I couldn't resist and instead of looking the other way, found myself scrutinizing my reflection. It wasn't a pretty sight.
I didn't mind my face. In fact, I thought it was quite attractive in a girlish way—not in a sophisticated and womanly way—but okay. And I actually loved my long neck and shoulders. The problems began as my eyes travelled further south.
I cupped my heavy boobs in my hands. For years I’d longed for more pert and pointy breasts, but instead mine looked large and frumpy. I had to be careful what I wore as certain tops and dresses made me look fat. What I disliked the most about my womanly lumps was that they didn't even behave themselves so I could make the best of them. Oh no—instead of meeting together naturally in the middle to make a stunning cleavage, mine preferred to go off towards my underarms.
Then there was my stomach and waist—although shapely and nice enough, they were far more padded than I would have liked. My legs were fine, slim and long and probably my best feature.
Finally, I turned around and checked out my plump behind. It resembled a giant peach, which made me chuckle. My favourite childhood book had been Roald Dahl's James and the Giant Peach, and considering I was about to go on a date with James I thought it quite apt.
Being uber critical of myself like this seemed to be a ritual of mine, although normally in a much smaller mirror. I would always look closely at my body, thinking it was the reason Simon wasn't interested in sex—I obviously repulsed him in some way.
Now, even though I knew better, it was hard to change the habit of a lifetime.
I walked across the landing to my room. I hadn't a clue what I intended to wear, not that I had a great deal to choose from. I'd only brought a handful of items and none of them were with the view of going on a date. So I settled on my old faithful jeans and spiced the look up with a fitted red blouse and black jacket.
I found an old pair of black high heels in the wardrobe—they were a bit higher than I normally wore, and dated, but the jeans covered all but the heel anyway.
Bright red lipstick completed the outfit, and I blew myself a kiss in the mirror. I looked great, even if I did say so myself.
I hitched up my boobs in the push-up bra that seemed to be working wonders pushing them up and together.
Then the doorbell rang.
James stood on the doorstep dressed in dark grey slacks and a grey and white striped shirt. He looked delicious.
"Oh gosh, James—you look lovely. Am I underdressed?"
"You've gotta be kidding." His eyes seemed to drink me in—lingering on my décolletage. "You look fabulous."
He took my hand and led me to the sleek silver Toyota parked in the street.
"I expected you to be in the car from this afternoon," I teased.
"I told you—that wasn't mine," he laughed. "I just wanted something to break the ice, and when I saw that battered heap of metal it just came out. God only knows what I'd have done if you'd accepted the lift."
"Idiot," I chuckled. "Anyway, where are you taking me?"
"The receptionist at the hotel told me about a new Mexican restaurant that's opened up in Penrith. It's supposed to be a great night out."
"Oh, good." I tried to remember if I'd ever had Mexican food before.
"You do like Mexican food, don't you?" He tore his eyes from the road and looked at me a couple of times, his eyebrows furrowed.
"If it's food, you can rest assured, I like it."
"I love a woman who likes her food."
"You'll be proposing marriage to me after tonight then," I laughed.
"Sorry?" his face suddenly serious.
"I just meant when you see how much I like my food ..." I stammered, cringing at how stupid it actually sounded.
"Oh yeah, I get it now." He smiled.
I could have smacked myself for mentioning the M word on my first, and now thanks to my big mouth, probably last date with a confirmed bachelor.
When we arrived at the restaurant, I teetered off on my high heels towards the bathroom where I topped up my lipstick and hitched up the boobies once again—it seemed my new bra only worked for a short time then my wayward breasts eased back into their natural position.
Already sitting at the table, James jumped up as I appeared, pulling my chair out like a real gentleman.
We both ordered Mexican beer to drink while we read the menu.
"Would you like a glass, Geri?"
"No, thanks. It’s fine like this," I said, taking a swig straight from the bottle.
The music was loud and the mood so infectious that before too long we were both tapping and moving to the beat while checking out the menu.
"I don't know what to have. It all sounds so nice. Any suggestions?"
"If you like we can order a few different dishes and share," he suggested.
"Sounds good. You choose though. I have no idea."
Once the food was ordered, the nerves set in. I'd never really been on an actual date before, not like this anyway, and was worried that I'd bore the socks off him, me being his sole focus with no other distractions.
"So tell me what brings you back to little old Cumberside?" I asked.
"Work really, although I've been meaning to visit for a while now. Since Dad moved to Glasgow there's not been much reason to venture to this neck of the woods, but I often think about it."
I admired how his eyes twinkled as he spoke, and the sexy deep dimples in his cheeks sent shock waves through my entire body that exploded in the pit of my stomach. I had the overwhelming urge to climb across the table and chew on his delectable bottom lip.
I realised he'd stopped talking. "Oh, right—I didn't know your dad had moved."
"Yeah, he re-married and the last I heard he and Mary are deliriously happy together. I might even go for a visit one weekend. It's only a couple of hours from here."
"So where are you staying?"
"The hotel. It's not bad actually, clean and warm and the food's so-so," he shrugged.
"Are they any closer to solving the rape case?"
He shrugged again then sighed. "I shouldn't talk about it really, but I think I've linked the rapes to some other attacks in the greater Penrith area over the past ten years. Not rapes as such, but there are several other factors that seem to match."
"Have you told Vinny? He is still the village cop, isn't he?"
"He is, but he's not open to any suggestions I come up with. Not the easiest person to deal with, is our Vinny."
"I've always got along with him okay."
"You would. He's not intimidated by you."
"So you've no idea who it is? I read a couple of articles, and they say he wears dark clothes and a balaclava and doesn't say a word to his victims."
"Yeah, that's right. It seems he watches his victims and stakes out their homes beforehand. At each of the crime scenes, there is a trampled down area in the bushes that looks like it's been done over a period of time."
"And none of the victims recognise him?"
"Na!" He shook his head. "There is very little evidence to go on. Strangely, the rapist uses a condom which is unusual. Rape is normally a frenzied attack with no thought of the attacker protecting himself against the victim or thinking about leaving DNA behind. This guy seems to have covered all his tracks."
"It's awful, but made more so by the fact we probably know him." I shuddered.
"Anyway, let’s change the subject. It’s depressing, and I want you to enjoy tonight. So how come you've come home?"
"Thought you didn't want depressing." I laughed.
"I'm sorry, if you don't want to ..."
"No, it's okay. I need to start getting it out there I guess. Simon's been having an affair with someone from work."
"Ouch!" James winced.
I nodded, "Ouch indeed. It was a complete shock. I didn't have the foggiest clue it was going on."
"That's tough, Geri. But if it makes you feel any better, I think the guy must be crazy."
I smiled as tears p
ricked my eyes, and I fought to hold them back. "Thanks."
"Right, no more talking. We're here to enjoy ourselves." He waved at the waiter and indicated another drink for me. I noticed he'd hardly touched his.
A group of people had climbed onto the stage to the side of us. They were all in full Mexican dress. The two men wore very tight black suits, and both had a multi-coloured blanket over one shoulder, their outfits topped off with large black hats. The woman's full-length red dress had frills along the hem and up around her throat.
The music was getting louder and made it difficult to talk, but the atmosphere was amazing.
The tables were filling up. A large group of people had sat to the side of us, and it soon became evident it was a works party. A young redhead, who already seemed a little worse for wear, had the most hysterical laugh I had ever heard. Every time she opened her mouth James and I looked at each other and cracked up laughing too.
Our waiter came back laden down with dishes. There were refried beans, chicken enchiladas, nachos and something called fajitas, which looked and smelled scrummy. I could barely wait to tuck in, but thought I'd best behave with a little bit of decorum considering it was our first date.
The background music stopped and, soon after, the band started up. The people on the stage started clapping and stamping their feet to the beat. I was mesmerized by them and realised with a start that James was talking to me.
"Sorry, I didn't hear you?" I raised my voice.
He made a drinking motion and nodded to my once again empty bottle. Crikey, they seemed to be going down very easily tonight, must be the party atmosphere. I nodded and continued stuffing my face.
Once we'd finished eating, and the table was cleared of plates, the dancers jumped off the stage and began circling the room, getting several people up to dance.
One guy had two left feet and reminded me of Odd-Bod from the Carry On films with his square head and vacant expression on his face. He had no rhythm and was hilarious, but he had a good go and seemed to be enjoying every second.
Before long, the band stopped for a short break, and we were able to finally hear each other without yelling above the racket.
"Thanks for bringing me tonight, James. I've not had this much fun in ages."
"Me neither," he agreed.
"The food was delicious too. I've eaten far too much though." I stretched backwards slightly and exhaled noisily.
James signalled for the waiter to get us another drink.
"What's that you're drinking, James?"
"Just Cola. I don't have more than one drink if I'm driving."
"I don't normally drink this much, but I must admit, I'm really enjoying the beer here."
"What do you usually drink?" he asked.
"Bourbon and lemonade. What about you?"
"The odd lager. I'm not a big drinker really."
The band members came back out and were preparing to start up again. I excused myself and paid another visit to the ladies. My feet were killing me. It had been a bad idea to put on these bloody stupid shoes. I checked out my reflection again and was disappointed that my push-up bra wasn't working too well. I rearranged the boobies again and, once back in place, they looked great, but I was a bit annoyed that they kept separating. I had a brainwave.
I went back into the cubicle, pulled off two small wads of toilet paper and stuffed the outside edges of my bra cups with them. That had the desired effect. I reapplied my lipgloss and mascara before heading back to the table. I was feeling quite tipsy.
The band was in full swing, and James was clapping along and seemed to be having a great time.
His beautiful chocolate eyes twinkled at me as I sat down. The place seemed to have taken on a different mood—there were no longer people eating and all the waiters were standing around the edge of the room linking arms.
The music changed to a tune I recognised. Da dada de dada de dada, de dada de dada de dada, de dada de dada de dada de dada de dada de da. It was the song from the Morrison's supermarket ad. I started to sing along quietly. More reasons, more reasons, more reasons, more reasons to shop at Morrison's.
James was almost crying, he was laughing so hard. "I was just about to do the same. I couldn't believe it when you started singing."
The waiters began clapping to the music and, once everyone else was clapping in time, they each bent down and picked up a large bottle of amber liquid and filled up heaps of tiny glasses. They delivered a glass to everyone. Once done, they lifted a glass in front of their faces and shouted together, "Tequila!" They knocked the drinks back and slammed the glass onto the tables in front of them, indicating we all do the same. It tasted like paint thinners. I noticed James hadn't touched his, and he'd pushed his glass over to my side of the table.
Suddenly, my chair was pulled out, and one of the waiters hauled me up to dance before I even knew what was happening. I frantically searched for James, wanting him to rescue me, but I saw he was having the same problem with a hot Mexican temptress.
The music was loud and exciting, and I was whizzed around the room at an alarming pace, and then the music suddenly stopped. I got back to my seat puffing and panting for breath and knocked back my beer. James wasn't far behind me, and he was also out of breath.
"This is a crazy place!" I laughed.
"I'm glad you like it."
"I'm having a ball." The music had started up again, and I saw the waiter heading back in our direction. I almost crawled under the table. I needn't have worried. He was after James. James looked at me imploringly, and I just laughed at him and held my hands up in a shrug.
They took him, and three other men, up onto the stage and dressed him in a waistcoat that was much too small for his huge frame, put a hat on his head and a blanket over his left shoulder. I wished I had a camera, he looked so funny.
They taught him a series of movements, and although he initially seemed mortified he soon settled down. Before long James was stomping around the stage, thrusting his hips and putting on a right old performance. Each time he glanced my way he gave me a cheeky wink. My jaws were aching with laughing too much, and the tears streamed down my face.
By the end of the evening after several more dances, several more beers and several more Tequila shots, I could barely stand up without leaning my full body weight against James. I made him take me round the room to each of the waiters while I kissed them goodnight. Once we were outside the whole world started to spin.
James sat me down on the edge of the pavement while he went to fetch the car.
I was leaning against the lamppost feeling decidedly sick when I heard a familiar voice behind me.
"Geraldine?"
I looked up through beer-fuddled eyes and focused on the person standing over me with a plastic cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth.
"Oh, hello," I drawled. "If it isn't Carlos Humpty Dumpty the third." I tried to get up but my heel got caught in the grid and I fell against Carl, and we both toppled to the ground.
Carl was lying flat on his back, with me sat astride him laughing uncontrollably, when James pulled up alongside us. My heel had snapped in half, and each time I tried to stand up on the broken shoe I fell right back down again.
James got out of the car and tried, without much success, to help me to my feet, but in the end he picked me up into his arms and carried me to the car.
"Oh, my hero."
Carl jumped up as quick as a flash and stood by the car.
"See you tomorrow, Geraldine, for our date." He winked at me, knowing he would be causing trouble and tucked the cigarette behind his ear.
"Goodnight, Carl Lagerfeld the third," I laughed as the car pulled away.
James was very quiet on the ride home. I, on the other hand, was a nuisance—singing and giggling, in fact, I was being a typical drunken bum.
"Are you mad with me, James?" I giggled.
"No!"
"Then why are you not talking to me?"
"Because I have
nothing to say to you."
"Because I got a little bit tipsy?"
He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "No, not because you are a little bit tipsy, or because you are a lot tipsy, or because you are completely legless."
"Then why?"
"Because you were fawning all over a stranger and making dates with them as soon as I was out of sight."
"O-oh that? Carl's not a stranger, and I'd already arranged to go out with him tomorrow. I am a free agent, James. I can go out with whomever I like." I was now speaking in my haughty, high and mighty voice.
We sat in silence again for a few minutes, but I couldn't keep it up for too long.
"Are you sulking?"
"No," he snapped.
"I think you are and it's a real shame after having such a nice night."
He looked at me, and his eyes twinkled and lips twitched.
"I'm not sulking. I don't do sulking."
"You're doing a heck of a good impression of it."
"Do you have any idea how you looked straddling that punk back there?"
"I can guess." I laughed.
"I thought you must have accosted him as he passed by."
"You must think I'm really easy then."
"What did you expect me to think?"
We were both openly laughing by now.
Shortly afterwards, we pulled up outside my parents’ house.
"Thank you for a lovely e-hic-sorry, evening, James."
I leaned over and kissed him on the side of his mouth.
He lifted his arm, and his fingers went straight to my boobs.
"James!" I was shocked at how forward he was being.
"No, you've got it all wrong, Geraldine."
"I don't think so."
"Let me show you then." He did it again, only this time he got a bit closer without me moving away and plucked one of the rolled up wads of tissue from the 'V' of my top.
"Looks like you lost something," he said with a smirk all over his face.
I was mortified. I snatched the tissue from him and, with a snort, hastily left the car.
Embellished Deception: A Psychological Suspense Novel (The Crime Files) Page 5
