‘Why not? She’s much nicer than the other model you have been driving,’ laughed Chris.
Carlotta shot him a deathly stare. ‘The nice model doesn’t get you anywhere.’
Chris looked at her dubiously. ‘I’m not sure I believe you. Being pleasant is far more endearing than being rude.’
‘You’re saying I’m rude?’ asked Carlotta. She had been called worse, she figured.
‘You know you’re rude. The question is why?’
He sat back in his chair and put his feet on the table. Carlotta read the bottom of his shoes – Edward Green. The same as her father wore.
She sat in her chair, her back as straight as a rod from years of dressage.
‘I wasn’t always like this,’ she said quietly.
Chris sat still, waiting for her to go on.
‘When you live with a man like Leon you have to learn to grow certain armour.’ She felt her eyes sting with tears and hated herself for her show of vulnerability. Damn tears again.
‘Violetta had her sexuality. Leon said she was a slut and so she behaved like one to piss him off more. Grace hid behind a perfect veneer of taste and class. I didn’t have either, so I thought being strong was the best way to handle my father. I guess it leaked over into my everyday life.’
Chris nodded. ‘And where has it got you so far?’
‘Are you judging me?’ she asked, crossing her arms.
‘No, I’m not. I get it, I really do,’ he said. He leaned forward.
‘How?’
Chris shrugged. ‘I suppose I do the same thing in certain ways. I need to apologise for what I said in my apartment. It was rude, judgmental and crass.’
‘It was,’ she agreed.
The silence sat between them and then Carlotta looked at him. ‘And it was true.’
‘Really?’ asked Chris.
‘Well, the bit about doing what I was doing to piss off my father.’
Chris nodded as Carlotta continued.
‘I also think Berconi was attractive to me because I have father issues. But then what girl doesn’t? I knew he was married and I didn’t give a shit. I knew he wasn’t going to be my great love. He was a terrible fuck, so lazy,’ she said, without thinking.
Chris burst out laughing. ‘He’s lazy?’
‘Dreadfully,’ laughed Carlotta.
‘I get the whole thing, Carlotta. Trust me, I’m not a perfect person either.’
‘How are you not perfect?’ she asked, relieved to have some sense of peace between them again.
‘I behave in my own ugly way – the swearing, the rushing, the pushing of people. I think it’s because I am ugly.’
‘What? You’re not ugly,’ exclaimed Carlotta.
‘No, I am, really. But it’s OK. Ugly is the new sexy I’m told,’ he said, his feet still on the table.
Carlotta sat staring at him. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say about yourself.’
