Page 36 of Ricardo

“It was making a noise.”

“A threatening noise?”

“A smug noise.”

I reach for the small broom and dustpan tucked beside the cabinet. “A serious accusation.”

We go silent as she watches me clean for a moment. “Did you need something?”

“Hmm?” I ask as I sweep.

“You came here for a reason. Did you need something?”

“Coffee.”

“Ah,” she says. “Instead, you found me and a mess to clean up.”

I look at her. She is still sitting there in her suit, holding ice to the back of her head with as much dignity as a woman can manage while surrounded by broken glass and coffee.

“I have had worse evenings,” I say.

Her mouth moves into a smile. That is better.

I finish sweeping the glass and carry it to the trash. Then I take paper towels from the cabinet and blot the coffee before it reaches the rug. Julia shifts as if she intends to stand and help.

“Sit,” I say.

She freezes, then looks at me with a bland expression. “Do you give orders to everyone?”

“Yes.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“I try to be.”

“No, you don’t.”

I pause and look back at her.

Her eyes meet mine.

There is nothing playful in them now, though the remark was not cruel. She simply states it as a fact.

I straighten slowly. “No?”

“You are polite. You are charming. You are careful. I’m sure all of that is useful. But honest?” She looks at the towel in her hand for a second, then presses it back to her head. “I don’t know.”

The quiet after that is weighted.

I should be offended, and yet, I am not.

“I should be offended,” I say. “And yet… You may be confusing honesty with disclosure.”

“Maybe.”

“I do not lie as often as people think.”

“Maybe, but you lie strategically,” she says. “I've been around a lot of politicians.”