Page 69 of Total Exposure

What?

She stands there, looking up at me looking down at her through the black mirror of the lens. Her chest heaving with her rapid, ragged breathing. Platter still clutched in her hands. Mouth frowning so severely, it turns her normally pretty face into something very ugly.

She starts to cry. Slumps down onto the floor, dropping the platter, which cracks into three or four large, anticlimactic chunks, and presses her face to the hard wood floor and sobs.

What the fuck just happened?

I sit back in my chair and wait. My view sucks. I have no angles to choose from. I can’t see shit aside from this unsatisfying top view of her body, jerking with the end of her manic episode.

I let out a long breath, feeling exhausted along with her.

Now what? Should I call Jordan and tell him shit’s going off the rails? Will they come take her away?

I chew on my lip as I think it through. Trying out all my options.

If I call Jordan… somehow, some way, what we did today is gonna come out and he’s gonna be pissed. Not to mention what happened last night.

If I do nothing, she’ll probably sleep on the foyer floor.

It occurs to me then—this is probably the inevitable conclusion to her completely overwhelming day.

Which means it’s all my fault.

I press the intercom button and say, in the softest, most reasonable voice I can muster up through the crackle and the static, “Go upstairs and take a long bath, Evangeline.”

She mumbles something that might be, “Fuck you,” but I’m not really sure.

“I need to clean up.”

“I want to go home,” she says. And this time I hear very clearly.

“You can’t,” I say.

This makes her look up at the chandelier. “I can do anything I want! I’m the fucking whole reason you’re here!”

“No,” I say back. “I’m here because I want to be here. I could just as easily want to be somewhere else.”

“You’re no one!” she yells, tears running down her cheeks. “You’re nothing. I’m the one who counts!”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” I ask her. “You really are a goddamned child. Sure as hell acting like one.”

“Fuck you!”

“No, fuck you!” I yell back. “You spoiled little bitch. You just destroyed about fifteen grand in cameras! Do you have the money to pay for that? Because they’re definitely gonna bill you for that stupid tantrum you just threw.”

“I don’t care. Let them take everything. I don’t even care anymore.” She gets up on her hands and knees, sways for a few seconds, like she might pass out, and then gets a foot underneath her and stands.

She raises her head to look at the camera. Her tears have left clean streaks through the filth covering her cheeks.

Silence.

“Go upstairs. Take a bath. And go to bed.”

“And then what?” she asks. “Will you call them? Tell them what I did? Leave…” She whimpers out the word and tries again. “Will you leave me here alone?”

God. She is one fucked-up person inside that head.

“Do what I say, Evangeline. You’re out of control, out of line, and out of excuses. You’re a grown woman and you just threw a tantrum because some guy you don’t even know didn’t let you stalk him today.”