back. Well, you were right about Cindy. She can't fight you. But now she doesn't have to. Cindy and I are not now and never have been lovers, not that it's your business. But we are friends. And I take care of my friends, Mr. Bagatti."
"Right, yes," said Bagatti. "I'm getting this. I got this."
"I'm not sure," said Don. "You seem to me to be a slow learner."
"I'm a quick learner."
"But the minute I let you go, you're going to forget."
"No, I'm not."
"The minute I let you go, you're going to start yelling about how I've been threatening you and assaulting you and if I think I've heard the last of this - "
"No, I won't say that."
"Then I can let you go?"
"Definitely. Yes. This would be a good time."
Don released Bagatti's hands. It surprised him how much tension had been in his grip. The lad was going to have bruises. Indeed, Bagatti slumped back against the car and cradled one hand in the other, then switched them, then held them both in front of him as if they were stumps. "Look what you've done to me."
"As far as I'm concerned," said Don, "you did this to yourself. If you hadn't come here to taunt Cindy Claybourne, your hands would not be in pain right now."
"This is a crime you committed here, buddy," said Bagatti.
Immediately Don seized the man's hands and Bagatti shrieked and tried to snatch them back. "You promised me," said Don.
"Yes. Yes, I did. I do. No crime. It's fine."
"What you have to remember is that I'm crazy," said Don. "Whatever I do to you, I'll get off."
"Yeah. You won't have to do anything to me. Please."
By now Don wasn't squeezing his hands or anything. Bagatti could have pulled them back. But he wasn't trying to. He was submitting. Don had won. It should have felt good. And it did, a little. Because Bagatti might actually leave Cindy alone. Maybe he had done what it took to protect her.
What didn't feel good now was how good it had felt to squeeze the man's hands, to hurt him. Don had squeezed harder than he meant to. Hands that had worked pipe wrenches and hammers, hands with an iron grip, and he had found a fleshy gap between the long fingerbones in the hands and driven his fingers into that space like nails and while he was doing it he had felt so good.
And Cindy had watched him do it. Had watched him use that kind of violence. What did she think of him now? He was ashamed.
Bagatti slid out from between his car and Don's unmoving body. Without looking at either Don or Cindy, he scurried around the front of his car, got in the driver's side, and drove off. Quietly. No aggression left in the man. For now, anyway. Don noticed that he was steering with the edges of his palms. Those hands were going to be sore for a while.
Cindy stood off near her car. Looking at Don.
"I'm sorry," he said. "You told me not to hurt him, and then I did."
She took a few steps toward him. He met her halfway.
"It's been a long time," she said softly, "since anybody stuck up for me." She took his hands, one at a time, and kissed them.
"Tell me if he gives you any trouble."
"He won't," she said. "You can be pretty scary."
"You heard what I told him?"
"I didn't have to. I watched his face while you whispered in his ear."
"I'm not a nice man, Cindy. That's what you didn't know about me till now."
"A man who stops a bully from picking on somebody who's down? I call that nice."
"What you don't know," said Don, "is how much I wanted to smash his face into his car. Just use his face to make dents until the bodywork on the car would cost more than the deductible."
"I know I'm not what you wanted, Don," said Cindy. "But I've got to tell you this, you are what I wanted. But that's OK. Now that I know I'm ready to try, I'll find somebody else. I can settle for less than the best. I help my customers do it all the time. They all want perfect houses but sometimes all they can afford is a fixer-upper."
"There's a lot of guys around who are better for you than I am."
"Well, that's good to know," said Cindy. "Maybe I'll get lucky and meet one of those." She smiled. She even laughed. "In a