by Poppet
It's a gorgeous day. The sky is such a perfect shade of periwinkle, not even a suggestion of a cloud anywhere, it seems such a waste smogging up Gary's passion pit for revenge. Grabbing my packed cases I wheel them outside and stack up everything else I'm taking with me. I bought the groceries, so I own them and they leave with me. Selene and I will at least eat well for a month.
I need some retail therapy, a great night out, and some cold-hearted flirting. It dawns on me as I sit waiting on my suitcase, that for years I've followed the worst example set for me. My parents had an explosive marriage, the kind where my mom always lost the war. We lived in the trenches, self pity and hardship became comfortable blankets in that kind of environment. But, one day she snapped, pretty much the way I did yesterday. I remember that day as clearly as if it happened this morning. Then finally she left him, taking us with her. She showed us how to take a chance, stand up for yourself, and how not to be a victim, so what the hell was I thinking?
Jarred out of my reverie, a dude with shocking blond hair down to his chin touches my shoulder. I give him my 'drop dead asshole' glare.
"You Stefanie?"
Lordy, this can't be her brother, it's just not possible. "Yes."
"I'm Lucas, Selene's brother."
Okay, now I know Selene has never introduced us before. She likes to lead a life her family has no access to, which includes her friends. I also know that her brother is at least five years older, but I am telling you, this boy does not look five years older, and he's damn delicious eye bling. I offer him a hand, warming up from my Arctic freeze.
"Stef. It's great to finally meet you." We shake on the introduction.
"This your stuff?"
No it's the neighbours, I'm just sitting it for her while she shags her boyfriend. "Um, yes."
My final insult is flicking my cigarette butt into Gary's postbox. Oh I really do hope someone is witnessing this. I would love to see his face when he's told some hot man-popsicle picked me up and we drove off into a Doris Day morning, never to be heard from again. It would drive him to distraction trying to figure out how long I've been cheating on him with a new blonde-hot-sexilicious replacement. Trading up darling, this guy has a better view out his window. Actually, the car's a bit formal isn't it? A Volvo isn't exactly my idea of vogue. Haha! This may be even better, Gary can surmise I'm off to be a kept woman.
Yes I know, my imagination is in full pantomime mode. Anyway, so I'm helping Lucas pack my stuff into this car with enough space to hide the entire mafia and their cement clad victims, the spaciousness just pings the hollow in my heart with a sad echo. My life doesn't even fill a car's boot. It's super nice when he opens my door for me, and oooh, look at that, a hand on my waist that lingered far too long to be appropriate. I grin at him and wonder if Selene will turn him into a eunuch if I encourage this.
After securing my seat-belt, I lean back, stretch out my legs, and give Lucas a shy smile.
"Sorry I took so long, my phone was on charge."
You didn't take long at all. "No problem."
Ten minutes later, thanks to the absence of traffic at this time of the morning, we stop outside Selene's home up on her Prince Charming hill. Joining Lucas with the unpacking I ask, "Do you live nearby?"
He points up the hill, "End of the road."
You have got to be kidding me! How is it that I've never known this? How often has he seen me and I've not even known he was here? I guess my face betrays me because he starts explaining.
"I'm away on business a lot. Selene keeps an eye on the place for me. It was easier for me being closer to her for convenience."
Well I can see a huge drawbridge lowering down waiting to be crossed. "Would you like to join us for dinner?"
He stops with the key in his hand, pausing before pushing the door open, looking regretful, "I can't. I have a date."
Oh right. Don't I just feel stupid. Of course you have a date. Heck, you probably have every weekend booked until the day you turn fifty.
"Not a problem, I just thought I could repay your kindness."
He pauses outside her kitchen where he deposits my cases, while I place the groceries on the kitchen counter, telling me, "Selene doesn't like me talking to her friends. You're kind of off limits."
That sounds like Selene. She takes paranoia to Illuminati level. If he knew what I know about her she'd probably get locked up in her parent's basement until she's seventy-five.
"That's cool." I'm trying to give the vibe that it's not any of my business and I don't want to get involved.
"Anyway, if you need anything before she gets home, I'm at number twenty-four."
I nod, feeling awkward, but offer him a smile,"Thanks a lot for rescuing me."
He shrugs, stuffing a hand into his left front pocket, "That's what friends do." He shuffles the toe of a foot into the other, staring down, mumbling, "See you round." Looking up, for the first time I get a really good look into his eyes. They're clear and sensitive. It's so odd, but I get the impression that he's shy around me. "It was nice meeting you. I've heard a lot about you."
Oh god! None of it can be good. "It was very nice meeting you too."
He smiles. Perfect teeth, great skin, gentle light blue eyes that most Husky's wish they owned. How can they be so different? Her colouring is completely opposite to his.
I walk with him to the door, locking it behind him. Standing at the window I watch him drive away and pull into his garage farther up the road, the door closing behind him. He must have a door from there going into his house.
Wow! I wish Selene had introduced me to him. But knowing me, she probably thought I'd be too wild for such a sweet guy. Sighing heavily, I go straight to the kitchen counter and unearth a bottle of red wine. I haven't had a drink in forever, and dammit, I'm fucking old enough to drink. I've lived with Gary's demented rules for so long, as if I was something to be controlled and restrained.
Uncorking it, I pour half of the bottle into one of Selene's gigantic glasses. Picking up my smokes I walk back out the door, locking it behind me, walking around to the mountain to stare at her view. Settling myself on the same old pity rock, I lean back, letting the sun thaw the tundra inside me, rebelliously drinking red wine before noon on a work day, and lighting a smoke that makes my lungs ache.
I'm sad. I'm angry. I'm also lost. I don't want to stay here with Selene, I want independence. I have to make that happen, but first I need employment. I'm starting all over again at the ripe old age of twenty-five. The problem is, I don't know if men can be trusted. Look at the carnage of my love-life. I've had a series of dismal failures. What does this say about me? Am I not worthy of love? Sighing heavily, I succumb to my emotions, fuelling the tears with sad memories. Will I ever find another Marty?
Chapter 39
Mr Smooshy
I spent the afternoon cooking the perfect meal for the best friend any girl could wish for. Selene has rescued me from my mistakes more times than I can count. The drama merry-go-round with Gary is so old, she must be sick of it and sick of me being on it and always running to her. I've organised for my clothes to be delivered out of storage, but pretty much sold up everything else I owned to get money to take abroad with me. Somehow, I'll find a way to get back on my feet without breaking this friendship in the process. At least with my work clothes back in my closet, I'll be able to apply for real jobs that pay real money.
* * * * *
Well hallelujah. Sinclaire gave me my old job back. I've decided men are bad news and have started wearing a wedding ring when I go out so the buggers will leave me alone. Selene is enjoying having me cooking in her house, and the wine, and Luke is off limits apparently. Just as well, we all know that good looking men spell disaster. Don't suppose you know where the ugly guys hang out? I was thinking that if I need someone to go to the movies with, or a wedding, it might be nice to have a plain old chap as back up.
Oh, I forgot to tell you, Selene has a boyfriend. He's super dishy and nice. Seriously, th
is dude is an ex-personal trainer with broad shoulders and a wicked sense of humour. He gives me hope that there are men out there who aren't messed up, and who won't mess the woman they're with up either. His name is Zeke, and he's my hero.
Weirdest turn of events. Zeke lives up the road and needs a room-mate to stay in his spare room so that his money can go further. Damn strange, but his new roomie is going to be me. I'm beginning to think that the top of this hill is the place to find sweet hotties hiding from the world. It's the best kept secret in Cape Town.
Returning to work was like coming home after a year in the army. It was the best decision I made to swallow my pride and Gary-shame and get that employment back. Frank, James, Shayne, Julie, Michelle, Lindsay, Ted, Dianne, just everyone really, wanted to celebrate and return right back to where we left off.
So guess who's going out to the Swinging Door tonight? Yep, you guessed right – me and Selene, Zeke and his friend Tom, and the gang from work. This gives me just two hours to go shopping after work to get myself a killer outfit. I'm planning on doing plenty of flirting, but this time my heart's staying out of it.
Window shopping is fine. Even testing, like a free sample, or spraying a hint of perfume to decide if you like it, is okay. You didn't get that did you? Dancing, kissing, hugging, that's what I'm talking about, and of course accepting drinks is on the acceptable list, just no serious dating, not for a very long time; but, I don't think I'm ready for anyone new. Can't a girl just go out with her friends and not have to play the gender game?
...Pause ...
… Play …
I'm alive! What is it about dancing that is so life validating? I'm wearing boots and a strappy black dress to show off my new tramp stamp. Did I or did I not say, I Shirley will? My body, my life, Fuhquim! Anyway, so this is fun, not to mention the interested stares coming my way. My esteem is finding this good ego-medicine. My mojo is coming back.
That does it. Relationships and me are like phosphorous and water, we don't mix well at all, therefore I deduce I will be a very happy single girl until I meet someone plain and sweet, about a hundred years from now. Right, so, would someone please tell that to Mr-Tall-and-Fabulous walking towards me.
Deliberately I smooth my hair behind my shoulder with the hand wearing the fake wedding ring, currently on loan from Selene until I buy my own.
"Hi."
I smile back. "Hi." He's been eying me out all night from the other side of the dance floor. And he's tall enough to see right over everyone's heads. How tall is that exactly? About six-foot-four? Dayam, go away, you are far too drool-worthy to be good for me.
"I'm Richard."
That would make him a Dick. It takes all of my self-control not to laugh in his face. "Shirley."
Yes, you heard me, I don't want to know men hot enough to blister my lips with their eyes, thank-you-very-much. If he doesn't know my name we can't manifest an attachment.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
I offer him an apologetic smile, "No thanks." Waving finger in his face, "I'm married." And for the record I only take drinks from ugly boys and friends at this point.
"That's too bad. He's one lucky guy."
Bugger! How is it that a man can manage to snap the cartilage in your knees with one sentence and a strong chin combined with velcro soft brown eyes? I don't think mine can hold me up any longer. He seems so sweet. None of the usual arrogance or attitude coming off this dude at all.
"Thanks," I reply, watching him turn and shrug sadly to his friends.
Zeke walks over and does the 'my broad shoulders can protect my woman and her friends from anything' step in. Blocking my view of Mr Smooshy walking away.
"Everything okay? He's not bothering you is he?"
Aw, how sweet is Zeke? Okay, hang on a sec! Where did all the nice men come from? Why now? Why, when I want to hate every single last one of you, do I suddenly have a Zeke and a James watching my back. Oh and look, Zeke's back-up in the form of Tom has just arrived on my other side. Two personal trainers with the muscles to prove it. I feel famous, as if this is my bouncer squad. Tom glares over to where I can't see Mr Smooshy, also known as Dick. Waaaahahahaha.
"I'm fine, thanks." I reassure the goon squad. I'm not used to being protected, I'm used to being stomped on.
Tom offers me a businesslike smile, "Need a drink?"
Well now that you mention it, "Yes please."
As Tom moves away, attaching himself to my elbow and carving a path through the dance floor to lead me with him to the bar, I catch Richard's stare. He points at Tom and mouths, "Is that your husband?"
I shake my head in response, smiling at the guy's balls. They put Texas to shame they're so big. Do men not care that you're married? Or am I just a really bad liar?
Hours later, I'm tired and sitting upstairs watching my friends still dancing. Quietly having a smoke with my feet propped on the bars that make up the railing overlooking the dance floor, when heat arrives next to me, and Mr Smooshy sits down next to me with his drink, which is a Coke and something.
Glancing at him, I'm stuck in his velcro eyes again. One look and you're burred. You can't look away.
"Shirley ..."
"Yes."
"How come your friends call you Stef?"
"It's an inside joke." Finally I unhook my gaze and stare back at my friends, wondering if I'm going to need help. Where's James?
"How long have you been married?"
Um, fuck. That's a good question. "A while." I can do this. Play it by ear.
"You used to come here all the time."
Ow, I think I just pulled the tendon in my neck when I Linda Blaire'd him with that comment.
"Yes, I used to."
"I was chuffed to catch you tonight. I've been working up the courage to talk to you for about two years."
No fucking way! "Oh really? Why?" I mean, come on, am I that scary?
"Hot girls make me nervous."
Oh, so I'm hot am I? Are you kidding me? You're bloody walking chocolate and you think I'm hot? Girls probably stalk you.
"You're much too kind," I say. What an overused saying, but he's obviously forgotten to wear his contacts tonight.
"Pity you left and got married."
Okay, now I'm staring. He seems really sincere and all heartbroken. His expression would look good on a "I'm so sorry I fucked up" card from Hallmark.
Your timing really sucks, Dick. Pfffft! I'm going to laugh again. DON'T LAUGH! You can't laugh when he's just stuck his vulnerabilities out far enough for the entire club to notice. He's actually totally adorable. Fuck it, you know, maybe this is the universe finally taking pity on my sorry ass.
"I'm not married, I just wear it so guys will leave me alone."
Oh crap. He looks like I slapped him twice and kneed him in the nuts.
"God. I'm doomed." He runs a hand through his short brown hair as he ducks his head to stare at his foot propped next to mine. Standing, he backs away as he says, "I'm sorry I bothered you."
And he backs straight into Tom. Tom gives him the second bouncer glare of the night. Richard shoots me another, 'Would you mind explaining who this guy is?' stare, before disappearing into the black hole that is the stairwell going downstairs.
Tom replaces Dick's presence next to me, leaning elbows on knees to stare down to where Zeke is being all romantic with Selene. "That guy just won't leave you alone."
"Nope." I'm looking for him to reappear back with his friends. I'm feeling just horrid.
"Well at least we have each other while those two make you want to puke."
Casting a quick glance at the love-birds, I nod, "Yep."
"So I heard you're staying with Zeke?"
Where is he?
"Yep."
"So we'll be seeing a lot of each other."
Red flag! Sirens! What the hell is he saying? Stopping my search for Mr Smooshy, I stare at Tom. He's a player, you can tell. "Probably."
"Good, I like you."
Generic
smile. He's a nice enough guy, as Zeke's friend. I'm not sure how to respond, but he clarifies for me.
"I mean, it's good that we'll get along. It'd suck if I thought you were a bitch and I had to see you every time I visit Zeke."
Oh right. Better smile.
"Well, yeah. Thanks for not thinking I'm a bitch." And I snap my attention back to look for Mr Smooshy, and all of his friends are gone!
This calls for action! Jumping off my perch, "Sorry Tom, I'll be back in a bit." And I dash down the stairs toward the entrance, looking for Richard. My heart sinks when I see the three of them turning the corner down the next street. Shit! My pride just won't let me run after a guy, no matter how nice he seems,
Sighing heavily, I go back inside. I guess I'd better get used to Tom then as we're the two extra wheels on this ride. But right now I'm really annoyed with him for distracting me at such a crucial moment. Just my crappy luck.
Chapter 40
Tom
It's been an excruciating three days waiting for Saturday night. Thanks to my endless nagging we're going to The Swinging Door again. I'm oddly attached to the Richard debacle. He seemed super nice and is obviously blind to his own good looks. He's so shy it took him two years just to talk to me. If only he'd tried it earlier, Gary and that whole disaster might not have happened again. I could have been living happily ever after without any of the mess that my heart's still trying to mop up.
However, I got my way for nothing. There's no Richard here to be found, and no one else interests me. He's left a lingering impression and I can't stop thinking about him. His build reminds me of mmmmMarty. Except Richard's face is trusting. There's nothing sophisticated about him. He has a vulnerable appeal.
He looked utterly ravishing in the black jeans he was wearing the other night. Long legs that remind me of a sexy cowboy fresh from the rodeo. If that doesn't paint a vivid picture, then drool on this. After all that dancing his shirt was unbuttoned, and he has super wide shoulders without the bulk that Zeke and Tom have. His skin was creamy and glistening all the way down those three open buttons, he has full red lips, and a pointy chin, like the elf from Lord of the Rings, with hair that's about two inches long on top but short short, yummy yummy short, in the nape. Which means easy access for kissing.
