Blackjack looks so sexy that I think I have a hard time concentrating when he talks to me. I’m afraid he will stop liking me because he is so attractive and I only know Pepper thinks I’m hot. He did kiss me once, but I’m still unsure what to expect. I never watch dating shows or movies. Watching other people kiss seems boring.

When he mentions rent, I don’t know what he’s talking about. Once he explains, I’m excited to have him nearby. Then I think about how maybe he only likes me so he can rent the townhome. Is he using me? If he doesn’t like me as much as the townhome, that’s weird, but I still like him.

I give him two slices of boneless pork chop and then cut it into seventeen pieces. I do the same on mine. Finally, I add seventeen fries onto each of our plates. We only get one soda each, though.

“What’s with the counting?”

“I’m the seventeenth member of the crew,” I explain and sit in the folding chair at the metal table I brought in from the backyard. “Seventeen is a good number.”

“That it is.”

“Counting is more fun than knowing words.”

Blackjack’s face goes slack as if he can’t figure out if I’m crazy or stupid. I get that look a lot.

“Do you like your food?”

Squirting ketchup next to his fries, he smiles. “You didn’t have to cook for me, but it smells damn good.”

“I know how to make lots of food. Cayenne taught me and then Tana taught me some more. I don’t want to eat those foods. Pork chops are better.”

“They really fucking are,” he says and fills his mouth with two bites of meat.

“Do you know how to cook?”

“Not really. I eat shit from the freezer most nights. Sometimes, I’ll eat soup.”

“Because you’re poor?”

“No, because I’m lazy.”

Smiling, I realize he’s like me. I don’t like doing stuff either.

“What’s with the front door standing open?” he asks.

“The cats like to come in and out.”

“You’re letting all the hot air out.”

“So?”

“So, that costs money, and they’re just cats.”

“I like the cats.”

“Well, now that I’m renting here, I won’t have the door standing open. If they want in, they can scratch or meow or whatever the fuck cats do when they’re stuck outside. I’ll let them in, but I won’t let out all the hot air for them.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, good, because I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

I want to laugh at his expression, but I only smile. “You get mad about dumb stuff.”

“I have a temper, yeah.”

“Do I have to pretend to care about the stuff you’re mad about?”

“You don’t have to pretend shit with me.”

“Good because I don’t want to talk about the cats.”

Blackjack gulps down his soda while his dark eyes watch me. His eyelashes are thick and black like a woman with makeup on. I’ve never seen such pretty eyes on a man.

Before I can ask if he’s wearing makeup, he says, “Yarrow wasn’t always your name, right? Like it wasn’t on your birth certificate. Did you pick the name Yarrow?”

“No.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s the name Ginger gave me.”

“What was your old name?”

“I don’t remember. It starts with the letter ‘A’ and has a lot of vowels in it. Spelling it would be hard.”

“I looked up what yarrow is. Turns out, the herb heals wounds.”

“It also summons and repels the devil,” I say with my mouth full. “The devil is bad, you know?”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“Pepper called me She-devil for a while. I think that’s why Ginger picked Yarrow.”

“She-devil, huh?”

My memories from that time remain blurry. “Ginger and the crew were bad people who yanked me into a world that was too bright and loud. I wanted to hurt them for hurting me. I didn’t understand why they were doing anything.”

“When did you realize they were trying to help?”

“I don’t know. I liked Ginger first. She gave me food I liked and talked soft to me. She played music and danced around. She dances really funny too,” I say, laughing at the memory of her goofy moves. “She took good care of me like Cayenne takes care of Duffy.”

“She’s like your mother.”

“I didn’t know what a mom was back then. Now that I do, I know she’s a good one. That’s why she gets unhappy when I do things that scare her. Ginger worries I’ll mess up and die or get hurt.”

“I worry about that too.”

“Since when? You didn’t pay attention to me until the day with Annie.”

“Yeah, since then.”

“Do you worry because you think I’m a kid?”

“If I thought you were a child, then the kiss yesterday was all kinds of fucking inappropriate.”

“I liked when you kissed me,” I say and move my chair closer. “You can do that again now.”

“No boundaries,” he mumbles, but I don’t know what he means, and I don’t care. His lips probably taste like pork chops. I bet they’re the most amazing things in the world right now.

Blackjack drops his fork and grips me by the back of the neck. I’m both startled and impressed by his intensity. He seemed nervous when he arrived. Ginger said weak men are the worst, so I’m relieved to see Blackjack taking charge. Though a tiny part of me wants to knock him down and kick him a few times just so he knows I’m not weak either.

Blackjack’s beard tickles my skin as his lips suck at mine. After a minute, his tongue tries to enter my mouth. I know that’s part of kissing, but I laugh anyway.

“I’m a talented motherfucker,” he mutters before his lips nip at my jaw.

No longer laughing, I warn, “Don’t bite my neck.”

“I won’t.”

“I don’t want pain.”

“I have it handled,” Blackjack says and then sits back. “Or maybe not. Is there a particular reason your fist is grinding into my gut?”

“I don’t want you to hurt me.”

“I won’t.”

“How do you know? You hurt Annie.”

“No, I didn’t,” he growls like a pissed bear.

“I asked what you did to hurt her, and you said you fucked her. Maybe you’re not good at fucking. I bet Oz can give you tips. Ginger says he’s very talented.”

“I don’t need Oz or anyone else’s help.”

“Don’t whine.”

“I’m not fucking whining.”

I pop a fry in my mouth and say, “You’re a little whiny, yeah.”

Blackjack stands up and acts as if he might leave. I chew my food, wondering if he’ll go. I’m not too worried, though. He plans to live here. If he leaves now, he’ll come back later.

Pacing back and forth, Blackjack reminds me of a pissed Pepper. I smile at him and take a bite of pork chop.

“Why are you sad?” I ask.

“I’m not sad.”

“Fine, then why are you whiny?”

Blackjack gives me a really nasty look that makes me laugh so hard I nearly choke on my food.

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” he mutters.

“No, I’m not. I’ve met way worse people.”

“Yeah, me too, but you’re pissing me off.”

“You should get used to that if you want to be around me.”

Pacing again, Blackjack shakes his head. “If you believe I hurt Annie, then why am I here?”

“I like you, and I don’t like her. Lots of people I like have hurt people I don’t care about. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I want you to see me as a good man.”

“But you haven’t done anything particularly good.”

“I kept you from getting shot at the park.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I probably wasn’t going to try to shoot the cop. I mean, Makoa was standing right there, and Ginger told me never to shoot police in the open.”

“Ugh.”

“I like when you say that. It reminds me of Alani when she talks like a teenager.”

“Why do you like me?”

“You’re sexy.”

“That’s it?”

“I guess. I don’t know anything else about you.”

“Camo is sexy too.”

“Which one is he? Should I date him instead?”

“No,” he says, sounding on the verge of violence.

I grin at his anger. “Which one is the guy with the long brown hair? He danced once with Alani, and I thought it was funny.”

“Shut up.”

Laughing, I clap at his rage. “Why do you like me?”

“You’re fucked up, and I have a soft spot for fucked-up chicks.”

“Clove is fucked up. You should date her,” is what I try to say, but my laughter keeps me from getting out the words. The idea of Blackjack and Clove is probably the funniest shit I’ve ever imagined.

“Which one is Clove?” he asks.

“The one with the Filipino eyes and the Mexican nose.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. That’s what she said when a man asked her to describe herself. Oh, and she once stuck her thumb in a guy’s eye socket during sex. I think that part might be a lie.”

“I don’t want Clove.”

“Because of the eyeball thing?” I ask, and he frowns harder. “You can have me then.”

“Just like that?”

“Sure. I don’t know why people make everything so complicated. I have enough trouble with doors and windows. Why make the easy stuff hard?”

Blackjack sits down and crosses his arms. “What about doors and windows?”

“I like knowing I’m not locked into a place. Oh, and I don’t like the mechanical room upstairs with the heater. It’s the worst place ever. You should be ready for that.”

“Why don’t you take the doors off the rooms and closets, so it feels open?”

“I don’t know how to do that,” I say and drink some of my soda. “Oh, and you should eat, or I will eat your food. I don’t like wasting pork chops. It’s really good.”

Blackjack takes a bite and nods. “My mom used to make pork chops with green beans and cream of mushroom soup. She’d put it on white rice. That was our fancy dinner,” he says and then adds, “We’re not extravagant people.”

“Does your mom like your tattoos?”

“No. She doesn’t like anything about my life. We barely speak.”

“Are you jealous of how much Tana likes Oz?”

“Stop talking about Oz,” he grumbles, and I instantly smile.

“No.”

“The guy has things too easy.”

“You don’t like him.”

“I like him fine,” he says, shrugging.

“Then why are you so pissed?”

“I don’t know.”

Realizing Blackjack is genuinely upset, I leave my nearly done plate of food and lean over to hug him. “Oz isn’t as great as you.”

“Thanks for the bullshit, Yarrow.”

“No problem, Blackjack,” I say, nuzzling my lips against his rough beard. “That’s not your real name, is it?”

“No. It’s Billy.”

“Why Blackjack?” I ask while returning to my chair.

“I got a rep for winning blackjack while in juvie. The nickname stuck so I got this royal flush tattoo.”

He shows me the poker cards inked into the flesh above his knuckles. I run my fingers over his and smile.

“What’s juvie?”

“Prison for kids. I went there when I was fifteen. Stayed until I was nineteen.”

“How come?”

“I killed a man. Fucked another one up real bad too.”

“Why?”

“I had my reasons.”

Studying him, I take a bite of dinner. “You’re scared to tell me because you’ll cry and you think I won’t understand your tears.”

“I’m not going to cry,” he mutters while rolling his eyes.

“I think you will. You look really sad already.”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“Not at all,” I say, wanting to laugh. “I’m very worried about you.”

“Sure, you are.”

“I have a box of tissue in the other room.”

Blackjack scoots his chair closer to me. “Do you want to know why I killed that guy?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“I like you already. I don’t need new information.”

“That’s what dating is for.”

Caressing a lock of hair resting on his forehead, I whisper, “You said it wasn’t.”

“No, I said dating wasn’t about making a show of shit. We need to learn about each other.”

“But you’re going to live here. I can learn about you then.”

Blackjack leans closer until his breath warms my lips. “I think you should want to know my deep dark secret.”

“No, I shouldn’t.”

“You’re a stubborn, little cunt,” he says before frowning. “Shit, I need to watch my mouth around you.”

“Why? You’re the stubborn little cunt, and that’s how your kind talks.”

Blackjack still looks uneasy as he scratches the tattoo running down his neck. “I don’t think you’re a cunt.”

“You know I have one, though,” I say and then pat his hand. My fingers pause on the tats. “I’m sorry talking about your past makes you want to cry.”

“If you keep taunting me, I don’t know if I can avoid taunting you.”

“That’s okay. I don’t cry as easily as you.”

Blackjack’s hand suddenly flips, trapping mine against the table. He leans forward and presses his lips to mine. As much as I like the way he feels, I want to mess with him some more. His brown eyes glow when he’s pissed.

Blowing a raspberry against his lips, I laugh at his startled expression.

“I’m beginning to think you’re too young for me,” he says, still trapping my hand on the table.

“I am.”

“So, we shouldn’t date then.”

“No, we shouldn’t.”

“So, should I leave?” he asks, staring into my eyes.

“Yes.”

Blackjack doesn’t leave. In fact, he doesn’t even let go of my hand. My free hand reaches over for my fork and brings a chunk of meat to my lips.

“I make good pork chops.”

“That you do,” he says and uses his free hand to eat.

“I don’t want to not like you.”

“I don’t want to not like you either.”

“The less we know, the more we will like each other.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I should explain something.”

“No.”

“I like that you’re fucked up. I dig broken women. I don’t want you to be someone else.”

“Good because I never will be. That’s why I stopped therapy. There’s no point in talking to the psychiatrist if I won’t follow his suggestions.”

“No, I guess there wouldn’t be.”

“I take my pills, though. Ginger worries about me, and I don’t want her to be sad. That’s why I take the pills for my impulse and anger problems.”

“What kind of pills are they?”

“I don’t know. Ginger gets them for me, and I take them. I don’t really care what they are or what they do. It’s just to make Ginger happy.”

“Do they make you happy?”

“I guess. I remember I always wanted to hurt people when Ginger first found me. I didn’t like the noise, and everything was too bright. Then things changed. Maybe because of the pills or maybe because Ginger made me happier. It doesn’t matter. People worry too much about why things are the way they are. They want to feel important like they have a say in stuff, but I don’t care about feeling important. I only care if my friends are happy. I care if you’re happy too. That’s all that matters to me.”

Blackjack studies my face, and I notice the golden specks in his irises. His eyes hypnotize me until I forget about my pork chops. I can only see him. My heart beats so fast that I feel like I might pass out.

If this is what Ginger feels with Oz, I understand why they’re always humping.