“You think I’m trying to fuck you?” Her voice was disturbingly quiet and completely devoid of the happy buzz she’d been exuding just moments ago.
I looked at her. “Are you?”
She shook her head slowly.
Lamar gave me a look across the limo, like,Really, bro? Couldn’t you save this drama for when I’m not here?
“You think…”Angeline said, “that I want to fuck you so bad… that I made my boyfriend break up with me, made my boss fire me, made up this whole elaborate ruse that I wanted to clean your house in exchange for a roof over my head, and then that I wanted to be your publicist so I could start building my career while helping you with yours, and meanwhile keep that roof over my head and maybe grow some self-reliance and self-respect… all so I could fuck you?” Her voice had gone eerily shrill, even as it remained quiet, and I wasn’t even sure if her fierce denial was evidence that she did want to fuck me or that she did not. Hard to tell.
Either way, she was pissed.
“It was just a question, Angeline.”
“You know what, Johnny? Go to hell.” She spun as far away from me as she could in the corner of the seat and stared out the window.
“Pretty sure I’m headed there already, Angel.”
She gave me a strange, questioning look, then fell silent again.
When the limo dropped us at home, I walked Angeline up to Shayla’s door. She gave me an irritated, slightly creeped out look over her shoulder, like I was stalking her.
“Good night,” she said, unlocking the door.
“Good night.” I stood on the front step, watching her as she went into the house. “Thank you for taking me to the party.”
The smoked-glass slab slid closed, but just before it shut completely, she swung it back open a foot. She peered out at me.
“Youtookmeto the party,” she corrected me.
“Whatever you say.”
She looked me up and down. “Well, don’t just stand there like a hungry puppy on the door step. Go home, for God’s sake.”
“I will.”
Her face twisted with annoyance. “What are you doing, Johnny?”
“I’m waiting until you’re safely home.”
“I’m home.”
“The door’s still open.”
“So, I’ll close it.”
“Okay.”
“Good night.”
“Good night, Angel.”
She huffed quietly, holding the door open. “Why do you call me Angel?”
“Because it suits you.”
“Because I’m innocent and holy? I’m not that good.”
“Because you’re miraculous and I don’t have a better word for you.”
