"I'm not the same girl I was two years ago, Peter," she said, and smiled viciously. "I would never put up with your shit today.”
"I never gave you any shit.”
"The ultimate was Labor Day weekend. Driving back from the Hamptons in the pouring rain. Remember? You dropped me off just outside the midtown tunnel. On Thirty-fifth Street and Third Avenue. 'Get a cab,' you said.”
"It was over," Peter said, and grinned. "And you lived all the way uptown. Why should I drive a girl all the way uptown if I'm not even going to get laid?”
Janey expected Zack to be at the bar in The Palm when she arrived at six-fifteen. He wasn't. When he still hadn't turned up ten minutes later, she took up two guys on their offer to buy her a drink. She ordered a margarita. At six-forty-five, there was a slight commotion outside. A green 1954 250 GT Ellena Body Ferrari pulled into the circular driveway. Righthand drive. Zack got out. He wore old tennis shoes and walked with his hands in the front pockets of his khaki trousers. Janey became very animated, talking to the two men. Zack came up behind her. Whispered in her ear, "Hello there.”
She jumped a little. "Oh. Hi," she said. She looked at her watch. "I was going to scold you for being late, but the car makes up for it.”
"The car is priceless," Zack said. He slid onto the bar stool next to her. He took her hand. "If you want to be with me, Janey, never, ever scold me. Unless I ask you to.”
"That sounds promising.”
"It is. If you play your cards right." He leaned toward her. "Do you have a dark side, Janey? You look like a girl who has a dark side.”
Janey laughed, and so did Zack. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. Zack lit a cigarette. Filterless. In the daylight, he was not quite as attractive as she remembered. He had bad English teeth, ranging in color from sickly yellow to light gray. His fingers were stained with nicotine and his nails were dirty. But there was the car. And his money. And the whole summer and hopefully even longer ahead of her. "Let’s take things one step at a time, okay?" she said. "I guess that means you want to see my house before you decide whether or not you want to fuck me," Zack said.
"Come on," Janey said. "I'm interested in you. Everyone says you're fascinating.”
"Everyone is a fool," Zack said. And then: "You're going to love the house. If s perfect." He stood up and pulled her off the bar stool. He put his arm around her, walking her to the door. He was taller than she, the perfect size, she thought. "I got the house just for you," he said.
"Of course you did," Janey said. She believed him, not thinking for a moment that it was unusual for a complete stranger to rent a house in the Hamptons in me hope that she would be with him. She nodded at the valet, who held open the car door. She slid into the front seat. The car was in perfect condition. She took off her baseball cap and shook out her hair. She laughed. "If s beautiful," she said, feeling generous. Zack started the engine. "Ah yes," he said, pulling out of the driveway. "I suppose That’s where I'm supposed to say, 'No, you're beautiful, Janey.'" He looked at her. "Feel like you're in a movie?”
“Yes.”
"You're a very silly girl. Don't you know that if s dangerous to be so silly?”
"Maybe I'm not silly," Janey said. "Maybe if s just an act.”
"Maybe if s all just an act," Zack said. "But then where does that leave you?”
He turned the car onto Further Lane. "I told the rental agent I wanted a house on the best road in the best town in the Hamptons. I hope she hasn't done me wrong, Janey." He growled a bit on the word "wrong" and Janey thought he was adorable all over again. They turned in to a long gravel driveway. "I know the house," Janey said. "It's one of my favorites.”
"Really?”
"A friend of mine rented it five years ago. Ifs the perfect summer house. Pool, tennis courts ...”
“Did you play tennis without your knickers on?”
“Oh please, Zack.”
"That's how I imagine you, all in white, without your knickers ...”
The house was situated well back from the road, fronted by a long green lawn that was always set up for croquet. It was a classic, shingled-style manse, built in the 1920s for a rich family with a pack of kids and servants. Zack pulled up to the front. "Come along, come along my lovely, and we shall see ... , " he said, jumping out of the car and taking her hand. There was a wide porch and a balcony that ran around the second floor. He opened the door. "A veritable fun house," he said, turning around. "Now, I expect you to play lots of naughty games.”
"Like what?”
Zack rustled through a paper sack. "Provisions," he said, holding up a bottle of vodka and a plastic container of tonic water.
Janey laughed a little nervously.
Zack went to the kitchen and returned with two cocktails. "Chin-chin," he said, holding up his glass. "Cheers," Janey said. "To a great summer.”
Zack came up behind her. He put his arm around her waist and pressed her to him. "What’s behind all this great summer nonsense?”
Janey turned and slipped out of his grasp. "Nothing," she said.
"There must be something. I've never heard of anyone so obsessed with summer. I spent my summers working in a factory.”
"Of course you did," Janey said softly.
He pointed his finger at her and shook it. "You have to answer my questions. That’s one of the rules. I get bored very easily. Right now I'm interested. In hearing all about you. About all of the men who have had you before me.”
"What?" Janey said.
"This is going to be fun," Zack said. "Do you take coke?”
“Coca-Cola?”
"Cocaine," Zack said with mock patience. Then: "You're not very bright, are you? When I first met you, I didn't think you were, but then I thought perhaps I'd made a mistake." He sat down on the couch in front of a coffee table, looked up at her, and smiled. "But then, one doesn't really need intelligence in these situations. Just a sense of adventure.”
"I don't do cocaine," Janey said coldly.
"What a shame," Zack said. "I figured you for a player." He tapped some cocaine out on the coffee table, rolled up a bill, and snorted it up. He tipped his head back, inhaling deeply, the bill still in his nostril. Janey stared, and he caught her eye. "Stop playing the good little American girl, will you," he said.
"How do you know I'm not?”
"Oh, come off it," Zack said. He stood up. Walked to her. Touched her hair. "I didn't invite you here to be my girlfriend," he said.
"Then why did you invite me?”
"I didn't. You invited yourself. Remember?”
“Fuck off," Janey said softly.
"Come here," he said. "Sit down. My dear, you're as transparent as that shirt you're wearing. Everyone knows what your game is. You're available. For the summer. Providing the man is rich enough. At least I want to know why.”
"Because I just want to have a good summer," Janey screamed. "Is there anything wrong with that?”
"But you don't do anything," Zack said. He snorted some more cocaine.
"I don't do anything because I don't want to. I don't have to.”
"You don't feel much of anything, do you, Janey?”
“No," she said. She shrugged. "Even if the sex is great, it doesn't mean anything. Because the guy isn't going to stick around. So why not beat men at their own game. Use them. I'm a feminist, Zack," she said, which somehow made her feel better.
"Oh, the modern woman speaks," Zack said. "How old are you?”
"Twenty-eight," Janey said, casually lying. She'd been fibbing about her age for professional reasons for so long that she actually believed it.