Page 19 of Under Control

The same kind of person that fucks those same strange girls and likes hearing the wordno.

A very, very bad person.

I should be happy that the phone stays dead and black.

So why do I have this strange knot of disappointment in my guts?

Chapter 7

Karine

Idon’t hear from Valentin for a few days.

Even though a sick part of me wishes he’d call.

Or even maybe he would show up in my house in the middle of the night?—

But no, I shouldn’t fantasize about getting roughly taken in the dark by a man I’m trying very hard to hate.

Mom asks me about the electricity bill. I tell her that I had some really big tippers come through and I used the cash to make sure we’re covered. I’m pretty sure she thinks that’s bullshit, but she’s happy that our lights are staying on, and I think that’s good enough for her.

Merrick shows up when I’m working. He comes alone, orders his martini, and proceeds to sit around pouting and looking like a wounded baby deer.

“You can’t hate me forever, darling,” he says when I come give him a refill.

“I don’t know. I’m pretty good at holding grudges.”

“He bought two paintings for a few million each. All he said was he wanted to talk to you. Come on, what would you have done in my place?” His lips curl into a smile and he leans closer. “Valentin’s attractive. Don’t act like I wasn’t doing you a favor.”

I stoop forward. “I was naked, you fucking prick.”

His face falls. “You had a robe. I thought?—”

“I was naked, you asshole.”

“Oh. I see.” He clears his throat. “Listen, Karine, I’m sorry. I know that was lousy of me. I should have warned you at the very least, but he made it part of the deal that I said nothing.”

“You know, Merrick, you’re talented. I even like you most of the time. But you’re also a self-centered prick.”

“I simply will not disagree with that assessment, darling. Can we be friends again?”

“You just want to paint me some more.”

“I’d be honored, but no, I suspect that ship has sailed, as they say.”

“That ship crashed into an iceberg and sank.” I glare at him, but my face softens. “You really are a prick, but fine. I don’t hate you.”

“Fantastic.” He claps his hands together. A woman sitting to his left gives him an odd look but goes back to her phone. “Now, are you going to tell me what you and our dear friend Mr. Valentin spoke about while I was gone? And why you left in such a hurry?”

“Absolutely not. But you’re going to tell me everything you know about him after I pour some drinks. Got it?”

Merrick puts a hand over his heart. “I promise, my darling, every terrible rumor I’ve ever heard shall be yours.”

All night, he tells me stories about Valentin. Most of them are absurd and overblown, and I’m pretty sure he’s making up details just for dramatic effect.

But none of them are good.

What I learn is more or less what I already assumed.

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