The Lucky Ones(3)

“An NDA? He wanted me to sign a nondisclosure agreement for sleeping with you?”

“I pay the man to protect me,” McQueen said. “My daughter’s ex-babysitter talking to the press about how I slept with her at the tender age of nineteen might hurt me a little. You know I want to run for governor one of these days. But I’m not making you sign anything. I trust you. I have always trusted you. The money is yours free and clear. I want you to take it. You’re only hurting yourself if you don’t.”

“I shouldn’t accept it,” she said. “It’ll let you off the hook too easily.”

He smiled at that. He knew his own faults, which was one of his few virtues.

“But I’m going to take it,” she said.

“You earned it.”

“I did,” she said. “But not because I put up with you the past six years. I earned this much just for putting up with this conversation.”

He lowered his head and exhaled loudly.

“You don’t make it easy on a man,” he said. “You could say thank you. Most girlfriends don’t get severance pay after a breakup.”

“I’m not your girlfriend, remember?” She put the money into the box. She saw her earrings. She saw the rent receipt. She saw the letter. She saw two thick envelopes.

“What are those?”

“One’s your mail. The other’s...they’re the pictures.”

“Our pictures?” she asked.

He slowly nodded. “You have any idea how much it hurt giving those pictures up?”

“How much?”

“A lot. I came this close to keeping them.” He held up his fingers a hairbreadth apart.

“They’re pornographic,” she said, glaring at him.

“They’re beautiful. And you’re beautiful in them. And I don’t look too bad myself.”

“What about running for governor someday?” she asked.

“That’s the only reason I gave them back to you,” he said.

“You seem sadder about losing them than losing me.”

“Cricket, please...”

“Don’t call me that anymore,” she said, closing her eyes. “I did everything you asked me to do—in bed and out. Everything. I never asked for anything from you. I never complained. I never...” She never made a scene. She never cried in front of him. She did all his favorite tricks.

“We had six good years,” he said.

“Good for you. I was nineteen. Do you feel bad about that at all?”

“Let me ask you this,” he said. “Do you?”

“You want me to absolve you.”

“I want you to be honest with me,” he said. “Did I take advantage of you? If I did, then tell me. Or did you want it as much as I did?”

“I was nineteen,” she said again.

“You weren’t drafted into the army. You had sex with an older man who paid your rent and your bills and gave you diamonds for Christmas. You knew what the deal was when I offered it to you. I’ve told my fair share of lies to my fair share of women,” he said. “But I never lied to you about us. Did I?”

Allison would have argued except it was true. Of course he never lied to her. Lovers lied to protect the loved one. No love to protect meant no need for lies.

“No, you never lied to me.”

McQueen met her eyes for a split second before glancing away, a guilty look on his face.

“So this is it?” she asked. “The end?”

“I’d like to have sex with you before I leave,” he said.

Allison stared at him, incredulous.

“Yes, and I’d like to marry a knight-errant and raise rare-breed cats with him in our castle by the sea,” she said.

“I’m taking that as a ‘no’ to breakup sex,” he said.

“Safe to say that’s a ‘no.’ We had sex yesterday,” she said. “Twice.”

“That wasn’t breakup sex,” he said. “And don’t give me that look. This is your own fault.” McQueen pointed at her, shook his finger.

“My fault? My fault?” Allison was laughing in utter amazement at the sheer gall of the man.

“Your fault. You’ve been trying for years to make me a better man,” he said. “Give more money to the poor. Be nicer to my employees. Don’t date girls my daughter’s age. Well, maybe your guilt trips finally started to sink in a little. I don’t call you Jiminy Cricket because you wear a top hat and tails.”

“You are unbelievable,” she said.

“Allison,” he said, “I am sorry about this. I truly am.”

He held out his hand to shake.

“Six years of my life,” she said, “and it’s going to end in a handshake.”

“You already said no to breakup sex,” he said.

Another hard truth. So she took his hand. As soon as her hand slipped into his he pulled her gently to him and held her close.

“You bastard,” she said even as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Thank you for always being there for me, Allison. You are smart and lovely and kind—when you aren’t furious at me—and I’ll miss you.”