Fates and Furies

by Lauren Groff

He looked her up and down. He’d bought these beautiful shoes she was wearing, worn at the toe. He’d bought the black suit. Her hair had not been cut since summer. He narrowed his eyes, cocked his head to the side. “You’re skinny. You need the money. I understand. All you have to do is beg,” he said softly. “I don’t beg,” she said. He laughed and the sullen receptionist clanged back in with a tray of cappuccinos in her hand and Ariel said, sotto voce, “You are lucky I feel fondness for you, Mathilde.” Louder, he said, “Luanne, meet Mathilde. She’ll be joining us here tomorrow morning.” “Oh. Goody,” Luanne said, and fell back into her seat. She watched them carefully, sensing something. “The gallery’s employee,” Mathilde said, as they walked slowly up to the front. “Not yours. I’m off-limits.” Ariel looked at her, and she, who’d been with him so long, could see him thinking, We’ll see. “Touch me,” she said, “I walk. That’s a promise.”