Page 60 of Eye Candy

“I’m not angry that I was seduced by you, Caroline. Of course I was. You’re funny and beautiful and—” I made myself stop. “I’m mad that you manipulated me, were conspiring with Gerry, and didn’t tell me any of this earlier even though I gave you every chance to. I went to massive fucking lengths to show you could trust me.” I recapped on my fingers. “I didn’t pressure you, I didn’t turn you in, I didn’t blackmail you.”

Her eyes blazed. “Do you want a medal? A trophy to display? I’m not a reward for good boys, Chase, I’m a person. You knew I wasn’t Teddy. And you never asked me why I needed the money. You asked a hundred questions but never that. Because needing money for something,needing, not wanting, is beyond your comprehension. And why would you ask? Everything has always appeared for you your entire life. You expect things to materialize in your outstretched hands!”

I rubbed my eyes. I was too tired for this. Too hurt. I needed to go and lick my wounds and process in peace.

My father’s greatest frustration with me—there was a long list, but this was always near the top—was that I was too much of a pussy (his word). I’d spent a lot of time writing rebuttals to my father’s opinions, retorts I’d never voice, all confided to my keyboard late at night. That was how my blog was born. My bottom line was if my paternal figure thought or did something, a good man would do the opposite.

As a teenager, I had to sit in Dad’s study, surrounded by pictures of him with his famous friends, as he lectured me about how to carry myself with authority, like him, how to sell, like him, and how to hold the focus of a room, like him. I didn’t want any of those things, but that didn’t matter. His sayings were etched inmy brain, none of them helpful. Like, “When it comes to women, always leave them wanting more.” And, “Always check the condom.” He would have thought it was pitiable for me to be led by the balls like this. He would have thought Caroline was a scheming W-word.

It was like chewing glass to realize that I was acting like him right now.

And that was how I knew I’d messed up. That was always how I knew.

Caroline was right. It hadn’t occurred to me that someone could be motivated by something other than greed. That was all the Gerrys and the Sanfords and the Durbois and the Fischers of the world knew. Rampant, selfish greed. I’d never met anyone who really needed anything.

If the default of my moral compass was to do the opposite of what Dad did, did I even have a moral compass? Or was I just negative space?

Growing up in the shadow of a huge personality, forging myself as his opposite had felt like the safest option. But now I was starting to feel like my values, my way of being, were just reactive constructs—like I wasn’t even a fucking person. I was just a series of knee-jerk reactions, cultivated by a shitty parent.

“I am sorry, Chase,” Caroline said quietly. “Things got out of hand.”

She looked so small standing beside the large window. Shewassmall—her height was minimal but her confidence always made her seem bigger. I thought about her luncheon sandwiches, and what she’d said about wanting to create a scholarship for burlesque artists.

She was here in this excessive house, at this lavish party, because I’d invited her. I’d been worried she wouldn’t like the dress, or wouldn’t be comfortable enough on her flight. But I’d been missing the obvious. How much did burlesque artists make? Probably not much. One hundred thousand a year? Performers without regular jobs would make less. And was Woodville anaffluent area? I had no idea. I’d assumed her dad was still working because he wanted to.

Caroline was right. I’d been thinking about our similarities, about our sexual compatibility and how she made me feel. I hadn’t been thinking about our differences.

Too late, I asked the question I should have asked first.

“What did you need money for?”

“My dad was behind on rent for the café. Mike and I had to step up.”

Too late, I wish my words had stayed jammed in the inside of my mouth. Because the next ones that came out were all wrong.

“You screwed me for a sandwich shop?”

Her mouth fell open.

I was surprised by her answer, that’s all. But what I meant came out wrong. I loosened my tie and steeled myself to explain about my father, but Caroline spun on her heel.

“Caroline, wait.” But I was too slow, too hesitant.

Too haunted by a dead man.

CAROLINE

How couldI think that a man who wanted for nothing would want me?

“Caroline!”

I ran as fast as I could in a tight dress—which wasn’t really running at all, more trotting—weaving through bodies in the hallway.

“Caroline, wait!”

I skidded out the doors and into the snowy parking lot, the cold hitting me before snowflakes and good sense. This was the middle of nowhere. I couldn’t just run out into the Canadianwilderness. I didn’t know if this was a bear area, but it seemed prudent to treat all of Canada as a bear area.

“Caroline, please come back inside,” Chase called.

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