“Never pimped you?”
At his question, I turned my head to face him again then shook it.
“Miracle,” he muttered.
“Ronnie wouldn’t let anything touch me.”
“You’re wrong.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Might not have wanted your mouth around another man’s c**k but he didn’t give a shit about you.”
My throat closed as what he said penetrated but I pushed past it and began, “I –”
“Didn’t give that first shit.”
“Ty –”
He interrupted me again. “Dope, that’s a choice, a weak one, but a choice. Girls who suck c**k and spread for cash, they don’t choose that life, a shit life chooses them. Desperation. Any man who uses that to make a living doesn’t give a shit about women. Any women.”
“That isn’t true. He had me. He had a Mom and two sisters he loved. But he saw no other future,” I defended lamely. “And he promised me he took care of his girls.”
“He lied.”
My back went straight. “You don’t know him.”
“He lied.”
“You don’t know that,” I snapped.
His back came away from the headboard and his torso twisted to face me. “Woman, he sold cunt. You value your cunt?”
I closed my eyes and looked away, giving him his answer.
“Right,” he whispered.
I opened my eyes, looked at him and whispered back, “He gave a shit about me.”
“He… did… not,” Walker enunciated every word clearly. “The only reason he didn’t pimp you is because he knew you wouldn’t be pimped. He got the barest f**kin’ inklin’ he could sell you, he’d have done it. Now, I got a dick and I assume he had a dick so, seein’ as he and I have that in common, I’ll tell you, your pu**y was my pu**y I would not be sellin’ pussy, not that I’d do that shit anyway. I would not be sellin’ dope and I wouldn’t do that shit either. What I would do is make f**kin’ coffee drinks if it meant you could wear your heels and feel good about sleepin’ in my bed. He didn’t do that. This means he did not give one shit about you.”
He stared into my eyes and I let him. Then I looked back at the game. Then I experienced a miracle and that miracle was the fact that I didn’t get crushed under the weight of the full understanding I never, ever let myself comprehend that Ronnie Rodriguez was a pimp, a dealer, a loser, selfish, morally void and just plain stupid. He may have started out loving me but the minute he decided to piss his future away when he f**ked up in Indiana, he stopped loving me or anyone and I was blind, in love and wanted so badly to belong to something, anything, anyone, I never let him go.
“I’m an idiot,” I whispered to the game.
“You’re human,” Walker said to me, voice firm and I looked back at him to see he was reclined again against the headboard.
I tipped my head to the side. “So, no sympathy for Ronnie for making f**ked up decisions, but me, I’m just human?”
“You loved him and didn’t want to give up on him. That is not wrong. He didn’t love you and didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. That is wrong.”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t jive, Ty.”
“Oh yeah. It does,” he returned. “Think I explained I have a dick. Think I told you what I’d do if your pu**y was mine. I was f**kin’ up and you weren’t givin’ up on me, I hope to Christ I’d be the type of man who’d pull my head outta my ass and earn that devotion. Makes him worse, he didn’t and left you to the wolves. But you givin’ that devotion, that isn’t wrong.”
“It was stupid.”
“So, you know when the limit’s up on love?” he asked and I felt my chest depress as the profound weight of his question hit me.