No Wrongs and No Revenge
Inspired by a painful conversation, a couple of toughs, coffee and a deck of cigarettes
His long blue coat flapping in the breeze, Tony was an unassuming rich kid that should've had a smile on his face. Standing atop the paved stones outside his ex-girlfriend's house his long expression drabbled with the result of three-days without shaving on his cheeks, he lifted his hand out of his pocket long enough to check the time. One thirty. Bingo. Harry was supposed to get off around one for lunch and they met some times, to catch up. He didn't really care about how he was going, or any of that friendly bullshit people tend to yammer on about. He wanted to grow stones like the big boys. but there was no noticable weight resting at the bottom of his boxer shorts. Harry was the man who would give them to him, to a fashion. He readjusted himself to make sure his equipment was still there. A sigh of relief - all were present and correct. Reaching into his breast pocket, he took out a red Marlboro and his trusty Zippo and puffed away, pacing back and forth. He wondered how he'd come out with it to Harry? Straight up? Or with some added sugar? Tony knew when he was riding his girlfriend, it sure was sweet. Now Harry was going to know all about it. The sound of footsteps on concrete grew louder, Tony gave a half-hearted wave at Harry. Harry did the same. Tony briskly walked up to him and threw away his smoke, unable to contain his excitement. His heart quickened with every step, Harry closing in on him with snails' pace. This couldn't wait.
"Harry," he called out to him.
"What is it buddy?" he inquired, almost deferentially. Harry wasn't much of a man, but Tony eyed him off conspiratorially. He expected a fight to break out. He wanted a fight.
"I just got off the phone with Jane." he said
"Oh yeah, how is she?" Harry's voice carried a tone of jealousy. His girlfriend was calling Tony without at least dropping him a line first? Something was amiss.
"Yeah, you know how she said she had to work late the other week?"
"Umm, yeah?"
"Well the only thing she was workin' was my hog" - he grabbed his crotch - "and it was unbe-freakin'-lievable."
The two men stared at one another. Tony in perverse glee to Harry, in disbelief, shock, horror. Tony tensed up, preparing himself for the blows he thought Harry was going to lay on him. A right hook? A left jab? Whatever it was, he was fired up for them and was more than happy to repay him in kind. Harry on the other hand, had no clue what to do. Pawing through his hair and collecting his thoughts, Harry slumped his hand onto Tony's back and whispered in his ear, choking back tears.
"You're a piece of shit motherfucker, Tony."
Tony stopped as still as a rock, stunned by his condemnation. Inexplicably for Tony, it completely burst his bubble of confidence, doing more to pain him than any blow from Harry's fists could. Without another word, Harry slinked away down the street with whatever he had left of happiness leaking out behind him. Each pace grew less enthusastic as the next. Tony, ramrod straight with eyes gaping wide like saucers, managed to muster the strength to place his palm on his crotch. "God damn it," he thought. "There's still nothin' there. Still nothin' there."