‘She doesn’t like having her picture taken,’ Marcus commented. ‘I don’t have that many of her. She always says photos steal her soul.’
Penny nodded and muttered, ‘She’s very beautiful.’
‘She’s the most beautiful woman I know,’ Marcus insisted.
‘See? You’re romantic in your own way.’
‘I’m not romantic, it’s just a fact. I mean, look at her.’
‘Yes, she’s beautiful.’
‘Would you really do that for me?’
‘Tell me when you want me to go and I’ll go.’
‘You’re really strange, Penny.’
‘I’m the strangest.’
‘You’re not so bad yourself, you know.’
‘If you’re just saying that to soften me up, you don’t have to. I said I’ll go, OK?’
‘What does that even mean, “soften me up”? And I never say things I don’t mean. With me, what you see is what you get.’
‘What I see is already a lot.’
Penny got to her feet. There was a big spiky lump in her throat – seeing Marcus’s mysterious and intimidating girlfriend had made her feel downright terrible. Penny didn’t think she’d fallen in love with Marcus exactly, it was just her hormones talking. The same old story of all her cells and atoms in turmoil – nothing to do with the secrets of the soul. It was so easy to confuse the two. So easy to look at Marcus and think that her thumping heart was more than just lust, when it was nothing other than a twenty-two-year-old virgin’s need to open herself up like a ripe pomegranate for the sexiest man she had ever seen.
At least, she hoped that was the case. Because if there was more to it than that, she was digging her own grave.
She wanted to go home. She wanted to lie down next to her grandma and hug her, hide her face in Barbie’s silvery hair and cry, even though weeping was a tragic and disproportionate and totally pointless reaction to the reality of the situation.
‘Next time I see you, you can tell me where to go and what to say to her.’
‘OK . . . thanks,’ said Marcus, and Penny got the impression that ‘thanks’ was a word he seldom used.
Just before she left, Penny reached up on tiptoe and lightly touched Marcus’s cheek. His skin was freshly shaved, barely roughened by the shadow of dark stubble. He didn’t back away, but seemed troubled by her gesture.
Penny smiled at him and said quietly, ‘My grandma says that bullies need more tenderness than other kids do,’ then she headed back downstairs before he could ask any questions.
Leaning against the wall with one leg bent and a cigarette at his lips, Marcus was waiting outside for her when she left Well Purple. Her stomach did a somersault so fast that, for a moment, she thought she’d done one herself. For four long hours she had survived the fuggy atmosphere of the bar, terrified that Grant would repeat his little trick from the previous night and jumpy whenever anyone came up close. An actual somersault might have helped soothe the sudden rush of adrenaline when she finally made contact with the sweet night air and the scent of rain to come. Penny, however, feared it was Marcus’s presence that was rocking her to the very core – against her will and without him knowing anything about it. How would she be feeling right now if she actually wanted to get together with him? But that was a stupid question that would never be answered.
‘Well, aren’t you just the punctual one?’ she told him as he stubbed out his cigarette, crushing it under the heel of his massive black leather boot. They walked along the street, under a mist so fine it turned to dust before hitting the sidewalk.
‘I don’t like to do a half-ass job when I’m working. Were you OK in there?’
‘Usual story.’
‘Did that asshole show up?’
‘Not tonight.’
‘So what does he look like?’
‘He’s tall, skinny, blond. Well dressed.’
‘You like that type?’
She turned, and looked at him angrily for a moment. ‘I didn’t think you judged women for actually being interested in a man. If I was wrong, I can take myself home.’
Marcus reached out and touched her elbow. It was very brief, but Penny had the impression that this fleeting gesture expressed something like friendship.
‘I’m not judging you,’ Marcus said. He took another cigarette, put it in his mouth, then patted down his body in search of a lighter.
I’ll help if you want.
‘You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Otherwise I’d have to be afraid of you.’