BLOCK: Social Media #3 (9 page)

"OK," the manager says. "Five minutes. But if she makes a scene, I’ll have to call security and have both of you escorted out."

"Deal." I give him a we’re-all-in-this-together clap on the back as I move past him, straightening out my jacket. I head towards the bar and Grace isn’t even paying attention. She’s chatting up the bartender, who sees me coming and excuses himself as I take a seat two stools away from her.

"Hey," I say in a low voice. "I’m sorry for picking you up back there. It was presumptuous to think you’d talk to me tonight, let alone come up to my room."

"Another margarita," Grace calls out to the bartender.

I catch his eye and hold up a finger. "Scotch, please. Top shelf."

"I’m not interested in your excuse, Vaughn. Truly." She looks me in the eyes for the first time tonight. "Truly, I am not interested. I’m not playing a game with you. I’m not playing hard to get. I’m not
pretending
to be pissed. I’m not even pissed. I’m just not interested. You’re not the man I thought you were. And I get that I was invested in the fantasy version of you. OK?" she says, shaking her head a little. "I get that. It was my fault for turning you into some kind of Prince Charming. So it’s not fair that I had such high expectations of you. I’m sorry that I blamed you for something I caused."

The bartender delivers our drinks and takes Grace’s empty glass away. I take a sip of my Scotch, then gulp it all, and slide my glass on the bar. "Another, please." The bartender nods and moves off to get that. I put my head in my hands. "Grace," I say, rubbing my temples. "Just for the fun of it, tell me what that Prince Charming version of me was like. How do I not measure up?" I look up at her, but she’s staring down into her pink drink, playing with the paper umbrella. "Was I nicer? Was I more generous? What is the real Vaughn Asher missing?"

She meets my gaze for a moment, but it’s a fleeting one. Her eyes drop back down just as quickly and she shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. The fantasy was… charming. Not just in a princely way, either. But really, really charming. Saying witty things, and being at ease with himself and others. He jokes with me and makes me laugh. You…" She doesn’t look at me, just continues to stare into her drink. "You make me sad. You make me feel inadequate. You make me feel stupid and small and pathetic."

Fuck. "How though? How did I do that? Because that was not my intention. OK?" I reach out and cover her small hand with mine. "I never wanted to make you feel like that. I wanted to excite you."

She looks up at my eyes and I almost wish she hadn’t. Her expression is overflowing with disappointment and she looks tired. She does look sad. She looks like she cried very hard earlier and the makeup can’t quite hide that. "You wanted to excite
yourself
, Vaughn. You wanted to please
yourself
. Not me. Everything you did, from picking out those clothes to putting money in my bank account, all of it was for your benefit. You lie to yourself, I think. You’re one long string of self-serving lies. I don’t know how you do it, or how you get so many girls to play along. But all your best intentions were nothing but really good deceptions. And even though I know in my heart" —she clenches her fist and holds it over her chest—"that the fairy tale is fake, that it doesn’t exist and I’m setting myself up for disappointment, I don’t care. Because I deserve that happy ending, Vaughn. I do. You might not think so. You might think I’m just some silly girl who has no right to expect so much from a man. But I don’t care. Maybe that man doesn’t exist and maybe I’ll spend the rest of my life alone, waiting for my prince. I don’t care. I refuse to play this game with you."

And then she reaches into her little clutch purse to grab her credit card and wave it at the bartender. "I’m done, Vaughn. And for what it’s worth, I do believe you about that girl on the TV. Thank you for the charity money. I will make sure it goes to worthy organizations and send you the receipt so you can claim it on your taxes."

The bartender shakes his head at me as he takes her card and I cup my chin with my hand and rub the shadow covering my jaw. My mind races with ideas, desperately trying to find a way out of this.

But Grace has made it clear she’s not interested in my games.

"Grace," I say softly as she signs the credit card slip and tucks her card back into her purse. "Would you like to have dinner with me? Here?"

She stands up and straightens her dress and then looks me in the eye. "No, Vaughn. I would not."

I reach out and touch her shoulder, gently, and this is just enough to stop her from turning away. "Grace, please don’t leave. Just listen for one more minute, OK? Because… because… I might not be your prince, but I think you’re my princess. I swear, I never knew I was looking for one. I just always knew that the women I was with before didn’t mean anything to me. But Grace, when I was up in that private suite and you were sent away, I realized something. I realized that I like you. A lot. And I don’t know what that means or where that leads, but I like you and I want to keep seeing you. I want to know you better. I want a chance with you. I’d like another chance to be your prince. I realize I’m a pretty bad substitute, but I can be fun. I can joke. I can make you feel all those things you crave, Grace. I know I can."

She looks up at me with a tear in her eye and shakes her head. "I don’t think so. I think if I give you another chance you’ll break my heart, Vaughn. I’ll believe in you because that’s the kind of girl I am. I’m hopelessly naïve. You’ll tear me up and leave me, just like you do all your girls. And I don’t think I can survive that. I really don’t. I think…" She swallows hard. "I think if I invest in you, and believe in you, and give my heart to you…" She looks up at me and the tear slips down her cheek. "And you broke my heart? I think I might never recover from that."

"So it’s better to just never take a risk at all, then? It’s better to turn me away and protect your heart, even though what I give you might make you whole and complete? Because I don’t think that’s right, Grace. I think that’s worse than living with a broken heart. Even if we fail at this and that fairy tale ending eludes us, we will be living it for as long as it lasts. Isn’t it better to live?"

She smiles, but it's strained and filled with sadness. "No, Vaughn. It’s not always better to live. I know better than most. Sometimes living is the worst thing that could happen to a person."

“What?” I’m not sure that remark makes sense but she turns away and I react by grabbing her and pulling her close. Pull her right up to my chest. "Grace, please. One dinner. There’s no risk, sweetness. None. Just dinner. You need to eat, let me feed you." She looks up at me and I know we are both imagining our date on the roof of her apartment. "Not like that, Grace. Just a normal dinner. With normal dinner conversation. I owe you a secret, remember? Tell me about your day and I’ll tell you about mine. I think we both had a pretty bad day. Don’t you want to talk to someone about it?"

She shakes her head no and I’m desperate here. I’m failing. I’m fucking failing. She’s dead set on walking away and there’s nothing I can say to stop her. "Please, let me tell you about mine, at least. OK? I need a friend, Grace. I have none to talk to."

"I don’t want to hear about your problems, Vaughn. I have enough of my own."

She tries to turn away again, but I hold tight. "OK, fair enough. No problems. Then… then… let me tell you about my dreams. Dreams, Grace. Did you know that all growing up I wanted to be a surfer?"

She laughs and I have a glimmer of hope. "Yeah," I say. "A fucking surfer."

She cocks her head, maybe interested. "Do you surf?"

Now it’s my turn to laugh. "No. I mean, I did try, but holy shit, I was terrible at it. And to be honest, I sorta hate the ocean."

"I’ve always wanted to snorkel and dive. But I’ve never had the opportunity."

"Dive, huh? I tried it once but it was for a movie role I never got, so I never did it again. But I bet… I bet you’d be great at it, Grace. I bet I’d like it if we did it together. We should’ve gone diving on Saint Thomas instead of… well, what we did."

Her shoulders relax but I respond by clutching her tighter. "Have dinner with me. Please. Let’s talk about dreams."

She’s shaking her head no before I’m even done talking. "I’m afraid to do that, Vaughn. I really am. Because that might breed hope and I don’t want to get my hopes up about you. I just… I just don’t trust you. I think that the minute I get comfortable, you’ll leave me."

"I don’t know how to fix that, Grace. I can’t tell you anything that will make you believe me. I can only show you, and you won’t give me a chance to show you because you don’t think I deserve it. So how can I change your mind if you don’t give me another chance?"

"Even if I did give you another chance tonight, and even if it was amazing, there’s no guarantee that tomorrow will be just as good. What if we wake up and things are worse? I can’t do it.”

"Just listen. No one has guaranteed happiness, Grace. That’s absurd. Your bar is impossibly high. How can I predict the future and promise you good days for the rest of your life? It’s not reasonable. And you know that. You’re only telling me these things to make excuses. To make me go away. If things suck tomorrow, then we deal with them. Like people do. One date, Grace. Right now. We’ve never had a real date. In public, I mean. We’re in public. This restaurant is cozy and quiet. And I bet they have good food here. Have dinner with me. If you don’t want to talk about your dreams, listen to me talk about mine." She bows her head into my chest and I rest my chin on her head. "One dinner. Just give me a few hours of food and conversation. That’s all I’m asking."

She’s still and silent in my arms. Very wounded. Very suspicious. Very vulnerable. And so very, very, very much in need of a win.

"Tonight you win, Grace. You win. I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine."

Chapter Nine

I
LET
Vaughn lead me to a table. The hostess gives me a funny look, thinking what, I can only imagine after the fight I put up to keep Vaughn away from me.

But of course, I gave in, didn’t I?

I bet they all give in. He’s a man who does not respond well to no. I’m not sure I like that. In fact, I’m not sure I like anything about him in real life.

"Drinks?" the hostess asks as she places the menus down in front of us.

"Another margarita for me, please." If I’m going to do this, I definitely need alcohol. Otherwise I’ll overthink every word he says and assign hidden meanings to things that should be taken at face value.

"Mineral water, please," Vaughn says.

Hmmm. He’s in Mr. Responsible mode. "How was your premiere?" I ask him politely. "I saw you on TV." And apparently I am not quite drunk enough to dampen down my venom because he shoots me a look.

"Valencia is just a friend, Grace. Not even a real one at that. Just a publicity date."

I cock an eyebrow at that. "Good to know. Just one question, Mr. Asher. Do you have any authentic relationships? Any? A friend? Your brother? No? He’s a player in your game as well? Your daughter? Oh, no, another player. She’s a little young to be your legal counsel, don’t you think?"

He sighs. "
This
is giving me a chance?" He stares at me. Like I’m the one who’s disappointing him right now, instead of the other way around.

My drink arrives and I take a sip. A long sip. My head is fuzzy and I am good and buzzed, but I’ve got some time before I’m drunk. And if ever there was a day that required a spin before bed, it’s this one.

I plan on being good and spun before I black out tonight.

Vaughn grasps his water glass with both hands and twirls it slowly, like he needs to be doing something. He clears his throat. "Um, well to answer your question, no. I don’t."

I look up from my menu and find his eyes. He looks lost.

"I don’t have any friends. So everyone you see me with on TV, they are a negotiated business deal. I mean, I guess my agent, Larry, he’s probably my best friend, but we don’t do things together. Like hike or boat or—"

"Surf," I say with a smile.

Vaughn laughs and that smile he’s famous for warms up my stone-cold heart for a moment. He does have an incredible smile when it’s genuine. "Larry actually does surf, but he doesn’t invite me."

"Why not?"

He shrugs. "I always say no, so why bother asking when he already knows the answer."