cannibal; kendall roy

22

Marguerite had stormed off from Sandy and off into the dying depths of the party in question. She had a new drink clutched in her hands—only now, this time she hadn't really taken a sip of it yet.

She was waiting for the effects of her pills to kick in, only she was beginning to feel like they never would.

As she sat down on a loveseat, she pondered how the fuck her evening had gone this way.

First, she'd ended up at a terrible shoot, only to then end up at this shit show thanks to her assistant, who was god knows where, and had now run into every damn person in the universe.

She'd reunited with all of the fucking Roys it seemed, and had been thrust into the possibilities of taking a deep dive into the world of business.

And apparently Sandy Furness didn't want her in, which was confusing. But not—not surprising

It was a mess. A mess she didn't want to even process. Especially with the thought of Kendall.

It was fucking confusing.

She hadn't seen him in years, and yet within five minutes of being around him, she felt nearly just as intoxicated as she had been when she was fucking eighteen. They weren't even the same people. Probably just shells of such, and yet, she wanted him anyway.

Well, she wasn't sure about that.

But she liked how it felt to have his hand in hers. She liked how it felt to have him joke with her all over again. To hunt for drugs and drinks. Hell, she half expected him to crawl all over her.

She would've liked that. Maybe.

And then someone sat down next to her. Not Kendall. But Tom.

Immediately pulling her out of whatever daydream she'd wanted to have. "Hi, stranger. Your fiancé know you're sitting here?"

"Funny." He noted, looking down at his hands "She's given me a hall pass for the night." One of his hands anxiously toying at a piece of loose skin.

"Good for you."

He looks at her for a brief second and sighs, then looking over at the floor once more. "So, you and Kendall? You're going at it again? Seemed like a good little reunion."

"No, Tom. We aren't. But, I'm sure you'd love to tell Shiv that."

"Ouch. I'm just trying to be friendly. We were once friends, weren't we?"

"Tom, we are currently in a sex box, and I haven't spoken to you in years. There is no being friendly, and I feel as if I've been nice enough by tolerating this conversation."

He nods his head and decides to ask her a question "Do you remember when we went to France? When you took me that night?"

"Yes. I do, Tom."

"You took me to meet your father, and I think it was only our second date. Pretty bold. Not many women do that—Shiv didn't."

"I was high, and I needed to make him upset." At least she felt as if she could be honest with him. As his presence had entirely been about creating some sort of anger for her father.

"You told me you were unhappy, and you know—maybe I didn't understand it then."

"And you've changed your mind?"

Tom clears his throat, looking away, and taking a sip of the drink that the bartender had placed down in front of him. He looked nervous, changing the subject almost instantly "Do you think she'd be angry? If I used the hall pass?"