by Julie Fison
That’s when Georgia noticed something. It wasn’t Nik watching her bathe in his fountain. It was worse than that.
When Georgia had visited the house the day before, it had been locked, but welcoming – outdoor furniture around the pool, shoes by the front door, tennis balls on the court. Today, the whole place was shut up. Security grilles across the windows and doors.
Georgia banged on the front door, calling, ‘Nik! Nik!’ But there was no answer.
She rang the door buzzer and banged some more. Then she shouted some more. No-one answered. Apparently Nik had taken her advice. He was gone. Georgia got back on her bike and sobbed all the way home.
The next day it rained. Georgia felt like the sky was crying on her behalf. She was aware that this was a self-indulgent way to look at the world, but she couldn’t help it – she was miserable. Georgia was so depressed about Nik’s disappearance that she was tempted to wallow in bed for the day, but she knew that a run would be the best way to clear her head and get the endorphins going, so she reluctantly dragged herself out of bed.
Heavy rain splattered Georgia’s face as she pushed up the hill to the Boiling Pot lookout. Even by rainy-day standards it was quiet in the park. She passed only three other runners on the way to the lookout. By the time she reached Granite Bay, there was not another person in sight.
Georgia tried to concentrate on the track. It was slippery and she needed to focus, but her mind was full of Nik. Their time behind the waterfall was burned into her brain. The way he touched her, the way he held her, every moment playing over and over in her head. But every time she replayed it, she couldn’t help but remember her last words to him: Leave me alone.
Georgia really needed to be watching the slippery ground, but all she could see was Nik. For every rock Georgia noticed, she missed another. She was almost at Hell’s Gates when she drifted into another daydream and stumbled on a rock. She slammed into the mud, face first.
As she picked herself up, she noticed a guy in a red T-shirt, standing at the lookout just where Nik had once been. For a moment Georgia thought it was Nik, there to surprise her again, but although the man was still a hundred metres away, she could tell it wasn’t.
The man turned in Georgia’s direction and started walking towards her. Was he a kind stranger coming to help her out of the mud? Georgia had no reason to think otherwise – this was Noosa National Park after all, not the Bronx. But she had a feeling that something wasn’t right, and as soon as that thought hit her, she realised she was alone out there. It was just Georgia, the stranger and the rain. If she got into trouble, no-one would hear her scream. The words of a police officer who had visited her school flashed into her mind. If your gut instinct tells you something isn’t right, go with it. Get out of there.
Georgia watched the man for another moment as she got to her feet and then she turned her back on him, her face stinging from the fall, her gut churning like a washing machine, and she ran. She pounded back past Granite Bay, the rain getting heavier. A trickle of blood mingled with the rainwater running down her shin. Georgia glanced around and saw the man was behind her, running at a steady pace.
Georgia’s shoes were sodden. She had tried to avoid the puddles on the track on the way out to Hell’s Gates, but now she ploughed straight through them. She kept her eyes down. She had to focus on the potholes. She had to keep ahead.
Georgia never wondered even for a second if she was making the whole drama up – if she had turned a fellow runner into a rapist because he was out on a rainy morning. Her mind was full of fear. She knew she had to get out of the park to get away from this man.
Georgia was halfway along the track, just metres from where the dirt path gave way to concrete, when she glanced around again, snatching a look at her pursuer. But as she did so, her feet stumbled over a rock, and she fell to the ground again. Desperately she scrambled in the mud, trying to get to her feet. The man got closer. His body thundered forward and his face came into view. His eyes weren’t those of a friendly stranger there to help her. They were the eyes of someone who could hurt her.
He was just a few metres away from her when he spoke. ‘Do you need a hand?’ he said.
Georgia stared at the guy – trying to make sense of his words. Was he a rapist or was he actually trying to help? Georgia was beginning to think she had misread his intentions all along. She was going insane. The whole thing with Nik had done her head in! Was it possible that sex had rewired her brain?
Georgia shook her head and got to her feet. ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she said, taking off down the path. She didn’t look back again. She kept her eyes on the ground and she ran. Past Tea Tree Bay, empty save a few soggy seagulls, past Boiling Pot lookout, where no-one was watching the sea being sucked through the blowholes. Then out of the national park, where she finally saw a few brave joggers stretching and chatting before their run. Georgia started to feel normal again. She turned to look for the man in the red T-shirt, but by then he was gone.
Georgia walked the short distance from the national park back to the apartment. She had no energy to run. The few people who were on the boardwalk, dashing to cafes for breakfast, stared at her as she trudged past.
Their faces were nothing compared to the reaction Georgia got when she walked into the apartment. Her family was eating breakfast. Her mum gasped as she slunk into the kitchen. ‘Georgia, honey, what happened?’ she said, jumping up.
Georgia caught sight of her reflection in the fridge door. She really did look a mess – mud on her face, her knees and legs, a graze on her cheek, her clothes and hair soaking. Even though the grazes were very minor, the blood had dispersed with the rain so that she was covered in it, making it look much worse than it was.
‘I fell in the park. It’s just a graze. I’m fine, really.’
‘You don’t look too good,’ her mum said.
‘It’s okay,’ Georgia replied, heading for the bathroom. ‘Just a shock. I’ll look better after a shower.’
She ducked out of the kitchen and headed for the bathroom before her mother could ask any more questions.
Georgia stepped out of the shower and was inspecting the graze on her cheek in the bedroom mirror when her sister walked in.
‘What’s going on?’ Alice asked, leaning on the doorframe. ‘You look really weird.’
The shower had refreshed Georgia, but she was still a mess. Her shin was running with blood.
‘I freaked myself out – I thought someone was following me in the park,’ Georgia whispered, hoping to keep the news from her mum.
‘Does he drive a Ferrari, too?’ Alice said.
Georgia immediately regretted sharing with Alice. ‘What?’ she asked.
‘Seems like everyone you hang out with drives a Ferrari,’ her sister replied.
‘What are you talking about?’ Georgia snapped.
‘I saw you the other day in a Ferrari. With Nik,’ Alice gloated.
‘You’re a real stalker,’ Georgia fired back. There was no point denying anything. Alice had obviously been spying when she returned with Nik, but Georgia didn’t want to hear his name and she didn’t want to talk about Ferraris, especially not with her sister.
‘Do you think Nik could take me for a ride sometime?’ Alice asked, completely ignoring Georgia’s tone.
‘No,’ she replied shortly. Georgia had no idea about Nik’s view on passengers, but she was angry with him and she took it out on Alice. ‘Alice, why don’t you get your own life? Butt out of mine. And stay away from Nik Morozov, too!’
As soon as the words were out, Georgia knew she had made a mistake.
‘Nik who?’ Alice asked.
Georgia could have kicked herself. Regardless of accidentally blurting Nik’s real name, it wasn’t at all like Georgia to say something like that. It was also completely redundant. Nik had disappeared, anyway.
‘Nothing,’ Georgia replied, pushing past her. ‘Just get out of my face!’
‘Georgia!’ her mother said, arri
ving to witness the end of the fight. ‘Don’t speak to your sister like that!’
‘Some freak followed her in the park,’ Alice announced. ‘I’d ban her from the park for the rest of the holidays.’
Georgia shot her sister a black look. But she didn’t dare say anything. Alice could easily pull out the Ferrari card if she really wanted to cause trouble. She was obviously keeping that one in her hand, ready for the next round.
‘What?’ her mum gasped. ‘Georgia, what’s going on?’
‘It was nothing, Mum,’ Georgia said, trying to smooth things over. ‘Really. Just some guy in the park. I thought he was following me – but he was just going for a run. Apparently I’m not the only one who runs in the rain.’
‘Well, that’s not for you to decide,’ her mother said. ‘You need to go to the police.’
‘Mu-um,’ Georgia groaned.
‘Georgia, you’ve got a responsibility. What if he’s dangerous?’
Georgia sighed. ‘He’s not dangerous, Mum.’
‘Let the police be the judge of that,’ her mum replied.
Alice was still smirking as Georgia left the apartment.
It was almost lunch by the time Georgia dawdled her way to the police station. The cute police officer was on duty when she arrived and he greeted her like an old friend, which seemed like a good thing at first – she thought she might have to explain the whole embarrassing ordeal to a crusty old officer.
‘Did he touch you at all?’ he asked after Georgia had gone through everything and made it clear that she was only at the police station because she had an overprotective mother.
Georgia shook her head. ‘He didn’t touch me.’
‘Did he try to harm you in any way?’ he asked.
‘No, I skinned my knees when I fell over,’ she said, lifting a knee to show off her injury. ‘And I grazed my face, too. But that was more due to the slippery path than the guy following me.’
‘Mmm,’ the officer nodded. He assessed the graze above her right eye before taking down some notes. Georgia was feeling increasingly silly about agreeing to report the guy.
‘Did he say anything?’ the officer asked.
‘He did.’ Georgia nodded. The officer waited expectantly, pen poised.
She drew a deep breath as she mentally went back over the exact details of her fall and the way the man had spoken as she tried to get to her feet. ‘He said … Do you need a hand?’
She blushed as she said it. It sounded even more stupid out loud than it had in her head. Even when the guy said it, it seemed slightly unsettling. But now she just looked like a time-waster.
‘Do you need a hand?’ the officer repeated with a slight smile. ‘That could be interpreted in several ways and we’ll certainly investigate this incident, thoroughly. But do you think he was just asking you … if you needed a hand?’
Georgia rolled her eyes. ‘That’s a plausible interpretation,’ she smiled, trying to hide her embarrassment. ‘Sorry. I’m only here because my mother insisted I come.’
‘Oh, really?’ the cute officer replied with a cheeky grin as he finished off the paperwork.
Georgia’s face went bright red. She could tell this guy thought she’d come here to see him.
‘So, do you like Thai food?’ the officer asked.
‘Um. Sometimes,’ Georgia mumbled.
‘Excellent!’ the officer replied. ‘Listen, I hope this doesn’t seem unprofessional, but would you like to have lunch with me? There’s a new restaurant – at Sunshine Beach, ten minutes away. They do an awesome pad thai and a jungle curry that’ll blow your head off. I knock off for lunch in a minute. What do you think?’
Georgia was so startled by the invitation she actually had no time to think of an excuse not to go. ‘Now?’ she asked vacantly.
‘Yep!’ the officer said. ‘I’ll just get my keys.’
Before Georgia actually realised what was happening, she was sitting in the front seat of a black sedan, on her way to lunch with a surfboard and a guy who went by the name of Squid. She was still in love with Nik, recovering from an encounter with a stalker who wasn’t actually a stalker, and not at all in the mood for a date. But she was definitely on one. Apparently not all guys were like Nik and needed hours of gentle coaxing to get around to their first date.
‘So, Squid,’ Georgia said, as they pulled up at the restaurant and she tried to extricate herself from the car without damaging his surfboard or losing an eye. ‘I guess you’re into surfing.’
‘You mean there’s something else to be into? Apart from babes, of course,’ he winked at Georgia.
‘Guess not.’ She forced a smile and followed him inside.
For the next forty-five minutes Georgia and Squid shared the hottest jungle curry she’d ever tasted. She couldn’t even attempt the spicy beef salad – it had more chillies than beef. She also endured a lively monologue on surfing and girls’ arses and how the two things were interconnected. Georgia was too busy trying to drown the fire in her throat to contribute much on either of Squid’s special-interest subjects, even if she’d been inclined to. But that didn’t seem to bother him. Far from having to tease Squid’s story out of him, Georgia was wondering how to stop it.
He paused only once to ask Georgia a question. ‘What size are you?’
‘Ummm, size eight,’ she replied, a little stunned.
‘That’s what I thought. Size ten’s my limit. I can’t stand a fat arse,’ he replied and got back to the beef salad.
Once that important detail had been cleared up, Squid got back to the topic of surfing, and arses that he’d seen while surfing. He was certainly a guy who knew what he liked.
As the conversation drifted up and down the beach breaks of Australia’s east coast, Georgia’s mind wandered back to her first date with Nik – how flattered she’d felt when Nik compared her to a painting.
Probably just to be insulting to Squid, she threw it into the conversation. ‘Do you know much about Pre-Raphaelite art?’ she said, right in the middle of a story about an epic day of surfing at Nobby’s.
Squid frowned. ‘What? Pre-what?’
Georgia sighed. ‘Never mind,’ she said. There was no point getting into a discussion about art with Squid. She was feeling quite sick by now, and it wasn’t just the fiery curries that had upset her stomach.
She couldn’t believe that she’d thought this guy was cute when they first met. Physically he was the complete package – a great face and a body to match. But when he opened his mouth, he spoiled everything. It had been a very long one-hour lunch and Georgia almost cheered when Squid finally announced that he had to get back to work.
‘Shame,’ Georgia said sarcastically.
‘I know,’ Squid said as they split the bill. ‘We’ve got so much in common – we could have gone on all night.’
Squid paused. Georgia could see his mind ticking over. She got to her feet and rushed out towards the car before he had a chance to continue. But that didn’t put him off.
‘So, I’ve been thinking,’ Squid said as they drove back to Noosa. ‘How about you come over to my place tonight? We can get a pizza, a few drinks, see where things go from there …’
Georgia looked out the window, struggling to stop herself from chucking. ‘Sorry, I’m kind of busy tonight, and possibly every other night over the holidays.’
‘Every night?’ Squid asked. ‘You can’t even spare one night? I’ll make it worth your while.’ He gave her a knowing look. ‘They don’t call me Squid for nothing.’
Georgia felt a bit of vomit pitch into her throat. She had assumed the Squid thing was a surfing-related nickname, not some perverted reference to his reputation in the bedroom. She didn’t want to think about his slimy tentacles anywhere near her.
‘Look, Squid, I’m sorry. I’m kind of involved with someone,’ she said, trying to end the discussion.
‘What?’ he said angrily.
‘I’m sorry, I should have said something earlier. We’ve just spl
it up. But I’m still mixed up. I’m not ready to start dating again.’
Squid seemed to fume for the rest of the drive, but as he pulled up at the police station, a smile had returned to his face. ‘You won’t be disappointed if you come over. Rebound sex is the best kind.’ He gave Georgia what he probably hoped was a smouldering look. But now when Georgia looked at him, his eyes seemed to be too far apart, his forehead too high and his skin suddenly looked clammy, now the aircon was off.
‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ Georgia said, getting out of the car, before Squid had a chance to try any moves on her.
‘I’ll give you a call when I’m less mixed up,’ she lied. ‘Thanks for lunch – it’s been very … enlightening.’
Georgia scurried out of the car park, and back towards the apartment. She could feel the jungle curry churning in her gut, threatening to reappear on the boardwalk. Was it possible she was allergic to chillies? Maybe. But Georgia suspected that mostly she was allergic to men.
Early the next morning, Nik discussed snow conditions with his friends as they rode the gondola at Aspen. There had been some early dumps and the slopes already had a good covering, but the runs were surprisingly quiet. The recent economic downturn across most of the world meant pretty much only Russians, Brazilians and Australians could still afford to ski in Aspen. Nik’s friends didn’t strictly fall into any of those categories – but Nik was paying.
Galen, a minor European royal, had gladly accepted Nik’s invitation to Aspen to get away from his disgrace in his home country. He’d just faced court for kicking a photographer and got slapped with a hefty fine.
‘That sucks, man,’ Zed commiserated. ‘The paparazzi deserves a good kicking.’
Nik laughed at that, not necessarily because he agreed (although he did hate the paparazzi), but because Zed – the moderately talented son of an English rock star – was on a good behaviour bond for punching a photographer. The unlucky snapper had needed twenty stitches and a new camera after Zed had finished with him.
