She looks at it, confused, then angry. “I don’t need you to give me a phone. I need you to get out.”

She’s wearing an ugly, oversized sweater and jeans. She doesn’t have shoes on and her hair’s wet like she just had a shower.

“I said get out!” she repeats, holding the door wider.

“Truce, Nat.”

“Don’t call me Nat. We are not friends.”

“For Christ’s sake,” I say, taking the door and closing it myself. She backs toward the coat rack beneath the cabinets and reaches behind the array of coats, and a moment later, she’s waving a wooden baseball bat at me.

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

“You’re going to hurt yourself with that,” I say, one eye on the bat while I pet the dog who’s sitting beside me watching the spectacle. “Good girl,” I say to her. “Not like your owner.” I try not to laugh outright at Natalie with the bat, Natalie who has so obviously never had to confront someone like this before.

“She’s not mine. I’m dog-sitting. And get out,” Natalie says.

“Put the bat down, Nat.”

“Fuck you.”

“You told me that last night too. If you’re not careful, I’m going to think it’s an invitation.”

Her mouth falls open and she has no response. I take the opportunity to reach for the bat. She tries to swing, but I catch it, tug it and her toward me, relieve her of the thing but keep hold of her.

“Truce,” I say. “I’m just here to replace your phone.”

“Why?”

“Because I broke yours and figured you might need a new one.”

“I can buy my own phone.”

“You always this stubborn when someone gives you a gift?”

“It’s not a gift when you’re replacing something you broke on purpose.”

“You know why I had to.”

“I needed those pictures.”

“I’ll take you to get new ones.”

She stops. Gives a little shake of her head. “What are you doing here, really?”

I shrug a shoulder, release her and peek into the next room. “I’ve always wanted to see the inside of these houses,” I lie. I could give a fuck.

I’m here to see her.

6

Natalie

“You’re here for a tour of the house?”

Sergio Benedetti, looking like a giant in my tiny kitchen, shrugs a shoulder.

I am so freaking confused. Yesterday he stripped me naked and took dirty pictures of me to essentially blackmail me into keeping silent, and today, he’s here giving me a gift of a brand-new iPhone and he wants a tour of the house?

“I don’t believe you.”

“All right, a tour and coffee,” he says.

“Is this a joke to you?”

“I’m not much for joking.”