A Pretty Mess

by Carla Caruso

  And, oh boy, the view was worth the wait. Tanned, muscular, strong, garnished with a fine dusting of chest hair. It was a chest borne from physical labour, not a couple of rounds on the tennis court once a week like someone else she knew.

  Lenny leaned forward — his breath teasing her décolletage — and slowly, but surely, undid every one of the tiny red buttons lining the front of her cream-coloured dress. Her matching white underwear glowed in the moonlight, as did the slither of skin revealed. Outwardly, she appeared calm, but inside she was a writhing mess. She’d never wanted anybody so much.

  Gently, Lenny put a hand in the right cup of her bra, squeezing her breast. It was becoming hard to breathe.

  His voice was low and deep in her ear. ‘You know, maybe you should change your name to “Celeste Sexy”.’

  ‘Quit playing around,’ she ground out between pants.

  Mercifully, he did as asked, helping her out of her dress and under-things, before removing his own shorts — proof he was none too shabby in the downstairs department either. Protection was quickly sought, and then he plunged into her in a way that made her nails dig into his back and cry out for more. It had never been that way with Mitchell. And she got an encore.

  Long moments later, they lay, squashed together side-by-side on the sunlounger, skin-on-skin, his arm hooked behind her head. They watched the trees swaying in the wind and the pool water ruffling as they caught their breath.

  ‘You’re a hot mess, Celeste Pretty,’ he murmured in her ear, a teasing note to his voice.

  Sitting up, she ran a hand through her fringe and coyly looked over her shoulder, grateful that all her power-walking — intended or not — had granted her a pert behind. The way he looked at her also helped. ‘I think it’s time for that swim. You can join me if you like.’

  Then she got to her feet, padded to the edge of the pool, and dived in, the cool water at first a shock against her bare skin, then a welcome relief in the balmy night. Not long after, she heard a splash behind her and smiled.

  16.

  There was a ringing sound amid Celeste’s morning slumber, but she desperately tried to ignore it. The ringing seemed to get even louder. Celeste opened her eyes a crack, succumbing to the sunlight that had been piercing her lids with increasing intensity. Okay, so the view on her other side was worth the early morning wakeup call.

  Lenny, in all his naked glory, lay, with one arm bent behind his head, gently snoring, amid the tangle of white sheets. Sometime after their ‘swim’ — she used the term loosely — they’d made it to his king-sized bed. And clearly forgotten to shut the blinds in their feverish state. Which all still felt slightly surreal. At least the shrill of Celeste’s mobile hadn’t yet disturbed him.

  Scrambling to her feet, Celeste reached for her summer dress, wrapping it around her nakedness, and lunged for the phone. Betty-Lou, the screen screamed. Cripes. Celeste swiped the screen’s green arrow and tiptoed from the room before pressing the phone to her ear. It seemed the best solution under pressure.

  Instinct told Celeste to act as though everything was normal. She had to get her head around what had happened between her and Lenny first before she shared the information with anyone else, even her best friend.

  ‘Hi, BL. What’s going on?’ Celeste asked as quietly as wouldn’t appear suspicious, her voice still seeming to echo around Lenny’s airy kitchen. The city view from his house in the daylight was almost as awesome as that of waking up to his naked body. She didn’t know how to feel about herself tiptoeing around on his cool kitchen tiles in next to nothing the morning after. A small part of her knew she wouldn’t have been the first to do exactly that.

  ‘Nothing much is going on, unfortunately,’ Betty-Lou replied, sounding glum. ‘Just eating away my sorrows in the form of banana cake. I refuse to call it banana bread to try to make it sound healthy.’

  Shit. Betty-Lou’s blind date. Celeste had almost forgotten.

  ‘Oh, no. Mr IT wasn’t all he was cracked up to be?’

  ‘He was a total snooze! Like he doesn’t get enough computers at work. All he seems to do in his spare time, according to what he said, is play games on his stupid PC. And he doesn’t own a place either, he lives in a share house — at thirty-six — can you believe it? Luckily he has a housemate willing to take his gorgeous border collie for a walk. Oh, and his idea of top-notch chocolate? A multipack of fun-sized bars. And he calls himself a chocolate lover. To think I gave up having an early night for him. Such a shame, too, because he actually looked like his photo, which I know can be a rarity.’

  ‘I gather you won’t be seeing him again?’ Celeste asked mildly.

  The pfftt that echoed in her ear could have been heard in Celeste’s dad’s suburb. Oh, gosh — Dad. She’d almost forgotten about him and what had gone on, too. Plainly, Lenny’s bedroom magic had turned Celeste’s brain to mush.

  ‘What am I going to say to his mum when I see her at the next meeting?’ Betty-Lou shrieked.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. You’ll think of something by then.’ Celeste added jokingly, ‘Like what kind of son did she raise.’

  ‘Humph. Well, I guess my phone will still have to be my “life companion” for the moment, as Samsung calls it — maybe forever. You know how much it takes for me to even go on a date. It’s a real disappointment.’

  Betty-Lou sounded morose — once again, she and Celeste were on starkly different pages.

  ‘I know,’ Celeste offered quietly.

  There was a frown in Betty-Lou’s voice. ‘You know, you sound decidedly chipper for a neat-freak who’s had her messy dad crash at her place. Breaking up with Mitchell has obviously worked wonders for you.’

  Celeste could even see her face reddening in the reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows, so she looked away, grateful there were no nearby neighbours to catch her in a state of undress either. In light of Betty-Lou’s dud date, now wasn’t the time to spill about her turn of events since the breakup.

  ‘I guess it’s made me see a few things more clearly,’ she said, at last.

  Perhaps the events of yesterday — things ending with Mitchell, the debacle with her dad — had even been fated in some way. Throwing her and Lenny together. Could Lenny, in fact, be her perfect (non-tennis) match, as infuriating and arrogant as he could sometimes be? Deep down, she had often enjoyed their little jousts. Perhaps that clairvoyant triplet had been onto something.

  ‘How has the rest of your weekend with your dad been?’

  Now wasn’t the time to tell Betty-Lou about her dad and Cousin Dolores either. In fact, Celeste didn’t know if there’d ever be a good time. ‘Bearable. Just,’ she lied.

  ‘Even with the mass blackout and no television to numb the pain? I’m guessing your home has been hit, too? Bye-bye blistering heat and hello strong winds. Thank goodness I made that banana cake yesterday or I’d be dying of sugar cravings right about now.’

  ‘Blackout?’ Celeste echoed faintly. ‘Yes, yes, my place has been affected, too, unfortunately.’

  Cripes. Lenny’s predictions had been right then. A lot happened when you were cocooned in a self-sufficient love-nest for an evening. And it made sense why the after-dark light show had dimmed in the wee hours — Astonvale hadn’t just gone to sleep.

  ‘If only the blackout had come sooner,’ Betty-Lou pushed on, ‘the bar might have closed early, being only able to serve warm beer, and I could have had a good excuse to leave my date at the soonest opportunity. Anyway, should I drop around later? Bring some banana cake and help entertain your dad?’

  ‘No, no,’ Celeste said all too quickly, wanting to luxuriate in the love-nest a tad longer before she properly faced the real world again. ‘It’d just be boring for you at mine. Besides, I should really be thinking of it as quality time together for my dad and me.’ Lies, lies, lies. ‘Who knows when the power will be back on anyway and we can get back to things?’

  ‘All right. But you’re really missing out on good banana cake, I can tell
you.’

  After terminating the call, Celeste rested the phone on the sleek island bench, deciding she should really put her dress on, and lifted the fabric over her head. Just as she was pulling it down, she felt manly hands grab either side of her waist and gasped, terror and excitement tango-ing down her spine. This was closely followed by a surge of anxiety about her underarms being whiffy. And her lack of makeup and a blow-wave. Okay, and the prospect of facing Lenny in the daylight again.

  What if he thought she’d overstayed her welcome and was about to turn her around and show her the door? It was too much to bear.

  Hauling her dress over her hips, Celeste dragged in a breath and spun around of her own volition. His eyes were like dark whirlpools before her, giving nothing away. Immediately, she felt shy. Nervous.

  He cleared his throat, finally speaking. ‘Well, that was a waste of time.’

  ‘Sorry?’ she squeaked.

  ‘Getting dressed.’

  She was blushing again — she didn’t have to see her reflection. But a grumbling sound cut through the air before she could even think of trying to deflect her embarrassment with a cool sort of response. Good grief. Her stomach!

  His eyes creased at the corners as he smiled. ‘Worked up an appetite? I’ll take you out for breakfast.’

  She shook her head. ‘There’s been a mass blackout.’

  He lifted his eyebrows in an I-told-you-so fashion, though he didn’t say the words. ‘Don’t worry. I know where will be open. One of my favourite spots.’

  Maybe all of Lenny’s talk about shying away from commitment had been mere bluffing, or else why would he be taking her out for breakfast the morning after? She didn’t want to think too hard about it.

  ‘Sounds intriguing. I’ll just shower up first.’

  He winked. ‘But I like you all earthy and natural like that.’

  ‘Earthy?’ She raised both eyebrows. It wasn’t the kind of adjective she wanted to hear used in her vicinity.

  ‘At least let me come with you.’ Another wink. ‘You might need some help with the soap. Plus, I haven’t even kissed you hello yet.’

  Then she felt the roughness of his jaw scrape against her cheek before his heavenly mouth landed on hers. It was all it took to have her in a lather again. In this shower, she knew, she’d be singing on the inside.

  ‘I never would have guessed the Pancake Kitchen was a favourite of yours,’ Celeste said savouring another mouthful of her chosen breakfast dish: Jamaican Banana.

  It comprised two buttermilk pancakes, spread with caramelised banana pieces in a gooey banana sauce and topped with cream. Yes, more cream. She would definitely have to step up the power-walking routine, especially as she’d also skipped tennis, possibly never to return again.

  Lenny swallowed a forkful of his own breakfast option: Farmers Breakfast, whereby his pancakes jostled with fried eggs, whipped butter, hash browns and maple syrup. A virtual heart attack on a plate. ‘Hey, the place has been here since the ’sixties, it’s always open, and it’s not pretentious, which is just how I like it.’ He shrugged. ‘And I knew being in the city, it wouldn’t be in the blackout zone either.’

  ‘Good thinking, Ninety-nine,’ Celeste replied smoothly, as strange as it was to be sharing a booth with him — on a Sunday — amid the wooden panelling, cartoon-style wall portraits, and red leather seats. At the same time, she felt abuzz, alive, despite having had scant sleep.

  A trio of twenty-something blondes — their skimpy outfits suggesting they’d just left a nightclub — fell into the booth opposite, already deep in conversation. From Celeste’s stance, they may as well have been from an alien planet.

  Lenny leaned forward, lowering his voice for her benefit. ‘See those girls? Bet they’re gossiping about the poor fourth girl who couldn’t make it.’

  She poked her tongue out at him. ‘Very funny.’

  ‘So …’ Lenny took a slug of his coffee — black with one sugar. She wondered if he thought it was as good as the coffee from the Clooney-esque Nespresso machine she’d spied at his abode. ‘Have you worked out what you’re going to say to your dad yet?’

  Celeste’s fingers twisted in her hair. She’d towel-dried it that morning, scrunching it with some of Lenny’s gel for a natural, wavy sort of look. She would have kept a travel hairdryer in her Astra, but expensive items were out as its central locking system could be erratic. Even so, her bob, for once, looked okay fresh out of the shower. Maybe it was her post-coital glow. They’d left his house so quickly he hadn’t even let her make the bed. Perhaps he’d considered that as unnecessary as her pulling her dress back on earlier.

  ‘My dad? Not really,’ she said in answer. ‘To be honest, I don’t even want to think about it. About them.’

  ‘You’ll have to face him eventually,’ Lenny said quietly. ‘And when you think about it, he’ll be more embarrassed about things than you.’

  Celeste stabbed a banana slice with her fork. ‘It doesn’t make it any easier. If only I’d come home a little later last night … Oh, gosh! On second thoughts, that could have been worse.’

  Warm, slightly roughened fingers squeezed her hand on the table. Lenny’s. In an instant, she felt a smidge better. ‘No point thinking about what-ifs.’

  She breathed out through her nose and shook her head. ‘One day I suppose I might think it’s funny Dad crashed at my place because his air-conditioner broke down, but a blackout rendered mine useless anyway.’ Celeste wiped crumbs helplessly from the table. ‘Did I mention again how tacky Dolores is?’

  ‘Don’t be a snob,’ Lenny said mildly, lifting his hand from atop hers. ‘You haven’t said one thing about her character.’

  ‘Because there’s nothing nice to say,’ Celeste muttered, knowing she sounded childish. And a little mean even, considering the circumstances. She pushed aside her near-empty plate, no longer hungry, and reached inside her bag for her mini hand-sanitiser. Squirting some gel on, she rubbed her hands together, barely even thinking about what she was doing.

  Lenny raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t like getting your hands dirty?’

  ‘Not particularly.’

  ‘You know they have serviettes for that.’

  Celeste just shrugged.

  And just like that, the mood at their little table seemed to have shifted along with the cooling weather outside. And neither of them appeared to want to address the real question that hung in the air: where to from here for them?

  As a rip-roaring laugh erupted from one of the blondes at the adjacent booth, Lenny reached for the bill at the far corner of the table, his plate now clean. Maybe the party girls were more Lenny’s style. ‘I have an errand to run this morning, but I’ll drop you back at mine first on the way.’

  Celeste’s heart lifted again. It wasn’t the end for them just yet. He wanted to see more of her that day, too. She refrained from asking what the errand was. Didn’t want to sound like a jealous girlfriend. Likely it was just something dull and work-related or he would have shared the details. She’d heard him making a few hushed business-like calls before they’d left.

  ‘Sure—’ she began, the word ending in a hiccup. She slapped a hand to her mouth, suddenly feeling decidedly feral, sitting there in her day-old dress with her towel-dried ’do, belching.

  Lenny chuckled, resting his hands on the table and pushing himself to standing. ‘Need a glass of water?’

  She shook her head, swallowing another hiccup. ‘Just some fresh air, I think.’

  And perhaps an invisibility cloak.

  ‘You head out and I’ll get this sorted.’ He waved the bill.

  ‘Fine, but the next breakfast’s on me—hiccup!’

  ‘Really?’ The teasing glint was back in his eye. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

  It took Celeste several long minutes to figure out how Lenny’s high-tech stereo system worked and, once she did, she couldn’t work out how to change the channel. It was tuned to 891 ABC, revealing Lenny as a news man. She could just imagin
e him hanging out for the finance report, though the current weekend programme was focused on sports analysis. Which didn’t really do it for Celeste.

  Loungey Sunday music would have been preferred. Still, anything was better than the silence. To avoid feeling like a puppy-dog waiting for its owner to come home. She hadn’t expected Lenny’s errand to take quite so long. And there was nothing she hated more than being idle.

  She wandered about the house, trailing her fingers along furniture and ornaments. The lack of dust hinted at a weekly cleaner. She leaned in to look at a family photo on a shelf above the lounge’s glassy, ultra-modern fireplace. The picture was one of few personal objects on display, apart from framed building awards. The photo looked like it had been taken at a party some years ago. Everyone in it was laughing, including Lenny’s sister, Perla, who still managed to look perfectly chic with her mouth hanging open. Oh, and the older man to Lenny’s right was obviously Lenny’s father — attractive and distinguished, with just the faintest hint of silver in his hair. The resemblance was striking.

  Although, the older man seemed to be standing slightly away from everyone else in the photo, almost as though he didn’t quite belong there. And then there was Lenny’s mum — shorter, rounder, with smiling eyes and a burgundy crop of hair, busy squeezing her son’s cheek. So nice to see. Lenny himself, naturally, looked as handsome as ever.

  A large gilt-framed mirror also hung above the fireplace and, out of the corner of her eye, she could see a bathroom door open down the hall in its reflection — Lenny’s obviously, not the one they’d shared. Their beach towels from last night seemed to have been abandoned on a corner of the oversized, dark tiles.

  Unable to help herself, Celeste headed to pick them up, telling herself she’d also scoop up the emptied coffee mug left on a side table on the way back. Obviously Lenny was used to a maid picking up after him to keep his place looking so unexpectedly pristine. The white-walled bathroom was similar to the guest bathroom, with its chocolate-hued floating vanity and frameless glass shower. It also had the added bonus of a giant, free-standing tub.