by Ali Berg
Of course they’re together. They make a cute couple, Bea thought, before introducing Zach. The three of them shook hands.
Dino stalled a moment. ‘You know, if you hadn’t said anything, I might not have recognised you. You look different when you’re not clinging to a latte for dear life,’ he joked.
‘You’re one to talk. Who are you even dressed as?’ Bea said only just noticing that Dino was draped in a thick, brown coat, with duct tape wrapped around his waist and chest.
‘He’s a bookworm,’ Sunday interjected. ‘And only the cutest bookworm I’ve ever seen,’ she said, bumping him playfully on the arm.
‘You do know what the theme is, right?’ Zach asked.
Dino rolled his eyes and took another sip of his drink. ‘I know, I know. It was all very last minute, and Sunday over here talked me into it.’
Sunday raised her left hand. ‘Guilty!’ she smiled, mischievously.
And then a bell rang. The call for them to move to their next literary destination: Basement Books, the mecca for rare and antique novels. Bea propped her empty glass next to a clothbound copy of Doctor Zhivago and took Zach’s hand.
Bea hadn’t laughed so much in what felt like months. Maybe it was the free-flowing drinks, or maybe it was being cocooned in a maze of bookshelves that left Bea so uninhibited, but she had a feeling it had a lot to do with the ever so charming Zach. The conversation had flowed easily and merrily. Bea even managed to extricate more information about his inscriptions, proving Zach’s depth. Like how he chose to write his thoughts in a book rather than a notepad because he would never be able to write down all that he wanted to say, so hoped that the story could do some of the talking.
For some reason, Dino and Sunday seemed to avoid the pair, save for Dino’s subtle glimpses in their direction. Glimpses of Zach’s hand on the small of Bea’s back, glimpses of her giggling into Zach’s chest, glimpses of Zach grinning and sloppily wiping up the trickle of booze that fell down Bea’s cheek.
Arriving back at her apartment after Zach had insisted on dropping her off first, Bea and Zach stood outside her building, just close enough that Bea’s knees rested against Zach’s strong shins.
‘So, what did you think?’ Zach asked.
‘Of the pub crawl? I think I’ve reached peak coolness.’ Bea sighed. ‘But don’t go getting any ideas about my coolness level. This is as good as it gets for me.’
‘I happen to think you’re extremely cool.’
Bea dismissed him, blushing. ‘Please.’
‘You’re so cool, Babbage,’ Zach said, ‘because you are completely and truly yourself.’
‘I think that’s the cocktails talking,’ Bea said, feeling embarrassed and ecstatic all at once.
‘It’s definitely not,’ Zach said. ‘I see you. I really do.’
‘You don’t even know me!’ Bea laughed.
‘I know. But boy, do I hope to.’ He inched towards her, his hands landing on her hips.
Bea’s breath quickened. And then Zach’s lips were on hers. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, pulling her gently towards him. He felt warm and firm against her body and for a moment, Bea forgot where she was and who she was and that staggering feeling of despondency which had become as familiar as her own shadow. She let him kiss her neck and across her collarbone, tracing her skin like she imagined his pen traced the pages of Meeting Oliver Bennett.
‘Want to come upstairs?’ Bea breathed, fumbling for her keys.
‘Like you wouldn’t believe,’ Zach said, calling out to the patiently waiting Uber driver that it would just be the one stop after all, before following her up to her apartment door, through which they practically fell.
Bea shushed Zach as they crept past Lizzie, sleeping soundly on the couch, then pulled him to her bedroom and onto her bed. Their hands raced to explore each other’s bodies. With each kiss and touch, Bea was filled to the brim with desire and an even firmer conviction in the power of a good book to unite two lost souls. Lips still locked, Bea’s hand travelled down Zach’s chest until she found his belt buckle. But before she could unclasp it, Zach’s hand was on hers. Bea pulled away.
‘Everything okay?’ she asked.
‘So okay. So much more than okay,’ Zach said, shuffling closer to Bea and kissing her lightly on the nose. ‘I just want to take things slow.’
Bea, trying to push the disappointment and confusion away, fell back against the pillows and took a deep breath. ‘Yeah, of course. Probably wise.’
‘I should get going.’ Zach’s face had transformed. He was no longer breathy, dishevelled and yearning – now he was … all business?
‘Yeah, of course.’ Bea lay still, confused.
‘Cool. I’ll let myself out.’ Zach leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.
Bea wrapped her arms around herself, listening to the door shut crisply. What the hell did I do wrong?
Win a free cut and colour by telling us in 25 words or less who your hairstyle icon is.
Definitely Krusty the Clown. His hair is naturally green (I’ve literally never seen his roots) and his three tufts are always perfectly in place.
Bea slumped into a chair in the meeting room, lost in memories of the night before. The passion, the fun, and how Zach left her with blue – boobs? She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and tried to sit as inconspicuously as possible behind her open laptop. Clicking into a blank Word document, she dated it and then looked around at her coworkers, all of whom were sitting to attention behind realms of notepads and A3 vision boards, ready to dive headfirst into today’s brainstorming session. That used to be me, Bea languished, recalling the good old days when brain-storming meetings used to get her juices flowing. She was so over this account.
Just as the meeting was about to commence, a message popped up on Bea’s screen. It was from strappy-heeled Martha. They had recently graduated from cubicle chats to instant message.
Martha: Toilet break? Need to discuss latest episode of Little Women. Jo is so sassy and I need to be her.
Bea: Stuck in a meeting. FML. Wish I had Jo’s ‘I’m too independent and ridiculously committed to my craft for this shit’ attitude to get me out of this godforsaken meeting. Also, client wants us to promote new floss line dubbed ‘Fairy Floss’. Is it just me, or are they complete oxy-MORONS?!
Bea closed the pop-up and sighed audibly, forcing herself to tune back into the meeting. Joel was talking about how to capture the ‘ladies’ in the market. It wasn’t exactly clear why he kept using air quotes when referring to the female market, but everybody seemed to be going with it. Misogynists, Bea thought derisively, then immediately castigated herself for being so judgemental. That was something Cassandra had always accused her of: ‘Do you really have the luxury of being so picky?’ or ‘Of course he’s staring at your chest, that’s what boys do!’ she would say.
‘Why couldn’t you just have my back?’ Bea mumbled under her breath.
‘What was that?’ Joel turned to her. ‘Something to add, Babbage?’ He smirked, and looked at Scott, who stifled a laugh behind his mug.
Bea froze, her hands suspended above her keyboard. Think, Bea, think! ‘Only that, I …’ she began hesitantly.
‘Only that I think promoting dental floss in the same way as candy sends a confusing message to consumers.’
‘And?’
‘And don’t we have a responsibility to educate buyers on healthy dental care?’ Bea became suddenly bolstered by her own ethical code. ‘I think this campaign stands for the wrong ideal.’
‘That might be so, but it’s what the client wants, so it’s what the client gets.’
‘Well, that’s not good enough for me.’ Before she knew it, Bea was standing, her chair thrust behind her.
‘Thin ice, Bea,’ Scott warned, folding his arms tightly across his chest.
Bea looked around at her bewildered colleagues and took a deep breath. Think about the rent you can’t afford and calm the fuck down. She sat back in her chair quietly. ‘Okay,
sorry, you’re right. Please, go on.’
‘Why thank you,’ Joel said sarcastically and resumed outlining his idea for a bikini-clad tooth fairy mascot.
Bea swallowed her anger, checked the time on her monitor and whiled away the minutes until she could escape back down to The Nook and grab herself another coffee.
The meeting ran thirty-five minutes over. As soon as it wrapped up, Bea bolted from the boardroom.
‘Back so soon?’ Dino laughed from behind the coffee machine.
‘You have no idea what I’m dealing with up there,’ Bea grumbled and resumed her position at the counter, which was dangerously close to a fresh plate of pastries. In a bid to distract her taste buds, she pulled Agatha Christie onto her lap, hugging her warm, thick body close to her chest.
‘Bea?’ Dino repeated.
‘Huh? Sorry, in puppy coma. Come again?’
‘So what’s the deal with you and Zach? You guys seemed pretty chummy last night.’
‘Mmm he seems almost too good to be true. Unlike the men I work with,’ Bea said. ‘I mean it’s the 21st century, objectifying women for sales just cannot be an option anymore!’
‘Why don’t you just quit then?’
‘Quit? That’s a cute little idea! Who will pay for my coffees when I’m penniless?’ Bea dismissed Dino’s suggestion quickly.
‘I’m serious, Bea. You’re so unhappy working for those bigwigs upstairs. You hate your job! And you only say so every other day.’ Dino stopped lecturing her to serve an elderly gentleman who had a walking stick and a hearty chuckle, giving Bea a moment to fantasise about how her life could be different. Maybe she should have just stayed in Perth, friendless and completely overshadowed by her Insta-famous sister? At least there her career had been going somewhere. The only difference in her life in Melbourne was that her mother no longer shoved bags of fresh fruit and vegetables into her arms every Thursday night after family dinner. And, while Bea was cautiously optimistic about the new romantic interest in her life, she didn’t want – nor expect – her happiness to come from being in a relationship. Plus Bea had a habit of going after the wrong guy. Or rather, the wrong guys had a habit of going after her.
‘What would you do if you could have any job in the world?’ Dino quickly held up his hand, palm facing Bea, in an attempt to halt her protests. ‘Wait a minute. Ignore all of the practicalities involved and forget about your expenses! Just take a moment to imagine a different reality.’
Bea tapped her fingers on the counter. Anything? ‘I have no idea,’ she said, as an image of a deserted tropical island and a small bookstore made out of coconut husks and palm leaves flitted across her mind.
‘Come on, Babbage, surely you’ve thought about it? Haven’t you ever allowed yourself to imagine some utopian workplace while you eat your lunch in the toilet and rack your brain for the next big thing in dental hygiene?’
Bea sighed and ran her fingers through Agatha Christie’s dense, curly fur. What more did she want for herself? What more did she think she deserved? She had always done everything by the book: studied hard at school, followed in her sister’s footsteps and gone straight to university to study marketing, towed along with Cassandra and had a couple of fantastic, but time-sensitive, dalliances with Europe, volunteered when she could, graduated, discovered LinkedIn and eventually got a job in the field in which she had studied. In fact, the most radical thing she had done in the eight years between finishing school and landing a nine-to-five was accidentally ordering escargot in a Paris café, expecting it to be a raisin pastry. And it’s not like she hadn’t been happy, it was just that, in the last few months, it had started to feel like her life had chosen her, and not the other way around.
‘Oh, I don’t know, it’s silly really,’ Bea said, taking a sip of her coffee. ‘But maybe I don’t need some major career overhaul. Maybe I’m just tired of following somebody else’s narrative. Or some other narrative I think I should be following. I just want to be able to call the shots a little more, and, I guess, work according to a better moral code. I want to have more meaning in my life, more purpose. And moving here, uprooting my life, was supposed to be the start of all that. Of a braver Bea!’
Dino nodded along reassuringly. ‘Okay, great. Well, that’s a good start!’
‘Don’t mock me, Dino.’
‘Who, me? I’m as sincere as they come,’ Dino said, holding his right hand to his heart. ‘Tell me more, please.’
‘A very tiny part of me has always wondered what it would be like to go out on my own. What it would be like to be in a situation where I had more control over the companies I worked for. Pick and choose between the boring, the unethical and the wildly enthralling!’
‘So, do it, already! What have you got to lose?’
‘Stability? A roof over my head? Money to buy books?’
‘Babbage, you’re so practical. Fine then, start somewhere small. Try your hand at organising something little, experimenting with what’s out there, and see how you like it.’
Bea laughed. ‘You make it all sound so easy.’
Dino leaned opposite her, elbows on the counter, and came so close she could smell the scent of coffee beans on his fingertips. ‘Perhaps it could be – in the beginning in any case.’
‘So, what? I just quit my job and open up my own advertising agency? Just like that?’ Bea said with a click of her fingers.
‘Well, yeah.’ Dino shrugged. ‘You should do that. And soon. Even I can see that this job is killing you.’ He tilted in even closer. ‘But maybe start with something small if that’s too daunting a thought. A stunt, an event, something you feel passionate about. That’s what I did when I was thinking about leaving the corporate world and opening up The Nook.’
‘You were in the corporate world? Somehow, I can’t quite picture that,’ Bea laughed.
‘I worked in finance for my uncle’s business a few years back. He owned an accounting firm, so you can just imagine how thrilling the gig was. I needed to get out of there. But before I overhauled my whole life, I started small. On the weekends I volunteered at a soup kitchen, making coffee and helping manage the books. And I loved it. That’s when I realised I had to quit my job and open The Nook, do something that allowed me to be more creative and be in the thick of things. A few months later, I approached Sunday to start this place up with me, and the rest is history.’
‘Dino, that’s amazing. But I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Plus, you had Sunday to take that leap of faith with. I don’t really have anyone here, except for Zach, and I think it’s a bit too soon to start discussing starting a business together.’
‘Well, why don’t we start brainstorming?’
By the time Bea had devoured two almond croissants they had a plan. With a new sense of purpose, Bea waved Agatha Christie and Dino goodbye, scooped up her coffee and practically skipped out the door. As she made her way back to her desk upstairs, she peered down at the takeaway cup in her hands on which was scribbled: Try now, try now, it isn’t too late.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Books and speed dating – need I say more?
Dear Tracey,
In two weeks’ time, Next Chapter: Speed Dating for Books, will be launching at The Nook in South Yarra, Melbourne. The evening is all about bringing together a room full of book fanatics desperate for their next great read.
Guests will be invited to come bearing an adored book, and speed-dating style, move around, interviewing one another in the hopes of discovering their next favourite read. The event will be the perfect opportunity to interact with new bookish friends (because life isn’t all about finding the romantic ‘one’) while sourcing hot new reads and swooning over the many literary loves of a reader’s life.
For more information, don’t hesitate to call or email. Sincerely,
Bea Babbage
Bea sat at her small kitchen table. She was trying to respond to another email about
the first Next Chapter event but her mind kept going back to Zach. Does he even like me? Is taking it slow really a thing? Why did he take off the other night? Why hasn’t he called me? It was times like these that she wished she was still in Perth. She would have headed down to Scarborough Beach, her favourite place to think, stared at the ocean and analysed, in detail, Zach’s actions. Bea pushed away her laptop and took out her phone. She scrolled to Zach’s name, her thumb hovering over his number. What would you even say? But before she knew what she was doing, she had pressed the green phone icon next to his name.
‘Shit, shit, shit! I’m not mentally prepared for this!’ Bea frantically looked around her kitchen, as if the answer was hidden among the pile of dirty dishes that awaited her in the sink. Jumping up, she pranced awkwardly on the spot, waving her phone around. She contemplated hanging up, but then thought better of it – he’d know she’d called anyway. As the fourth ring tolled, she rammed the phone in her jeans pocket so that the speaker was just poking out.
‘Hello?’ she heard Zach answer.
‘Oh, you are so hilarious, Bea,’ Bea improvised in a fake English accent.
‘Oh, stop it, you are!’ Bea replied to herself, speaking loudly so that Zach could hear the conversation.
‘Bea?’ Zach called, no more than a muffled murmur.
‘Do you hear that? I think it’s coming out of your pocket,’ Bea said in the fake English accent.
‘Oh, you’re right.’ She took her phone out and held it to her ear. ‘Hello?’
‘Bea?’
‘Zach? Is that you?’
‘Er, you just called me,’ Zach said, clearly confused.
‘Oh, did I? Must’ve been a butt dial. It’s been happening to me all day. Stupid phone. I’m just hanging out with my friend Martha,’ Bea said in a totally blasé voice.
‘Oh, cool. Now that I have you I was going to suggest hanging out, but if you’re busy …’ Zach said, trailing off before Bea interrupted.
