‘I’ve been so worried about you, my love,’ he said. He came slowly towards her with a delighted expression on his face, as if he were about to offer her a bouquet of flowers, but his eyes betrayed all the ferocity of a demon wearing a halo of fire.
She rose to her feet and tried not to show that she was terrified. ‘Get out of here. I need to get on with my work.’
But Grant didn’t leave. He moved closer, forcing Penny to step backwards, even though she hated acting like the victim, or prey.
‘You’re more beautiful every time I see you. Did you do something new to your hair? You reek of sex. You’re absolutely to die for.’
‘If you don’t move . . .’
‘I’ll move, I’ll move, but I hardly want to have you for the first time in here. I just wanted you to know that I didn’t disappear on you. I really do care about you, and sooner or later I’ll put that in blood.’
Penny turned her head away; she couldn’t stand his breath on her face. He had doused himself in some expensive cologne that made her feel nauseous. He was too clever to attack her in here, where someone might catch him, but his very nearness to her was aggressive and turned her stomach. So when Grant reached out to grab her shoulders, even if that gesture didn’t necessarily signal a full attack, Penny remembered what Marcus had taught her and moved swiftly to thrust his arms away, then raised a knee and kicked him where she knew it would hurt the most. Grant wailed and folded over on himself, groaning insults at her.
Penny had expected him to plummet to the ground, gasping like some poisonous insect, but Grant didn’t fall – on the contrary, he remained on his feet and shuffled awkwardly backwards. That’s when Penny saw Marcus appear behind Grant; he was too tall and imposing not to notice. He grabbed Grant by the shoulder, bent his arm behind his back and slammed him against the wall with such violence that she thought he would break something.
‘What the . . . ?’ muttered Grant, nose and mouth squashed against the wall as if he were about to kiss it. Blood dripped from his nose as tears of pain streamed down his cheeks.
Marcus held him firmly in that position. ‘You total piece of shit,’ Marcus said in his ear. Even without his monstrous hold on the other man, his tone alone would have been frightening. ‘First I’m gonna cut your throat, then I’m gonna tear you limb from limb and burn your body. They won’t even find your teeth when I’m done with you.’
Grant continued to whimper like the coward that he was, with his broken nose and bruised balls. Penny grabbed Marcus’s arm and gave it a squeeze.
In his eyes, she saw an armed murderer, the same boy who had wanted to kill the man attacking his mom, only bigger – so much bigger – and way more lethal.
Penny couldn’t allow him to kill again. She would do what Sherrie had done long ago. She would take the scissors away. ‘Please, let him go,’ she said.
Marcus loosened his grip on Grant’s arm. He stared at Penny, who stared back in a silent plea for him not to go any further, not to destroy himself in the process of destroying Grant. Penny’s eyes were bright, clear and tender. Grant, meanwhile, took advantage of the moment to wriggle free and make a run for it. He escaped without even looking back at his aggressor, holding one hand over his nose and limping conspicuously.
Marcus lunged in Grant’s direction, as if he wanted to catch him, and Penny had to use both hands to hold him back.
‘If you hurt him, it’ll hurt you more. He’s a piece of shit but he didn’t hurt me.’
‘Not yet! Fuck, Penny, with some people there’s only one solution. They have to die. If he doesn’t die, then sooner or later he will hurt you – you or someone else.’
‘Then let’s hope he does die, but not by your hand. Please go to work now. Something tells me he won’t be back in a hurry.’
Marcus shook his head.
‘I’ve already called the Maraja to tell them I’m not going in tonight. I’m gonna stay here, and if he does come back I’ll take him to the alley and smash his head against the wall. I’m not kidding, Penny.’
‘I know you’re not kidding but . . . I’m not going to let you ruin your life. In three weeks Francisca will be out and you can leave all this behind. I’ll manage like I’ve always done. Now let me get to work, or Debbie is going to start making my life even harder.’
Penny moved towards the bar. She realised she was shaking and only had one shoe on. She found the other one and felt tired – so tired that she seemed to be carrying the weight of the whole building, including all the people and their hearts, their thoughts, and the vast amounts of alcohol they were busy drinking. Including Marcus, who was staring at her and not looking away; Marcus, with his murderous eyes, who whispered to her a moment before leaving the room, ‘If he touches you, he dies – and that’s a promise.’
Just like he said, Marcus did not go to work that night. He stayed at the bar – ever present, watchful and seething – until the end of Penny’s shift. Penny, who was already upset for rather more serious reasons, had to stand by and watch a million women hit on Marcus, although all of them eventually gave up, resigned.
Suddenly, two of the women approached the bar to order a drink.
‘So how did you do it?’ one of them asked, after requesting a gin and tonic.
‘Excuse me?’ Penny asked right back.
‘Get with that stud,’ she said, nodding towards Marcus. ‘And he must love you right back. He didn’t even want to give me his phone number. He said he’s with you. How did you do it?’
Penny buzzed with a ridiculous thrill at the fantasy of being Marcus’s real girlfriend instead of what she was – an excuse to hold women off because he wasn’t in the mood.
‘I have a few hidden skills,’ she replied coolly, resisting the temptation to spit in the woman’s drink.
Grant didn’t come back, and they were quiet on the walk home. Marcus had calmed down, but he was still mad, like the glow of heat beneath cold embers.
‘I’m going to walk you to work and then I’ll come get you. Anything happens, you call me,’ he said in a resolute tone.
‘Marcus . . .’
‘No, really. That’s the way it’s going to be.’
‘Our contract is about to expire. This is no longer your problem.’
‘You’re not taking this seriously enough.’
‘I am taking it seriously – I am. I’m the one he’s after,’ she protested. ‘But it’s my problem, not yours.’
‘It’s my problem too!’ Marcus barked, suddenly stopping in his tracks. He pulled her towards him, and without any warning Penny found herself in his arms, without any kind of preparation for her poor little heart to feel so full and so empty all at once.
‘Why?’ she whispered.
‘I don’t know why,’ he answered, ‘but that’s just how it is.’
‘Thank you for looking out for me, but . . . try to stop it, OK? And now let’s go home. I’m freezing and exhausted.’
Marcus nodded, his face dark. He stalked along with his hands in his pockets and didn’t even smoke. He seemed immersed in a billion thoughts of his own – and these remained private.
On arriving back at their building, he took out his flashlight and shone it on the front door, waited for her to enter and then left, without a word or a nod.
Penny changed and went to bed in record time. She felt utterly destroyed. So many emotions had been concentrated into one short day. She thought back to what she’d learned about Marcus, and cried into her pillow.
After a while a noise made her jump. She sat up and saw him on the fire escape. Afraid that something serious had happened, that he had gone in search of Grant and finally killed him, she opened the window full of dread. He stood there, smelling of soap and cold.
‘Come in, you’re going to freeze to death out there,’ she told him, noting that he was only wearing a T-shirt and jeans, no socks, and that his shoelaces were still untied. ‘What happened?’
He ran his hand over his forehead as if wanting
to bring order to a whole jumble of thoughts, then faced her and said softly, ‘Promise me that even after I leave you’ll look out for yourself.’
Penny nodded, trying not to think of that no-so-distant moment. ‘I promise.’
‘Did he touch you before I arrived? Did he do anything to you?’
‘He tried, but I stopped him. What happened, Marcus?’
‘Nothing. I mean . . . I don’t know.’ He fell silent for a few minutes, his gaze lost, three horizontal lines marking his forehead. After a while he stared at her and asked in one breath, ‘Am I like him?’
Penny couldn’t prevent the shudder that ran down her body. ‘Like Grant? What do you mean exactly?’
‘I was thinking about it, and I don’t think I’m any better than he is. Maybe I’m even worse. I’ve gotten into so much trouble, Penny. I’m so full of the wrong stuff.’
‘We all have, trust me, and please don’t compare yourself to Grant. He’s a maniac.’
‘And I’m not? I’m a beast, Penny, and you know it.’
‘I mean, you’re not exactly a prince. You’re a bully, you’re foul-mouthed and you’re basically a shit, and in bed you’re a . . . a total delinquent. But you’re yourself – don’t go acting like you do and then force me to tell you otherwise. I’m sure if I told you no, you’d stop. And you’re kind in your own way. You always ask me first before you do something – not in words, but with your eyes. And you want . . . you want me to feel good when . . . when we do it. You’re not selfish in bed, and even if you are a beast, that kind of makes me one too, since I like what you do to me and how you do it. And I can be frank too, remember? So don’t compare yourself to that asshole, OK?’
Marcus smiled down at her, and suddenly it was as if a light had illuminated part of the darkness inside of him. ‘So if I tell you I wanna do it right now, you won’t judge me?’
Penny stifled a laugh. She locked the door and pulled the curtains shut, then walked back to where Marcus stood watching her and went up on tiptoes to give him a kiss on the lips that was as light and innocent as freshly fallen snow.
He in response took her in his arms, sat down on the bed and lowered her into his lap. Holding her gently, he unbuttoned her pyjama shirt and began to caress her breasts. He stared at her as he did it, gazing at her skin in the quiet half-light of the room, her small round nipples, her exposed neck. Then he went down further, brushing against her abdomen, her hips, her silken belly. He pulled down her pants and continued to caress her legs with his fingertips. He went on like this for a long, long time, without penetrating her in any way, except with his piercing eyes.
Then he undressed her completely and stepped out of his own clothes. They were now naked on Penny’s bed – which wasn’t used to such encounters – under the covers, touching each other as if they had never met and needed to learn a map to save their lives.
‘I didn’t bring a condom,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘I can’t be inside of you.’
She nodded, but for a moment – just one – she thought about how she wanted him there anyway, how she wanted his flesh and his seed and his child.
Immediately afterwards she brushed off the thought as sheer craziness and contented herself with his fingers. When she came, Marcus closed her lips with his thumb, smiling at her mischievously as he moved his own hips along with her exquisite spasms. When he came into her hands, Penny silenced him with a kiss.
She was sure she would never get more; that night, in that slow and silent exchange, those kisses, those caresses, were the closest thing to love that Marcus could ever give.
20
MARCUS
We fuck non-stop, Penny and me. I lose my mind whenever I see her. I can’t think of anything else. When I’m at work, I want to go home to be with her. I wake up in the morning, waiting for her to arrive, and when she does I drag her inside and undress her and take her like I haven’t done it in a thousand years.
I go through two boxes of condoms in a week: it’s a record even for me. Sometimes I stop to think about it: it’s crazy that I’m fucking someone who was a virgin weeks ago. I can’t think straight, I seriously can’t. I can’t think about anything else besides her and what I’d like to do to her, and when I do it, I start thinking about what I’ll do to her next time.
I like it, I like it too much. It’s just sex, obviously, but it surprises me because I’ve never fucked so long with the same girl. Except with Francisca, of course, but Francisca is Francisca: she’s beautiful, she’s my woman and we share a long history.
Penny, on the other hand: who is she? What does she want? Some hot, wet sex, a few orgasms so she can forget the fucking world? Or maybe she’s trying to pass the time before she finds her Prince Charming.
Just the thought of it sends me into a rage that I take out on the bag instead of Igor. I still don’t get why he makes me so mad. There’s no reason why I should lose my mind by imagining Penny with someone else.
And yet . . . she’s fucking mine.
I’m going crazy, I’m definitely going crazy, there’s no other explanation. And the more I think nonsense like she’s mine, the more it torments me, and the more I fuck her without a word or a kiss like she’s some whore, hoping it might lead me to despise her, hoping it keeps me from whispering in her ear when I come inside of her: ‘Please tell me you only want me.’
There’s a knock at the door but it’s not Penny. It’s that asshole Malkovich. He wants to invite us to dinner at his house, and Penny accepts like it’s no big deal, like she actually thinks it’s a great idea. She’s talking to him and I hate her with my whole being. Bitch! She pretends to be in love with me, and in the meantime she’s flirting with that rich kid. But I’ll take it as a lesson on how to live, trust, love and all the rest of it. When Malkovich leaves, she refuses to give it up to me. What an absolute asshole.
Malkovich gives me a sermon on how to behave and what kind of friends I should have. Suddenly Penny disappears off with his wife, and Monty takes me aside to sing the praises of this extraordinary girl I’ve chosen, how sweet and good and right she is for me. What does it even mean that she’s ‘right’ for me? What should I do according to his God? Marry her, go live with her grandmother, have half a dozen kids and get a fucking office job?
Would that be the right life for me? To stay in this shit city? That would be death, not life. Me, I’ve always been on the run. I try to move on from a place as soon as possible, even more so now that I was locked up for four years, and stale air makes me feel like I’ve been buried alive.
If Monty Malkovich has that kind of future in mind for me, I guess he’s gonna be disappointed, because as soon as Francisca gets out, I’ll be out of here too.
Penny will forget me soon enough, I’m sure of it. As soon as I see Francisca and hold her in my arms, everything will reset. I’ll stop feeling like this and go back to how I was before and what I truly am – the same old Marcus Drake who fucks life before life fucks him.
Penny returns with Mrs Malkovich and I can see straight away she’s been crying. What happened? I’m dying to know all the way through dinner, but there’s no way to get her alone. These two are so fucking annoying.
I finally ask her when we leave, and she tells me that Mrs Malkovich told her about her dead son. I know that story. She told me too. His name was Cam, I think. He was a good boy initially, according to his mother’s words, but then, after a really bad heartbreak, he got depressed and fell in with the wrong crowd. Drugs, alcohol, gambling, stuff like that. Then he tried to rob a store and was killed by the guy who was cleaning up – he was armed and he defended himself. Not the first time I’ve heard a story like that. It’s tragic, but I don’t understand why Penny would be crying for someone she never even met.
Once we’re in the cab, she changes the subject and almost dives out the window. I don’t know what she’s seen, but the fact is that she orders the driver to stop: she’s crazy.
Carnival lights reflect off her face and she’s smiling
like a child.
If she thinks I’m going with her, she’s wrong. I’ve never been to a carnival, not even as a kid, and I don’t plan to go to one now.
I tell her, and read the disappointment in her eyes. It looks like she’s about burst into tears, but she doesn’t, just tells me to leave. Still, I can tell she’s upset. I shouldn’t give a damn. I have work to do, and she can go alone, but dammit, I can’t leave her. I hope I can stop being manipulated by tears – and especially ones I’ve only even imagined. I’m turning into a jerk, the kind who can’t say no to a little girl who takes him by the hand and drags him into a carnival, laughing like it’s Christmas.
In the end, the funfair is actually kind of fun. It’s a mess but it’s full of happy people. Kids, parents, lovers eating cotton candy. They may be pathetic, but at least they’re not hooligans. I look at Penny, glowing in all this light, and hold her by the hand because I’m afraid of losing her. She plays games at the different stalls, shows me this and that, has this dangerous air of complete innocence, and she confuses me, scrambles me, like I’m on the brink of something big, something that could destroy me. I need to be careful, keep my head together – I can’t fall into her trap.
I don’t even know what kind of trap it is, to be honest, but I look down at her as she leads me into the Labyrinth of Horror and I’m afraid. I’m not afraid of all the puppets emerging from the darkness with their hysterical laughter; I’m afraid of her. I’m afraid of her shining eyes, of the way she holds my hand, of her lips that have kissed me and only me. I’m afraid of how much I want her all the time, and how even now that she’s probably found out everything about my past from Mrs Malkovich, she’s cool with it. I should disgust her, but somehow I don’t. She cried for me. No one has ever cried for me – not even Francisca, and I certainly never cried for her. That’s how life is for the two of us: we keep on going, we laugh behind the backs of the dead – we, who are alive – because we don’t know how much longer we have ourselves.
Trying Not To Love You Page 20