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“Oh, Mr. King. Always getting the best of things, isn't he?”
“Yes, well, he'll be home shortly. He's bringing me lunch,” I inform him. I mentally catalog the heavy objects in the room that I might be able to use to bash his head in, given the chance. I'm not especially strong, but I'm not especially forgiving either. One false move…
“You know, it's funny,” he begins, “I expected you to recognize me too. Isn't that droll? I mean, of course you wouldn't… But for a moment, was a little offended you didn't!”
He chuckles as though I am supposed to know what he's talking about. I get myself a glass of water from the kitchen and sip at it, watching him over the top rim. I don't offer him anything.
“Yes, well,” he begins again, his tone clipped and businesslike. “I'm here to make you an offer, as I'm sure you know.”
He is sure I know? I wonder. What am I missing?
“I will pay you double,” he enunciates, nodding proudly at the end as though he said something very impressive.
I can't help it; I begin to get curious. I say, “Double?”
He waves his fingers in the air in front of his wet-looking eyes. “I will pay you double whatever he's paying you.”
My mouth drops open. “He's not —”
“— fine, triple!”
“I think you should be leaving, Mr. Maillot,” I inform him. I set my water glass down on the countertop and hold my hand back in the direction he came. “Now.”
“Oh come now,” he rolls his eyes. “You can't be standing on propriety, can you? I mean, it is preposterous! You don't have to sell your loyalty, ma cheri. Loyalty should cost extra.”
My hands tremble with rage and I ball them into fists.
“Or, can it be that you're enjoying this? His little… obsession? Come now, Jordan. A woman in your position shouldn't be so sentimental.”
“I will call the police!”
“Though I can see why he would be so fond of you, ma cheri,” Maillot continues, his eyes going distant as though remembering something quite fondly. “The first time that I saw you, I was astounded. It seemed so natural, it was like coming upon a nymph in the wood, you know? Like a fairytale!”
“Leave!”
“And you seemed so honest! Like you really didn't know! I really had no idea that men all over the world were convincing themselves that you were their precious little secret, their little ingenue.”
I snatch my purse, zipping it open and searching for my cell phone, rummaging around to the bott
om. Where the hell is it?
"But King, he is a man of action, isn't he? He turned his obsession into reality. I can respect that.”
I gape at him, not understanding. His jowls vibrate as he nods, settling back into place like a Jell-O mold that's been shaken vigorously.
“What are you talking about? King?”
The foyer door opens again and R strides through, his eyes flashing, the doorman standing apologetically behind him.
R's on a mission and he barrels past me toward the dining room. Maillot rises from his chair so quickly it falls over behind him and he stumbles to the side, staggering toward the back of the table to keep it between him and King.
“Maillot!” he bellows. “This is outrageous!”
Maillot’s hands go up.
“Fine! Fine!” he cries out, his voice suddenly girlish and afraid. “But you didn't think she would just be yours alone, did you? She belongs to everyone. I have every right to ask!”
R lunges for him, but Maillot bolts for the front door, running as fast as his stubby legs will take him out of the flat. The doorman closes the door firmly behind him.
