A friend. The word came back flat, faintly amused. The way you'd repeat a child's obvious lie. Vic, come on. You don't have friends.
You have me. A soft laugh. That's not an insult, baby. That's just that's who you are. You've never needed anybody but me.
So, let's not do the whole mysterious thing. Where are you? I'll send the car. And there it was. Nathan had told her in the truck in the rain, "He keeps you looking down at your own feet so you never look up and see the door. " She'd thought it was a beautiful thing to say.
Now she was living it in real time, and she could feel the pull of it, the current of it, the way Adrienne's voice reached into her and found the old handle and turned it. "You don't have friends, you have me. " 12 hours ago, she'd have believed him. Adrien, she said, "You left me at the restaurant. " Oh, here we go. You left me at the restaurant in front of the Kellerman's. You took my deal and you closed it yourself and then you left with them for drinks and you didn't ask if I was coming.
I sat there for 2 hours because you were embarrassing yourself, Vic. The warmth snapped off like a switch. And there was the razor. You want to have this conversation? Fine.
Let's have it. You were floundering. You lost the thread of your own pitch. The Kellermans were checking their watches and I stepped in and I saved it. I saved your deal.
You should be thanking me and instead you make a scene. You disappear all night. You scare me half to death and now you're what? Blaming me for your bad night. He exhaled long and disappointed.
This is what I'm talking about. This is the thing we've talked about. You get like this. You get emotional and you rewrite what happened. So, you're the victim.
It's not attractive, Vic. It's exhausting. And Victoria opened her mouth to say, "I'm sorry. " She felt it coming up her throat. The reflex, the old worn groove. I'm sorry.