Helpless (7 page)

             
Then it hits me, most British types would go for the salt and vinegar. I have still never asked Jason anything about his background.  I find I actually really want to know. 

             
“So where did you grow up?”

             
“I was born in Germany, but my father is American, so I have dual citizenship.  That makes it easy to travel in Europe for me now.” 

             
I nod, the European Union encourages people to travel all over, making it very easy if you have a birth certificate from any of their member nations.  Still, it is not much harder with a passport, just more expensive, and the EU members get sweet discounts on train tickets.

             
I lean forward to show him I am listening.

             
“Mother is Norwegian, tall but not actually blonde, she had medium brown hair and my father had dark brown, so I guess that is why I don’t look Norwegian at all.”

             
I miss that he used the past tense when talking about his parents.  Looking back, it makes me sad that I was so self-involved.  I never paid attention, really paid attention, to anyone in my life back then.  My attention always centered around me and what I wanted from the day.  At that time, I just picked up on Norwegian and American and felt that was enough.  Then I went back to assessing him and seeing if he fit into any acceptable categories for my life.

             
I look at his big hands; again, not fat or really over plump, but solid big hands.  They are pretty pale though.  I smile.  There’s some of the Norwegian.

             
“What are you smiled at?” He wasn’t accusing, but I felt busted anyway.  I don’t know why, but I just blurted out the truth.

             
“I was thinking your hands are almost as pale as mine, so you certainly got that from your mother.”

             
He chuckles. 

             
“So what is a pale Norwegian boy like you doing in London speaking almost perfect English, or rather, more like American English?”

             
“Ah, I said I was
born
in Germany…my father worked with a company that had an office in New York City, so I was very young when we moved there.  I lived in America until I finished high school, then I finished college in Germany.  As a German citizen, I took advantage of their free tuition.”

             
“What do you do and where do you live now?” 

             
He took a sip of his drink and made a show of setting it down.  “I rent out a little apartment in Berlin right now.  But I am setting up my own company here in London.  I will most likely be moving here soon.”

             
“What kind of company?”

             
“Oh, a venture capital company, I’m going to invest in two different young startups, and see where they go.”

             
“So there’s risk involved?”

             
“Sure, but I have enough divested that I’ll never be in real danger.”

             
I think that this is a little vague, but I’m not at all interested in business anyway.  At least now I have found out a little about his background.  I look down and see I have actually finished my fries.  I hear a chuckle.  I think I am growing to like that chuckle.  He doesn’t smile big and fake with that low laugh, but his eyes crinkle up and I can feel the positive energy coming off of him with the sound of the chuckle.  It makes me smile back at him.  I can’t stop it.  I guess my cold supermodel persona is totally trashed by this big, understated guy.

             
“See?  I knew you needed to fuel up before we went on.”  He tossed some money over the check and scooted back in his chair and then held out his hand to help me to my feet.  “Where to now?”

             
“There are two places a big-eyed tourist just has to go: Madame Tussauds’ Wax Museum and Big Ben!”  I am surprised at the enthusiasm in my voice. 

             
“Then let us commence the silly sight-seeing!”  He also sounded enthusiastic.  Off we went.  The afternoon flew by at just those two spots.  We made lots of fun of the wax figures and they really were eerily life-like.  We decided to take another guided tour, this time of Big Ben so as to get the full story.  I joked that he was wasting his money on entertaining me since he was forced to buy tickets to the guided tours for his own tour guide.  I got a cute shrug and an arm around my shoulders for that. 

             
Finally the sun is setting and the lights are winking and sparkling on over the city.  We are sitting on a bench watching the sky turn to a light purple.  Jason’s arm is slung lightly over my shoulder.  I tuck one leg under me and lean into his solid side.  I think again how he is different than the other guys I spend time with.  I would never call him handsome, yet he is not ugly.  I never would have picked him as a boyfriend, yet I feel safer leaning against him than ever before.  I don’t really have a stellar record on normal boyfriends anyway, so something I am doing is not right.  I tried to have two ‘normal’ relationships.  Both ended with the guy sleeping around on me and I had to kick them out before the press got ahold of any story like that.  Neither lasted longer than two months. 

             
Like in the car ride, we are both sitting here watching people stroll by and are silent.  Silent but comfortable.  A totally new thing for me.  By now it is obvious that I am just never still and rarely alone. 

             
“I know it is a bit early, but I think it’s dinner time.  We have long ago walked off our lunch, don’t you think?”

             
“I do.”

             
“Well, let’s pop over to Cay Tre Soho, I’m sure you like Vietnamese; and it will fit in with you trying to eat like a bird.  You can feel good about your heavy meal being lunch and being fully worked off before dinner.  You can get some decent healthy food at Cay.”

             
He is actually paying attention to me.  Actually trying to compromise and work on some give and take.  Hum…

             
We walk in.  I haven’t been here before, it is not a top notch, super expense place, but swanky enough to have been getting good reviews and I hear that other chefs come here on their days off – a good sign.

             
The place is stunning, mod-Deco themes of black and white.  Accented all around with bold turquoise and a back beat of interesting music.  We settled in and Jason tucks into his plate: pho with ox cheeks.  I order crab with some cabbage salad thing.  It is delicious.  We are both hunkered over our plates shoveling it in.  Suddenly we both look at each at the same time, with our cheeks puffed out with food.  We both laugh and try not to spit out our dinner.

             
I’m on my second glass of white wine when I notice that Jason is only ½ way through his first beer. I guess I better not go for my normal amount.  I slow down.  Now I am wondering about how the night will end.  We had a nice time, so does he like me enough to have sex with me tonight?  I know I am ready.  I was ready last night to try out a bigger, manlier man, and I still am. 

             
I get no hint of what is to come.  We talk and finish our drinks.  Then he says he knows it is early for a high fashion model like me, my crowd must usually be only getting started on their night right about now.  I nod, that is true.  But he is going to walk me back home, or as close to home as I will let him get: the Marble Arch. 

             
I am really confused.  Everything seemed to go perfectly, yet he is showing no interest in me beyond holding hands and putting his arm around me.  He is attentive to me, yet not interested?  I just don’t know how to react. 

             
We get to the Arch.  There he kisses me on the forehead again.

             
This time his lips linger.  I can feel the warmth.  I can feel his hand pressing against my back, causing me to be pulled closer to him.  My arms are already around him, I am planning to make him go wild with my kiss, but before I can kiss his lips, he backs up and his arm goes from around me to in front as he holds my hands.

             
“You are the best guide I have ever had.  I do think we have a few more places to hit.  I hope you are free tomorrow?”

             
What?  Kissed on the forehead and left alone again?  No, I’m not liking this. I put my hands on my hips.  I give him a full frown.  Has he been playing with me?  Does he have some sort of STD?  Maybe he can’t get it up?  What is going on here?  Well, whatever it is, I’m not going to play this game.  I had a good time and now I am disappointed.  I hate being disappointed. 

             
“No, sorry.  I’m busy.”  I turn and stomp off. 

             
I get to my place and I am fuming mad.  I get more and more pissed with each step.  Especially since he didn’t run after me.  I toss my sandals off and grab some white wine.  Oddly, I don’t think about my little boosters.  Wine is enough for now.  I actually gulp it down.  I crawl in bed and realize it is a normal time to go to bed. 

             
I plan to fume and hate on Jason for a few hours.  I turn on my TV for some background noise and set the timer to go off in three hours, that way it can lull me to sleep.  I usually have the TV and a blue pill to help me get to sleep.  But tonight I am out like the proverbial light.  I didn’t even make it to the bathroom for my blue pill.  I guess I did a lot of walking and was mentally present the whole day.  I was exhausted.             

So I got the best night’s sleep I have had in a long time. I get up and check on the time.  My Zen clock says it is obscenely early for me.  Seems a consequence of going to bed early is getting up earlier.  Well, early for me.  It isn’t even nine yet.  I’m a little grumpy about Jason not doing exactly what I wanted him to last night, but for some reason I am still in a fairly decent mood.

             
I decide I am going to have fruit
and
an egg this morning.  No toast though, I can’t go crazy.  I flip on the TV for some background noise and to catch local news.  I actually am having a decent time slicing up my food and eating out on the terrace.

             
But then, after two hours, my day turns normal.  I become restless and fussy.  I’ve got at least two more weeks before my next job.  The house is so silent.  Something in me says this is my fault—my fault that I can’t stand being alone.  But I am gorgeous and therefore nothing can really be my fault.  I try to just be in my apartment for another half an hour.  But then I give up.  I am almost stark raving mad in the stillness.

             
I flip open my laptop.  If Jason is not going to give me some sexual release, then I’ll find another old, rich and lonely guy who will be glad to share some meaningless sex with me.  It does pass the time and I suppose that is all I can look forward to.  It is better than sitting here alone.

             
I push the image of Jason’s dark and slightly wavy hair out of my mind.  Wouldn’t you know, there is a message in my inbox.  That is odd as I block any casual emails on this site, I don’t want to have an old gross guy as a stalker, don’t want them to think we are friends.   It clearly states that I will not return messages that have not be solicited by me.

             
Damn.  It’s from Jason.  I almost delete it without reading it.  I’m really disappointed in him.  He should be adoring me and falling over his rather big feet to give me everything I say I want. 

             
I stomp off to my kitchen for a glass of Perrier.  I violently squeeze some lemon into it.  I stomp back and before I can control my finger, I have clicked to open the message.

Thanks for a lovely day!  I really enjoyed your company.  I didn’t get a chance to ask about the rest of this week.  I’ll be in London for two more weeks and would love to have you as my guide and companion for the rest of my stay.  I can’t think of anything more fun than spending a day with you.  Just give me a ring when you are free and I’ll pick you up.  Remember to eat more than toast if you want to keep up with me!

             
- Jason

              Well…that is exactly what I want.  But I am not happy because I still feel he is not fawning over me and giving me exactly what I want, when I want it.

             
I am trying really hard to be in a bad mood.  It is just not working and with a big sigh, I sit down to pound out a reply.  I have to keep it short and sweet; I can’t act like I am giving in to anyone.  I just say I’m bored, pick me up at noon. 

             
He is right on the dot.  We head out to lunch and he talks me into eating a real lunch again.  We head to Buckingham Palace.  He jokes that we really do have to hit the tourist traps before we get to the seedier and real London.  Rubbing elbows with royalty is right up my alley, so I enjoy the day.  Of course, I don’t see any royals.