.
Tossing the pack back on the table, I grabbed the Communal Lighter and pushed
it to his side of the table when I was done using it.
"How old
were you?" he asked idly, leaning back in his chair and squinting through
the gray-blue smoke with that billowed out between his words.
"Sixteen�seventeen,
maybe," I guessed. As a sort of maudlin afterthought, I added:
"She was my last girlfriend, too."
Tseng cocked his
head to the side studied me intently, leaning forward in his seat. I
gulped at the intensity of his stare; I might've flinched if the alcohol in my
system hadn't already retarded my reflexes so much. He pulled the
cigarette from his mouth and demanded, "You mean to tell me you haven't
been in love since then?"
I stared at him
unblinking, and sort of ground my teeth. I was tempted for just one
second to tell him that I was pretty sure I hadn't been in love with Angela,
either, nor any of the other women who were nothing more than notches on the
headboard, since apparently my preferences lay on the other side of the
fence. But he probably wasn't really interested in my personal life that
much.
I looked away
after a moment and casually flicked an ash into the ashtray. "I
wouldn't say that," I muttered. I countered him with my special
"don't go there" look and he shrugged and seemed to take the
hint. "So, what about you?" I asked, changing the subject
quickly. "Who was your first love?�
Tseng focused
his eyes thoughtfully on a distant wall. He frowned, smiled softly as if
recalling a memory, then frowned again. "There was this one girl I
knew when I first became a Turk." He paused for a long moment, his
features drawn and soft, his voice hollow and low. "I was a young,
stupid kid. And she was even younger." He shook his head and
smiled wryly.
"Jail bait,
huh?"
"To say the
least," he said, smiling sheepishly. "I mean...nothing ever
happened," he quickly amended. "We just used to talk.
But...sometimes I still think about her. Wonder what happened to
her..." His eyes raised and fixed on mine once more and he offered a
quirking smile. "Want another?" he asked indicating the empty
glass I was absently playing with.
I looked down at
it as if noticing it for the first time. "How many�ve we had,
now?" My speech was slurring just slightly and it all came out in
one long run on sentence, sounding more like a phrase from a foreign language,
but he seem to understand, nonetheless.
"I
dunno," he shrugged indifferently, sounding just slightly more coherent
than me.
Well, that was
enough to twist my arm any day of the week. "Why not?"
Tseng caught the
cocktail waitress� attention and motioned her over with a casual flick of his
wrist. "Is it still Happy Hour?" he asked her when she arrived.
"Yep,"
she nodded. "Actually, happy �hour� lasts all night tonight until
closing...unless it rains."
You gotta love
the bars in Midgar. And if you don't, I'll love 'em for ya. They
make it so damn easy to drown your sorrows in a bottle. We've got
three-for-one places, all-night happy hours...I even heard of a place that
offers discounts for alcoholics, but I've yet to run across that one yet.
Tseng paused and
frowned slightly at the waitress' statement. "And...what is it
then?� he suspiciously asked.
"Wet!"
she snorted unattractively.
I felt my lip
twitch as I tried to hold back a grin, and absolutely reveled in watching
Tseng�s reaction�or rather un-reaction. He was left with that
deadpan look so common to someone who�s just been had by a stupid pun with
nothing left to do but contemplate the deliverer�s death. I was seriously
trying with all my might to keep a straight face, and it was the hardest thing
I'd done all day. I'm not sure Tseng would've let me live if I had made a
peep, and I sure as hell didn't want to give the barmaid the impression I
thought her joke was actually laugh-worthy.
I wouldn�t say
that the barmaid was unattractive. Kind of the way I wouldn�t say that a
hurricane could just make you wet. It was a just blatant
understatement. She had a gap between her front teeth that rivaled any
ravine in Cosmo Canyon, and eyes that seemed to bulge unnecessarily out of her
skull. Her laugh resembled a screeching fire bat and there was enough
hairspray in her dirty blond hair to be seriously concerned about a fire hazard
should one decide to light a cigarette anywhere near her vicinity. I snuffed
out my own in the overflowing ashtray in front of me just as a precaution.
But she was
serving us drinks as fast as we could throw them back, and that made her an
absolute angel.
"Four
more," Tseng muttered.
"Gotcha,"
she said scribbling on the bar tab. She turned to leave, then stopped
herself once again. "Now, was that four more not including the free
ones? Or just four total?"
"Surprise
us," I quickly jumped in, flashing her a charming smile on Tseng's
behalf. She blushed, nodded and sauntered off.
Tseng and I
exchanged amused glances. "Everyday I loose a little more faith in
Humanity," he said, shaking his head with a dry smile quirking the corner
of his mouth.
"I lost
mine years ago," I quipped reaching for the cigarette pack again.
Tseng's
expression turned to a long, searching one for a moment, gazing directly in my
eyes. "Really?" he asked philosophically. I glanced over
at him noting his tone, and his pointed expression caused me to do a double
take. Jesus, he was completely serious! How one man could swing
from mood to mood so quickly astounded me. I felt like I was watching
someone play emotional tennis with themselves.
Leaning back
into my seat after completing my quest for another cigarette, I lit up and
remarked, "Well, it's not like we're humanitarians or anything."
"Does that
ever bother you?" he asked, meaningfully.
He was baiting
me to admit that it did, and truthfully I'd never given it much thought.
I wasn't cut out to be a humanitarian, and honestly, I'd realized a long time
ago that I couldn't give a shit about ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine percent of the people in the
world. How else could I do what I do everyday? Did I ever feel
guilty? Maybe... But I'd lived with enough guilt in my life that I
was a master at ignoring it now. Hell, I could practically teach classes
in it.
I mulled this
over for a long moment as I traced the grain patterns on the wooden table with
my thumb, wondering absently just how many trees had been sacrificed to make
that piece of furniture. I guess it was kind of noble, that tree, now was
helping to serve Mankind. But remarkably pathetic that this tree was now
helping to serve this particular man an alcoholic beverage. The moral
being, sometimes things don't turn out how you initially wanted them to. It
made a lot of sense to me at the time... I think I was identifying with
that table a little too much just then. "Would I be a bastard if I
said no?"
Tseng shrugged,
noncommittally. "I just think it's kind of a shame sometimes.
I sometimes wonder if anyone has any faith or spirituality left to spare
anymore, or if we've all just run out of beliefs. I look at the things
I've given up and look at what I've gained, and somehow it doesn't add up quite
right..."
"I haven't
given up a damn thing," I commented offhandedly, and Tseng looked up and
gave me a questioning look. I took a sharp drag off my cigarette and
exhaled. "You can�t give up something you never had,
Tseng." I sighed wearily at his disapproving look. "Look,
I�ll spare you the wonderful details of my childhood," I explained,
"but faith and spirituality never saved my ass in a fight, or kept me from
starving or gave me any hope that anything could just magically change because
I believed in something. I believe in my gun and the six bullets
loaded in the chamber, and that�s what keeps me alive. Nobody ever went
out of their way to help me, so why should I have any faith in
them?" I angrily crushed out my cigarette in the ashtray, even
though I�d only smoked a third of it. I hate talking about my past, I
hate sounding like a self-deprecating martyr, and I hate being reminded of it
all. "Christ, can�t we talk about something else? This is
depressing."
Tseng nodded
agreeably and fell into an awkward silence.
I swallowed
nervously, racking my brain for something to say. I thought I'd pushed
him too far, offended him for good, effectually slamming a door between us that
had only started to crack open. It was like I could see us both on a
darkened stage, that door the only prop. We stood on each side of it,
staring in silence wondering if we should knock or if it was the other one's
place to start up the conversation again. I chewed on my lip just to give
my mouth something to do, and I prayed for a sudden explosion, a murder, or any
kind of distraction in our quiet little world to be spared making this decision
myself.
The waitress
returned with our drinks and sat them on the table. Neither of us
bothered to acknowledge her beyond a simple nod of thanks. We just sat
motionless as we stared into that wordless abyss.
"You trust
me, don�t you?" Tseng softly asked. I was shocked by the tone
in his voice; it caused me to do another little double-take. I opened my
mouth to answer right away, but shut it once again as I studied his face.
This wasn't a question he was taking lightly by any means, and some flippant
statement on my part wouldn't do it. He was asking me, seriously, about a
commitment of trust. Not an easy answer to give for someone who'd never
trusted anyone before in their whole life.
Did I trust
Tseng? Now that was the hundred-million gil question, wasn't it?
But aside from the qualities about him that I found incredibly appealing--and
aside from the ones I particularly didn't--there was no question in my mind
whether I trusted him or not. I had, and did, from day one. It was
as simple as that, there were no conditions or stipulations, and no long
philosophical answers to kick around Plato's ass. I just...did.
Finally, I
nodded. "Yes," I answered hoarsely. Swallowing the desert
in my throat as I felt a blush creep up my neck, I added, "Of
course." And promptly shut my mouth in case I get the urge to
profess anything else to him. We weren't proposing marriage here, for
chrissakes, just having a semi-intimate conversation over a few drinks.
"Then you
haven't lost faith," he decided simply. "At least...not all of
it. And that's all that counts." He smiled, lifted his drink
and nodded a silent toast to me before downing it in one gulp.
I snorted and
shook my head in mild disbelief. "Tseng, were you always this
cheerful and I just never noticed?"
His face
contorted into a sour grimace for a moment from the taste of alcohol, and
gingerly placed the glass back down on the table. Turning amused dark
eyes to mine, he slowly licked his lips and gazed pointedly back at me.
"There's a lot you don't know about me," he taunted.
If I didn't know
better, I'd say that was an invitation. "Yeah? So share
something. I've been doing all the talking here."
"I'd rather
listen," he casually shrugged, still smirking like he was recounting a
private joke to himself.
Oh yeah.
Definitely an invitation. "Well, I'm sick of talking," I
goaded, "Now it's your turn."
"Isn't that
one of the 7 Signs of the Apocalypse? The seas will boil, the skies will
bleed and Reno will grow weary of talk?"
"Oh,
ha-ha," I shot back lamely, lifting my glass off the table. "I
said, your turn." Then I waited. Tseng sat back and
defensively crossed his arms over his chest. I sloshed the alcohol around
in my glass giving no indication that I was going to speak before he said
something, and finally put the glass to my lips and began to tip it back,
certain that I could sneak in one drink while he decided what to say.
"I was
married once."
I swear he'd
waited 'till I'd taken a nice big gulp before saying anything. In
retrospect, I guess I should have expected he'd try something like that.
I choked and sputtered feeling my scorched esophagus rebel. My sinuses
burned, my eyes watered like faucets and it was almost a full minute of
watching my life flash in front of my eyes before I realized Tseng was slapping
me on the back. Finally I was able to swallow in a huge breath of sweet,
delicious air and I belched loudly and gracelessly feeling instant relief.
"Shit," I garbled out hoarsely, wiping my mouth with the back of my
hand.
"Sorry?"
he offered, but his uncharacteristic grin said he was full of it.
"Are you all right? "
I shook my head
and jabbed my fingers into my stinging eyes. I always knew he was going
to be the death of me, and would�ve said so if my lungs weren�t busy trying to
learn how to breathe whiskey.
Taking just
another moment to recover, I suddenly realized Tseng's close proximity to me,
his hand still protectively resting on my shoulder. It occurred to me
almost evilly that I should try to milk this for all it was worth, but my
curiosity was getting the best of me. "Married?" I said
glaring back at him. "How long?"
He smiled
patiently and leaned back in his chair again. I immediately missed his
nearness and wondered if I could choke or fake a brain hemorrhage or something
to get him back over beside me, but he was already lost in thought before any
real substantial excuse came to me. "Three years," he said.
"How old
were you?" I blurted before I could stop myself. This was like
breaking headline news to me, and I wanted full, on-the-spot coverage. I
got the impression this wasn't something he told just anyone.
He
shrugged. "Twenty. Twenty-one, maybe. It was kind of a
blur."
It vaguely
occurred to me then that I didn't know his real age. I mean, he
definitely wasn't younger than I was, but I didn't push him past
twenty-eight. I hesitated for a brief moment, then asked, "What
happened?"
The smile faded
off Tseng's mouth as he contemplated this for one grave moment. I felt
rather regretful for prodding him for detail, but he'd volunteered it in the
first place, it was just my job to pry what I could out of him. "You
mean besides being young and
stupid?" he asked.
"Well,
yeah, that�s a given," I snorted.
His smirk crept
slowly back, but it darkened into something that was obviously less-than-
humorous. "She ran off with my lover," he said.
I blinked at him
with the same conviction of a pedigree Dalmatian with the all the intelligence
of your average bean sprout. His smirk widened into a wolfish grin, eyes
glinting mischievously, and I thought I detected a faint blush to his
cheeks. "Close your mouth Reno," he suggested. "You
look like the entrance of the Mythril Mining cave."
So I did.
But what the hell did he mean by his wife ran off with his lover?
What...what...? I wanted to pry for more information, but my brain was
too busy dissecting all the possibilities of his statement to instruct my mouth
to form a sentence. That was so apparently not the answer I'd expected,
and I was having a hard time trying to decipher if he was serious or not.
I knew he must've had a sense of humor hidden somewhere, but I didn't think it
ran this way. What kind of lover? Well, duh, how many
different kinds of lovers are there? There's female, and there's...
Okay, so maybe his wife turned out to be a lesbian and she took off with his
mistress. That would certainly be grounds for a separation in my
book. But the other possibility... Jesus Christ. I couldn't
even wrap my brain around that idea. Tseng wasn't like that. ...was
he? Not that it would it have been so bad if he was. Well, not
really... I couldn't decide what it was, it was just...unexpected.
Unexpected? Hell, it was just plain fucking weird. Any moment now I
expected a film crew to jump out and yell, 'Gotcha!'
By the time my
brain had chewed up and spit out every possibility it could imagine, the
cocktail waitress had returned and the moment was swept under the rug.
"Need anything else guys?" she asked.
Tseng eyed me
warily, shook his head and remarked, "No, I believe I�ve had
enough." I was still gawking at Tseng when they both turned to me
and waited for my response. At least my mouth was closed now.
Taking the hint,
I shook my head to answer it and felt the room spin as if my eyes had yet to
catch up with the sudden movement. "Ah...no," I said.
"I�m done." Know when to say when. Usually I realize it
about the fifth drink after I should have stopped. Tonight I guess I�ll
quit early.
The drink wench
left our tab on the corner of the table and left again. I made no attempt
to move for it--hey, he said he was buying--and he picked it up and
blinked sleepily at it. "You ready to leave?" he slurred.
I shrugged, not
wanting to leave but not really in a position to protest it, either.
"Whenever you are... You ok to drive?"
"No,"
he answered without hesitation. "You?"
I was tempted to
say yes for almost a full minute just to get the chance to melt into that
leather drivers� seat of his car and abuse the engine to my liking for a
while. Betsy's a great car, mind you. You'd be surprised how fast
you get used to the smell of burning oil and gas fumes. But there's not a
self-respecting male on the Planet who would turn down an offer to drive
Tseng's car. Even as I went to nod my head, though, the room tilted at an
angle and I had to hold the edge of the table to keep from falling out of the
booth. I didn�t think Tseng would necessarily appreciate it if I crashed
his toy. "Nope."
He considered
this heavily for a moment. "Well, if I stay here another minute, I'm
going to have to kill our barmaid, you know that? She's driving me
nuts."
"Oh come
on...she's not that bad."
His expression
turned grim and he flattened his mouth in disgust. "She keeps
looking over at you."
Suddenly
self-conscious and yet still trying to remain inconspicuous I shrank down in to
my chair. "Whaddyou mean?" I asked, conspiratorially.
Tseng snorted
and dropped his chin into his hand. "Reno, you're so na�ve."
I braved a peek
over at the bar where my oh-so-lovely admirer was eyeing me like a vulture
circling road-carrion. She smiled at me and I felt my stomach drop.
I attempted to plaster on a grin--which I�m sure it came out more like a
grimace--and nodded at her, preoccupied by that huge gap in her teeth
again. I mean...how many teeth can fit in a human mouth and still have
room for a ravine like that? Nevertheless, Tseng had been right and I
hadn't even noticed. Of course, a girl practically has to jump down my
underwear before I even have the slightest clue they're interested.
'Na�ve' was a nice way of putting it.
"Well,
so?" I began, wondering why he cared and my already floundering tact
falling to an all-time low. "What's wrong with that? You
jealous?"
He licked his
lips slowly and turned a smoldering gaze onto me again. My grin melted as
he continued to stare into my eyes, no words uttered from him in return.
I felt my cheeks flush warm, and I pictured a hundred and three things I wanted
to do to him right then. I saw myself grab a handful of his hair and drag
his face toward mine to kiss that goddamn smirk right off his face. I saw
it...hell, I could practically feel it, and I knew the mental image only
made my face burn hotter, but I couldn't help the idea from entering my
mind. "Don't bet on it, Reno," he muttered finally.
"She's not my type."
I barked out a
nervous laugh, grateful that he'd turned away. "Though you're more
than welcome to have her take you home," he added dryly.
"I'm sure she wouldn't mind."
"No, no,
no, no, n-n-n-n-no," I protested, holding up my hands. "She's
not my type either."
"What is
your type?" he asked idly, slapping down a large gil note on the table.
"I
dunno," I shrugged. "Something that I don't have to worry about
carrying a fire extinguisher with me wherever I go."
Tseng
chuckled. "Something a little less flammable?"
"Usually a
plus," I commented. I watched his hands with a vacant interest,
noticing the way the muscles and tendons moved beneath the skin, the way the
long fingers curled gracefully and imagined what it would be like to lace my
fingers through his. "I prefer a more exotic look," I said
through a haze of alcohol and desire. "Foreign over
domestic." Err...oops.
But Tseng didn't
even seem to make any sort of connection, and shot back at once, "Top
shelf, eh? You know, if you lower your standards once in a while you
might manage to get laid."
Jolted by his
abrupt statement, I stammered to form a protest when he abruptly rose from his
chair and motioned for me to join him. We walked through the bar and I
pretended not to notice the barmaid waving to me emphatically from the corner
of the room. Tseng pushed the door open from behind me and we sauntered/tumbled
out into the Midgar evening.
Midgar is
perpetually humid. Even when it's not necessarily hot, it's always
humid. It leaves a lovely coat of polluted slime covering your skin like
a grimy, thin latex. Yet the only rain we ever receive seeps though the
cracks in the giant plate above leaving standing puddles of water in the
potholes that never evaporate. The whole city smells like rotting
mould...on a good day. And the clinics are continually perplexed with the
numerous complaints of headaches their patients bring in. Makes me wonder
what kind of late night infomercial these "healers" watched to
get their degrees from.
Sad thing is,
you actually get used to it. I went to the mountains once on an
assignment about three months ago and nearly choked on the clean air. My
lungs ached with wholesome goodness and my head felt like it was going to
detach from my neck and float away like a balloon. My partner just handed
me a pack of cigarettes and told me to shut the hell up.
Stumbling around
in an almost pitch black parking lot, I was carefully watching my feet maneuver
the dangers of the smooth pavement, humming absently to myself, when Tseng
stopped me brusquely with a hand over my chest like a mother protects her child
in a near-collision. I almost tripped over that, too. I turned to
stare at him and he motioned for me to be silent as I followed his intense
glare over to his car. I blinked to clear my hazy vision then noticed two
dark silhouettes hovering suspiciously by the driver's side door. Out of
the corner of my eye, I caught him stealthily check for his gun inside his
blazer, but he didn't withdraw it. I checked for mine as well, but
couldn't feel it. Not wanting to make a big production about where it
could be, I coolly straightened my coat and decided I would have to resort to a
hand-to-hand fight, if necessary. My stomach tightened into a knot.
He nodded once
and began walking very quietly up to the car, never once removing his eyes from
that spot. I followed beside him noting how his footsteps weren't even
audible, as if he were gliding over air. I tried to imitate but could
still hear just a slight shuffling in my own clumsy feet. Fortunately,
the two silhouettes were making enough of their own noise to drown out any
ambient sounds we could have caused. As we approached the car, he rounded
and stood planted by the hood across from the two men. Amazingly, we had
remained unnoticed.
"Can we
help you?" Tseng grumbled in a low, even tone, his jaw set.
The man by the
driver's side door, fumbling around in the dark for a way in to the car snapped
his head up in the direction of the voice, his eyes as huge as saucers.
He wasn't very old, maybe even younger than myself, but he was big.
He dwarfed me by about three inches at least and probably bench pressed someone
my size everyday just as a warm up. I swallowed hard, but kept my cool.
Tseng once told
me, it doesn't matter what you really look like as a Turk. You could look
like a circus midget, the important thing is the attitude. Be a big dog
in a small dog's body if you have to. Yep, that's me. I'm just a
regular fucking Jack Russell Terrier. If there's one thing I have, it's
attitude.
"Fuck you,
pal," the guy growled through a thick city accent. "This is
MINE."
I noticed his
partner secretly slip his hand into his coat pocket and leave it there. I
had no idea what he could be reaching for, but fortunately, he was a waifish
little thing compared to his friend.
Tseng continued
his staring contest with the bigger guy. "We don't want any
trouble," Tseng said. "If you leave now, you won't get
hurt."
The big guy
snorted wetly over at his friend. "Get a load a' dis guy,
Butch. We gonna get hurt."
"Yeah,
Sal...how sweet."
Sal and
Butch. My God, I'd be laughing if I wasn't in Turk-mode. But the
tension continued to build as we all stood there staring each other down.
Tseng never even blinked.
Then, as things
often tend to do in situations such as these, everything happened all at
once. The big guy lunged across the hood of his car with a snarl, though
it wasn't truly clear what his intention was--I think to grab Tseng. But
Tseng easily strafed to the side leaving a gaping hole between us and instantly
latched on to Sal's coat sleeve, using the momentum of Sal's bulk to help drag
him across the hood of the car and pull him down over the other side in a
crumpled heap on the ground, his massive arms and fists flailing in 80
directions at once. Tseng suddenly had the advantage--not that there was
ever any question--and pressed the heel of his shoe to the guy's throat.
Meanwhile, the
little one gallantly produced some sort of telescoping rod from his coat pocket
and flung himself at me, using the bumper of the car like a step to catapult
himself through the air in my direction. I would've been able to dodge
the guy just fine, except that his asshole friend suddenly kicked my legs out
from under me, and though I didn't fall, I lost my balance leaving me open for
an attack. He tried for a blow to my head which I was able to
successfully block with my arm as we grappled close to each other, and I
suddenly felt a pain surge from my wrist and through my body where the rod had
made contact. "MOTHERFUCKER!" I yelled, then did the only thing
I could think of. I pulled his head close to me and bit his ear. Hard.
Butch screamed
like a girl, and I thought it was remarkably hilarious to hear, but I never
relinquished my hold on his head...or his ear. He kicked and thrashed
around, and somehow I ended up on his back as he bent over and tried to beat me
with that stupid stick. Finally I reached down and wrenched it from his
hand, jumping off of his back at the same time. He spun around and I held
the rod at arm's length to his throat.
I spit his blood
out of my mouth on to the pavement between us. His ear was dripping with
crimson as he stared at me horrified. "Crazy, stupid
son-of-a--"
I brandished the
rod and teased him with it, waving it in his face. He took a step
back. Over where Tseng and the big guy were, things had suddenly become
very quiet in light of a single, distinct *CLICK*. My eyes never left
Butch, but he jerked around to his pal. I knew Tseng had finally drawn
his gun and was probably pointing it at the guy's head.
"Leave,"
was all Tseng said. A moment later I heard the sound of rapid footsteps
retreating.
"Sal!
Sally, where ya goin'?!" called his friend. Tseng reholstered his
gun and came up behind me. Butch's eyes grew twice their original size
and he began to visibly shake.
Finally, I bared
my teeth and snarled nastily at him. He flinched and I enjoyed the
wide-eyed look of terror and disgust twisting his ugly face. I gave a
wordless bark, and nipped at the air in front of his face, and he flinched
again and took off the other way.
"That's
it! Go find your girlfriend, Sally!" I called. Then I
threw my head back and howled like a wolf.
Tseng collapsed
to the ground in front of the passenger door of the car, laughing hysterically
between gasps of air. I slid down next to him, laughing just as hard.
"I can't
believe you..." he choked. "Barking like a dog..."
"Hey, like
you said, whatever it takes," I shot back cheerfully.
We giggled there
on the ground for sometime before it finally died and I reached into my blazer
to retrieve the last cigarette between us. I lit it, took a deep drag and
passed it to him. "You alright?" he asked.
"Dude
fucked up my wrist," I said, dropping the rod on the ground in front of
me. "This stupid thing's got some kind of electric current in
it." I pulled back my jacket sleeve and examined my right arm.
A big purple welt surrounded by a large bruise adorned my wrist where a watch
would normally rest. Thankfully it had only shocked me through my
clothes, otherwise Tseng might be scraping me off the sidewalk right now.
"Is it
broken?"
I carefully
moved my hand, flexed the fingers and rotated the wrist. It didn't feel
good, by any means, but it was moving. "No, I don't think so."
"Well, at
least you got a new...whatever that thing is," he smiled, indicating the
rod and passing me the cigarette again.
I broke into a
tired laugh once again, and he couldn't help but join me.
"You know
the stupidest thing about all this?" he coughed.
"Besides me
barking?" I snickered.
"Yeah,"
Tseng laughed. "Besides, that."
"No,
what?"
He hesitated for
a moment as he continued to giggle, as if he was having a hard time forming the
words. "This...this isn't even my car."
"What?"
I sat there, staring at him wide-eyed, a puzzled grin plastered over my face.
"I parked
over there!" he laughed, pointing to another, very similar, black
car on the other side of the parking lot. "I realized it about half
way through the fight when I managed to wrangle these from Sal." He
dropped a set of keys in my hand attached to a big brass key chain with the
word "SAL" engraved on it. "I was wondering why the car
alarm hadn't gone off."
I thought I was
going to pass out from laughing so hard.
"C'mon,
Reno," Tseng finally sighed, picking himself up off the ground with the
kind of tiredness that only comes from laughing until you feel like your guts
are going to spill out of your ears. "We're obviously both too out
of it to drive."
"Where we
goin'?" I asked, looking up at him as he extended his hand for me to take.
"My
place," he said, pulling me up. "I'm only about a mile and a
half from here. Let's go get some ice on that wrist of yours�"
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Tough Love