Guns, Not Roses

~Chapter Five: The Good in Goodbye~

She pushed her naked breasts against him in his sleep. The hardened nubs of her nipples stabbed his left arm.

"Tony, you no fun no more. Always out. You have another girl, don't you?" she breathed into his ear.

She was drunk.

"Natalya, go back to sleep." Anthony pushed her away, as gently as he possibly could.

"No, I can't. I'm horny, Tony."

He was instantly repulsed. When had Natalya Schaefer, who'd been on the cover of Playboy two years ago, started to repulse him?

"Well, unfortunately, I'm not," he replied, starting to get annoyed. His libido had been waning as of late, and Natalya wanting sex was as enticing as a blowjob from Hitler.

"You don't have to be awake for us to do it, Tony. I can just... get on top... like this..." She tried to straddle him. Anthony shoved her off and sat up, enraged.

"What the fuck, Natalya?" He hated using profanity. It was a sign of weakness that said 'I can't stress my point without cursing every two seconds'. Now he was angrier with myself than with her.

She was crying now. Crying because he wouldn't sleep with her. Come to think of it, when was the last time he'd slept with her?

Aeons ago.

"Stop with the waterworks." He kicked the covers off and swung off his bed. "I'm taking the couch tonight."

"If I were pregnant... would you love me?"

Anthony froze in the doorway, her words biting into his skin. "What did you say?" He couldn't have heard right.

"If we had... baby together... would you love me, Tony Dekker? Would you marry me, even?" Her voice was pleading.

He kept his back to her. "No, Natalya, I wouldn't. That would never happen."

"I think to myself sometimes: Were you always so cold? So cruel?" she murmured, choking on a sob. "And, perhaps, you were. But I was blinded. By love, Anthony. You... do you know what that is?"

"Go back to sleep, Natalya. Forget we ever spoke about this."

Anthony headed downstairs, not even bothering to turn the lights on. Her words played in his head.

Were you always so cold?

* 

It was eleven o'clock in the morning and Don Pirelli was coming to see Anthony Dekker.

At his house.

Tony normally didn't make it a habit of inviting crime kings into his natural habitat, but this was Don Pirelli.

He only wondered what Ruthless wanted. Tony wasn't even aware that Ruthless had known of his existence, but of course, word got around.

He passed the time staying out of his housekeeper, Ginny's, way. Natalya had long left. For good. There had been nothing more to say between them, except for goodbye.

"I'll be seeing you around," Natalya had said at his doorstep, a weak smile on her picturesque face.

"Of course," he had replied, although they both knew he was lying. Natalya knew Tony Dekker well enough to realise that.

"Are you OK, Mr. Dekker?" Ginny's lilting voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She was always so genuinely concerned about him. Tony would have to be blind or dumb not to see that she had a crush on him. But that was fine. Crushes were fine. Love, on the other hand...

"I'm just distracted, Ginny. Why don't you take an early lunch break?"

"It's only eleven..." she began to protest, wringing her hands like an old maid.

"I insist."

She bit her lip. "OK. And thanks." She flashed Tony a megawatt smile and turned on her heel.

He nodded at her. The fact was that he didn't want her seeing Pirelli here. Pirelli was infamous, after all. It wouldn't do for her to recognize a mafia kingpin in her employer's house. Ginny was anything but stupid.

He listened for the front door closing and immediately relaxed.

Were you always this cold? 

Natalya's voice was in his head, asking the same question over and over again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get rid of it.

It seemed as if, once the door closed, a knock resounded.

Tony stood up.

Showtime, Dekker.

*

"Before we leave, Mr. Dekker, I wanna congratulate you on the way you handled eliminating The Kid," Pirelli said, as he stood up from the couch, downing the last of his whiskey.

Conti nodded in agreement. Anthony had the impression that he would agree with Pirelli if Pirelli said the sky was clearly green.

"We were very impressed by the... the creativity. We are sure you will exert the same force in this elimination," Pirelli continued.

"I'm honoured, Don Pirelli," Tony forced himself to say, seeing them to the front door.

"Please. Call me Pauly. I consider you family now." 

"Thank you. Pauly." 

Pirelli grabbed Anthony in a tight bear hug. "Stay well. Oh, and take your time with this hit. It doesn't have to be too soon. I wanna scare him first, as I said."

"Naturally," he replied.

Pirelli and Conti left, speeding away in a black, tinted, and probably bulletproof, limo.

Anthony returned to the coffee table in the living room and picked up the picture that seemed to come to life in his hands.

It couldn't be her.

But it was the same shoulder-length raven-black hair, with streaks of purple in it.

The same long-lashed, emerald-green eyes.

And the same cheeky grin.

Savannah Ardeur stared back at him.

His first girlfriend.

And his next hit.