Four Blondes

“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. It’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 the 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. “It’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 it’s dangerous to be so silly?”

“Maybe I’m not silly,” Janey said. “Maybe it’s just an act.”

“Maybe it’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. It’s 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 tonicwater.

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.