I can pay for my own breakfast." Flynn stood and pulled out his wallet. "In fact, let me buy yours, such as it was."
"No, no." Zoe waved his money away. "I invited you up here. My treat." Then she remembered what else Margo had told her. "You can't be seen paying for me, anyway. Everyone here thinks I'm a hooker."
Flynn blinked. "Come again?"
She told him about the overheard remark. "So they think my profession is actually the world's oldest profession. You need to let me pay, which will make them wonder, because logically a prostitute wouldn't be buying the meal."
"Good Lord." His color high, he adjusted the position of his glasses. He didn't seem terribly comfortable being associated with a suspected lady of the evening, even in broad daylight. "And who do they think I am, your client?"
"I don't know. Maybe they think you're my pimp." With a wink, she turned and walked up to the cash register.
A pimp. Now Flynn was doubly glad he'd switched from the Town Car Zoe had rented to a sensible sedan. He didn't know any pimps, but he'd seen movies and he knew they were supposed to drive big expensive cars. Pimps also were supposed to dress in flashy clothes, so he was saved on that score, too.
No, people wouldn't think he was Zoe's pimp, but they might think he'd hired her for a weekend of sex. And a weekend of sex was exactly what he wanted, although he didn't plan to allow himself the luxury.
That didn't stop him from thinking about it as he held the door open for Zoe and escorted her out to the car. Every customer in the place had watched their exit, and he wondered how many of the men envied him. Zoe's wild combination of colors and wire-rimmed glasses couldn't disguise her incredible body.
Once they were both in the car, Flynn backed out of the parking space. "I'm sure there's some kind of grocery store on this street."
"I'm sure there is. By the way, have you talked to Kristen today?"
"No, not yet." And he felt guilty about that. But with the bee problem and hurrying to come into town so they could have breakfast, he hadn't had much time. He needed to have a serious discussion with Kristen, because he was beginning to doubt his commitment to her. Yet he couldn't imagine having that discussion while Zoe was nearby.
"Don't you think you should check in with her?"
"You mean now?" He scanned the ragtag buildings lining Long Shaft's main street and spotted the Bigfoot Food Mart about midway down on the left.
"You brought your cell phone, right?"
"I always bring my cell phone." He'd been first in line to buy one the minute they'd become available.
"So call her while we're in town. I'm sure the signal will be belter than out in the woods."
"She's probably in one of her sessions. She was giving a talk this morning."
"Then you could at least leave her a message."
"I could." And that might be better. He could leave a message to let her know he hadn't forgotten about her. If he left messages all weekend, then on Sunday night when he got back to LA he could have the necessary discussion about their future.
Pulling into a diagonal parking space between two battered pickups, he turned off the engine and reached in his shirt pocket for his PDA. He'd programmed Kristen's conference schedule into it. He'd be able to make sure she wasn't in a position to pick up.
Yep, she was right in the middle of her talk. Assuming she hadn't ditched the conference and was on her way to Long Shaft. He slipped the PDA back in his shirt pocket and reached for the cell phone clipped to his belt.
"Chicago's a great city," Zoe said. "I stayed at the Hilton on Michigan Avenue last time I was there. Is that where Kristen is?"
"No, she's at the Sheraton on Lake Shore Drive." He speed-dialed Kristen's cell. Her well-modulated voice on the recorded message raised his level of guilt. She sounded so calm, so civilized. An animal like him, a guy who couldn't keep his hands off Zoe, didn't deserve a woman like Kristen.
"Oh, well, that's nice, too."
"What?" He glanced at Zoe as he waited for the beep to begin recording his message.
"I meant the Sheraton's a good place to stay."
He had a sudden image of sharing a luxury hotel room with Zoe. He wouldn't care what city they were in because he wouldn't leave the room, and if he had Zoe figured right, she wouldn't want to, either.
That wasn't a good thing to be thinking about while he left his message for Kristen. His voice clogged up at first, and he had to clear his throat before continuing. "Hi, Kristen. It's me. I came into town for some breakfast and thought I'd give you a call. I hope your talk went great. I'll check back later. Take care. Bye." He ended the call and slipped the phone back in the holder clipped to his belt.
"What was her talk on?" Zoe asked. "Research techniques."
"Research techniques?" Zoe's voice sounded slightly strangled, like she might be trying not to laugh.
"I know it sounds boring, but in actuality it's extremely ... boring." He glanced over at her, feeling more like a louse every minute. "I shouldn't admit that. I'm being very disloyal, but she outlined her talk for me over the phone last week and I nearly fell asleep."
Zoe gazed at him. "Research can be important. I suppose she's very good at it."
Something was going on with Zoe, but he couldn't tell what. Her expression had always been open, but now it wasn't. She seemed to be hiding.
He wanted to know why. "What's with the sudden interest in Kristen?"
"I've always been interested in Kristen, ever since you told me about her this past week."
"I know, but now you seem even more interested."
"I just don't want you to forget about her this weekend, that's all. I know she's important to you. You should keep in contact."
"But you're not keeping in contact with Trace."
Her expression became even more secretive. "That's not really necessary."
"Why is it necessary for me and Kristen and not for you and Trace?"
She waved a hand in the air. "You know Hollywood relationships. They're not the norm. We're separated a lot by work, and when we are together the media is all over us. It's not easy to have the level of intimacy that you're able to have with Kristen. Trace and I aren't close enough for me to feel I need to keep in constant touch with him."
"You don't love him." Flynn hadn't meant to say it. Usually he guarded his comments better than that. "Sorry. That's none of my business."
"You're entitled to your opinion."
"Yeah, but I don't have to blurt it out. What do I know about your emotions concerning Trace? Nothing. I have no right to make a judgment."
"You could assume I didn't love him after what happened last night."
"No, I couldn't, Zoe. People are more complicated than that." He braced both hands against the steering wheel and blew out a breath. "Tell you what. Let's table this discussion while I go into the food mart and hunt down some food that's easy to fix."
"Do you mind if I sit in the car? I just realized the food mart might stock magazines with me on the cover."
"Then you probably shouldn't come in."
I'll try to stay out of trouble."
He wondered if that were possible. She looked like trouble sitting there with a big purple pansy decorating each breast and glasses that made her seem more impish than scholarly. The blouse was buttoned up to her neck and the plaid skirt covered her knees, but that didn't matter. Nothing could disguise the sexual light shining from Zoe Tarleton. That was why she'd made millions.
"I won't be long," he said.
"I'll be here." She smiled at him.
"If anyone comes along, don't smile."
"I still say you're wrong about that. No one's going to recognize me because of my smile."
"Humor me. Don't smile."
"Okay." She scrunched up her face and crossed her eyes. "How's this?"
He laughed. "Perfect. Hold that pose." He knew she wouldn't, but at least he'd tried. He left the car determined to make this a power shopping trip.
When F
lynn walked into the food mart, Zoe pulled her cell phone out of her purse and punched in the number of the Sasquatch Diner. A man answered, and Zoe decided he must be Ray, Fiona's recently satisfied husband.
Zoe watched the front of the food mart in case Flynn made an unexpected return. "May I please speak to Margo Taggart?"
"May I ask who's calling?"
"It's Zo—Vera. Vera Parsons."
"Zovera?"
"No, just Vera." Zoe didn't know if Margo would recognize the name she'd decided to use. "Tell her it's her friend from high school."
"Are you the person who was in here a few minutes ago? The one in the flowery blouse and plaid skirt?"
"Um, yes." Zoe crossed her fingers and hoped that wouldn't keep Ray from putting Margo on the line.
"The reason I ask is that some of us got to talking, and we think you look a lot like Zoe Tarleton."
Zoe's heart started pounding. "I get that all the time," she said. "I'm sure Miss Tarleton would be horrified by the comparison. I'm definitely not her."
"Oh, we know that!" Ray chuckled. "Anybody can see you're not a famous movie star."
Zoe wasn't sure she liked being dismissed so quickly as a loser. But she didn't have time to chat about it with Ray. "Is Margo available?"
"Sure. I'll get her. But my associates and I were talking, and you would make a perfect look-alike. Have you ever thought of creating a role for yourself as a Zoe Tarleton impersonator?"
"Not really." Zoe glanced at the door to the food mart. If Flynn shopped fast, he could be out any minute. "Listen, I don't have a lot of time, so if you could get Margo, I would appreciate—"
'Certainly. I'll be happy to flag her down. But back to this impersonation idea—we're in the market for tourist attractions in Long Shaft. I think Hollywood look-alikes are a viable concept, don't you?"
"Ray, I really do need to talk to Margo."
"How did you know my name was Ray?"
"Margo told me." And she also mentioned that you got lucky recently, but let's not go into that.
"Oh. Anyway, here's Margo. Please think about the impersonation idea. Even though you're pretending to be someone else, it's still an honest way to make a living." His implication was clear. As opposed to being a prostitute.
Torn between laughter and frustration, Zoe massaged her temples. She shouldn't have gone to the diner, but she'd been so damned hungry.
"Hello?" Margo sounded uncertain. She probably didn't remember the Vera Parsons name switch.
Or had Zoe remembered to tell her? Life was getting way too complicated. "Margo, it's me, Zoe. I found out the name of the hotel in Chicago. It's ..." She saw Flynn coming out of the food mart. "Shit."
"The hotel is named Shit? What is that, some Asian chain?"
"Sheraton. On Lake Shore Drive," Zoe murmured. "Gotta go." Snapping her phone closed, she tucked it back in her purse.
Flynn climbed in the car and tossed a plastic grocery bag into the backseat. "So you decided to call Trace after all?"
"No, I... uh, called my mother."
"That's nothing to be ashamed about. When I came out you put the phone away like I'd caught you doing something wrong. I believe in checking in with moms. I call home every couple of weeks."
Zoe felt like such a rat for getting into this cloak-and-dagger business. A guy who called home every couple of weeks wasn't the type to be hooked up with a stalker. Kristen was probably registered at the hotel and the bees were the work of a prankster who had no idea someone in the cabin was allergic.
"So where's home?" she asked, wanting to talk about normal things.
"A little mining town in Arizona." Flynn started the car. "You never would have heard of it. I grew up there. Mom runs a B and B and Dad stages mock gunfights for the tourists."
"Really?" Just as she'd never picture Flynn having a girlfriend, she'd never pictured him with interesting parents, either. "Was your dad an actor?"
"Nope. Miner. But the mine played out, and the town stayed alive through tourism, so my folks got into that. I can relate to the struggles here in Long Shaft. It's a similar situation." He made a U-turn at the end of the street, which wasn't difficult because no traffic was coming into town.
"Is the B and B one of those Victorian places with all the gingerbread?"
"Uh-huh. And my mom puts on a high-necked dress with a hoopskirt."
"I'd love to see that." She was suddenly taken with the idea of visiting Flynn's parents and looking at scrapbook pictures of him when he was a little boy. Maybe there would be one of him in his eggplant costume.
"My hometown would love to have you. You'd be the star attraction."
"I was thinking more along the lines of quietly sneaking in by the back."
Flynn glanced over at her. "Zoe, I don't think that's your destiny." He found a parking space in front of the Long Shaft Trading Post. "I have one more stop to make. I want to buy a flashlight."
"In case Bigfoot shows up again?"
"Right. I'll be back in no time.''
"Okay." After he left, Zoe pulled out her cell phone again and called the diner. This time she was in luck Margo answered.
"Margo, it's me. Did you call yet?"
"I called. She's not there, Zoe."
Chapter Fifteen
Flynn had been so intent on getting a flashlight that he temporarily forgot that Jeff worked at the trading post and Luanne had asked to be dropped off there. He remembered both things when he spotted Luanne sitting on the floor over by the magazine rack, an open copy of People on her lap. She was so engrossed she didn't look up.
He was free to study the rest of the store, which turned out to be a bewildering combination of snack food, junk jewelry, discounted CDs and videos, T-shirts and sweatshirts, plastic toys, and souvenir mugs. It could have been a truck-stop convenience store anywhere in the country except for the overriding theme of Bigfoot. Flynn spotted some of the same merchandise he'd seen in the Sasquatch Diner.
"Hey, dude!" Jeff appeared from around the end of an aisle featuring stuffed versions of Sasquatch in varying sizes. "Welcome to the Long Shaft Trading Post. We're all Bigfoot, all the time."
"I can see that." Flynn glanced around, not finding what he'd come in for. "I need a flashlight, but you might not carry—"
"Oh, but we do, we do! Walk this way." Lumbering along in a great imitation of a Sasquatch, Jeff disappeared around the end of the same aisle.
Flynn followed him and came upon an aisle of camping supplies. Only these weren't ordinary camping supplies. All of them had been molded, stamped, or otherwise branded with the image of Bigfoot.
Sleeping bags were covered in fur and had huge fake feet sticking out the end. Tents had oversize footprints all over them. Supports for a camp stove were made of metal painted to look like two hairy legs with oversize feet.
"Who manufactures all this stuff?" Flynn had never been camping in his life, but if he could camp with this gear, he'd consider it. What a hoot.
"Some dude in San Francisco. I think he did a lot of LSD back in the sixties, so he's kind of whacked. But he inherited a bunch of money and he's having fun with it, like designing Bigfoot camping gear. He doesn't even, like, care if we sell it. Every once in a while he drives over to look at it on the shelves. He nods and smiles and goes away again."
Flynn walked up and down the aisle, finding new treasures by the second. He'd also been around Hollywood long enough to know this kind of crazy merchandise might catch on.
"What you need is a write-up in the LA Times," he said. "I can imagine this becoming the next new thing, with people making a pilgrimage to Long Shaft to buy a Bigfoot sleeping bag."
"Are you serious?" Jeff walked over and stroked the fur on a rolled-up sleeping bag. "Could you, like, make that happen?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe." Flynn had a soft spot in his heart for struggling little mining towns. "I'm not in the cool crowd, so I can't promise anything, but I know a few people." Like the one sitting out in the car right now. "When I get
back I could see if anybody's excited about the concept."
"That would be awesome, dude." Jeff gazed at him with reverence. "Because I don't know if you noticed, but this town is in trouble."
Flynn nodded. "I noticed. So where are the flashlights?"
"Right here!" Jeff lunged forward and plucked a statue of Bigfoot from a shelf. "Wa-la!" As he twisted the feet, light poured from Bigfoot's open mouth.
"Excellent." Flynn took the flashlight and twisted the feet to make the mouth light up. Apparently the kid who had craved toys like this was still alive and kicking inside him. "Tell you what, I'll take a sleeping bag, too, so people can see what I'm talking about."
It was the best excuse he could come up with to justify buying something he wanted anyway. He wasn't even sure what he'd do with it, but he couldn't leave the store without having one.
"Outstanding." Jeff tucked a sleeping bag under one long arm and started up toward the cash register. "Syd, that's my boss, is gonna be, like, doing the bunny hop in the aisles when I tell him about this."
"Maybe you should hold off." Flynn hated to get anyone's hopes up and not deliver. "I could be wrong. Like I said, I'm not one of the cool people."
"I know."
Flynn wished Jeff hadn't said that so quickly.
"But I don't think you're wrong," Jeff added. "You look like you have your shit together, with your cell phone and everything. If you think that LA people would go for this, I believe you." He plopped the sleeping bag on the counter. "I can give you a discount on your purchases because you're local."
"We're only renting for the weekend."
"That's good enough for me." As Jeff keyed in the sale, Luanne appeared at the counter.
"Tony, tell me you're not buying one of those mangy sleeping bags."
"Sis, I'm warning you. Back off." Jeff punched the last button and the receipt started printing. "We're executing a transaction here."
By the time Jeff finished lecturing his sister, Flynn remembered his name was supposed to be Tony. "You don't like the sleeping bags?" he asked.
Luanne rolled her eyes. "No offense, but I think they're dorky. I mean, what's the point in Bigfoot anyway? Is Bigfoot cute? No. Does he run around fighting bad guys like Spider-Man? No. Bigfoot is plain useless if you ask me, which nobody ever does."
Gone With the Nerd Page 16
