24. McCarthy
MCCARTHY
I ’m sitting in my home office, watching her on the camera feed as she reacts excitedly at the box of her clothes I left her because I cannot have them in my house any longer. They’re a liability.
Now she’s bumbling around, talking to the dog.
I turn the camera feed off when she’s dressing. You can’t see much through the tinted windows, but she opens the door so she can put on her shoes more easily. She tugs up her tights when she steps out to grab her stuff and the ever-multiplying accessories barnacled to the oversize white cup.
I count down to the elevator dinging, then Truman’s nails and dog tags jingle.
Jenna’s heels click on my floor as she jaunts into my study.
I stare at her flatly.
She’s still bubbly, but there are some cracks. Her eye makeup is a little bit wonky .
I don’t even say hello when she gives a chirpy “Good morning!”
Three days, tops, then she breaks.
Jenna rubs at her eye then winces.
And I see… My mother would try to cover up bruises with makeup, but I always knew.
I should have been monitoring the goddamn camera feed.
“Where is he? How did he get in?”
Jenna squeaks as I jump up from my desk. She scurries back, waving that stupid cup with all its charms between us. I grab her face and wipe at the makeup under her eye. The bruise is fresh.
Then I feel sick.
“Did I do that? Jenna.” I cup her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“God, no, you didn’t.” She mumbles something.
“Did I just hear you say Nathan did it?”
“No! I did it!”
I draw back. “You punched yourself in the face?” I’m incredulous.
“No, I dropped my phone on my face.” She wrinkles her nose.
Relief floods me. I don’t want to think about what it means.
“Cupcake.” I sit back down, needing the desk between us.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Like a baby!”
“In my car…”
“Leather seats are comfy.”
I set down my pen. “Living in a car is not comfortable. ”
“I’m low-maintenance.”
“What about when you have your period?”
“I’ll just bleed in your car.”
“No, you won’t. You like bubble baths. I can’t believe I’m even arguing with you about this.”
“I grew up on an island compound. I have free bled in a yurt. I will be fine.”
“You always do this. You just twist everything anyone says into an argument because you just can’t admit that I’m right,” I snap.
“If you ask me if I’m PMSing, I’m going to punch you in the face.”
I open a drawer. “So you don’t want this chocolate bar?” I wave it at her.
Her mouth turns down, then she snatches it from me.
“You’re a thirteen-year-old boy shitposting on the internet.” She unwraps the chocolate, takes a big bite, then freezes when she finally notices the wall with names and photos of her fiancés.
“Which one is she responding to the most?” I ask aloud.
Jenna stares straight ahead, another crack in her bubbly mask.
“Since you didn’t pick a fake girlfriend, I’m setting up dates for you.
” She takes a deep breath and sets a binder on my desk.
“You can try them out over the next few days and pick someone that you connect with. The girls are all beauty queens or ballet dancers or models. All of them are very socially minded.” She rattles all this off, trying to ignore the photos of her potential stalkers.
“I’m offended, Cupcake. It’s like you don’t even know me.” I flip through the photos of pretty but bland women. “I want someone who will go eat a steak with me. ”
“You’re not falling in love with them! We just need someone who will make you look like a normal human being,” she snaps.
I hold up a photo. “This one’s not planning on bringing that mangy ferret, is she?”
“That ferret has a very lucrative social media presence.”
“How long do I have to fake date her?” I toss the photo on the desk.
“A few months.”
I grimace. “Then you need to find someone else.”
“What kind of man doesn’t want to date a beautiful woman?”
There are more cracks in the bubble. She’s clenching her jaw.
I can’t stop staring at her pursed mouth, the tired eyes, the way she licks the coffee off her lips while the charms clink noisily against the plastic handle of her cup.
She zips and unzips all the stupid little pouches multiplying on her cup, looking for God knows what.
“Why do you have to have all that shit on your cup?” I finally ask, thundering at her.
She flinches.
Before I can stop it, I sweep the binder off the desk to crash to the floor, papers flying everywhere.
Truman, balancing on top of the antique globe one of my brothers dumped in my house as a prank, barks once.
“Stop acting like that, like prey, like you’re weak. It’s”—I run a hand through my hair—“aggravating.”
She’s clutching that cup like she might a child’s toy. When I try to snatch it from her, she jerks back. I grab her arm and wrest the cup from her.
“That’s mine! ”
Holding the cup above my head while Jenna jumps around, I fish out the box I’d bought yesterday on a whim.
“You can’t just take things that aren’t yours.”
“Just like you can’t move into other people’s vehicles uninvited?”
She steps back, a pout on her mouth like I’d just kicked her dog.
“I’ll move out.”
“You won’t.”
“I will.”
“I won’t allow it.” I dump the contents of the box on my desk, pick up the leather bag, and pull all the stuffing out.
“Hey!” Jenna complains when I start prying off all the shit she has on that cup and dumping it into the bag. “I have all that carefully organized.”
“It’s insane, and it’s driving me crazy. You can’t go through life with all your worldly possessions attached to a plastic cup. You have your credit cards and your ID on here, for God’s sake. I see you leave this cup all over the place.”
“I have a system.”
“You don’t have a system, Cupcake. Your life is a fucking disaster—it’s stressful and disorganized. Wait?” I unzip one of the many pouches. “Is this food in here?”
“Ooh! I thought I had more lifesavers left.”
Jenna pops the mildly lint-covered Lifesaver into her mouth.
“Revolting. You’re just acting like this”—I lower my voice—“because neither Nathan nor any of the other losers you decided to chain yourself to financially ever did anything nice for you. I can’t even stand you, and I’ve been a better boyfriend than them. ”
“Don’t call yourself my boyfriend.” She glares. The bubbly mask is completely gone.
“Hit a nerve? You’re sleeping in my car, you let yourself into my house uninvited, at this point I’m the only one feeding your dog…”
“I’ll get out of your hair, buddy, if you just pick a date.” She dumps the binder back on my desk.
“Fine. Which one has the nicest tits?”
Jenna glares at me.
“I want one who will put out if I have to go through this. The curvy ones have low self-esteem. Got any of those?”
Jenna’s face is pinched. “Charming.”
“Like you said, this isn’t about finding my soulmate. Your love life is exhausting enough for me, Cupcake.”