“What he really wants is for you to have an affair with Edgar.”
“That’s ridiculous. Edgar can buy any piece he wants. And he already has a trophy wife.”
“Your father has a higher opinion of you than that.”
Halley winked at me. “Do you?”
“Do I think Edgar would have an affair with you?”
“No!” She frowned. “Do you have a higher opinion of me than that?”
“Than what?”
“Than …” Halley shook her head. “You’re confusing me.”
“Do I have a higher opinion of you than that you’re more than a trophy wife or a piece of ass?”
“That’s it.”
“Is that what you think of yourself?”
“That’s what men think of me.”
I shook my head and commented quietly, “You hate yourself.”
She watched me. Her black eyes seemed to cross a little. She dropped a hand down to her right foot and squeezed her big toe. “Let’s get married,” she said in her deep, absolutely earnest voice.
I stood up, offering my hand. “Okay. We can do it right now. Burlington’s only a half hour away. We’ll go to their city hall and see if they’ll waive the waiting period.”
“I mean it,” she said.
“So do I. We can pack up and fly to Vegas.” I beckoned with my hand. “Come on.”
“You would really marry me?”
“Of course.”
Halley kicked her legs over the edge of the bed, hands on its edge, staring at the small throw rug. She thought for a moment. “Where would we live?”
“We would live where you want. We would do everything exactly the way you want it.”
She looked up, her high brow shining above the dark eyes. “You mean I’d get to have real sex with you?”
“No.”
“Even if we were married?”
“That would stay the same.”
“Why?”
“You don’t want real lovemaking.”
She sneered, “Oh, I don’t want it.” I said nothing, my hand still offered in marriage. She studied my fingers, smiled and asked in a sweet tone, “What do you do afterwards? Go home and masturbate?” I lowered my hand and sat down. “Is that what you imagine?”
“Do you wish I was really a little girl? Is that what you did at your clinic — molest little girls?”
“You’re the only girl I’ve ever read bedtime stories to.” She straightened, arched her back and made one of her composite noises. Mostly, I heard disgust. “You’re just a sick motherfucker who likes to play power games,” she said. “I love you,” I said. “You’re scared to really love me.”
“I love you,” I said.
“When Didier was here he asked me to become his mistress.”
“You told me.”
“He said I should move to Paris and we’d run the European division together.”
“King Didier and Queen Halley.”
“You’re laughing, but he means it.”
“What did Stick think of that offer?”
“I—” She shut her mouth and pushed off the bed as if she were a gymnast dismounting, landing on the balls of her feet, arms akimbo. “I haven’t told him yet.” She walked slowly, watching her feet as she put one in front of the other, to the window. “The pool looks nice,” she said, her mouth against the glass. It fogged up. “Let’s go swimming.”
“It’s been almost a week. Why haven’t you told Stick?”
Halley turned my way. “I could run the European division.”
“I know.”
“You know what my friend, Paula Robeson at IBM, told me? Their head of marketing got a sneak peek at the Centaur 800 ads and flipped out. They think we’re going to—”
“You told me this morning.”
“I did? Oh, right …” She leaned on the window frame, studying her feet. “You know everything,” she said softly.
“I love you,” I said.
She shut her eyes, pressed her full lips together, and said between clenched teeth, “Stop saying it.”
“Why? It’s the—”
She held on to the window frame and stamped her feet, shouting, “I’m ugly!”
“You’re ugly?”
“I mean—it’s ugly.”
“Loving you is ugly?”
“It’s a lie!” She came over to my chair and dropped to her knees, hands in her lap. She was praying to me. “I know when a man loves me. He wants me. He wants me to tell him how great he is, he wants to tell me how scared he is, he wants to hear that he’s too nice—’You should be stronger, people are taking advantage of you,’” she talked with perfect sincerity in her deep voice to an invisible lover.
“Flattery disguised as criticism,” I said. “It’s an excellent technique.”
She reached for my knee shyly, touching lightly with two fingers. “You’re a genius,” she said softly. “I mean a real genius. I’m not flattering you.”
“Don’t touch me,” I said.
She pulled back as if burned. Her eyes seemed to cross and she snapped, “I hate you.”
“I’m glad,” I answered gently, as if she had presented me with an endearment.
“You don’t care what I feel.”
“Yes I do.”
“You don’t care what I say.”
“You can say anything you want. That doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
“You don’t care what I do.”
“I want you to do what you want.”
Still on her knees, with no transition, she said angrily, “I can make Jack leave his wife if I want.”
“I’m sure you can,” I answered.
She stood up, hands on her hips, and challenged me, “I know what you did.”
“What’s that?”
“You told him to take his family on the West Coast trip.”
“I never discussed that with Jack. I recommended a reading tutor for his son, that’s all.”
“I can’t fuck them anymore!” she shouted and turned her back. She bent over — giving her ass to me — and picked up the penny loafers. “It’s too goddamn boring.” She straightened and carried them in one hand toward the door. “Get your bathing suit on. I want to go swimming.” She looked at me over her shoulder and flowing raven hair, resting a hand on the doorknob.
“I’ll sit by the pool and watch you. I have to make notes for the sessions.”
“What is it? You’re covered with a disgusting rash?”
“You want me to put on my bathing suit?”
“Yes.” She hissed the s.
“Okay.”
“Oh goody,” she mocked. She opened the door, eyes still on me. She paused. “I just want you to know I could do it.”
“Do what?”
“Get Jack to leave his insipid wife.”
“I know you can get rid of rivals. The oldest child is very good at dealing with siblings.”
She let go of the doorknob and frowned. “What does that mean?”
“When my father remarried he got his new wife pregnant. I was with him in Spain, remember? I told you?”
“Yeah …” Her mouth hung open, eyes glazed. I was talking to her subconscious, a kind of shallow hypnotism.
“That’s why I ran away and testified against him. Remember? I told you I got him exiled from the U.S. I ruined his life because he had the nerve to replace me. I was the one and only heir. I had to be that or I would be nothing at all.”
Halley put her back against the door. It shut quietly. She slid down until she was on the floor. “What does that …?” She frowned, put on one of the penny loafers angrily, the leather snapping against skin. “What does that have to do with Mr. and Mrs. Truman?”