Pierce Me: Satisfied by the Bad Boy

by Simone Sowood

  “You’d better honor that promise when Steel sells a car,” I say. I can’t believe what an asshole my father is being. If we were in the carnival, I’d stick him in the Loosey Goosey.

  “If Steel sells a car, I’ll give you a dealership, and a house.”

  “Greg, there’s no need to be rude,” my mom says.

  “All I’m asking for is a shot, is all,” Steel says, flicking his hand in the air.

  “Even if you sell ten cars, you still have to go back to Canada for two months to get the visa,” my dad says.

  “That’s fine. We’ll go together, right, Steel?” I say, looking at him.

  “You know I want to show you Niagara Falls,” he says, his blue eyes sparkling.

  “Perfect. It’s going to be fun,” I say.

  There’s no doubt in my mind that Steel will be successful. He can do anything.

  “Wait a second, Emily, don’t go getting your hopes up. He has to sell a car first, and there’s not much chance of even my best salesman selling a car on a customer’s first visit to the lot.”

  “So then give him more time,” I say.

  “You know I can’t do that, I’m not risking having an illegal worker there for more than a day. You’re lucky I’m giving you anything at all.”

  If Steel can’t sell a car tomorrow, my baby is going to be born in Canada. There’s no way I can get through this pregnancy and birth without Steel. Besides, I’m not about to live by myself in Woburn, and all the gossip in town would be about how a carny knocked me up and abandoned me. I’m not staying here and listening to that.

  It’s after eight pm, and I’m lying on the bed in the Motel 6. Steel didn’t want me at the dealership with him, and neither did my father.

  I dropped him off at the Woburn Chevy dealership at eight thirty this morning, and haven’t heard from him since. Steel has an idea he’ll sell a shiny, new Corvette, but my dad said he’d give him a dealership if he managed to sell anything, even if it’s the cheapest used car on the lot.

  He’s wearing his black jeans, and the black buttoned shirt he bought for our wedding. All the other salesmen always wear suits, or at least suit pants and dress shirts and he thought he should at least try to look like he works there. Though I did noticed he shoved in his Metallica t-shirt in his backpack that he took with him.

  My mother and I hung out at the mall for awhile this afternoon. We bought baby books, and looked at baby clothes. It’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to think about the fun side of babies, and we had a good time.

  We even grabbed an early dinner in the food court before I came back here.

  It’s kind of freaky. She’s treating me completely differently now. She hasn’t once tried to tell me what to do, or even implied I don’t know what I’m doing.

  My mom has been strangely intrigued by my time in the carnival, and yelped in excitement when I told her about the Ferris wheel wedding. Though I left out The Gravitron.

  The change in her is shocking, but Steel was certainly right when he predicted it. I only hope he’s getting along okay under my father’s glare.

  My phone hasn’t beeped all day, and I check it again to make sure the sound is on.

  I get off the bed, grab a wrapped glass from the shelf, and walk to the bathroom. The tap is stiff, so I fill it from the bathtub faucet.

  Taking a sip, I sit on the end of the bed and switch on the tv. There’s nothing on, so I flip through the channels. It’s amazing how long you can flick for, especially when you’re trying not to think about things.

  I manage to watch an entire episode of Seinfeld on some high-numbered channel.

  It’s now nine o’clock, and I can’t take it any longer. I though Steel would’ve been home hours ago, he’s been there almost thirteen hours now.

  The pit in my stomach is telling me one thing, the thing I’ve been trying to not face, all evening. Steel must not have sold anything, and is refusing to leave until the minute they close.

  Are you coming back?

  A moment later, my phone rings. It’s Steel.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Goldie,” he says. There’s a lot of noise in the background, and it’s difficult to hear him.

  “Is everything okay? Are you coming home,” I can’t resist any longer, “Did you sell a car?”

  The only sound is of the busy bar.

  “Steel?”

  “No, I didn’t sell a car.”

  The way he said ‘a’ gives me hope, though I might’ve misheard through the noise.

  “Did you sell two?”

  “I didn’t sell any cars. No one wanted to buy a car from me.”

  The pit in my stomach grows bigger. I guess my baby’s going to be Canadian.

  “Well, you tried,” I say, my voice flat.

  “But I sold two pick-ups!”

  “Shut up!” I squeal.

  “Yeah, turns out the guys buying pick-ups like to see themselves as bad asses too. And there are a lot more people buying pick-ups than sports cars.”

  “Holy shit, what did my dad do?”

  “He was gone when I sold the first one. But he saw the whole second one, and we’ve been here celebrating at the bar ever since.”

  “What the fuck? You didn’t think you should tell me? I’ve been sitting here going out of my mind.”

  “Sorry, babe. We’re just trying to figure out the money side with Rob.”

  “He’s there too?” Unbelievable. Why am I the last to know?

  “He only got here after dinner.”

  “You had dinner with my dad?”

  “We shared a mountain of suicide wings.”

  I give my head a shake to make sure I’m not imagining things. Steel and my dad getting along?

  “I can’t believe it, am I hearing you right?”

  “Everything’s good. Your dad’s actually a pretty good guy, once you get to know him.”

  “What about his precious reputation?”

  “He says once his buddies at the Lions Club all meet me, they’ll love me.”

  Figures his reputation matters in context to his friends.

  “Let me guess, you two bonded over beer.”

  “Beer and the smell of success,” Steel says, laughing.

  “Does this mean we’re going to Canada for two months?” I’ve never been to Canada before, and it sounds like another fun adventure — now that I know I’m coming back afterwards. Even though I’ll be five months pregnant when we get back.

  “It most certainly does.”

  A Touch of Evil (Steel)

  It’s the end of November, and it’s been a few weeks since I sold the trucks. Carol begged us to stay for Thanksgiving plus Emily had to have some baby scans and things before we left, and Greg and I had to get all the business plan and all this other paperwork shit in order. I don’t know anything about paperwork, I just signed where they told me.

  They had to create some whole back story on where I got the money from, and why I don’t have a record of having a job in either Canada or the States over the past ten years.

  I don’t know what they came up with. Something about working in some Central American country that doesn’t share tax info with anyone.

  Emily’s brothers are great about welcoming me, but I can’t say the same for the townies. They aren’t being vicious, from what I can tell, it’s more that their mouths can’t stop flapping about the most exciting thing that’s ever happened in the town — me.

  Now we’re in Niagara Falls. Emily and I drove up, so we’d have a car. It’s only a twelve-hour drive anyway. North Carolina seems to be a day away from everywhere.

  We crossed in Buffalo, because I wanted to be able to see the look on her face the first time she saw the Falls.

  Now we’re sitting in our one-bedroom hotel suite at the Marriott, the fucking Marriott. Who would’ve thought I’d be staying anywhere so swanky? We even have a whirlpool and a fireplace. Emily’s parents insisted we stay somewhere nice and paid for it.
Said this was a gift from them and to think of it as our honeymoon.

  We’re on a high floor, and have a big floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the edge of the Falls, and Emily can’t pull herself away from the window. She’s standing with her forehead pressed against it, staring at the plummeting water.

  How long is she going to stand like that for?

  “I can’t believe how awesome this is,” she says, her breath fogging the window.

  “So you keep saying,” I say, flipping through channels. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Canadian television, I barely remember it.

  “I can’t believe you grew up, with this in your town.”

  “Yeah, I was more interested in the fun houses on Clifton Hill.”

  “Huh?” She doesn’t look away from the window.

  “All the touristy shit. Like Ripley’s.”

  “I don’t know how you bothered with stuff like that when you had this.”

  “This isn’t the most impressive. If the visa takes longer, we’ll be here in January. That’s when it’s most amazing, when there are big chunks of ice and stuff in the river.”

  A shiver runs across her shoulders, and she says, “Sounds cold.”

  “Fucking cold. Hopefully the visa comes before Christmas so we don’t need to buy parkas and snow boots. But if we do, you’ll really never move away from the window.”

  Emily doesn’t respond, instead she resumes her trance. I keep flipping through the channels, stopping only to watch the commercials and news updates so I can hear the accent.

  Without moving her head, she says, “We should find your mother while we’re here.”

  “No, we most definitely should not,” I say.

  “Of course we should, the baby has a right to know her.”

  I lose interest in the tv real fast, and turn it off. Silence fills the room, and I let it hang there while I choose my words.

  “No,” I say.

  “Are you ever going to tell me why not? I know you lived with a foster family, but it doesn’t sound like for very long, from what you’ve told me before. Were there other foster families?”

  “Nope,” I say, my voice quieter this time. I want her to drop the subject. Even though I know it’s going to keep coming up.

  “Why do you keep hiding stuff from me? You wouldn’t tell me where you were from, that you weren’t even American. You won’t tell me anything about your mother, or your childhood. I need something, because right now, it feels like you’re keeping secrets from me.” Emily’s eyes stay fixed on the water as she speaks, but her words are strong.

  “I’m not hiding anything. I just don’t like to think about it. She was an alcoholic and an addict, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” I snap.

  Emily flinches, and her eyes close but she still doesn’t move from the window.

  She swallows, and with her eyes closed says, “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine, just drop it.”

  I pick up the remote to turn the television back on, when she opens her eyes and spins to face me.

  “Why don’t you trust me enough to tell me these things?” she asks, her eyes burning into me.

  “That’s not true.”

  “Of course it is, or you wouldn’t keep hiding things from me.”

  “I’m not hiding anything.”

  “Your past? You’re not hiding that? Because if you weren’t, we wouldn’t be having this discussion right now. Because I’d know what it was.”

  The heat and intensity of her eyes weigh down on me. Maybe it was a bad idea to bring her to Niagara Falls, it’s got her thinking too much. In North Carolina, it was out of sight, out of mind. She didn’t have much reason to think about my past.

  Unlike now, standing there, wondering what is was like to grow up with the Falls at the end of the street.

  “Fine, you want to know so bad. She had a revolving door of abusive men in her life, she finally married the worst one of all. And one day I realized I’d grown, and was bigger than him. So the next time he hit her, I beat the fucking shit out of him.”

  “You beat him up,” she states, staring down at me, her eyes narrowed.

  “Pulverized him. He was in the hospital forever.”

  “Did you get in trouble with the police?”

  “Of course. Spent the next three years in juvie.”

  “But… you were defending your mother.”

  “She testified against me at the trial. Said I was the threat in the house, not her dickhead husband, and that I’d done it before. When I got out, I lived with the foster family because she was still married to him,” Anger seethes in my voice at the memory.

  “Were you the threat in the house? Did you do it before?”

  “What? No, I never did it before. I wasn’t the fucking threat in the house. She was. She’d rather marry a guy who beat her up in exchange for a fix. To be honest, I don’t even think they noticed me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “They might’ve, I don’t know. It sure didn’t seem like it at the time.”

  “No. I mean, you’re sure you weren’t the threat in the house? You’re sure you’ve never done it before then.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  I kind of thought she’d be all sad at my past. That she’d feel all sappy and sorry for me because my mother was the way she was. Not that she’d fucking believe my mother’s horseshit that winded me up in juvie.

  “What am I talking about? All the violence, is what. I’ve seen you fly off the handle with my own eyes. And Razor loves telling Steel fighting stories.” Emily’s yelling, and her fists are clenched. “I’m talking about marrying and raising a baby with a man who’s hospitalized someone and he never thought that was important to mention before!”

  “You know all that shit is ancient history,” I say, trying to keep my voice down.

  “You’re sure there’s nothing else you aren’t telling me? For all I know, you’ve got a dozen more secrets!”

  “There ain’t nothing else, I swear it.”

  “How do I know if I can believe that? You’ve always said stuff like that.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Goldie, I said there’s nothing else,” I say, matching her volume.

  “Unbelievable,” she yells.

  “What’s unbelievable is that you’re treating me this way now!”

  I get up off the couch and stand beside her, looking down on her. My heart hammers against my ribcage, and I don’t know what to do to make her believe me.

  Reason to Live (Emily)

  “Holy fuck, are you kidding me?” I say, looking up at him.

  Is he threatening me now? The way he’s standing there like that, his eyes cold staring down into me. I need out of here, away from him.

  I turn, grab my coat and flee out the door. Marching straight to the elevator, I don’t even turn around to see if he’s following me. I don’t want him to.

  Alone in the elevator, tears trickle down my cheeks. What do I do?

  I keep on walking, out of the hotel and towards the Falls. We’re up a cliff from them, and I have to take an incline railway car down the cliff to get to the top of the Falls.

  Crossing a road, I beeline straight to the thing I’ve been staring at out the window. I walk until I can’t go any further, and I lean on the railing that separates me from the water. I’m standing in a cloud of mist, and the noise of the river hurdling over the edge is deafening.

  Through my tears, I don’t feel anywhere near the awe I felt when I was looking out the window. Instead, my eyes fix on the edge of the Falls, seemingly only inches from me, and I watch the water plunge into the gorge below.

  Is the same thing happening with my relationship? We were sailing all smooth down the calm river, and then bam! we go flying over a two-hundred-foot cliff. One I didn’t know was there, but Steel did.

  I should’ve been more demanding in getting him to tell me about his past before I ever joined the carnival. Or at very latest, after h
e attacked Razor. God, I feel so stupid. How was I so stupid?

  The November wind is biting cold, and blowing straight down the wide river and into my face. If I wasn’t crying to begin with, the wind would put the tears in my eyes for me. I pull my coat tighter around me, and try to close any gap around the neck.

  Craning my head, I look at our hotel behind me. As if looking up at the towering building could give me any answers. Just because Steel’s in it right now doesn’t mean anything. Or it shouldn’t, anyway.

  I look back to the river. I’m standing right at the lip and the main waterfall, the one that divides Canada from America. It’s a lot of foaming, unbroken water all the way over to an island. Down from the island is another waterfall, the American Falls. Enormous, jagged rocks litter the bottom of it.

  It’s kind of the way I feel. Like I was just sailing along in smooth American waters, when this Canadian came along and plunged me into some boulders. I sigh.

  Beyond that waterfall, a bridge spans high across the gorge, connecting the two countries.

  The longer I stand here, the more my gaze focuses away from the waterfalls, and onto the bridge. I wonder if it’s possible for me and Steel to be connected like that again.

  My mind races, thinking back over all the things that Steel ever did around me, all the fun we had and talks that went long into the night in our trailer. Aside from Razor, nothing he ever did made me think he was anything other than amazing.

  My hands are ice, and I cram them in my pockets. I lost the feeling in my toes ages ago, but I don’t leave my spot at the railing. I can’t. I’m too busy replaying the past year in my head, in reverse.

  When I get to that night in the Motel 6, when I was begging Steel to take me away to join the carnival, I remember what he said. Something I’d forgotten before, and my heart shatters as if it just hit one of those jagged boulders.

  ‘You’ll be a carny, and they think that means they can treat you anyway they feel, because you’re scum and don’t deserve any respect. In their minds, you’ve had your trial, and you’re guilty.’