The Barbershop Girl

by Georgina Penney

  ‘Because from what I’ve seen of your Australian press appearances recently, you’re getting a bigger head than usual. If I called at a civilised time you’d just tell me to fuck off.’

  ‘Fuck off, Ross.’

  ‘Can’t. I don’t have a Jag. If I don’t have a new Jag, the ladies don’t love me. That’s where you come in.’

  Ben opened his eyes and sat up, squinting at the dull light coming from his dimmed bedside lamp and saw his alarm clock. It was four in the morning. ‘Any reason for the urgency?’

  ‘Your press. From the looks of it, the Aussies loved you and we all know how they like to read anything written about them.’

  ‘Do they?’

  ‘Yes. Anyway, that film of yours, what’s it called? Power . . . something . . . is coming out in a year or so. It would be foolish not to capitalise on it. Think on it. I’ll call you later this week to hear you say yes. Just remember, if you go straight to the publisher and not through me, I may have to cut your balls off.’

  ‘You’re all heart. Now I repeat: fuck off.’

  ‘I’ll call you Thursday.’ Ross hung up and Ben glared down at his phone for a few minutes before rubbing the last of the sleep out of his eyes and getting out of bed. He was awake now. Might as well get some work done before he was whisked away to the countryside that afternoon.

  ‘DO YOU MIND if we change the play list?’ Ben slanted Amy a sideways look. She’d been singing off-key karaoke for the past ten minutes and, amusing as it was, he’d reached his limit.

  ‘Oh, sorry.’ Amy’s cheerful smile dimmed momentarily.

  ‘Anything else is fine. Just no more Elton John doing Disney. It’s an insult to my car.’

  ‘That’s what you said about Gerald.’ Amy nudged his arm.

  ‘He’s an insult too. Thank God you didn’t bring him along or he would have been howling at all this noise.’

  Amy snorted. ‘He loves my singing.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘He wagged his tail once. Be nice about my dog or I’ll make you drive back to Myf’s to pick him up.’

  ‘Perish the thought. If I remember correctly, we weren’t talking about the dog, we were talking about your abominable taste in music. Disney?’

  ‘It makes me happy. Come on, everyone loves The Lion King.’

  ‘I don’t. Can’t stand it. It’s a tragic tale of death and woe overshadowed by a blatant marketing campaign. It says a lot that I’ve let you have it on this long.’

  ‘It says you were too distracted doing indecent things to your car accelerator to notice anything else, I’d bet. What do you want to listen to then?’ Amy flicked through her music selection. ‘Cos most of my stuff is like this. Lady Gaga—’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Katy Perry—’

  ‘Definitely not.’

  ‘Britney Spears. Okay, I can already guess the answer to that one. This is all I have. I like happy music.’

  ‘So do I. Britney Spears doesn’t make me happy. She makes me want to pre-emptively burst my own ear drums. No more ditties from ladies who flash their titties. Time to search through my collection.’ He was rewarded a few minutes later with a loud snort of amusement.

  ‘Jay Z, Dizzee Rascal, 50 Cent, Wu-Tang Clan? Ben, you’re white, sweetie.’

  ‘Sort of pink in some parts too the last time I checked,’ Ben said blithely. He had a passionate love for most forms of music and refused to let a little thing like the fact he was white and middle class get in the way.

  ‘Jack Johnson . . . Ben Harper . . . Amanda Palmer. . . This is better.’

  ‘How about something a bit louder? This is a very impressive vehicle and a very long stretch of road.’

  ‘Okay . . . hmm. How about . . . this.’ The sounds of Bon Jovi filled the car.

  ‘That is not in my collection,’ Ben exclaimed with horror. Even as he said the words, he vaguely remembered Marcella adding a few songs to his selection that he had yet to purge. It seemed she was haunting him.

  ‘Yes it was. Look at this! Poison, Cheap Trick . . . I never would have guessed you had a thing for eighties cock rock?’

  ‘I do not, and it can be purged right now.’

  ‘Okay . . . how about this . . .’ The Foo Fighters fired up and Ben grinned.

  ‘That’s better.’

  An hour later, Ben was in leisure-driving heaven. He was coasting along a scenic road with sun-dappled wineries either side, birds singing in trees and a beautiful blonde in the passenger seat.

  He’d been quick to accept Amy’s invite to show him around her hometown. Although, after hearing the small amount she’d shared of her childhood, he had to wonder how much of a home it had provided her. Not that he’d pried. He was simply happy to be in her company at present, and she was obviously enjoying his.

  It really didn’t get much better than this after the stellar week he’d just had conquering the Australian media. His news from Ross this morning had just been icing on the cake. He was on fire.

  Not only had he managed to lob a few witty salvos into the mix over the negative press he was receiving in the UK, he’d also found a receptive and appreciative audience for his work that he hadn’t realised he had. Who knew that Australians had been following him for years? There’d certainly been a large amount of interest when he’d dropped a few hints he’d be writing about Australia in the near future.

  Over the past week he’d wondered whether or not he should tell Amy about his plans for the travel book, which would no doubt feature her significantly, and had repeatedly changed his mind. It wasn’t a concrete idea by any means, as much as Ross thought it was. If Ben didn’t love Ross like a brother, he’d be considering bringing in a Colombian hit man to sort the bastard out for his devious manipulation. He made a mental note to call Colin and threaten him with a lynching, or better yet, a wardrobe burning, should he allow Ross to do anything stupid.

  Speaking of doing something stupid . . . Ben glanced at towering straggly gum trees and green grassy fields on either side of the road and realised he had no idea where he was.

  ‘You know, you haven’t actually told me exactly where we’re going yet.’

  ‘Keep going straight.’

  ‘Interesting turn of phrase. This road’s starting to curve here and there. It would be easier if you tell me where we’re going, so I can put it in the navigation system.’

  ‘Or you could just enjoy the mystery and let me navigate.’

  ‘Control freak.’

  ‘I know you are but what am I?’ Amy stuck out her tongue.

  He guffawed. ‘And adult too.’

  ‘Last time you checked.’ Amy giggled.

  Ben realised that was the first time he’d heard her really laugh all day. All week, for that matter and he’d had enough opportunity given the amount of time they’d talked on the phone. Normally she was a cheerful little ray of sunshine, but lately, she’d been distant and pensive behind her smile. Even the impromptu singathon had felt a little forced.

  ‘That’s better,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re laughing.’

  Amy just smiled warmly, bringing out double-barrel dimples. ‘Turn left up here.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘That road just up ahead.’

  ‘I can’t see one.’

  ‘That’s because you just passed it.’

  ‘Prepare to be fired.’

  Thirty minutes later, Ben gingerly eased his exorbitantly expensive car along a rutted gravel road and winced each time he heard a stone flick up, no doubt chipping the paintwork. If he did write the damn travel book, it would include a chapter-long rant on this alone.

  ‘This is why we should have brought my Mini,’ Amy said with far too much I-told-you-so for Ben’s liking.

  ‘Sorry sweetheart, as much as I’m comfortable with my sexuality, I think I’d have to retire from the fraternity of heterosexual mankind if I drove that car.’

  ‘Scott does all the time,’ Amy
retorted. ‘It’s just up here on the left, slow down. See that little cottage? That’s ours.’

  ‘Watanabe is either a greater or more foolish man than I, I can’t quite decide. Is that a kangaroo?’ Ben brought the car to an abrupt halt, scattering gravel everywhere as the large grey marsupial bounded across the road.

  ‘Yup. There’ll be plenty of them this time of year with all the green grass around. Along with cows, sheep and rabbits, thanks to your people. If you’re really lucky, you’ll get to see a couple of snakes and a whole lot of spiders too,’ Amy said with glee.

  Ben was still watching the retreating kangaroo with rapt fascination as every BBC nature documentary he’d seen as a boy darted through his mind. ‘I’ve never seen one in the wild. Amazing.’ He watched the kangaroo jump clean over a fence in the middle distance.

  ‘It’d be a lot more amazing if we were watching this from the porch of our cabin.’ Amy gently nudged his shoulder. ‘Come on, or another one will turn up and scratch your paintwork. You know they attack cars right? They sharpen their teeth on the metal.’

  Ben swivelled around to face her quicker than a possessed child eyeing off a crucifix. ‘You’re having me on.’

  ‘I might be,’ Amy said smugly before laughing. ‘Come on, city boy, it’s only a few metres down that track. Get moving.’

  Amy sat on the edge of a beautiful white cast-iron bed covered in a blue and white patchwork bedspread and listened to Ben clunking through their cozy little cottage, lugging her second smaller suitcase into the bedroom where she was already unpacking her first.

  ‘Thank you.’ She grinned as he dropped her suitcase on the floor and eyed it balefully. ‘Before you start, it’s not just clothes and shoes. I’ve packed some other things too.’ She resumed placing her underwear in a simple unfinished pine dresser.

  ‘Lead bricks? A contingency of overweight animals? A small surface-to-air defence system? We’re only here for three days but I have a suspicion you’ve got enough in there to equip you for an arctic expedition,’ Ben grumbled before wandering out of sight, back out into the cabin’s cozy living area that was decorated in whites, blues and natural wood.

  ‘Hey!’ Amy exclaimed after him. ‘You’re not supposed to make fun of me until we’ve been together for at least three months. It’s a rule.’

  ‘Three months?’ Ben repeated softly to himself in the other room, just loud enough to hear.

  Amy cursed her big mouth and suppressed the urge to smother herself with a pillow. They hadn’t had a relationship talk yet. Or an anything talk yet. She thought they were kind of serious, but she’d been wrong about stuff like this in the past.

  ‘No. I can’t agree with that.’ Ben’s voice from the doorway cut through her panic. She looked up from the drawer, now full of lacy underwear, into a pair of mischievously sparkling pale green eyes. His mouth was quirked at the corner.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t playground rules stipulate that the more a boy likes a girl, the meaner he gets to be?’

  ‘What!’ Amy snorted, despite her overwhelming feeling of relief. ‘Who says we’re in a playground?’

  ‘Oh I don’t know. I seem to remember someone poking their tongue out at me on the drive down and threatening my car with a hopping rodent. And let’s not forget that same someone’s evil cackle when I overshot the first two turns to get here.’ He sauntered into the room.

  Amy stood up abruptly. ‘I did not!’

  ‘You did too.’ Ben backed her up against the dresser.

  ‘Ow.’ Her rump connected with the drawer she hadn’t closed yet.

  ‘What?’ Ben’s expression changed to one of concern as he ran his hands from her shoulders to her waist and back up again.

  ‘You’ve just bruised my bottom,’ Amy said with an exaggerated grimace while rubbing the offended part of her anatomy.

  ‘How?’

  ‘You pushed me against the drawers.’ She stuck out her lip.

  ‘Oh? I’m terribly sorry.’ Much to Amy’s delight, Ben really did look contrite. ‘Can I kiss it better?’

  ‘You’d better.’ She yelped when she found herself across Ben’s lap, her face smooshed against the bedspread as he ran his hands up underneath her skirt. ‘Ben! What are you doing?’

  ‘Kissing it better. Shush, you’re distracting me. What are these things? Tights?’ he asked with indignation when his hands kept going, not making contact with bare skin.

  ‘Leggings.’

  ‘I hate them.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I hate everything you’re wearing. It has to go,’ he said with enough playfulness to take the bite out of his words. Or maybe that was just his wandering hand, which had finally found the top of her leggings and was inching them down along with her underwear to bare the skin of her backside.

  ‘You know this isn’t exactly a dignified position.’ She leaned on her elbows, twisting around to look up at him. ‘I’m only staying like this so you can kiss my—’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Ohh.’ That sneaky wandering hand had decided to get up to mischief. Amy wiggled her bottom a little to encourage it.

  ‘Is that better?’

  ‘No, it’s making it worse.’ Amy tried to move but he placed his other hand on the small of her back, holding her still.

  ‘Poor baby. Give me a moment. I’ll do my best to make it all better,’ he said and then proceeded to show her just how very good his best could be.

  ‘So are you going to share what’s been worrying you this week?’ Ben’s voice broke through the sated snooze Amy was enjoying a little while later. She was sprawled across his chest, cozied under the covers, listening to the sound of rain hitting the roof overhead.

  ‘Why d’you want to know?’ Amy nuzzled her cheek against the coarse black hair on his chest, savouring the heady combination of touch and his spicy citrus scent.

  ‘Ah. Avoidance.’

  ‘Yep . . . well, nope. I had a fight with my sister.’ Amy went for a casual, one-shoulder shrug. ‘And I’m having a bit of trouble with an ex-boyfriend. I had to go to the police and . . .’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ She felt the muscles on Ben’s chest and stomach tense as he lifted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. ‘Is my hearing going in my old age or did you just say police?’

  ‘Yeah, but it’s not as bad as it sounds,’ Amy insisted, desperately trying not to meet his gaze. She had a feeling if she did, she’d spill the whole story and she really didn’t want to get onto the topic of why she and Jo had fought. Something told her that telling your boyfriend your sister thought he was a bastard might be a bit of a passion killer.

  ‘Then enlighten me,’ Ben insisted, steel in his tone.

  Amy snuggled back against him. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. It’s been a really bad week and being here with you is making it better. Can we leave it at that?’

  There was a weighted silence while Ben contemplated her request. ‘Are you in any physical danger?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Amy replied truthfully. She was worried about Liam making a scene but she didn’t really think he’d get violent.

  ‘Are you lying just to make me feel better?’ The deceptive calmness in his tone was belied by the taut muscles below her cheek.

  ‘No. I’m really not,’ Amy insisted. ‘Can we leave it? I already feel enough of a loony as it is. I don’t need you thinking I’m a colossal nut.’

  ‘You’re Australian, of course you’re loony. Colossal goes without saying. What I’m more interested in is your safety.’ He rolled over and pinned her beneath him, ice-green eyes boring into hers.

  ‘It’s all fine, Ben,’ she said, trying for earnestness.

  ‘Hmm. You know there’s this relationship rule where you have to tell me the truth. It goes with the one that says I have to be nice to you for the first three months.’

  ‘Can’t we do something more fun instead?’ She w
iggled her hips against his and was gratified at his body’s immediate reaction.

  ‘That’s not playing fair. You know, there’s more than one way to get information.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ Amy brought her hand up to stroke the side of his jaw. She smiled when he automatically rubbed against it like a big cat. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I vaguely recall you told me I talked far too much.’ Ben inched himself leisurely down her body, his eyes narrowing with intent.‘I think it’s far, far better if I show you.’

  ‘Smelly socks with a hint of . . . no . . . don’t tell me . . . ear wax. Yes? No? I’m right, aren’t I?’ Ben placed the small glass of Chardonnay he’d been sniffing on the table next to them and thumped Amy gently on the back as she spluttered. The six other people on their wine tour were not amused.

  The tour guide, an overly tanned woman, embodying the Australian cliché in khaki shorts and shirt, cleared her throat loudly.

  ‘When you’re both quite ready,’ she said in an exaggerated accent, while glaring pointedly at Ben and Amy, who were standing at the back of the cellar door of Leeuwin Estate, one of the region’s largest wineries, laughing like two naughty school children. The guide’s pronunciation of ‘ready’ as ‘red-day’ had Ben guffawing and it was all Amy could do not to thump him. The other members of the tour, two middle-aged American couples and a South African couple, added their censorious looks to the mix.

  ‘My most humble apologies.’ Ben bowed and smirked when Amy slipped her hand into the back pocket of his jeans and not so subtly gripped his tight backside in a warning.

  ‘What?’ he asked her, plastering on an innocent expression.

  ‘Behave,’ Amy whispered, the corner of her mouth twitching. ‘You’re offending my people.’

  ‘Heaven forbid,’ Ben whispered out the corner of his mouth as they watched the tour guide demonstrate how to taste wine in excruciating detail.

  ‘I bet you have a wine cellar that’s fully stocked, don’t you?’ Amy asked in a low voice a few minutes later while they were trying a too-young Shiraz.

  ‘I’m quite proud of it,’ he replied in an offhand manner, theatrically parodying their guide by swirling his wine around the glass. ‘Good legs on this one,’ he said, referring to the runnels of wine along the side of the glass. ‘Rather sexy. A lot like yours. Although I have to say, yours taste much better.’