Unravelled (10 page)

Mr Wall Street continues to walk to his mansion and I stand here speechless with my lace-encased breasts bared to the night air. I settle for a laugh-cry-sigh before walking to my cottage and feeling totally cheated by the gods.

Chapter 8

“And then my button popped off! Oh Pam, I felt so defeated.”

“Honey, be realistic. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“True. I would fully agree with you, except that these things happen to me all the time. It seems that coming here was like entering a parallel universe and I am diagonally parked in it.” I sigh deeply.

“Gosh, you really are feeling sorry for yourself.” Pam is laughing on the other side of the line and I pull a face at the phone.

“Well, so would you if your whole make-over is falling apart.”

“Alexandra, you know what I think of this silly make-over of yours.” Oh yes, I do. She never stopped telling me and I have a feeling I am about to hear it again. “It is denying your true self and an insult to the Universe.”

“Oh, come on Pam. The Universe has dealt me a screwed up hand and no matter what I try to do, I always end up in your kitchen with three bottles of cheap wine and a box of tissues.”

“Are you still blaming the gods for everything bad that happens to you?” This woman knows me too well.

“Yes.”

“Stop doing that, honey. And stop wearing those silly outfits that Juan chose for you. I liked your look.” Pam was the only one against my make-over and on the one hand I fully agree with her. My clothes, my jewellery, basically everything before the make-over were one hundred percent me and now, sometimes when I dress in the mornings and I look at myself in the mirror, it is as if a stranger is looks back at me. But I am still the same ol' Alex inside. I tell Pam this and we talk for a while how changing one’s appearance doesn’t really change one inside.

It is good to be talking to Pam. I am sitting on the wonderfully comfortable coffee coloured couch in my cottage with my feet curled under me. The sliding doors are open and Blossom is running in and out of the cottage enjoying the beautiful day and the very large grounds. I was working on my laptop when I decided that I needed to speak to Pam and have been sitting here now for almost an hour giving her an update on my week in Villsburg.

“And what about Blossom?”

“What about him?”

“When is Janey coming back? Are you really going to keep him until then?” Pam has never known me to have pets and my concession to look after Blossom surprised her as much as it did me.

“I am not exactly sure when Janey is coming back and I actually enjoy the mutt.” Blossom chooses this exact moment to throw himself down on the rug in front of the couch with a large fart and I start laughing. “Most of the time.” I tell her about the awkward situations Blossom’s colon problems has landed me in. We then talk some more about her exhibition and before long another hour has passed and we decide to finish our marathon call.

“Honey, I know you think I’m nagging, but I really want you to stop this make-over thing.”

“Please don’t start that again.”

“I just want to say this one last thing and then I will hang up and not talk about it again.” I sigh and close my eyes in preparation for another onslaught. “You are a beautiful, intelligent woman who does not need to hide behind clothes and practised behaviour. Only when you are true to yourself will you be able to put the past behind you and move on.”

“But it was being true to myself that got me into those past situations.” We both know what she’s referring to and it makes me feel very defensive.

“Yes, but...” She pulls herself short and says, “I promised that I won’t say anything else after this and I’m going to keep to that. You just think about what I said and look after yourself.”

“That’s not fair, Pam.” She never plays fair, but she’s usually right. “Anyway, you’re the one who needs to look after herself. Please take care and give those horrid cats of yours a hug from me.” We say our goodbyes and hang up. I stretch myself out on this couch and think of ways to take this godly piece of furniture to the city with me when I’m finished with this festival. It truly is one of the most comfortable couches I’ve ever been on.

My conversation with Pam has now got me thinking and I must admit that all her arguments have a plenty of merit. I suppose that I’m trying to use my newly attained look to protect myself. But from what? I suppose mostly from myself. The last five months I’ve worked very hard to control the true me and the moment Bomb got stuck on the side of the road, it all unravelled. But wait!

I sit up straight when a realisation dawns on me with the brightness and discomfort of the morning sun on a hung-over morning. I’m only ‘myself’ when I’m with Mr Wall Street. With everyone else I am able to remember all the lessons Juan, Bart and Erin drilled into me and control my posture, vocabulary – I consciously omit swearwords, and retorts – the most difficult to control. It’s only in that man’s presence that I lose all pretence and can’t help but be me with all my retorts, gestures and colourful language. Is that a good or a bad thing?

“What are you contemplating so deeply?” The deep voice from the sliding door breaks into my contemplative thoughts so abruptly that I give a startled shout which frightens Blossom with the inevitable result of a loud fart. I put my face in my hands and start laughing while Mr Wall Street walks into the cottage and seats his delicious self in the coffee coloured chair next to the couch.

“You know, this dog really has a problem.”

“I know, and he’s been to three vets who all said that it’s some kind of colon dysfunction that nothing can be done about. Not really good news for any of us.” I nudge Blossom’s tummy with my toes and he turns onto his back for a full tummy scratch. I rub his belly with my foot and look at Mr Wall Street. So far I have been able to keep as much distance between us as possible. But every time I’m close to him, my heart pounds, my breathing becomes difficult and heat pools in my lower abdomen. I wriggle on the couch to relieve the anticipation forming between my legs.

“About your car.” All sexy thoughts disappear like chocolate at a kids party and I turn a sharp look on him which makes him smile and hold up both hands. “I come in peace, Alex.”

“Okay. What about my car?” I ask very slowly and suspiciously which widens his smile even more. I like him like this. Relaxed.

“I spoke to Al this morning and he’s towed your car to his workshop. He is quite excited about rebuilding your car.” I lift my eyebrows at the word ‘rebuild”. “Those were his words, not mine. He said that it will take a few weeks, but should have it ready long before the festival starts. In other words, before you return to the city.”

“And...?”

“And what?”

“And, how much is it going to cost?” I feel a bit put out by Mr Wall Street taking control like this and organising my car without my consent. But I only feel a bit put out – it saves me trying to organise something in this tiny town.

“Less than buying a new car which I really think you should do but am pretty sure that you won’t.” My expression changes with his sentence: thunderous while he’s talking about me buying a new car and smiling sweetly when he acknowledges that I won’t. “But, it will be on the cost of the company. I’ve cleared it with accounting and it will be a bonus for your work at such a short notice.”

I lift my one eyebrow in utter surprise. What is going on here? I’m a bit suspicious and narrow my eyes while I’m trying to think why he would do such a thing. As if this is not enough to make me suspicious, he whips out his smart phone and hands it to me. I freeze in my seated position with my foot on Blossom’s belly, staring at his outstretched hand offering the phone with a great deal of mistrust.

“Take it.”

“I don’t want your phone.”

“It’s not my phone.” He’s using that tone again – old people and small children. “It’s your phone. Although, it looks similar to mine.” He holds it closer to me and gives it a little shake. “Take it.”

I reach out to it as if it is a snake that will attack and take the smart phone from him. I turn it around in my hand a few times and must admit that at closer view it’s actually quite cool. I start tapping at the screen and am amazed at the complexity of this small device.

“It is a company phone, which mean you’ll have to return it at the end of the project, but can be replaced at any time if something is to happen to it.” Has he been speaking to my insurance company? “Here is the box with all the instructions and the number. I’ve already programmed my number and a few other numbers of use into it.”

Okay, now I am really suspicious. What’s going on here?

“And here are the keys to the sedan. I left it in the car, but saw that you haven’t been out yet, so I thought I’ll bring it to you. I’ll be driving the SUV for the time being. The sedan is a really easy car to drive. No tricks. There are spare keys in the house in case you lose these.” Has he been investigating my cell phone and car history? How does he know I damage cell phones and lose keys?

“Why are you doing this?” I can hear the scepticism in my voice and am sure he must hear it as well. He leans back in the chair I watch with appreciation how his jeans stretches over his muscular legs.

“You’re one of the most scatterbrained and annoying individuals I know, but you proved to me this week and especially last night that at work you are extremely competent and I can’t afford to lose you on this project. It’s like I said last night: if a successful festival is going to cost my car a few scratches and the company a cell phone or three, then it is a small price to pay.”

“You do realise that you’re insulting me as much as you’re complimenting me.”

He sincerely looks surprised at this which makes me utter a very unfeminine bark of laughter. “You don’t realise you are insulting me.”

“No. I thought I was giving you a compliment and doing you a favour.”

“By telling me that I’m an insurance risk.” The outrage is audible in my voice and I’m sure visible on my face. “And that I’m feather-brained and irritating.”

“I did not say that!”

“Not in those words.” I shake my fists in frustration. “Argh!!”

“What?”

“Why are we always at loggerheads?”

“Did you just say “loggerheads”?” One corner of his mouth is quivering in amusement which makes me exhale loudly and after a few moments I give him a half smile.

“Yes, I did.”

“I thought so.” He chuckles and I’m entranced. He’s blindingly gorgeous when he laughs which also serves to be infuriating since it’s the first time that I hear his spontaneous laughter and it’s unfortunately at my expense. I smile politely and wait for his amusement to wane. When it does, I have my arms folded and a carefully thought-out sardonic look on my face. My facial expressions get a good workout around this man. Again he raises his hands in peace and breathes deeply.

“We need to find a way of working together, Alex. You can’t take everything I say and turn it into an insult.”

“And you can’t come in here and tell me that I’m an insurance risk to your company without thinking that I might take it personally.” I close my eyes and bite on my teeth. Why can I not remember what Bart taught me when I’m with this man? What was step one in the negotiations list? Oh blast it! I take a deep breath in an attempt to control myself with limited success. “I agree with you, however. We’re going to work together and will need to find a way to not ... not...”

“Not what?” He’s baiting me.

“Not ... disagree.” Bart will be so proud. What I wanted to say was I need to find a way to not want to try out some karate moves I saw on a movie last night. Not want to inflict harm on him every time I see him. Not paint his toenails red while he’s sleeping. But strength prevailed and I resisted.

“And how do you propose we do this.”

“Well, I think that we should ... we... I honestly don’t know!” I throw my hands up in defeat and let them drop to the couch.

“Well, hopefully you’ll come up with an idea soon, because we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” He gets up from the chair and walks to the door. My treasonous eyes are drawn to his delectable behind – the man really fills out a pair of jeans well. He turns around, but not before I catch myself and in spirit smack myself on the back of the head. Once again he spoke down to me and all I can think about is his tush. I am a disgrace to my gender.

I stare at his back as he walks to the house and wonder how many more times I am going to look at his back as he walks away from me after a disagreement. My little voice tells me it will happen a few more times – maybe not the walking away, but the disagreements. I comfort myself with the thought that at least not all men are annoying. Some are dead.

Chapter 9

My life here in Villsburg has settled into an unsettling routine. The weekend turned out to be very relaxing after
Mr Wall Street
’s little visit in my cottage-villa on Saturday afternoon. It was relaxing mostly because I did not see him again for the remainder of the weekend, and had the garden and the swimming pool for myself. Blossom’s fear of water kept him far away from the pool, but I enjoyed the cool water after lying in the sun for a short while. Between the swimming pool, Mr Wall Street’s absence and a few glasses of wine, my weekend was perfect.