Her mother then appeared, looking cleaned up.
Her mother had some dirty ass hollowed out eyes. I could tell right from the jump she was a mess.
“Where to, Mrs….” I stopped for effect, knowing I was being an ass for even dropping the whole Mrs. thing.
“Abby is fine,” she said.
I looked at Ana.
Later I would find out Ana’s father had been caught cheating and had tried to attack she and her mother, leaving his ass in jail and Ana and her mother on the street. That explained why she was in my shitty neighborhood.
I lifted the box spring on my own.
“I can help,” Abby said.
“I’m good,” I said.
I grew up strong and wasn’t afraid to show it off. Oh-fucking-well to anyone who didn’t like it. I had a rusted weight set in the musty basement of the apartment-slash-house. I lifted. I ran. I got into tons of fights. I was built to kill, but at that point in life I hadn’t killed anyone.
I carried the box spring up to the apartment. How ironic that the box spring was for Ana’s bedroom, the same room where I hooked up with some chick before. We didn’t go all the way in there though, but damn close.
The same would happen with Ana…
I carried up the box springs, the mattresses, half taped, overflowed boxes, and all the small pieces of furniture.
My boy Matteo cruised by on his motorcycle and saw me. He stopped for a little bit to help me get the couch and love seat upstairs. The entire time I worked, I just kept staring at Ana.
Goddamn, she was something. She tossed a set of earbuds in and played with her music player, but I caught her looking at me. I caught her smiling. I caught her fucking blushing at me. She was like a little rosebud, waiting to bloom, waiting to get cut and kept until she was done. The shit that went through my mind almost seemed unnatural, but I was man enough to know what I felt.
I spotted Matteo ten bucks, a handshake, and a promise of some good grass from another friend of mine for helping with the furniture.
“Damn, that’s a fine piece of ass moving in,” he said when we were outside.
He had a cigarette in his mouth.
When he said that, I fucking snapped. I grabbed his throat and slammed him so hard into the moving truck, it left a small dent. He spit the cigarette at me and his eyes went wide.
“… the… fuck…” he managed to say through my tight grip.
“You don’t look at her,” I said. “You don’t think about her. You don’t mention her to anyone in this fucking town. You got it?”
I let Matteo go and he coughed. “Jesus, bro. What the fuck?”
“Just don’t,” I said. “Okay?”
Matteo put his hands up. “Christ, man. I just said she was fucking hot. I didn’t say I was going to hit it.”
“Keep it that way,” I said. “Nobody is hitting her. Nobody is getting near her.”
“She’ll get eaten alive in this town,” Matteo said. “You ready to protect that?”
“Get the fuck out of here,” I said. “Now.”
Matteo fucking left and I was pissed.
I walked around the truck and saw Ana standing there, one earbud in, one dangling down the front of her red hoodie. She just stared at me. I don’t know how the fuck she wore a hoodie when it was so warm out. I stood there, my sweaty t-shirt clinging to me, my veins throbbing from working so damn hard for her and her broke ass mother.
“Shit,” I whispered.
Ana turned and stormed away.
I followed her, walking slow, pausing in the apartment as her mother lifted a box to the coffee table.
“Is that it?” I asked.
“I think so. Stay right here.”
Her mother walked away and I darted for the bedrooms. I found Ana sitting on her bed. She had her head down. I sat next to her and reached for her chin. I forced her to look at me, seeing the tears in her eyes.
“Ah, damn,” I said. “Fuck Matteo, okay? I’m sorry for what you heard out there. We’re all competitive around here. It’s hard to explain, Ana. Okay?”
“I don’t want to be left alone,” Ana said. “What did I do so wrong that my own father doesn’t love me?”
I touched her shoulder. She was still a stranger to me but time was to fix all that. “My opinion? I’ve known you for, what, two hours? Anyone that would walk out on you is a fuck head. A complete piece of shit. Maybe you should remind yourself of that. Okay, darlin'?”
Darlin’? Where the fuck did that come from?
It was the first time that word slipped out of my mouth. I’d call everyone woman I’d meet darlin’ after that, but the first was always for Ana.
“You must think we’re dirty and poor,” Ana said. “Look at us.”
I grinned. “Look at me, Ana. I’m dirty and poor. I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to help. Why? I don’t fucking know. I saw your Ma hit the ground and it just… I don’t know. I’ve seen my Ma cry too. It’s not a good feeling. It’s a real shit feeling.”
“Thank you,” Ana said. Then she started to smile.
“What’s funny?”
“I don’t even know your name.”
Shit.
How dumb of me. So caught up in her I forget to toss her my name.
“Knoxville,” I said. “But you can call me Knox.”