11. Chapter Eleven #2
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Bronx scoffed.
“Your fist made no contract with my head or any other place on my body. The hit to my head was of my own doing. You said so yourself. The contact didn’t feel that serious and I sincerely doubt it inflicted damage beyond the lump I have—which, for the record, doesn’t hurt that much. ”
“Keep lying to yourself,” Cavalari grumbled. “You’re dizzy on your feet, mentioned a buzzing feedback sound in your ears, you’ve admitted to a loss of hearing, and it’s clear at times you’re in a lot of pain.”
“You’re not a doctor, so don’t pretend you know what you’re talking about,” Bronx shot back.
Bronx came out of the bathroom and shouldered his way past Cavalari.
“What do you want me to tell the bus driver?” Cavalari asked.
“I want a steak dinner delivered to the door of the bus so I can eat in peace,” Bronx declared. “Medium rare, baked potato with sour cream and bacon bits, and a big garden salad with house dressing on the side.”
“I’ll let the driver know,” Cavalari said and nodded.
Twenty minutes later they were pulling into the parking lot of a restaurant that looked like a typical southwest roadhouse that specialized in steaks and chops, which was exactly what Bronx was hoping for.
His stomach growled as the bus pulled into the parking lot.
When he thought about the busy day he’d had he realized he hadn’t eaten much.
“Did you call in our order?” Bronx asked.
“Of course,” Cavalari stated. “The waitstaff will be hauling out eleven steak dinners in under two minutes.”
“Jesus, I’m starved,” Bronx sighed and sat down at the dinner table attached to the wall across from the galley kitchen.
A knock at the bus door had Bronx sitting up straighter in his seat.
Cavalari swung the door open and took the large plastic tray from the waiter.
He balanced everything in one hand and gave the kid a large tip before he thanked him and shut the door again.
The bus driver got his meal, too, and they dug into their food.
Cavalari took the chair across from Bronx at the table and spread out their dinners to get rid of the tray taking up most of the space.
Bronx quickly seasoned everything with salt and pepper and then began cutting into his steak.
For a while all you could hear were the moans of appreciation from eating a delicious, prize-winning slab of meat.
Bronx was beside himself with excitement to finally be eating a real substantial meal and it was so damn good.
Cavalari was almost done eating his steak when he finally broke the silence by clearing his throat.
“I kept my end of the bargain,” Cavalari said with a smirk on his face.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I told you my truth and now it’s your turn to do the same,” Cavalari said.
“You did no such thing,” Bronx stated and finished chewing another bite of his baked potato.
“Not my fault you didn’t hear my admission,” Cavalari grumbled. “I said the words, out loud, so it still counts.”
“There’s no fucking way you revealed your truth.”
“I most definitely did—you just didn’t hear me.”
“Seriously?”
“As serious as an STD—and I’m certain you’ve had a few dozen of those over the years,” Cavalari teased.
“Nope, not one STD to report,” Bronx said. “I caught crabs once back in high school, or maybe it was right after I graduated. Things are a bit blurry for me from that time period in my life.”
“I bet,” Cavalari agreed. “You can blame the substances you were polluting your body with for the foggy brain.”
“I’m well aware of the reason behind my saturated brain when I was back in my twenties,” Bronx said and grinned. “But my brain is as clear as a fucking summer sky these days. So, stop stalling and tell me about your truth.”
Cavalari set his plate and silverware back onto the tray and washed his hands at the kitchen sink. “I already did the big reveal to you,” Cavalari said. “No sense in repeating what’s already been said.”
“You fucker,” Bronx said as he dropped his fork and steak knife onto the plate then handed his plate over to Cavalari to stack on the tray with the rest of the dirty dishes. “Tell me again!”
Cavalari met his gaze. “No.”
Bronx studied him for a bit. “You’re lying,” he finally said. “You didn’t reveal shit. You’re just saying that to get me to spill my truth and I won’t do it—not until I hear yours.”
“Nope, that’s not how the truth game works,” Cavalari said.
“I told you every sweaty detail about my sexuality, right down to who I slept with last. I was stunned you had no comment about any of it but now I guess I understand why—you couldn’t hear me.
Your loss, though. The rules of the game don’t say I’m obligated to repeat my truth. You only demanded I say it once.”
Cavalari lifted the tray from the table and carried it over to the door of the bus. “Don’t you walk out of here with that bit of information hanging like a heavy ball sac,” Bronx protested. “Sit your ass down and tell me your truth!”
“I already did,” Cavalari laughed over his shoulder. “You missed it and there will be no repeats. Deal with it.”
“Arrrrrgh!” Bronx shouted. He grabbed a half-empty plastic water bottle from the table to throw at the door as it shut behind his guard. “You’re a lying sack of shit, Cavatelli !”