Junkyard Dog(45)

“Heard your assistant quit,” Moot says, and I think he wants to laugh at me.

“They always do.”

“I thought she was a keeper.”

“Me too, but f*cking her was probably a mistake.”

“Only probably?” he asks, giving me an amused look.

“She’s a great f*ck.”

Moot nods and his eyes light up when the food arrives. After he digs into his steak and potatoes, he studies me.

“What do you want to happen with Candy?”

“Simple,” I say, puffing on my cigar. “I want her to apologize for throwing a fit. Then I want her on her knees.”

“Didn’t you say you acted like an *?”

“Yeah, but she knows I’m an *.”

“Chicks have limits, man.”

I shrug. “She’ll break down and apologize.”

“Because she wants her job or she wants you?”

I frown at his question, and I’m shocked I hadn’t considered it. When she comes back, I’ll never really know the true reason. What if she does only apologize for the job rather than because she wants me back?

“In the end, what matters is what you’re willing to live without,” Moot says, going philosophical on me. “If you just want Candy to be your assistant, you’re right that she’ll come back. It’s a good job, and she puts up with your shit well. Now if you want her back as your woman, then you ought to rethink your plan.”

“I’m not apologizing.”

“Then you have your answer.”

“I shouldn’t have to apologize.”

“Sounds good to me,” he says, eating casually.

“She overreacted.”

“Yep.”

“Might have been on her period. That was how irrational she was.”

“Women are moody.”

“I’m right about this," I say too angrily.

“No doubt. You’re right about most things. Don’t see why this time would be any different.”

“Candy is replaceable.”

“Everyone is.”

Puffing on my cigar, I realize I’ve gone too far. While Candy did overreact, and she is a moody chick, and I shouldn’t have to apologize, she is in no way replaceable. There is no one else in the world like Candy. If another woman like Candy exists, I’ll never meet her. I’m not that damn lucky.

Candy isn’t replaceable, but maybe I am. Hell, she’d be fine without a man in her life. The chick went without sex for a decade. She can do it again.

Fuck! She can just show up to work one day and ask for her job back, and I’ll say yes, and she’ll be happy for the paycheck. I’ll never touch her again, and she’ll f*cking skip through her life without a care in the world. What in the f*ck about me?

“You bow to women a lot,” I say, and Moot grins at me with a full mouth. “How would you handle this situation if you wanted to get the bitchy part over with?”

“You’re going to have to apologize, big guy. No getting around that.”

“That’s it?”

“Flowers couldn’t hurt.”

“Any particular kind?”

“There ain’t no designated apology flowers.”

“Well, I can shell out a few bucks for flowers and say a few words. Problem solved.”

Moot looks at me for a moment, and I know he disagrees. I wait for him to say something, but he chooses to return to his steak.

“You need to enjoy life more,” Moot finally says when his plate is clean. “Stop trying to control every damn thing, and just smell the damn roses.”

“Do you think roses are the kind of flowers women want?”

“You live in the same world as me, man. Why are you asking questions like you’re an alien new to the f*cking planet?”

“I don’t apologize to women.”

“Or anyone.”

Sighing, I nod. “True. So I don’t have any experience with this situation.”

“All you got to do is ask yourself what you’d want in the situation and then feminine-up the answer a little.”

Leaning back, I think about what I’d want if Candy came to me and apologized. Somehow, I don’t think she’s sitting at home wishing I’d give her a blowjob.

I imagine knocking on her door. She answers wearing something sloppy and probably pink. Her hair might be damp from her evening bath. I remember her saying she likes to take bubble baths and pretend she’s an evil queen washing away the troubles of her reign. When she told me that, I thought she was drunk at work. Candy noticed my expression and laughed until she was bright red. Then she ran to the bathroom to keep from peeing herself.

Shaking off the memory, I imagine I’m at her door, and Candy is frowning like I smell bad. I hand her the flowers and say the words. What is the end game to that setup? Does she forgive me and I stay the night and then…

What do I want from Candy? This blowup we had might allow me to get her back as an employee and nothing more. I have the opportunity to change the dynamics. If I do, Candy will adjust. She’s stronger than most women and won’t cry herself to sleep over me.

Despite my certainty she’d never stoop to such theatrics, I let myself imagine her crying in her pillow over me breaking her heart. I like this image better. She should be sad over losing me. I’m the best f*cking thing that ever happened to her. Well besides her kids, and that’s the real dig for me.