Losing Control(56)
Richard coughs and strikes a fist against his chest a couple of times. His lack of breath is from surprise not from the smoke. He can’t believe that Ian would be with someone like me. I see it in his eyes. Though whether it’s because I work such a menial job or because I’m not smart enough, I’m not certain.
“How’d you get into that?”
“Ex-boyfriend. Kept the job. Lost the boyfriend.”
“And you delivered something to Ian?” he guesses.
“That’s right. And one thing led to another and here I am.”
“I’m sorry,” he says when he regains his equilibrium.
“Why’s that?”
“Because he’s using you.”
I freeze, wondering if somehow Richard knows exactly what Ian is up to. “For sex?” I answer glibly. “We’re friends.”
“Ian Kerr doesn’t have friends who are delivery girls.” The look on Richard’s face is of pity, albeit genuine pity. “I hope to hell I’m wrong, but I think he’s going to break your heart.”
Richard takes my lax hand and holds it up to the light, examining the calluses along the base of my fingers that I’ve developed holding the handlebars of my bike. “You’re such a hard worker,” he says, rubbing the hardened pads. I jerk my hand away and hide it in the pocket of my shorts. It’s a compliment, but it doesn’t sound like one. Rather, he sounds like he’s about to list all my shortcomings. “He doesn’t insult you, does he? Make you feel small because you don’t have as much money? I’m sure he doesn’t comment about how you don’t know the difference between leveraged buyouts and portfolio hedging.”
“No,” I answer. The money disparity has always been huge between the two of us, but I hadn’t considered our intellectual differences. I didn’t—no, couldn’t—read the financial pages. I knew nothing of how to run a business. When Ian jetted off to another state to look at “wearable tech,” I’d made a comic book joke. Richard is invoking doubts I hadn’t even realized I should be worrying about. The outdoor air is suddenly chilly.
“Don’t feel bad. I’m not too good at that myself. It’s why Ian looks down on me. Anyone who’s not as successful as he is doesn’t warrant more than a second glance. He’s notorious for being even worse with women. No one’s good enough for him. Not socialites or hedge fund managers. They’ve all got some kind of flaw.” Rich takes another draw on his cancer stick, the ashes almost to his fingers. “I’ve seen way too many tears wiped away after he’s tossed these poor girls aside. Guy’s a menace. Should keep his pants zipped.”
Each word Richard unfurls is like a punch in the solar plexus because they strike directly at my insecurity. I’m worried that I’m not good enough for Ian. That he’s too rich for me. Too smart for me. Too everything. Hearing it from Richard’s mouth batters me like a physical club.
Hadn’t Ian said that he’d pursued me because I was a challenge? That’s all I was. A convenient fuck and a big ass source of amusement.
“We’re friends,” I repeat numbly.
“I’m not telling you this stuff to be mean. I’m right there with you in the undesirable pool. We rejects gotta stick together.” Richard tosses the butt on the ground and grinds his foot in it. “What’s your phone number?”
I give it to him without hesitation, and he inputs it into his phone and sends me a text—which I can’t read. Richard leans close to me, the tobacco smell heavy on his breath. “Like finds like, Victoria. I’ve a lot of practice in mending broken hearts.”
“I’m still whole,” I say and wonder if I can remain that way.
“Don’t let him ruin it, ruin you,” he whispers. His mouth is only inches away from my ear. “Come dance with me.”
I don’t want to. Richard isn’t so charming anymore. His words have gouged me, and I’d like to go to the bathroom and lick my wounds. But Ian’s absence must mean that I’m supposed to use this time to reel Rich in.
“All right.” I place my hand in his upturned one.
“I’m a terrible dancer,” Rich confesses as he leads me back inside. “I always need to stand next to someone so I don’t look foolish.”
I go with him because there isn’t anyone to stop me. He takes me by the hand and leads me down onto the dance floor. The press of the crowd pushes us closer together, and Richard places his hands on my waist.
“I don’t want to lose you out here.”