The mood had been tense since she'd let him free of his restraints. Thick with awkwardness thanks to her earlier rampage out by the grill. Now it was just downright painful. Mac shifted uncomfortably, a tinge of red staining his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Unhappy she had seen the physical embodiment of his insanity plastered on his bedroom walls.
"Ain't nuthin', jus a habit." he mumbled out, keeping his eyes on his green beans to avoid her intense scrutinizing gaze.
He hated this, her ability to make him feel like a stupid little kid. Not the way Walter did with fear. But in her own way that made him feel like a teenager fumbling around in the dark. A toddler getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A little boy lost in a big store about to burst out in tears because he can't find his mom. So inadequate, insecure, and needy.
What he hated even more was the fact that he wanted it. He wanted her forced care, her twisted form of mothering. Almost as much as he wanted to fuck her again. His mind wandered back to the first time he'd crawled into her bed, forcing his intimate embrace on her.
How she'd finally relented and started petting him in rough anger-filled motions before they became calm, almost caresses. He stabbed at the beans, loathing himself for wanting to curl up with her stroking him again when he wasn't even high. For dreading going home to his empty house. He resented her for it, for making him crave something that wasn't rough or violent.
"You do it when you're tweaking out, don't you?" she asked softly, continuing when he only stabbed his vegetables in reply, ignoring her.
"Some addicts fix things, some clean obsessively. You sketch. But why spiders?" Kristy watched as he drew a shape in his A1 sauce with a bean over and over, seemingly in his own world, not even hearing her.
It was a spider.
'He even does it when he's sober. OCD? Coping mechanism? Why do I even bother trying to decipher the crazy.' she thought, rolling her eyes at herself before popping a fork full of salad in her mouth. She let the subject fade away, sure whatever symbolism the arachnid held was a sore spot for him.
Mac came out of his trance of anger and longing with a question on the tip of his tongue. The answer to it being the only explanation as to why she did all that she did for him.
"Was' wrong witchyew?" he asked, looking up at her, studying her face like he could read the answer on her scarred skin.
Her entire persona radiated strength and durability. Had he never touched her he'd have wondered if he would find steel machinery and wires underneath her skin like a cyborg.
Kristy sat for a moment considering his question with a furrowed brow, chewing the morsel of meat in her mouth while formulating an answer.
"I'm a type of psychopath I suppose." she stated, sipping her beer before continuing. "I didn't feel emotions for a long time, had no empathy for fellow creatures. Emotionally bankrupt if you will. Say someone punched me in the face. I'd punch back out of reflex, but I would not be angry."
She continued with a little more enthusiasm on a subject she'd never been able to discuss with another person before. "And believe me I've looked into this, short of going to a shrink and getting locked away I've diagnosed myself as a space vacuum psychopath. A whole new classification I made myself."
When Mac made a face that plainly said 'what the fuck' she proceeded to explain her reasoning. "Regular psychopaths prey upon the real and deeper emotions of people who care about them. Of individuals who can love and feel. In other words of the people they use, abuse, toy with, lie to and hurt. I never had any such need. I was just a blank slate. A plane flying on autopilot."
She paused momentarily, shoving a fork full of steak in and talking around it as she chewed. "I was completely void, empty of anything and everything. Like space. Until I saw a lab for the first time. It was like a kick start to the need, the hunger. Cooking became my only source of feeling but it would fade as soon as I was done. Getting sucked up by whatever black void that was inside me like an endless vacuum. I'm different because I could fulfill my need without harming a person. I would get what I need from a process rather than what the others do."
"Why ya talkin' like thas tha past. Yer still a fucked up space whatever right?" he asked, confused.
Kristy visibly stiffened, no longer enjoying the conversation.
"Sort of. Not really. That's the way it used to be until...I found something better.." she trailed off, cramming in as much salad as her mouth could hold.
"Wad ya find?" Mac demanded, sensing she was finally getting closer to the real answer he was looking for behind all the psycho babble bullshit.
She chewed slowly, avoiding his insistent stare, shoveling in more food as soon as there was room.
"Goddamnit answer me!" he roared, slamming his fists down on the table when she tried reaching for a cob of corn, causing several to bounce off onto the floor.
She sighed and rolled her eyes, leaving them stuck on the ceiling while she made her confession. "A hick in a shitty red Chevy."
"Was' that gotta do with ya feelin' shit?" he questioned at her vague answer, she was obviously talking about him but she wasn't connecting the dots.
She abandoned her study of the ceiling to scowl at him. "That first day you ran me off the highway I was pissed, absolutely livid. So much so that I almost shot you. It seems anything concerning you makes me feel every emotion a regular human should. Even before I actually met you. Right down to the giddiness I got from slashing your tires." she snapped out, feeling embarrassed heat fill her face.
'Means she aint gunna kill me no matter what shit I pull, bitch was bluffin' earlier. She needs me.' Mac grinned at her smugly, crossing this arms and sitting back in his chair.
"Shut up." she hissed, jumping up to grab another beer from the fridge and avoid the gloat-fest that was bound to ensue from the ego boost she'd just given him.
She stood in the kitchen downing the whole thing to stall before grabbing another and trudging back into the dining room.
"So." Mac began, leaning forward on his forearms on the table. "Ya got feelin's fer 'Ol Mac now do ya?" he teased, smirking at her like it was going out of style.
"That's not what I said!" she growled at him before grabbing her plate and his to storm back into the kitchen.
One of the times she passed him shuttling back and fourth to get the food put away Mac reached out to grab a handful of her plump behind, earning a smack to the face with one of the cobs of floor-corn.
She hated the hypocrisy of her actions as she packed up the rest of the steaks, beans, and corn in a doggy bag for him. Returning to the dining room where Mac was still looking entirely too pleased with himself she dropped the bag in front of him. Fishing his keys and phone from her pockets she tossed them at him.
"I deleted all the whores numbers. Get out." she spat at him while snatching her beer from the table and walking away.
Mac pocketed his items, standing to follow out to the back patio and pester her some more. He could justify yearning to stay if she wanted him to leave.
"Wutchu jealous?" he taunted, surprisingly not the least bit bothered at her messing in his phone. 'Whores aint gonna do it no more anyway after tha top shelf pussy I been treated to today.'
"I don't need you dying from STD's." she grumbled, seating herself in a lounge chair and lighting up a cigarette.
"Why are you still here? You're free to go." she threw his way with a wave of her hand, keeping her eyes trained on the landscape stained blood red by the fading sun.
"Maybe I'm fittin' ta stay a while seein' as I got a bitch head over heels jumpin' at tha chance ta take care a me." he retorted, turning an embarrassing truth into a cocky boast with a twirl of his poison tongue.
She didn't say anything, just knocking back half her beer in large gulps. 'Of course.' she thought cynically.
"Whatever I'm going out." she told him, making her way back into the house with him hot on her heels
"Where we goin'?" he asked as he followed Kristy into her bedroom with his boots clomping along the floors.
She gave a short laugh while setting down her beer on the vanity and her cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "I am going to the bar."
She figured with no work tomorrow why not go get drunk at the one place where he automatically seemed to leave her alone. Devon was sure to be there and he was acceptable company. He never got handsy and when he drank the best gossip seeped out of him.
Mac watched appreciatively from the seat he'd taken up on her bed as she peeled her clothes off. A small twinge of satisfaction pricked him when he realized she'd be going out un-showered. Leaving his sweat on her skin and the slickness he'd created in between her legs lingering inside her.
Feeling particularly sullied after today's events Kristy chose a white pencil dress, forgoing undergarments to prevent lines. She slipped into her standard black pumps before dragging the vanity chair back to its rightful place and applying light makeup. All the while finishing her beer and smoke.
She caught Mac eyeing her in the mirror and was pleased with the desire she found plainly on his face. She tsked at him, waving a finger at him in the mirror. 'Not for you.'
"Comeon already, lets fuckin' go!" he snapped at being caught lusting after her.
"Go on!" she dismissed, waving towards the door. "You aren't coming with me. If you so happen to choose to frequent the same hole in the wall as I then so be it. But we are not going together." she continued, fetching her clutch from the closet and shoving her cigarettes inside.
"Wouldn' want me drivin' home drunk would ya?" he taunted while following her out the door. "What with carein' bout me an all." he added just to get under her skin while she made her way to the car.
She slammed her door and hit the lock button. Cursing when he simply reached inside the passenger's windowless expanse and yanked the lock back up. She slammed the gear in drive and started speeding away with Mac half hanging out before he hopped in and slammed the door behind him.
"Wen tha' fucker ya gonna clean tha glass outta here?" he muttered, swiping some off the arm rest.
"You clean it asshole, you're the one who blew my windows out!" she angrily retorted at him, causing him to chuckle.
Kristy smirked when she pulled into the parking lot full speed. Locking her arms against the wheel she slammed on the breaks into a spot, sending Mac flying into the dash in a heap. While he was busy cursing at her and un-crumpling himself from the space on the floor in between the dash and the seat she was attempting a quick getaway.
Which was thwarted by heels and gravel.
One wrong step and she was sprawling onto the hood of a brand new shiny corvette. Kristy recovered herself quickly, stepping back to admire the fine piece of machinery that had just saved her from a nasty face full of dirt and rocks.
"Damn, the stingray doesn't even come out until two-thousand fourteen." she whispered to herself. One of the few perks of residing in Michigan had been the Detroit auto show. After being dragged to it year after year by Joe Kristy had eventually developed a slight case of auto aficionadoism.
"Jus a fuckin' car." Mac miffed, annoyed at her being so impressed with an expensive hunk of metal on wheels.
"Who the hell in this podunk piece of shit town would be driving this beauty?" she asked herself aloud, not acknowledging him.
Mac knew exactly who.