“I’m feeling fine. I got some sleep and now I’m ready just to be alone.” She tries to close the door on me but I step in past her into the club. “What are you doing?” she yells.
My hand tangles in my hair, which is still dripping with sweat from my run. “What am I doing? I’m about to make some things very clear.”
Worry fills her face. “Okay…”
I take a moment, walking away for a few seconds and then swing back to her. “We’re doing this, right? I mean, that’s what it seemed like. You didn’t say it outright but, before you fainted it looked like… well, it looked like you were in.”
She sighs. “I’m not sure, Matthias. It’s going to be miserable for both of us.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Do I really think that? We can’t go two minutes without wanting to rip the other’s head off with our bare hands.
She’s thinking the same thing because she says, “How can it not? We can’t look at each other without fighting!”
I can’t help but grin. “Well, maybe if you stopped being such a bitch.”
Her eyes narrow and she points to the door. “Get the fuck out, ballbreath.”
I laugh. Why does her annoyance feel so good? And where did she learn all these new insulting names? “I was joking, Rissie. Sheesh. I know you can’t stop being a bitch!”
“Matthias!” she yells but then winces and her hand come up to cradle her head.
All the jokes instantly flee from my brain. “Hey, easy. Come with me.” I take her hand, and despite her very loud protests I lead her into the main room of the club, pulling a chair from the stack and gently lowering her into it.
“I said, I’m fine!” she argues, even while she grabs her head.
I don’t want to antagonize her more while she’s hurting. “Yeah, I didn’t say anything, Rissie.” “You were thinking it,” she sulks.
I get up to grab a bottle of water behind the bar, and hand it to her, opened. “I’m thinking that you need to just calm down for a moment and let me talk.”
“Fine.”
I might as well bring up the engagement again, while she’s sitting there quietly. “Look, is it ideal? Fuck, no. Will it be some great love story? Even more no. You hate me even more than I dislike you.
But I know you need this. And come on, I’m better than other options.”
She takes a sip of the water, mulling over my words. “And what about you? What makes this worth it for you? I can’t do this halfway, again, Matthias. I just can’t.”
I’m so used to seeing it from the other side, sometimes I forget she had just acted out of desperation.
Was she right? But was it fair to expect anything from her than to be human?
“Well, obviously I’m madly in love with you, so this all fits into my master plan.” She just shakes her head and pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Sheesh, you’re a tough crowd. Look. I need help, okay? I don’t want to be the sole reason the Kids & Care IPO goes south. Just because, as my PR rep says, I can’t keep my pants zipped. Are the tabloids totally out of order for this? Fuck, yes. But that’s just the world we live in.” We share a look. “I need help, Clarissa. And I’d rather annoy you than another woman. You know me. So, please?”
The way she looks at me mirrors what’s going through my own brain. Me giving a heartfelt, genuine plea? Where is the Matthias we both know? She sighs and lowers her head. “Okay.” “Okay?” I shout.
“Yes. But! We have to have some guidelines.”
I pump my fist and give her a big grin. “Perfect, I love a good rousing talk about guidelines. I actually have already set up a meeting for us at ten a. m. with my PR rep and she can help us figure out how to proceed.”
“Matthias! Listen to me!”
I sit down, and I listen. And learn.
“One, don’t interfere with my life. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am now. I’m not giving it up because you have delusions of grandeur about what we’re really about. I don’t want this arrangement to interfere or affect my business.”
“Darling, this arrangement is going to help your business. And you know it.” She bites her lips and her nose scrunches up. It’s unbearably cute.
“Fine. My turn. You have to attend events with me and be seen… you know, liking me.”
“That’s going to be hard but okay. And that’s not really a guideline, that just sounds like a given.”
She takes a big breath. “The moment I get my permanent residency… we’re done.”
“How long will that take?”
I was afraid you were going to ask that – about a year. But… I think, maybe with some encouragement from you to an immigration agent, it could be faster.”
She’s thought about this. I wonder if she suggested Patrick “encourage” the immigration agent. “Fine by me, IPO should be well done by then. Anything else? We should talk about everything while we’re here. Money, where we’ll live…” Something finally registers while I talk. “Wait, you didn’t go home. You came straight here.”
She blanches. “So, what?”
She’s hiding something. She’s hiding something and she’s really afraid that I’m about to figure out what it is. “When I first got here, you said you wanted to go home, but you came straight here.”
She waves her hand. “Anyway, so money-”
I don’t let her finish. “Where do you live, Clarissa?” She blinks. And doesn’t reply.
Fine. If she doesn’t want to tell me, I’ll confirm it myself.
I run up the stairs, ignoring her protests, and into the room where I found her yesterday. Looking around, I see things I didn’t yesterday, or didn’t care to.
Worn suitcases in the corner, a stack of business books in a pile on the floor next to the stained, broken down couch. A rolled up yoga mat against the wall. And an array of clothes, draped over the chairs, and hanging on the back of the door. A make up bag and some pill bottles in a little white storage tub next to a small lamp. Three roach traps in a far corner complete the picture. Dust on every surface.
“You live here?” I shout, unable to keep the anger out of my voice. How could Terry be okay with this? How could he let his daughter live this way after everything he had raised her to be accustomed to?
“Matthias. It’s fine,” she says.