Page 61 of Damaged

“What did you do before?” She curls her fingers into a fist and rests her chin on it.

“I was an assistant gallerist.”

“Ah. Before that?”

“College.”

She tilts her chin out at me. “Where?” she says, as if I should’ve added this information myself.

I’m not enjoying this interrogation, and James must think it’s gone too far. He finally turns to us and interrupts. “Is there champagne in that?” He points at my orange juice.

“No.”

“Hmm. I’ll have to get my own. How’d you sleep?”

“Great. Much better than Egypt.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“How about I get you some champagne, James? I could use a top off myself,” says Alessia. She sets her hand on James’s shoulder as she stands and lets it linger there possessively.

My heart plummets, even though I can tell from James’s sour expression that he’s not happy about it, I know these two have history.

It’s early. It’s possible that Alessia got in late last night and spent the night with James. Of course he was going to be with a woman here. I’ve been his neighbor. I’ve heard what he does. I should know better than to think James would be celibate just because I’m around. I’m an employee. Not a girlfriend.

I’m surprised to feel that the thought is like a shot through the heart.

“I’ll be right back,” Alessia says. She makes sure to put extra sway in her step as she walks back to the house.

“Girlfriend?” I ask.

“God, no,” James responds. “Old friend. She dates a buddy of mine now. Who… I would not describe as a lucky man.”

“Ah,” I say. The relief I feel is embarrassing. They’re not together now, but I was right that they have history. She wouldn’t have put her hand on him like she did otherwise. “How many friends do you have coming?”

“Six.”

“Nice, a party.”

“I use the wordfriendsloosely. I’m close with two. The other seven are people I entertain and rub elbows with in exchange for connections. And they wouldn’t say much different of their relationship with me.”

“So, this is another business trip after all?”

“In a sense, sure.”

“Do you ever take a vacation?”

“Does this not count?” James gestures at his feet for emphasis. “I’m sitting on a beach chair.”

“I guess it depends on your definition.” I look over my shoulder towards the house. I don’t want to be here when Alessia comes back. I have a feeling the interrogation will begin all over again.

“I may not be on vacation,” James says. “But the day is yours to do with what you please. There’s a study on the first floor with books. If you want to eat, there are hotels on either side of us with restaurants.” He points up and then down the beach. “You can walk on the beach to get there.”

I can’t see the hotels from where we are. The house here is surrounded by thick palm groves that slope uphill on either side. James doesn’t say anything else, and I suddenly feel uncomfortable. Is he trying to get rid of me? He seemed eager to invite me here. Eager enough.

He could’ve just sent me back to New York and said he had more business overseas, but here I am.

“Are there dinner plans?” I ask.

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