"Yeah, I think it's fucked up, too, baby." And you know when he thinks it's fucked up, there's a problem. He doesn't like the way Susan treats Salome from what he's seen and divined--as far as he's concerned, she may have carried the girl for nine months, but Salome is his. And while Susan agrees, she'd rather keep the girl to dangle her over his head then to completely give her over without a fight. "Yeah, she wishes she were still half as fine as you are. But it's like a...I don't know, a subconscious, Freudian thing. It's not intentional." Probably. "She's just still got the hots for me and she doesn't like anything that takes my attention from her. Or anybody's attention from her."
He'd pay good money to watch Salome destroy Susan. Hell, he'd give her tips, gleefully assist her. But there's still a big chunk of him that craves Susan like heroin, like cigarettes--something he knows objectively to be poison, but oh, fuck, it's good poison. The best. Besides, as dangerous as she is, she's also good at covering his ass when he's in a scrape, and she's a good source of income and support for both his daughter and his artwork.
But if he had half a chance and access to her money, he'd crush her windpipe without a second thought.
The trouble with Richard's feelings for Salome is that they are genuine--by his standards. By the standards of the rest of the world, they are hollow, depraved, vile and selfish, these feelings, this praise. But as his late mother always told him, one can only do one's best with what one can.
Oh, look at him justify.
"Well, maybe you will. Maybe not. People get all fucking wound up about not falling in love. It's good to be independent. And, you know, even if you don't find anybody, your daddy will always be here for you, baby. Until you find somebody who kisses the ground you walk on enough to be worthy of five minutes of your presence, I'll be glad to take care of you." Read: 'I'll be glad to possess and manipulate you', but it's about equivalent for him.
He grins at the way her teeth sink into him--that habit is so cute every time she does it he doesn't know whether to fuck her or cuddle her or both--and bends his head to kiss the bridge of her nose, and then her mouth. "I love it when you do that, princess." His nose brushing over hers, he lifts his head to gaze out over the road. "I'm glad you're not worried. That old bat's not worth worrying about. You're better than she is in more ways than I could count, so just remember that when she grates on your nerves. And, hey, you have to deal with her one day less a week now, you can't beat that."
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He'd pay good money to watch Salome destroy Susan. Hell, he'd give her tips, gleefully assist her. But there's still a big chunk of him that craves Susan like heroin, like cigarettes--something he knows objectively to be poison, but oh, fuck, it's good poison. The best. Besides, as dangerous as she is, she's also good at covering his ass when he's in a scrape, and she's a good source of income and support for both his daughter and his artwork.
But if he had half a chance and access to her money, he'd crush her windpipe without a second thought.
The trouble with Richard's feelings for Salome is that they are genuine--by his standards. By the standards of the rest of the world, they are hollow, depraved, vile and selfish, these feelings, this praise. But as his late mother always told him, one can only do one's best with what one can.
Oh, look at him justify.
"Well, maybe you will. Maybe not. People get all fucking wound up about not falling in love. It's good to be independent. And, you know, even if you don't find anybody, your daddy will always be here for you, baby. Until you find somebody who kisses the ground you walk on enough to be worthy of five minutes of your presence, I'll be glad to take care of you." Read: 'I'll be glad to possess and manipulate you', but it's about equivalent for him.
He grins at the way her teeth sink into him--that habit is so cute every time she does it he doesn't know whether to fuck her or cuddle her or both--and bends his head to kiss the bridge of her nose, and then her mouth. "I love it when you do that, princess." His nose brushing over hers, he lifts his head to gaze out over the road. "I'm glad you're not worried. That old bat's not worth worrying about. You're better than she is in more ways than I could count, so just remember that when she grates on your nerves. And, hey, you have to deal with her one day less a week now, you can't beat that."