Page 18 of Prince Charmless
Melina pulls back a silver ball from the Newton’s Cradle on Julien’s desk. “I like watching distasteful true crime documentaries with Rachel,” she says and lets go.Click, click, click.
Watching distasteful true crime documentaries with Rachel must’ve been what she was doing before her kidnapping.
“Apologies are nice too, I guess,” she says as she picks at her burgundy fingernail polish.
I think I can work with that.
“All right, I’ve been an ass.”
She kisses her teeth. “I’ll take ‘things that are obvious’ for two hundred, Alex.”
I try not to be charmed by her dorky finger guns.
“I don’t want you to quit on us just because of some ill-conceived stuff I said when I took things too far. I would like you to come back because Julien likes you. And I like you.”
“And you’re sorry,” Julien whispers behind me like a stage mom feeding me my lines. I forgot he was still here.
“You don’t like me,” Melina says.
“I do.”
“Why?”
“You’re honest.”
She rolls her eyes as if honesty is an easy trait to come by. Yes, it’s a low bar to set in terms of basic human decency, but I’m no stranger to bribery. Even after she kicked me out, Melina kept honest about her disinterest in talking to the press. Most of the nonsense died down after no one could find #purpledresswoman.
“And you’re sorry,” Julien whispers for a second time.
“And I’m sorry,” I finally parrot.
“Taylor,” she starts. “I think that you’re rude, condescending, and two-faced.”
I scan the room for answers because I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.Click, click, click.“And?”
She snorts at what I’m assuming is my self-awareness. “Andmaybe I don’t want to work for that type of person. The guy I recommended is perfectly qualified and would be happy to do it.”
I shoot Julien a glare because he didn’t tell me she referred him to someone else. He’s still blocking the door. My friend is being unusually persistent today, especially over something that, in the end, doesn’t matter.Click, click, cli—
I stop the Newton’s Cradle because it’s driving me fucking insane. “What can I do to get you back?”
“I don’t believe it’s my burden to think of something. So, you and your big fuck-you watch will just have to surprise me.”
I look at my wrist. I could tell her my big fuck-you watch was a gift from my dead mom, but I won’t stoop that low.
“Be honest. Is getting you to make the website still possible?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I can be very stubborn. I’ve died on enough hills to fill the Alps.”
“That’s still not a no.”
She shrugs. “I guess it wasn’t.”
“There’s not a wish I can grant you right now? I was thinking of something instantaneous. I don’t carry cash, but I could work out a wire transfer.” Maybe if I keep trying to give her money, she’ll eventually take it. That’s what begging is right?
“Please stop offering to pay me so casually,” she says. “Makes me feel like a hooker.”
I give up. She’s impossible to talk to. I grab the accordion of Post-it notes and a pen off the desk.
