Oh, for God's sake.I turned and glared toward the stall. "You'renothelping!"
But the guydidhave a point. I hadn't told them a single thing, and notonlybecause I'd been too busy trying to regain my composure. No. I'd kept quiet because a deal was a deal.
And I'd made that deal with Flynn, before I'd known how truly awful he could be. For someone so pretty, he was absolutely ruthless.
If I wanted him to live up tohisend of our arrangement, I knew better than to falter on mine.
Still, the thoughtdidgive me an idea.
I turned back to Flynn and said, "Remember that favor?"
He frowned. "What favor?"
"The one from yesterday. You said you'd owe me, remember?"
In a carefully neutral voice, he said, "I remember."
"Well…" I hesitated. "This is the favor."
His frown deepened. "This?"
From the look on his face, he knew exactly what I was asking. But fine, if that's what he wanted, I'd spell it out. I pointed toward the stall and said, "Let them go."
He looked toward the stall and then to me. He made no reply, but his expression said it all.You've got to be kidding.
On impulse, I added, "And, uh, pay for his camera too, okay?"
His jaw tightened. "Fuck the camera."
Slowly, I turned and gave the camera another long look. Technically, it was already fucked, and that was only half of the problem.
We weren't in New York or L.A. We were in Sugar Falls, Michigan – my hometown. And Flynn's, too. The economy thrived mostly on seasonal tourism, which meant that good-paying jobs were hard to find.
The cost of a camera would be nothing to a bigtime movie star. But to the guy in the stall, who'd had to borrow a camera from a relative, it might be worth several weeks' pay – assuming the guy had a job at all.
I was still studying the camera, and not liking what I saw. I was no expert, but even I could see that the thing was well beyond repair.
I turned and gave Flynn another desperate look. "But it's his uncle's."
Flynn looked utterly unmoved. "Not my problem."
I felt my gaze narrow. "So what are you saying? That you'renotgoing to pay up?"
Flynn gave me a long, hard look. I'd seen that look plenty over the last three months. By now, I should've been immune to its effects.
But I wasn't. Under his steady gaze, I started to squirm. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that he'd done all of this on my behalf. He'd barged in to the women's restroom. He'd destroyed the camera. And he'd even made a pretty good show of looking concerned for my safety.
But none of this was real.
I was no one's love interest. And soon, I'd be gone. Hell, the press release was probably already written. In the meantime, all I could do was grit my teeth and play along.
I tried to think. What would I do if Flynn and I weretrulyan item? And then it hit me. With a sigh of resignation, I lifted my chin and said in the snottiest voice I could muster, "If you really love me, you'll let them go."
It was a funny thing to say. Forget love. Flynn barely liked me. But even aside from that, it was the kind of thing I'd never say to arealboyfriend.
It was too manipulative, too silly, and too prone to cause hard feelings later on. But Flynn and I? We had plenty of hard feelings already.
We'd hated each other for years. Or more accurately, he hated me.
And with good reason – or so he thought.
But I wasn't going to back down, not with this. The truth was, I could relate all too well to the guys in the stall. I'd done desperate things for money, too. Nothing illegal or immoral. But still, the embarrassment lingered.
Was I too soft? Probably.But that didn't change the fact that I didn't want to see anyone hurt on my account.
Finally, after a brief, but tense negotiation, Flynn gave in – letting me claim the favor in spite of his obvious reluctance. At my insistence, he'd even handed me the camera money from his own wallet – ten crisp hundred-dollar bills – which I'd wrapped in a paper towel and slid under the stall.
Paid in full.
Or at least, I sure hoped so, because it was pretty obvious that Flynnwasn'thappy.
