"Your whipping boy. You were rude to Roy in the restaurant. I don't know why you were fighting but—"
"He's knifing my show!"
"I don't care. You were rude. You behaved dreadfully. Then you were ashamed and you tried to take it out on me. Is that your kind of love? Hurtful? Hateful?" She began to tremble.
"Yes, it is. I'm not going to apologize. I told you last night ... you open me up. I look at you and my guts come out. If part is poison, I can't hide it. And I don't give a damn. I earn my living in a lying rat-race. There has to be honesty between us or what's the use?"
"Not this kind. This isn't honesty. It's—"
"I'm being honest," Lennox insisted savagely. "I can fake a romance with a woman any time, but I don't want faking between us. There wasn't any last night, Gabby. Not from me. Don't hand me that revenge routine. I didn't have any illusions. You were too good for me to imagine that I was the first—"
She slapped his mouth with all her strength, and raised her hand to slap him again. Lennox caught her wrist and twisted it down.
"Bitch!" he shouted.
She burst into tears. "What are you doing to me?" she cried in desperation. "What are you making me do? Look at us ... fighting like this. It's horrible. But you like it, don't you? You want us to hurt each other. Don't you?"
His heart constricted. "No. For God's sake. No. I—" He looked around. People were staring. Behind them, a chef at a window grill was gaping through the plate glass. There was no taxi in sight; no hiding place. There was an empty delivery truck parked at the curb. Lennox took Gabby across the sidewalk, opened the truck door and forced her into the driving cab. He got in himself and slammed the door. Gabby was crying without control. He was shamed and elated.