I took a deep gulp of my drink and made up my mind to persevere, even if it killed me inside. He'd play that gig and be out of town and I'd never see him again.
I could do that.
I returned to the Galaga machine. A few rounds would settle my mind. Leaving the bar before Holden King came out of that meeting was a better idea.
No, screw that. This was my bar and I wouldn't run from Holden. I'd stand strong and show him he no longer had any effect on me. Because he didn't. Except for pure hatred.
Alex could make me work with Holden around but he couldn't make me like it.
Tinny music played from the machine.
Shit, I’d died and I hadn't even made it through the first stage. Was I a complete rookie at this game? I pulled out the plug to restart the machine, wiping that failure from my record forever.
If only life was that simple.
Holden King walked out of that meeting like a god. He really did have a high opinion of himself. I didn't even look up from my game. He could see himself out.
But instead of leaving, he hovered behind me. I hated that so much. I had to concentrate. I couldn't let him distract me from my game.
He'd get bored and leave when I didn't give him attention.
It totally put me off, though. I shot too early, my reflexes shot.
Cold bursts of fear shot through me.
When I finished though, he was still there. I didn’t want to talk to him. I hadn't really spoken to him since he'd come back. I had nothing to say. How do you tell someone they destroyed you? Either they already know and they don't care or they never cared enough to know.
I couldn’t not talk though.
“Are you going to hover there like a big creeper?” I stared at the machine.
“I could play you.”
“I thought you’d already done that.’
With that sick burn, I got up and went to the bar. If he wanted to say something, he could have his say and then leave. We opened soon and I didn't have time to stand around chatting.
"We're going to be working together, Carlie. At least we can be civil with each other."
"Sure, how's this for a plan, you keep away from me and I won't punch you again?" That seemed like a reasonable compromise to me.
He settled himself down at the bar without taking his eyes off me. It annoyed me like hell but a part of me thrilled that he would still look at me in that way. He still sent that buzz of excitement through me. I didn't want that buzz. I wanted nothing he could give me.
He ran his fingers through his hair. That was another one of my weaknesses, the way he did that. So casual, yet he moved his fingers in a way that made me envious of his hair.
All the weaknesses I had concerning him had to be plucked out of my life. Like weeds in a garden, you had to destroy them at the roots or they'd take over.
"It's not so simple," he said, his eyes pleading with me.
I told myself not to meet his eyes. That was the way to destruction. It was a trick he used to make you do what he wanted. The poor lost little boy look. You felt compelled to try to make things better, to put your arm around him and tell him it would be alright, because you would make things right for him. I mentally blocked that look. He could have all the pleading eyes he wanted, my block would make me impervious. It'd do him good to know that not every woman was shaking in her boots to get to him. Hell, I was shaking in my boots but he'd never know that.
"It's that simple." I poured myself another drink, not offering him one.
"No, you see I'm back in town for a reason. I want a second chance with you. I'm going to prove to you that I'm worth it. In fact, I'm not leaving this town without you."
He said it with total conviction as though stating he was going to the shop to get a carton of milk. It was just a line he spun.
"Yeah,