“Think about how that’s going to look in the papers.”
“Who cares?” Mike retorted.
Nico shrugged. “Why have a public scandal when we can avoid it?” she asked.
Mike looked to Victor for help, but he wasn’t giving any. He looked back at Nico. “What are you? A fucking traitor? You go behind my back to get information—”
“It came to me. We’re lucky—it could have easily gone to someone else. Someone on the outside . . .”
“What kind of a bitch are you?” Mike asked.
“Mike . . .” Victor said mildly.
“Oh, I get it,” Mike said, nodding. “You’re Victor’s handmaiden now. The little virgin who does Victor’s dirty work. The ice-handmaiden.”
“You’re out, Mike,” Nico said.
“What?”
Nico sighed. She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back slightly against the edge of Victor’s desk. Mike never should have sat down, she thought; without thinking about it, he had automatically put her into the position of power. “That’s right,” she said. “You’re out—I’m in.”
Mike started laughing uncontrollably. “You can’t fire me,” he said, in between gasps.
Victor wiggled his tooth. “She can,” he said. “And she just did.”
And then Victor did a terrifying thing. He stood up and, stretching open his mouth, he leaned over the desk and roared.
Holy shit! Nico thought. She took a step back in alarm, accidentally knocking Victor’s paperweight of New York City off the edge of the desk, which she lunged for and automatically caught in both h
ands. Mike’s laughter turned to silent shock; he leaned back in his chair in terrified confusion. From where he was sitting, staring into the black and seemingly endless interior of Victor’s mouth, it must have been like looking into the jaws of a lion. “What the fuck, Victor?” Mike shouted. He twisted out of the chair and onto his feet. “What the hell are you doing? Why the hell are you doing this to me?”
Victor had returned to his chair and his usual Santa Claus demeanor. “Because I can, Mike,” he said.
“I don’t understand, Victor,” Mike said. He held up his hands. His eyes were tearing; his nose was red and swollen. “I’ve been with you for twenty-five years . . .”
Victor clapped his hands together. “End of chapter,” he said cheerfully. He pressed the intercom button. “Can you send in security, please?”
Mike turned to her. There was a whitish streak down each cheek, where the trail of tears was beginning to wash away the self-tanner. Some men would never understand the proper use of cosmetics, Nico thought. “Why did you do this?” Mike asked. “I made you.”
She shook her head. She felt soiled. What a dirty, disgusting little scene they had played, and all for Victor Matrick’s benefit. Well, she was in it now, and there was no getting out. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Yeah,” Mike said, nodding his head. “If you’re not now, you will be.”
What else was he going to say? But nevertheless, she felt a thick rope of fear travel up her insides and wrap itself around her heart like a snake.
Two security guards met Mike at the door. One tried to gently put his hand on Mike’s arm, but Mike brushed it away angrily. “I’ll escort myself out, if you don’t mind,” he said.
“Well,” Victor said, holding out his hand. “Congratulations.”
Nico replaced the paperweight on Victor’s desk and took his hand. It was cold, like the hand of a dead person. “Thank you,” she said.
“I think that went well, don’t you?” he said. He leaned over and spoke into the intercom. “Maureen,” he said. “Can you get me an appointment with that dentist? I think my veneer is about to fall out again.”
* * *
And now, sitting in the back of the Town Car, going over in her mind that scene with Victor Matrick, Nico shuddered.
She looked out the window again. The car was on Seventy-ninth Street, nearly at Kirby’s building. It wasn’t too late to change her mind, to tell the driver to pass Kirby’s building and take the FDR Drive and go home, which was what she should do, but she wasn’t quite ready to face Seymour. She needed something special right now, to be held and caressed, perhaps; to be allowed to feel like a little girl, and she couldn’t do that with Seymour. She couldn’t be vulnerable. But Kirby had seen her vulnerable and naked—both emotionally and physically—and even a little disgraced, like when he tied her up and made her beg him to do things to her . . .