BLOCK: Social Media #3 (10 page)

"I can’t imagine a life without my best friend. I haven’t seen her very much these days. We’re going in different directions, it seems. But Bebe and I have been besties since I was fifteen."

Vaughn is silent for several seconds, like he’s thinking about that. It makes me a little bit uncomfortable, so much so that I feel compelled to divert the topic to something else. The problem is, I’m not sure anything is safe right now.

"What are you thinking?" he asks softly. "Tell me."

I shake my head no. "You are the one who has to talk, not me. I’m here to listen, remember?"

He nods. "OK, you’re right," he says as he studies my face.

What does he see? God, that bugs me when people look at me like that. Like they know all my secrets. It makes me so uncomfortable. I forgo the straw in my margarita and lift the wide glass to gulp, the salt sticking to my lips.

"If you were serious, the movie premiere went really well. I’m happy with my performance. Do you think you’ll go see it?"

"A few weeks ago I was dying to see it. The man of my dreams was the star."

"And now? I’m your worst nightmare and you’ve lost interest?"

"Not exactly."

"I’ve disappointed you and you’re hurt?" I nod and he nods with me. "I’m sorry. I… I don’t know how to be me, Grace. The real me, I mean. I’m so used to being him, I might’ve lost me along the way. What exactly did you like about the fairy tale me? And I’m not fishing for compliments, OK? I’m seriously interested. What did you see? If this is the guy I am”—he gestures to himself—“then how did you get beyond it when everything out there in the public eye is fake?"

I turn my head and concentrate on a point off in the distance. Another couple having dinner. They are comfortable with each other. Talking easily. Smiling easily. "There was this picture of you. It was taken about four years ago, I guess. And you were at a charity function for foster kids." I stop for a moment to choose my words carefully. "And you were sitting on a couch somewhere, surrounded by kids—"

"
Trust the Future
."

"Yeah," I say, smiling. "That was it. That was the name of the charity. And you looked so freaking happy in that photo. I thought to myself, now that man might make me want to marry. And then I went looking for more information and I found a video of that day. You were playing X-Box with those kids. Some violent shooter game that most parents would throw a fit over. But you looked like you were having the best time. You looked real that day."

"I love kids."

"I can tell."

"I want a shitload of kids," he says, almost wistfully.

"Is that your dream? Marriage and children?"

He nods slowly, pressing his lips together, probably expecting me to object since I told him I was not interested in marriage. But I don’t. It’s not my place to stomp on his dream.

"I just don’t get it, Grace. If you want the prince, why don’t you want the marriage?"

I take another gulp of margarita and finish it off. "Because," I say, picking up my menu. I’m not hungry anymore but I need something to do with my hands. "Because regardless of what you think, I realize there are no princes, Vaughn. And you’re right, it was unfair of me to expect you to be perfect." I stare at him. Hard. My eyes are narrowing, I just know it. Because it sucks to admit I’ve been foolish for all these years. Looking for a phantom man who will spoil any good relationship I ever have because my expectations are too high.

He studies me for a moment and again, I find myself squirming under his scrutiny.

Can he see through me? "Excuse me?" I stop our waitress as she passes by. "Can I get another margarita?"

"That’s not why, Grace."

Jesus. I need that drink. "Of course that’s why. I think I know my own reasons."

He’s shaking his head as I defend myself. "You don’t want to marry because then you might have to actually be happy."

"What? Seriously, Asher. You’re totally wrong. I was—I am—a very happy woman. I was socially complete before I met you, believe it or not. I realize I’ve been all over the place emotionally since the island. But that’s not me. I’m happy, and well-adjusted, and, and, and
happy
."

Fuck.

"But that was the fantasy, right? The fantasy made you happy. This is reality and you’re lost in reality."

"Why are we talking about me? The deal was that we talk about you."

“What do you want to know? Ask me anything."

But nothing seems safe. Everything feels like a trap that will throw me backwards into the past. That will unravel all the raveling I’ve done over the past ten years and leave me frayed and filled with holes.

"I want to get married," he says. "And I don’t need her to be a princess, Grace. I just need her to love me for who I really am. And then I want a bunch of kids. And I want them to have the perfect childhood filled with jumping in puddles, and playing in mud, and bad grades because their personalities require them to rebel and be themselves. I want school plays and coaching football, and standing out in the rain to watch a track meet. I want to bring my wife breakfast in bed for Mother’s Day and I want to receive handmade gifts of painted macaroni from my three-year-old."

I just stare at him.

"I want normal. I lived the fantasy and it’s not as perfect as it seems."

I have no idea what to say, but luckily, the waitress brings my drink. So I take a really long sip and then set it down on the table and stare at it.

"What do you think of all that, Grace?"

"I think…" I look up at him. My eyes are watery from the alcohol or maybe from the serious conversation that makes me think of my own childhood. "I think I’d like to give the fantasy a try first."

"Take it for a test drive?"

"Yes. Just to see what it’s like."

"You need to be able to compare?"

I nod.

"Because you’ve lived normal and it’s not as perfect as it seems?"

"Yes."

"Come upstairs with me, Grace. And let me give you a free sample."

I huff out a laugh. "Does it come with spankings?" I try and joke to break the seriousness of his offer.

"No," he says, shaking his head slowly. "No, the fantasy doesn’t come with spankings. It comes with gentle, tender lovemaking. And flowers and chocolate-covered strawberries. Soft sheets, and softer music. No dirty talking or blindfolds or sexy lingerie."

"Sounds pretty boring."

"Mmmm. It is. Come upstairs and let me show you how boring."

And then he stands up and comes around to pull my chair out. I stand up and he hooks my arm in his. "Grand Lakeview Suite," he tells the waitress as we walk out. "Bill it to the room."

Chapter Ten

"I
CAN
be romantic," I tell Grace as I open the door to my suite and flatten my hand on the small of her back. "But everyone’s definition of romance is different." I close the door and watch her as she moves forward through the foyer and into the large room.

"Nice view," she says in a low voice.

"Yes, I always enjoy a room with a view. And doesn’t everyone want to see the Bellagio fountain when they come to Las Vegas?” She just shrugs. “Sit, Grace. I’ll be right back with a drink."

"I’ll have a margarita," she calls out as I retreat back to the foyer and call the butler service using the control panel by the door. I meet him outside in the hall and give him my requests, then go back inside. Grace is standing at the windows, her back to me.

“Tonight is not a night for margaritas. Do you like pink champagne, Grace?"

She turns and smiles. "Doesn’t everyone?"

I take her in as I approach. Her dress, for being something she wears regularly to work, is a beautiful dark blue that hugs her curves and makes me crazy. Her hair is still piled up on her head, but there are long spiraling strands that have fallen out. They frame her face, making her look just the tiniest bit unkempt.

I love that. I love that her oh-so-together persona has a crack in it.

Her face is flushed pink. Maybe from the alcohol or maybe from being alone with me. Her skin is glowing in the low lights and she looks like a vision of perfection one might only see behind the lens of a specially filtered camera.

"You are the most beautiful woman, Grace."

"I might be drunk."

I smile wide as I walk up to the bar and check the refrigerator for some champagne. Inside is a selection they stock based on my personal preferences. "Do you want to skip the champagne?" I ask her as I pull out two crystal flutes.

She walks over to me, her shoes clicking lightly on the marble floor. "No, I might need more than usual."

"You can’t be around me unless you’re drunk?" I ask with a smile as I pop the cork on the bottle and pour.

"It helps me keep things in perspective. And when I wake up tomorrow I’ll have a reason to push this night away and forget it ever happened."

I stop pouring and just look at her. "What?"

"You want to dominate me, right? I don’t want to admit I want to give in. So a few more drinks will give us both what we want, but in the morning I can justify my behavior. Blame it on too much alcohol."

I shake my head. "No more drinks for you then." She laughs but I’m serious. "I’m not on some conquest, Grace. That’s not what this is about."

She joins me behind the bar, reaches past me, and grabs a champagne glass. She lifts the pink bubbly to her lips and takes a delicate sip. "Mmmm. This is good, what is it?"

"Billecart-Salmon Brut Rose 2002. It’s one of my favorites."

She takes another sip and licks her lips. "I like it. If I stay and have sex with you, will you spank me?"

My smile is tight. She’s got the wrong idea and I don’t know how to change that. I’ve set our relationship up this way, after all. I’m the one who gave her all these preconceptions. Preconceptions I’m desperate to change right now.

I grab my champagne and put my hand on her back, once again guiding her into the main part of the room. "Come, tell me what you think of the view."

"I’d rather talk about what you plan on doing to me tonight, actually." She takes a long sip from her glass, finishing it, and then setting it down on a table as we make our way to the window.

I sigh with frustration. "I want to talk to you, Grace. I want to apologize for what you saw on TV today. It’s a lie. It’s like you witnessing me comforting my sister back on her wedding night. It’s not what you think. And I don’t want to be judged by that woman’s accusations. At least…" I set my glass down and then cup her face in my hands. "At least not by you. I could care less what the world thinks, but please, don’t let that woman’s bitter revenge taint what I’m trying to do here."

“Why is she bitter, Vaughn?" Grace’s jaw clenches and her lips form a tight line. "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing." I laugh, a little bit uncomfortable. "I mean, I fucked her a while back. Six months ago. And I did see her on the island a few weeks ago, but I made it very clear that I was done with her. We did not sleep together on the island. I just dismissed her and gave her thirty thousand dollars so she could move on."

"Thirty thousand dollars?” Grace asks. "You mean like the thirty thousand dollars you put into my bank account? Holy shit!"

"It’s not the same—"

"How is it different, Asher? Jesus fucking Christ! Is that your standard payment to keep people quiet?" She turns and slaps me in the face. Hard.

I just stand there. Stunned.

"You’re a pig, Vaughn. I can’t… I just can’t—"

She pushes past me, making a move to flee, but I grab her wrist and pull her back. "Stop for a minute. OK?"

"Why? Every minutes that passes you get worse, Vaughn. Everything I thought was the real you, it’s all fake. It’s all pretend. It’s all—”

I lean down and kiss her angry mouth. She pulls back and I let her, but I wrap my hands around her waist and press her hips to my groin, keeping her close at the same time. “Stop now. I heard you downstairs. I get it, I’m a dick. But I’m trying my best, Grace. I’m trying my fucking best to change that opinion you have of me. I’m sorry we started this relationship the way we did. I’d like to start again. So just be quiet and let it happen. Forget about the past. Forget about the money. Forget about the spankings and all that other shit. And just fucking listen to what I’m saying. Watch what I’m doing. And tomorrow, if you want to walk away after I give you my best effort, well, then go. I won’t stop you. I won’t come after you. I’ll respect your decision and leave you alone.”