Push(62)

Screw it. I’m going to take advantage of Saz’s candor.
“Wow. How long ago did all this happen?” I ask, trying to act casual but choking on a wad of apprehension.
He thinks for a moment, then says, “Must be a year or so ago. That Lucia, man, she was trouble right from the start. David, he’s got a good heart, man, and she f*cking threw that shit right to the floor.” Saz balls his hand up into a fist and starts tapping it on his chest. His face suddenly looks emotional, as if he hurts for David. “He went a little crazy after Lucia f*cked him over. He was doing some wacked-out shit. Skydiving, motor-cross racing, jumping off of f*cking cliffs—crazy shit like that,” he stresses. “Ever since I’ve known him, David’s always been in control, man, he’s always got a grip. He’s always...I don’t know...tight. But what that whore did...she put a dent in all that. All the crazy-ass shit he was doing was completely against his grain. It wasn’t like him to take those kinds of risks. It was total insanity. But apparently, it was temporary. Because he’s back, man, he’s tight again. It’s like he buckled his ass back down and got a grip. Once he met you, all that shit stopped.” His eyebrows go up and he shrugs. I’m silent because I don’t know what to say. A few seconds later, Saz starts talking again.
“Just so you know, Emma, he was never like this before,” he continues. When he says the word “this,” he opens his arms up toward me and then gestures back and forth from me to David. I cannot believe what I am hearing.
“What happened to her?” I ask as casually as I can. She can’t possibly still be part of David’s life? Surely he would have mentioned her.
“Don’t know. He put the guy in the hospital, though. He beat the living shit out of the dude. Then he got Carl to evict the guy for selling stolen merchandise out of his apartment, which apparently David had known about for a long time. The day the guy got out of the hospital, David put all the dude’s furniture and shit out in the parking lot and changed all the locks. David even had the cops there to make sure it was a clean eviction. The dude never said a word to anyone about David being the one that beat the living shit out of him. I think he was afraid that David would tell the cops about all the stolen shit he was selling. And, as far as I know, David told Lucia to go f*ck herself. We never saw her after that. Maybe she’s with the other guy, I don’t know.”
“Jesus, Saz. That’s crazy.” I grab my drink and take a long sip. My mind is racing. For all the talking that David and I have done over the past few weeks, we have never discussed any of his ex-girlfriends. And now I know there are at least two. Maybe three, if the “gun hound” isn’t Anna or Lucia, or if you count him sleeping with his dad’s secretary. I have always considered past relationships in the none-of-my-business category, but it seems as if David’s exes are a complicated bunch. I suddenly feel very naive.
Saz is taking a sip of his beer, and I glance over my shoulder at David. I need to see him. To confirm that he is the same man that Saz and I are talking about. When my eyes meet his, I can see immediately that he is uncomfortable. That he is guarded. His body language is screaming it. His arms are crossed over each other but not across his chest, around his midsection. Like he is protecting himself from a shot to the gut. For the first time ever, I look at David and I see insecurity. He knows we are talking about him, and he is clearly uneasy as shit about it. John is talking to him, but I don’t think he is listening. He is focused on me and Saz.
Now I feel guilty and dirty for talking about this. For making David feel insecure. For making him wonder what we are saying. I need to stop. I turn back to Saz.
“I’m going to go check in with David now,” I tell him. “It was nice talking with you, Saz.”
“You too, Emma. And take it easy on him, okay?” he says. I don’t answer. I just smile and walk over to David.
As soon as I get there, his arms release his waist and wrap around me, folding me against him. I put my head on his chest and slide my hands around him. I’m sure everyone is looking at us, hugging like this at the bar, but I don’t care. It’s nice to know that David doesn’t either. It makes me realize that there’s a lot of stuff I don’t care about. Really. When it comes down to it, I don’t care about what kind of crazy shit David did because of someone named Lucia. I don’t care that he didn’t tell me about the cocksucker who used to live in my apartment. I don’t care what Matt knows about David that I don’t. I don’t care about gun-toting ex-girlfriends or illegal poker nights or his f*cked-up family. I don’t care. He’ll tell me what he wants me to know. And none of it will matter anyway. Because I already know I love him, and all that shit won’t make a damn bit of difference.
Shit. I love David Calgaro.
“I want to go,” I say to him, my head still against his chest.
“Fuck.” It comes out of him sounding sick and disturbed. “Why can’t any of my friends keep their mouths shut? What did he say, Emma?” I lean back away from him and look at his face. He thinks I’m angry.
“It doesn’t matter what he said. None of it matters,” I say softly.
“What the hell does that mean?” He sounds hurt.
“It means that any one of them could tell me that you snorted coke with the pope, and it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.” His face relaxes. He recognizes his own words of assurance from Monday night. From the night I said I would be his girlfriend. He briefly closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head.