Page 44 of Dear, Carson McDermott
She narrowed her eyes,
“What did my eyes do?”
“They sparkled. As if you enjoyed that kind of pain. Kind of like you wanted me to do more.”
Katerina stayed silent for a minute too long. Then, she cleared her throat, but the evidence was all over her face as she turned a dark shade of red. She looked flushed.
“Eyes don’t sparkle, fucker.” She replied.
I didn’t say anything, I just stared at her.
“Fucker, huh?” I questioned.
She shrugged her shoulders,
“We’ve already kissed, I’m not holding back anymore for you, Bubba.”
I smiled genuinely. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe. Safe with her.
“Good. I didn’t like the other you. She’s weak.”
She threw her head back laughing,
“She is and I don’t like her either. Help me get rid of her, will you?” She matched my smile.
Nah, I take that back. She can’t match my smile because mine might’ve gotten bigger just now.
****
“So, who’d you meet out in Nevada?” I asked her as we ate the Chinese she wanted.
I admit that I was trying to fatten her up a bit. I didn’t mind her looking like this if this was how she decided she wanted to stay but damn, I wanted all that meat she had on her back. Thankfully, I couldn’t dwell on all the ways I worshiped her body before as she replied.
“You know that model that made it big when we were eighteen? Paris Troy?” She said so nonchalantly.
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“The same Paris Troy that you double-tapped every one of his Insta pics? That Paris Troy?” I reiterated.
She scoffed.
“Oh my God, that was like ten years ago. I was a young girl; I didn’t know any better.”
“Uh-huh,” I replied. “How the hell did you meet him?”
“Well, through Michel surprisingly. His father is as we all know through the streets as the Mad King of Nevada and he had an understudy; her name is Emmi. You know Paris’s girlfriend at the time. Now, that’s his wife but that’s neither here nor there. But yes, Michel told me to go to her and that she would take care of me. This was after I got the help I needed to deal with my depression. Paris and Emmi are so sweet. They’ve taken over for the old man.”
I was confused,
“Who’s the old man?”
She giggled and I eyed her.
“Alexander Troy, duh!”
I rolled my eyes,
“Are you crushing’ on that old man?” I asked, and she had the nerve to break eye contact with me. “No wonder why you stopped crushin’ on his son. Just to let you know, I don’t need any of the Troy’s help, kay?”
