“Aw, too bad,” Zach said, a smile breaking out across his face. “I heard the paella is killer. I’d hate to have to go somewhere else.”
“Oh, it’s so good!” The server smiled. “No, don’t go anywhere else. The drinks are mad good too, while you wait. I promise we’ll keep you happy.” She stepped just a fraction closer, and Harper bit her lip. Ugh. Of course.
“Oh, I have no doubt.” Zach reached out as if he was going to touch her arm and pulled back at the last second. He examined her nametag. “Luna? I’m Zach.” He stuck out his hand, and she took it, her smile even bigger now. “Nice to meet you. Actually, we have a special reservation with Chef Silvana. Zach Taylor and Harper Grainger.”
“Oh, of course! She told me to expect you. Come on back.” She touched his arm. “I’m so excited that you’re going to feature us on your site. Everyone’s ready to help or be in pictures or whatever you want.” She smiled up into his face as they walked to the back of the restaurant, Harper following behind.
“Well, Harper’s going to direct the pictures.” Zach half-turned to include her, but the server only gave a cursory smile to Harper before turning her pretty face and cleavage toward him, a sunflower greeting her god.
“So cool. Awesome.”
Meeting Chef S. was exciting, and the pictures Harper got were good: Clear, crisp, full of vibrant colors and sharp angles, softened by smiles and soft focus just every now and then. She wanted her pictures to match the mood of the restaurant: Bold and eclectic, proud and unapologetic, classy and angry, but with the softer edges of culture and grace, of exotic spices and hope. This was a place favored for not just the food but the way the chef interacted with the local neighborhood, the city of Phoenix as a whole, and the way she was a stubborn anchor point for showcasing the beauty of Mexican culture and the strength of women.
Later, invited to stay for a complimentary meal, Zach and Harper stood in the lobby, waiting for a table to clear up. Luna sidled up and put her hand on Zach’s arm. “I have a few people waiting, but for you, I’m going to slip you in.” She giggled.
“I’d be delighted if you could slip me in.” His voice was low and flirtatious, and Harper wanted to say, “Get a room.” Except he probably was going to get one, later, with Luna. That thought made her feel ill and anxious; she’d been the one to call them just friends, but the truth was that she still wanted him with every fiber of her body, and felt unjustifiably jealous.
Harper supposed she should be grateful that Zach could charm his way into first-class service with his body and his smile, but all it did was make her feel superfluous and pissed, at him and at the world in general.
She slid her camera out of the bag. She had her 50mm lens attached, one that could work in very low light, like here in the restaurant. Feeling the smooth body of the instrument calmed her instantly, and when she slid the lens cap into her bag and lifted the camera up to adjust dials, she took a deep breath.
This was better. Now she was a documentarian, not an observer. Now her invisibility was a bonus, not a liability. Now being on the fringes was the plan, not the disappointment, and she stepped back into the foyer to observe and look for her marks, a hunter, intent, confident, complete.
She had plenty of shots from earlier, when she and Zach had met with Chef Silvana herself; of the kitchen, the exterior, and the amazing graffiti mural art on the walls and alleys outside the place. But those were staged, and although she loved them, there was a unique challenge to this, the action shot. Capturing a moment out of a million others, knowing which one would look good immortalized, finding the light and the players and the background—it was like chess. And it was a drug.
And when Zach came up and touched her arm, said they had a table, she just nodded and kept going. “I’m going to go out back again and catch the murals with this couple,” she told him in an undertone. “They agreed to be in the article and will sign my release. I love their urban look.”
Zach nodded. “I’ll get you a drink. What do you want?”
“Red wine. A pinot of some kind. You pick.” She led the young couple outside, and it was at least an hour before she returned, face flushed with heat and exuberance, back to her original confidence.
As she stepped inside the door, the cooler air swirled around her, and the smell of garlic and food was familiar, now that this was her second time inside. Luna was bending over beside Zach, accepting his business card, it looked like, or exchanging information on phones. Zach’s hand was on her arm, and it was definitely a “fuck you later” kind of vibe. Any woman could see immediately the difference between desire and polite deference, the way need flashed in someone’s eyes and came out in their very gestures, and the way disinterest didn’t.
She swallowed. It sort of sucked, to see Zach constantly hitting on women, especially after that kiss. And their night together, which wasn’t really a night together, but had felt intimate in a way that had nothing to do with sex. It felt… wrong, made her upset. She didn’t think she really had a right be upset, but nevertheless, she was.
She slid into her seat, noticing the passage of time from his empty wineglass and the look on his face. “Sorry I took so long. Pictures just take time, sometimes. You understand. Anyway, they’re for you, probably, so we all benefit.” She placed the camera onto the tabletop and patted it.
He raised an eyebrow. “I was ready to send out the search party. In fact, I did come out back to check on you, saw that you were busy, and went back in.”
“You did? I didn’t notice.”
“You were really wrapped up in what you were doing.” He nodded to her glass. “Your wine has had plenty of time to air.”
“Thank you for keeping the bugs out of it.” She grinned and raised the glass. “Oh, this is good.”
He smiled. “And the paella is almost ready, I assume.”
She glanced around the room. “Oh, look at the way the light from the fixtures gleams on that woman’s hair. See how she’s leaning into her date? I love that.” She lifted the camera and snapped. “It’s so intimate and yet so public, and the light is like a spotlight, accentuating their sense of solitude in this crowd. It’s perfect.”
“I thought you said that about the last thousand shots you took.” His voice was wry.
“Yes, yes, whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s perfect, they’re all perfect. I need a million perfect shots to find the absolutely most perfect ones for the article. The more I have to choose from, the better it will be.”
“I thought the phrase was,” he cleared his throat, “less is more.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not always. Sometimes less is not enough. Sometimes less means nothing worthwhile.” She glanced away, picked up the camera, and took a few pictures.
“Harper.” He put a hand on her arm. “Listen. Can you put the camera down for a few minutes?”
“Sure.” She set it on the table and looked at him, expectant. “What’s up?”
He shook his head and laughed. “No. I mean, can you put it away for the night.”
“Away?” She frowned. “But I’m taking pictures.”
“Yeah, I know. Constantly.” He gave her a rueful grin.
“Zach, it’s my job, remember? The one you hired me to do?”
“I hired you,” he said, his voice slightly taut, “to take amazing pictures of the resort, and a few of Phoenix landmarks, for a blog post. I think you got enough of those by now.”
“I have lots of great shots. But I want to get another close-up of the dessert when it comes and I love the way the lights reflect off the windows. I want to get a shot of that because it’s just so lovely. And I have this idea in my mind, that maybe I’ll see a perfect pair of diners. I hope that someone leans into his girlfriend, and they’re both slim and elegant and lovely, and I’ll catch a side view, but not their faces—”
“Stop!” He held up his hand, laughing, but not in amusement. “You’re like an addict.”
She frowned, her joy dissi
pating. “Zach, that’s out of line.”
“Look around you.” He leaned in, his voice earnest. “Nobody else is so obsessed, even the crazy millennials with their constant selfies. Please, Harper, just shut off the camera for one hour.”
She blinked. “I’m sorry if I’m embarrassing you, Zach. My bad,” she snapped at him. “Let me put it away right this second.” She flipped open the camera bag, recapped the lens, and laid the tool softly down in place between the padded barriers. Her stomach flipped with nerves and she felt like crying.
“You’re not embarrassing me, and it wouldn’t matter if you were.” He shook his head. “It’s more that… When you’re taking pictures, you’re not present.” He hesitated. “Or you’re only present in little snatches of time, here and there, in between pictures. And I was hoping, I guess, that we could actually enjoy this dinner. Talking to each other face to face, not through your lens. Friends. Like you wanted.”
Her face was hot and her heart raced. She felt the words tumble around, and her body stiffened up. “I don’t think that’s really fair, Zach. We talk a lot, okay? Don’t we? So what if I take pictures?”
“What if I was on my phone every other second? Wouldn’t that bother you?”
“No.”
“It wouldn’t? What if we were talking, and I kept saying, ‘Oh, just a sec, hold that thought,’ and did stuff on my phone. All the time. That wouldn’t frustrate you even a little bit?”
“It’s not the same.” She snapped the words, frustrated with her inability to explain. “The phone is just a tool. It’s work, it’s business, it’s whatever. My camera, it’s like, part of my body. It’s my soul.”
He rolled his eyes. “That may be, but you are using it as a distraction and honestly, I find it a little offensive.”
“Well, you know what’s offensive?” She crossed her arms. “The fact that you flirt with every fucking girl around. The greeter girl. The server. The way you looked at her ass. I know you’re probably going to fuck her later, okay? You know what? You use sex as your own distraction, Zach. No, you do! Let me finish. You do. You’re constantly scoping out women and sizing them up and fitting them into your schedule for a temporary fling. And don’t you think that’s offensive to me? I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m perfectly valuable as a dinner partner and a friend and a whatever. But you keep looking around and finding other people who are worth more of your time. So no wonder I’m always picking up my camera.”
She stared at her plate, appetite completely gone, feeling sick. “I hate fighting. Why are you fighting with me?” she pleaded, knowing it was maybe unfair to blame it all on him.
“I’m not fighting with you.” But his raised voice didn’t agree with his words.
“You are. You want my full attention because you can’t stand it when a woman doesn’t fawn all over you and toss her panties at your head.”
“That’s not true!” Heads turned, and he lowered his voice. “Now that’s totally unfair, Harper. Do you really think I’m that unprofessional?”
“You’re fine when you’re not being a dick.” She shook her head. “But out in public, when you’re not work-Zach, and you’re regular Zach, it’s different. Or times like this, when I’m sure what you are, whether you’re work-Zach or regular friend-Zach or something else. That’s when it gets weird.”
He swallowed. “I don’t like that you assume things about me because of my sex life, Harper.”
“Well, I don’t like that you assume things about me because of my photography life.”
“For the record, I don’t even sleep with as many people as you think.”
“I don’t care how many it is.”
“I mean, I’m not with someone new every night.” He sounded mad. “And I don’t take advantage, Harper. If I spend the night with someone, it’s absolutely mutual and we part with respect and no hard feelings. I make it clear upfront about expectations, and she does, too. And it’s not someone new every night. That is an unfair, gross exaggeration.”
“It’s not about the absolute number, Zach. It’s the attitude.”
“What do you mean, the attitude?”
She shrugged. “Just—like you’re spending your free time looking for a hookup and you’re not interested in getting to know someone on a personal level if they’re not a potential sex partner. Even if you don’t plan to hook up? The fact that you’re constantly scoping and watching, it’s really irritating. I hate it.”
“That’s the vibe you get from me?” He seemed incredulous, angry, surprised.
“Maybe.”
“Well, fuck, Harper. You know what? You know what your vibe is? If it can’t be photographed, it’s worthless. People are only valuable to you insofar as their photogenicity.”
“That’s not a real word. And that is so not true. It’s not!” She wasn’t sure if she was pleading with him or with herself.
They both fell silent. She chewed dry skin on her lip and glowered at the wine. He sat stiff, gazing off out the window.
CHAPTER 15
F inally, he turned back, his voice formal. “I apologize for what I said. It was out of line. I’m grateful you’re taking pictures for my company, and I shouldn’t have commented on your attitude.”
She shook her head.
“Harper, I swear, I am sorry.” He sounded genuine. “I want to be your friend, and I hate knowing that I hurt you just now. That was absolutely not my intent. I only wanted to point out—you know, let me just leave it at I’m sorry.”
“Fine.” She didn’t look at him. “I think I’d like to go back to the hotel.”
He nodded. “I’ll call an Uber.”
They stood apart for a minute, waiting, and suddenly the cute man she’d bumped into in the lobby approached her. They’d exchanged a smile, then he’d introduced himself, and there had been a tiny flicker of interest. Then she’d gone out back to take pictures of that couple by the art wall, and forgotten about him. But now he was back.
“Hey, hi,” he began. “We met earlier.”
He was handsome, tall with dark hair, and although he lacked the driving intensity of Zach, he had the looks that drew her in at first glance.
“Hi.” She smiled back, encouraged at Zach’s scowl. “Harper, remember?”
“I do.” He gave her a charming grin. “So I don’t know how long you’re in town, but do you want exchange numbers?”
“Sure.” She allowed him to send his info to her phone. “Mike, right?”
He looked pleased. “Yup. It was great to meet you. Hope to talk to you soon.”
He waved and took off with his friends, one of them giving him a good-natured shove and a comment that had them all laughing.
Standing outside, on the pavement with glowing, chattering people, all black eyelashes and lilting laughter and expensive cologne, she felt isolated and small. Beside her, Zach was quiet.
They didn’t say a word until they walked down the gravel path to the cottage, and then he finally spoke.
His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat. “Maybe you have a point about me. Maybe I do tend to focus too much on momentary pleasure, and miss opportunities to get to know people as friends. Okay? Lately, I can see… maybe you’re not as wrong as I wanted to think.”
“What?” Of all the things he could say, this was the least likely.
“And maybe I’d get more out of life if I did try to connect with people, even with no expectation or even the possibility of a liaison.”
“Zach.” At his admission, all the anger drained away and she was flooded with guilt. “I should not have said that. I’m really sorry. It’s not my place, not at all. I was out of line, too.”
“No, it’s all right. But if I’m being honest, can you be honest, too? Do you think there’s even a small chance that you, just sometimes, use your camera as a barrier, too, to avoid intimacy?” His eyes met hers evenly. “The way I brought it up was shitty, I recognize that. But it’s honestly something I was thinking, and wit
h another friend, like a guy friend or something, I would have said it. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I wanted to ask.”
“Zach, how should I know? I’m no psychiatrist. All I know is that I feel better when the camera is in my hands. I feel like I belong places. If I have the camera, I feel safe, okay? Is that so bad?”
“It’s not bad,” he said. “Just, maybe, you might enjoy yourself more. Well, in a different way.”
“You think I should hook up more, like you do?” The words came out half snapped, half laughed.
He shook his head, but then tilted it. “Not hook up for the sake of hooking up, no. But maybe get to know people without the camera. Maybe more hookups would be a good start. I don’t really know what I’m saying. I’m going to make you angrier.”
“No, I’m not angry anymore.” She wasn’t mad, maybe thoughtful, melancholy. “But you know that you’d be asking me to change something fundamental about my personality. I don’t think it comes that easily. If at all.”
“I suppose not,” he said. “But your critique of me, that’s a sort of integral change, too, isn’t it? In how I relate to people and the world? It would be just as difficult for me to adjust that about myself.”
“I guess the ultimate point is whether any of us want to change,” she said slowly. “I mean, if I’m happy taking pictures all the time, why would I change for you?”
His face looked flushed. “It wouldn’t be for me, though, Harper. I was only suggesting it because I—well, I like you. I offer advice to my friends.”
“Your friends must love you.” She mimicked him. “Don, you’re great and all, but let me tell you all the ways you suck.”
He laughed. “I guess I’m lucky that my friends and I can be blunt as fuck and still get along.”
“Well, my advice for you wasn’t to make me happier. I just figured, maybe you’d get more out of life, too. Okay? My advice was offered in a friendly way, too. A very pissed off, adversarial yet ultimately friendly fashion.” She grinned, then it faded. “I guess you might have a very small point. Very small,” she emphasized when he smiled. “It is possible that a very small percentage of the time, I possibly take pictures to avoid social situations. But it’s really all tied up in my love for photography, too, so it’s impossible to extricate, you know?”
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