First Sight (21 page)

“Look, I’m sorry, Zack,” she finally broached the subject with him again. “I like staying to myself on vacation. I don’t need to see a lot of people, I just want to be with you.” He didn’t look impressed. It was in fact a compliment to him, that she preferred his company to that of other people she knew.

“Is that why you didn’t want to go to St. Bart’s?” he asked angrily. “Because that’s where all the right people go. The people who want to see and be seen. This place is a dump,” he said angrily. “There’s no one here except fat suburbanites and their kids.” Timmie looked shocked at what he said, and seriously annoyed. He was pushing his luck. She was willing to accept the fact that they had separate lives and liked different things, but she was not willing to put up with his being flat-out rude.

“Are you here for a vacation?” she asked him, “or are you looking to be discovered at the pool?” There was an edge to her voice as she said it, which he noticed and angered him even more.

“Maybe both,” he said honestly. “What’s wrong with that? You have a lot of opportunities to meet people that I don’t. I have to use whatever chance I get. Networking is very important to me. Something major could have happened if we’d had lunch with those three guys today.” She didn’t tell him that if something major were going to happen to him, it would have happened a long time ago. He was already too old. At forty-one, he wasn’t going to be discovered, and she didn’t want him “networking” by using her to make connections on the beach. He was prying her eyes open to his motives, whether she wanted him to or not. What he was saying to her, and who he was showing himself to be, was impossible to ignore.

“Zack, nothing would have happened,” she said quietly. “They’re on vacation. So are we. Half the universe tries to take advantage of people like that. They don’t want people working them, any more than I do. I hate it when people do that to me.”

“Oh right, this is a special little club, isn’t it? How could I forget? A secret society of famous people who protect each other and keep out riff-raff like me. Well,
pardon
me.” He was shouting, and Timmie looked upset. She didn’t like any of what he had just said. None of it was respectful or even polite. She had brought him on vacation, and he was using her. That much was obvious even to her. He had done it on a smaller scale before, though he had never been as blunt.

“That’s a rotten thing to say, Zack. This isn’t a special club. Sometimes successful or famous people come here, and famous people don’t want to be used. No one does.” And then she added softly, “Neither do I.”

His eyes blazed. “Is that what you think I’m doing here? Using you? Hell, if I’m using you, I’m sure not getting a lot out of it, am I? Except a suntan and a few days on the beach. For chrissake, if you weren’t such a fucking recluse, and so discreet all the time, and so afraid to be who you are, we could be in St. Bart’s, having a hell of a lot more fun.” She was shocked by everything he said. It was a major slap in her face, but maybe better to know what he thought of her. Apparently, not much.

“What did you expect to get out of this vacation,” she asked him bluntly, “other than a suntan? Because frankly, that’s all I had in mind. I didn’t invite you here to be discovered, or network, or make contacts on the beach. I invited you to spend some time here with me, so we could relax and have some fun. Or is that too boring for you, since apparently you think I’m a recluse?” She was hurt by everything he had said. She knew he wasn’t in love with her, she had no illusions on that score, nor was she in love with him. But everything he had said to her showed a blatant lack of kindness, affection, or respect.

“For chrissake, Timmie, you damn near are a recluse. You never go to anything you’re invited to. You turn down practically every premiere, unless you think you have to go because Timmie O did the clothes. You never go to parties. You think you’re too old to go to clubs and bars, which is utter crap. I’m practically your age, and I go all the time. All you do is hide in both your houses, and work your ass off. And now you want to sit in your room and hide here, instead of getting out, seeing who’s here, and working the crowd a bit.”

“I don’t want to work the crowd, Zack,” she pointed out to him. “I’m one of the people who get worked, which is exactly why I don’t go out very often. I’m not interested in showing off or being in the press. I’ve been there, done that. There’s nothing in it for me. I have PR people to get my company in the press. I don’t need to be in it myself. Why? What’s the point? They just say shit about me I don’t like. If you want to work the crowd, as you put it, maybe you should be with someone else. Or pay your own way to St. Bart’s.” She knew the last was a low blow, below the belt, but she had had enough. It made it sound as though she had to make it worth his while to be there, or why bother being with her. She hated everything he had said. It was everything she was not. He had completely missed the point about who she was, and how she lived. Or maybe he hadn’t. Actually, he had gotten some of it fairly accurately, but he had been vicious about the way he threw it at her. She felt as though she’d been slapped, and almost wanted to do the same to him.

“Look, it was nice of you to bring me,” he said, calming down a little. “I appreciate it. It’s just that this isn’t me. It may be you, but this place feels like a cemetery to me. And the only three people we met that I wanted to talk to, you blew off, and wouldn’t sit down to lunch with them. Did you do that to screw me over, or prove how powerful you are, or did you honestly not figure out what a lunch like that could mean to my career?”

“What career?” she asked angrily. “You do commercials, and you’re a model. You’re forty-one years old, no matter how good you look. It’s too late, Zack. No one is going to make you a big star.”

“You don’t know that,” he said, even angrier than he’d been before. He didn’t want to hear the truth from her. In his own eyes, he was still a boy.

“Yes, I do,” Timmie said firmly. “I know Hollywood a lot better than you do.”

“Like hell you do,” he said angrily. “You’re so dead and over the hill, you wouldn’t know what they do in Hollywood if it bit you on the ass.”

“That’s enough,” she said in a shaking tone, and walked back into their room from the lanai. It was half an hour later when he finally wandered in, and by then her bags were packed. He looked startled when he saw what she’d done. She had packed his bags as well. She had already called the desk. They were booked on the red-eye out of Honolulu that night. She wasn’t staying with him after everything he had said, about her, and her way of life, and his reasons for being there. She had finally heard enough. There was no way to pretend now that he was even her friend. He wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t in love with her. But as it turned out, he didn’t even like her. He was using her, which seemed to be his only reason for being with her at all, and he was furious that she hadn’t helped him do it. She realized then that the past six months must have been not only boring, but frustrating for him.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a look of surprise. He was still wearing his wet bathing suit and a towel. She had left out jeans, a shirt, underwear, and flip-flops for him.

“We’re leaving tonight,” she said, heading for the bathroom to get dressed.

“Why?” He looked stunned.

“Are you kidding? Do you think I’m going to sit here and listen to that kind of shit from you, and stick around? You’ll be back in L.A. tomorrow morning. You can still catch a flight to St. Bart’s.”

“You know I’m not going to St. Bart’s.” They both knew he couldn’t afford the ticket. He had been mouthing off at her expense. And he had been cruel, and rude. And disrespectful. She had no intention whatsoever of staying there with him. Their relationship had been limited and never a dream come true for either of them, but he had never openly admitted to her before the degree to which he was using her, for connections, exposure, and future work. It was just too blatant for her now. She was done. There were no illusions left about what he was doing with her or why he stuck around.

“Whether you go to St. Bart’s or not is up to you. I’m going home, and so are you.”

“Don’t make it such a big deal,” he said, trying to cool her off. He clearly didn’t want to cut the vacation short, but it was too late for that. And there were a lot of things about her he liked. The relationship offered him more than it did her. It always had.

“It may not be a big deal to you, but it is to me. You don’t have to pretend you’re madly in love with me, to hang around in my life. But you have to at least like me, and not just use me. And I don’t think you ever did like me. And I’m even less sure now that I like you. Actually, right now I don’t. You had a brat fit when I didn’t take you to Europe, which I didn’t owe you, by the way. We had been dating for exactly four months, and I didn’t owe it to you to drag you through half the fancy hotels in Europe while I worked my ass off. You didn’t call me in Paris when I was sick. And when I called you, you said you were glad I was, that it was what I deserved because I hadn’t taken you along. You saw to it that you were out of town when I got home, just to prove a point. And now you’re pissed off that I brought you to Hawaii and the people here aren’t fancy enough for you, and I’m not helping you work the crowd on the beach. Well, guess what? I’m not going to help you do that. And frankly, I’d rather be home alone. You’re my antidote to loneliness, because I’m too fucking scared and lonely to spend the weekends alone. Well, to hell with it, I’d rather be by myself than be used. So we, my dear, are going home. You can work someone else over next year and have them take you to St. Bart’s. Frankly, I don’t give a damn. We’re leaving the hotel in half an hour.” And with that, she walked into her bathroom and slammed the door.

There was another one in the suite for him to use. She hadn’t been this angry in a long time, and for once, although it was rare for her, her temper matched her hair. He had just proven everything that Jade said about him. He really was a using little shit, and he had been trying to take advantage of her. She had been aware of the inequities in the relationship all along, and chose to turn a blind eye to them. But in Hawaii he had crammed the obvious down her throat. She might have been more forgiving if she’d been in love with him. But she wasn’t. The relationship was easy and comfortable for both of them, but no more than that. And she wasn’t willing to be used as blatantly as he had just tried to do. It was the end of the road for her.

The only good news was that all he had really gotten out of her was a Cartier watch and a trip to Hawaii. It was no big deal, except that her feelings were hurt and she felt exploited. That was always the trouble with getting involved with men like Zack. Eventually, they went too far, and he just had. It was always a matter of time before it fell apart.

She came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, in jeans, a T-shirt, a denim jacket, and a shawl. She was wearing sandals, and had wet hair. She had just stepped out of the shower. Zack was sitting in a chair brooding, in his Hawaiian shirt and jeans that she had left out for him. He didn’t say a word to her, as he followed her out of the room. He was well aware that he had crossed the line, and didn’t want to make things worse. As they walked toward the lobby, he asked her if she was sure she didn’t want to stay. He didn’t say he was sorry, but it was obvious that he felt uncomfortable and nervous. He had just blown a golden opportunity and four more days in Hawaii, however dull he thought the place was. It was still a free Hawaiian vacation, and she was still Timmie O.

“I’m absolutely sure I don’t want to stay,” she said as they reached the desk. What he didn’t understand, and probably never would, was that she was not angry as much as hurt. No one, particularly in her position, wanted to feel like a pathetic old cow that was being milked, and apparently that had been his only intention all along. And he was complaining because the milk wasn’t quite sweet or plentiful enough for him, instead of enjoying what he got.

Timmie checked them out of the hotel, and a cab took them to the airport. They didn’t say a word to each other on the ride there. There was nothing left to say. He had said it all, and so had she. And he knew there was no way to backtrack now. The opportunity had been blown. They flew to Honolulu on Aloha Airlines, and had a two-hour layover there. Zack walked away from her and used his cell phone, and she wandered aimlessly through the airport shops, trying to avoid him, and asking herself if she’d been too harsh. She didn’t think she had been. She had hated everything he’d said to her, and even if it had been said in anger, it had an ugly ring of truth to it, and she suspected he had meant everything he had said. He was furious that she hadn’t given him more opportunities to network at her expense than she had. He may not have been her Prince Charming, but he had definitely just exposed himself as Prince Shit. By the time she got back to the gate, she knew she had done the right thing.

They checked in at the gate for a full flight, and she was relieved to discover that they had been seated apart in first class. She had no desire whatsoever to sit next to him. They were seated in different rows on separate sides of the plane. And they made no effort to rearrange their seats or trade with anyone. The seating arrangements suited her just fine. She did her best to sleep on the flight, with little success. The man seated next to her fell asleep right after takeoff, and snored loudly for the entire flight. The air conditioning was ice cold. And she was too upset to sleep. She couldn’t see Zack from where she sat, and didn’t see him again until they got off in L.A. He walked over to talk to her, as they waited for their bags. Theirs were among the first ones off, which was something of a relief. At least they didn’t have to stand there awkwardly, waiting for them. It was just after six in the morning, L.A. time.

“I’m sorry about the way things worked out,” he muttered under his breath, and didn’t meet her eyes, although she was looking squarely at him, wondering who he had been all along. Apparently no one very nice. She had never thought he was a hero, and she had always known he enjoyed the perks she could offer him, but she had never thought his intentions were quite as blatant as they were. He had given her a lot to swallow in Hawaii, and she had decided on the flight home that it was for the best. He had done her a favor showing his hand. It was time anyway, she told herself. The Zacks in her life never lasted more than six months. His time was up. And maybe this was the last Zack she’d have. She didn’t want to do this again. What was the point? It was an utter and total waste of time, and a lot of the time it hadn’t been fun, or even good sex. Maybe it really was better having nothing at all, if not love. She was tired of being with the wrong guy, one she didn’t even care about, and who cared nothing about her. Maybe the era of Zacks had come to an end. She was feeling that that might be the case. Maybe being alone, instead of with the wrong man, wouldn’t be so bad after all. It had taken her eleven years since her divorce to get to this point. She was ready to face life alone at last, without a husband, or a man.