“What the hell is the matter with you?”
Duncan’s been broody and silent the whole cab ride home, and when we finally walk up the long driveway, he refuses my coat, and instead wraps an arm around my waist as if shielding me from the cold wind.
And all he’s wearing his is fucking fighting shorts. He looks ridiculous.
Boys. Always got to be the tough guys.
We go inside, and Duncan climbs the steps two at a time, and I hear the old pipes shudder to life. I walk up after him, see the bathroom light spilling out into the hallway.
I hear the sound of splashing; a sink full of water, then some of it splatters to the floor.
I push the door open. Duncan is washing his face, then peers at himself in the mirror.
“Did you get hit?”
“Just here, above the eye,” he says. “It’s stopped bleeding.”
I examine it in the mirror, see a thin line of split skin.
“Damn,” I say. “It was close. I’m surprised you didn’t get hit more.”
He growls at me, “That’s the fucking problem.”
I’m taken aback by the tone of his voice, step out of the bathroom. He tears off his shorts, squeezes past me and goes into his room. He comes out later wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and then walks past me without meeting my eye.
“Why the hell are you giving me the cold shoulder?”
He stops at the top of the stairs, turns around, tongue on his lips. He heaves out a breath of air, and then frowns. It almost looks like he’s struggling to find any words.
“You can tell me,” I say, going to him. He’s so wound-up, I want to help him calm down, but I don’t know how. I don’t know how! I wish I did, I wish I could help him.
But I don’t even know what he’s so fussed about! He won those fights only taking a single hit. I don’t know anything about fighting, but I don’t think that’s typical. It sounds like a pretty good showing to me.
“You fought really well,” I tell him. “That last move, it looked like it was all choreographed for how smooth it was.”
His eyes narrow a little. “Dee, I put you in danger,” he says, not breaking eye-contact with me. “I was stupid. It won’t happen again.”
I push my lips together. “What are you talking about?”
“God damn it,” he begins, running his hands through his hair. He opens his mouth to elaborate, but the front door downstairs bursts open, and I hear Dad walk in swearing with Frank.
“Deidre? Duncan?”
“Dad!” I call.
“Get the fuck down here now!”
Duncan and I meet eyes, then slowly descend the stairs.
Dad’s huffing, looks at Duncan first, then at me.
“Good job getting out of there,” he says to both of us, and starts to calm down. “That got close. They thought you were a fucking ex-pro. Thought I was playing dirty. They didn’t believe you’d never fought a match in your life.”
I glance at Duncan, but his mouth is just a thin, grim line.
“And you, Jesus Christ,” Dad says, turning on me.
“Glass,” Duncan says, stealing back his attention. “What did you offer them?”
“What?”
“They didn’t just let you walk out.”
“Do you know who the fuck I am, boy?” Dad asks, his temper flaring instantly.
“Don’t fucking do that,” Duncan growls, silencing the outburst. “Don’t you dare fucking start that shit up. Tell me the truth.”
My eyes grow wide. I’ve never heard anyone talk to Dad like that. He seems totally checked by it.
“Those men in there thought you cheated them tonight, and they put money down. It might not have been much, but I know what the fuck you all are like. Can’t even stand to lose a dime if it offends your warped sense of honor. So you had better fucking tell me what fucking deal you made.”
Dad starts stammering, and Duncan pushes out a forearm against his neck, backs Dad up against the wall.
“Duncan!” I cry, but he pays me no attention.
“What deal did you make, Glass?”
“I said they could bring in anybody they wanted to,” Dad says. “To fight you. Double or nothing on all losses tonight.”
“Anybody,” Duncan says, shaking his head with what seems to me to be disgust.
“What do you mean?” I ask, looking at Dad.
“Ex-pros, people with proper training and experience is what I mean,” Dad says. His eyes snap back to Duncan. “But don’t worry, you’re fucking magic in the cage, boy. I’m not afraid of anybody they bring in. They couldn’t find a fighter on this continent that could match you. It’ll be a cakewalk, and we’ll win our money fair and square.”
“Huh,” Duncan says, and he grits his teeth together for a moment.
“Don’t act like you didn’t play a part in this,” Dad says. “You could have milked the fights a little longer!”
Duncan turns around, hands on his hips, breathing quick.
“The other families are pissed at us?” I ask Dad, and he nods slowly at me.
Duncan looks at me, and his eyes grow sad. They lose their shine, their blue energy.
“Fine,” he says to Dad. “For now.”
“You’ll have to put on a show,” Dad warns.
Duncan just waves him off, and starts climbing back up the stairs.
I turn to Dad. “Put on a show?”
“He’s going to have to take a beating. Make the fights last.”
“What! Why?”
“It’s a cock-fight,” Dad says. “We want to watch the cocks… fight. If people think he has a chance of losing, then they’ll put down money.”
I shake my head slowly. I don’t know what to say to that.
“Frank and I will be gone for a while,” Dad says. “Still some smoothing out to be done. Congratulations, Deidre.”
I blink, confused. “For what?”
Dad looks taken-aback. “For graduating, of course.”
I blink again.
What a long and crazy day it’s been.