“It’s just a story. Stories have to end sometime. Hell, did you watch The Sopranos? Sometimes stories just stop. Shit just goes black. Wham, bam, over. No more, nothing left, the end.”
She makes a face. “That sucks.”
“Yeah, well, life sucks, Scarlet,” I say. “You know that as well as anyone. Sometimes beasts are just fucking beasts, no matter how much you love them, Belle. It’s a fact. I’ve seen love bring a monster back to life before, but most of the time, the monster just loves you to death.”
“A white picket fence,” I say, something clicking after a moment. That’s what she said outside. You’ve got a white picket fence. “Is that what you want? To be proven wrong? For some happily ever after to come along and sweep you off your feet? Take you away from this bullshit life and give you your picket fence?”
“You’re an asshole, Lorenzo.”
“That doesn’t sound like a denial.”
“Is it so wrong to want to be happy?”
“Is that what makes you happy? Really?”
She noncommittally shrugs a shoulder.
“Well, if it is, you’re barking up the wrong tree,” I say, “because I can’t give you that. Don’t let the fence out there fool you. Around here, it’s just a fence. It came with a house that I bought because my brother liked it. Nothing more. But what I can offer, Scarlet, is to stand in your corner. You and I, we can be the best of friends, but don’t expect to find your fairy tale under my roof. You got me?”
She stares me down.