“I never considered it a joke,” I add softly. “I phoned because you couldn't see me.” Because you left after one night.”
“Well?” I know Arcadia's question is rhetorical. “I should've listened to myself.” I shouldn't have texted. I should've left without thinking about you. I wouldn't feel tricked and degraded.”
I approach her. “Don't be embarrassed, baby...” I start, but she contorts as she sees me.
“f**k off, you creep!” she shouts. “You lied! You had a million chances. You didn't spit at me until I told you I loved you. Paul Caspar or King William , you're Client 5 now. Some fuckwad who pays per minute to leave.”
She heads to 5th Avenue. Sunlight is beaming from condominiums and co-ops across the Park.
“Arcadia...” I ask whether I should keep chasing her. She responds, however.
Sta
