cannibal; kendall roy

20

"A drink for you" Kendall murmurs, handing Marguerite a champagne from a nearby tray, before taking a sip of his own, watching her expression, and scoffing- despite knowing that he had in fact fucked up. "Lou, you aren't mad at me, are you?"

"You just attempted to proposition me in some fuck it whatsoever deal with some Chelsea based art freak."

"Chelsea?" He questions "Really? Her?"

"You know what I mean. They act like they're straight out of the trenches like Patti Smith, when in reality she's wearing some $800 blazer that she bloated her own doodles on."

Kendall ignores this—not wanting to point out the irony of her saying such. "Are you upset about the deal, or her? I can't tell."

"What do you think?"

"I don't know Lou. I haven't seen you in years. You got a nose job."

That felt vicious to her. Of course he could tell. Of course he would say something. So she fires back. Quickly—"And you're using again."

"So are you" He tossed back at her firmly

"No." She shakes her head. "I never stopped." Marguerite spoke as if it was something to be proud of.

"I know you went to rehab at some point. When was it? Right after I got married?"

Now, the pair were just stuck on stabbing at one another. Shooting out all their bullets at once and seeing what would go through.

"Fuck you."

"Did Rava really send you over the edge that much? I mean seriously, Rava?" He laughs, downing his drink "She's nothing—can't even hurt a fly."

"I was barely twenty two and you'd been running around saying you loved me for what, four years? Sorry that I was hurt when you married someone else."

"Alright. Fair." It's a moment of clarity in his high, and within his actions. "But I asked you a million times if I should end things with her."

That, was also true.

"Kendall, I don't want to relive the past."

"Really? Because I think you do."

"I don't."

"Fine" he places the glass down after fingering its handle delicately "Ask me how I am."

Marguerite is mildly amused and crosses her arms, unsure of where this is going to go. "How are you Kendall?"

"Not fucking good. I was fired, and uh—oh, I'm getting divorced."

"Oh, I've heard. Believe me."

"Are you—Are you, what stalking me or something?"

Google alerts. Tabloids. News reports. Oh yeah, she'd made sure to watch it all—part of her had even laughed when she'd first heard, disdain still lacing her mind.

"What happened? Rava finally get tired of your shit?"

"Something like that. She found my stash." He partially admits.

"And your kids?"

Was he stupid?

"You know I have kids?" He asks unsurely

"You didn't disappear off the face of the earth, Ken. I still heard shit, or had it shoved down my throat in the fucking papers."

"Yeah, you're right. But they're good. I think, I mean I don't see them all that much. But yeah, Sophie and Iverson are good."