Donna Joy Usher - Chanel 02 - Goons 'n' Roses (3 page)

‘Change,’ said Rita.

Pouting, I hopped up. ‘See you later Daren.’ I put in some extra hip action as I sauntered off to the next table.

I sat down opposite an immaculately-groomed man who must have been at least 80 years old.

He peered at my name tag and said, ‘Chanel. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.’

‘Ahhh,’ I said, ‘the pleasure is all mine?’ I hadn’t read the fine print, but I had assumed there would be an age limit to speed dating.

‘We don’t have long,’ he said, ‘so I would like to tell you the rules of our engagement.’

‘Pardon?’

‘We would have to get married of course, but not too quickly or the gossip columns would be all over us.’

I looked around to see if there were a team from Funniest Home Videos filming me.

‘But once we were married you would have full access to my funds. Of course there would be strict stipulations on how many times a week we were to have sex.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Well, you don’t think you’re getting access to my money without having sex a few times a week?’

‘I don’t think I’m going to get access to your money at all,’ I said, standing up. His name badge said Bert O’Sullivan. I was definitely going to get Trent to look into him. He
had
to be running some type of scam.

The next few dates were mind-stoppingly boring and then I found myself staring at a man who ticked all of my boxes. At least I found myself hoping he would tick all my boxes, later, when we were alone.

He had a five o’clock shadow that I suspected never got shaved off; thick, dark, wavy hair that just begged to have my fingers curled into it; and deep-blue eyes that glinted with a naughty light. Yummy.

He smiled at me and lifted an eyebrow. I aimed for a sexy siren smirk, hoping I wasn’t instead giving him the wide stupid grin I was feeling.

‘So Sebastian,’ I purred, ‘what do you do for a living?’ I was going to be awfully disappointed if he were an accountant.

‘I acquire special automobile parts for clients.’

‘So you’re a mechanic?’

‘You could say that.’

Mechanics knew how to get down and dirty. ‘Do you have your own business?’

‘I certainly do.’

Ooh,
an entrepreneur who knew how to use his hands. This speed dating evening was working out quite nicely.

‘What on earth is someone like you doing at something like this?’ he asked me.

‘I could ask you the same question.’

‘You go first.’

‘I’m looking for Mr Wrong,’ I said. ‘You?’

‘Change,’ Rita said
much
too quickly.

‘What a pity,’ he said as I hopped up, ‘because I think I just found Miss Right.’

The dates after Sebastian passed in a blur and suddenly I found myself sitting in front of Daniel.

‘You speed date?’ I said.

‘No.’

‘But you’re here now.’

A faint flush of red coloured his cheeks and he breathed out heavily, causing his glasses to fog up. He took them off to clean them and glanced over at me. I had never noticed how beautiful his eyes were; soft brown, framed by long, black lashes. They were normally so magnified by the coke-bottle-thick lenses that they looked out of proportion to the rest of his face. Like a goldfish.

He placed the glasses back onto his nose and said, ‘I came to make sure you were okay.’

‘Oh.’ It was possibly the sweetest thing anybody had ever done for me.

‘You are, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, yes, I’m fine.’ I was frazzled by his comment. Why couldn’t I fall for somebody kind like Daniel? ‘What did you think of Bettina?’

He shuddered and said, ‘She’s scary.’

‘Anybody else take your fancy?’

‘No,’ he said, but he blushed as he said it.

Ohhhooohh. So there was someone here who Daniel thought was nice. I wondered who it was?

‘Change.’

‘See you later,’ I said hopping up. ‘Oh and Daniel…’

‘Yes?’

‘Thanks.’

***

I had wanted to talk to Sebastian at the end of the evening, but he’d had some business he needed to attend to, which was a good thing, because the brazen hussy part of me was wishing
I
was the business he needed to attend to, while the psychologically-scarred part was blithering on about how it was stupid to be alone with someone I hardly knew. I probably would have appeared schizophrenic. It was best to let Trent investigate him first.

Instead, I headed home to Cocoa, who had been by himself far too much over the last couple of nights, and took him for a quick walk around the block. I had a day excursion planned the next day, and had organised with Bruce to take Lancelot (Cocoa’s poodle boyfriend) with us on the long walk into town and around the Botanical Gardens.

After we were both settled onto the couch I picked up the diary.

Dear Diary,

I know I’m meant to be filling up your pages with deep and meaningful thoughts, but the problem is, I don’t seem to have many of those. I’ve always been more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of gal. Perhaps that is my problem. Perhaps I need to think more deeply. But is that something you can learn or does it just come naturally to some people?

I made progress tonight. I went speed dating – which meant I was surrounded by strangers – and I didn’t start blubbering. Baby steps: Today not blubbering in public, tomorrow the world.

Although it’s not being in public that worries me… It’s the dark. It terrifies me. And to be totally honest, I don’t know if I’m ever going to get over that.

***

‘Here you go,’ I said, waving the list of possible love interests at Trent. Bob and Nathan looked up from the donut box they were raiding.

‘The first one’s not a love interest,’ I said, ‘but he’s running some type of scam. You need to look into him.’

‘Who is it?’ Trent asked.

‘Bert O’Sullivan.’

He threw back his head and started laughing. ‘Bert O’Sullivan running a scam?’

‘He offered me access to his money on the understanding I’d have sex with him.’

‘I don’t see anything illegal in that,’ Nathan said as he wandered over.

‘It’s revolting.’

‘No law against being revolting,’ Trent said. ‘Anyway, Bert O’Sullivan is a textile billionaire. He probably just wants a young wife to look after him.’

‘And to bonk,’ Bob said around a mouthful of donut.

Billionaire? I couldn’t even begin to imagine how much money that was.

‘Who else is on there?’ Nathan asked.

‘Daren Todd,’ I said.

‘Sandy blonde hair, rides a motorbike?’ Trent asked.

I nodded my head.

‘Drug dealer. Who else have you got?’

Well I’ll be damned. A drug dealer? I didn’t see
that
one coming. It didn’t matter. I had left the best till last. ‘Sebastian Levi.’ I could feel my smug smile stretching my face.

‘Hmmmm.’ Trent looked thoughtful. ‘What does
he
look like?’

‘Thick dark hair, five o’clock shadow, dark eyes, good tan.’
Utterly delicious
.

‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘I think I know him. But he doesn’t go by that name. Come with me.’

I followed him through to the front offices, where Dave was interviewing a man. It was Sebastian.

‘What the?’ I said.

‘That’s Julian Lemur. He runs a chop shop. Stole Bert O’Sullivan’s Jaguar last night. Daniel saw him gaining access and called it in.’

A chop shop? Well, double poo with icing on top.

I did the only thing a sane woman could. I went back out to the office and helped myself liberally to the box of donuts. At least I
knew
how bad
they
were for me.

***

I had finished my packing when Susie knocked on my door.

‘You’ve lost more weight,’ I said. I hadn’t seen her since graduation and she’d lost at least another couple of dress sizes.

‘Still got a bit to lose before…’ She stopped talking and held her left hand out. A fat diamond glistened on her fourth finger.

‘You’re engaged?’ I gasped. ‘You and Liam?’

‘I know it’s fast,’ she said. ‘But he’s so wonderful, and we get on so well, and we want the same things for our future and when he asked me, well… it just felt right.’

‘That’s wonderful,’ I said, throwing my arms around her. ‘Congratulations.’

I dragged her suitcase into the lounge and Cocoa jumped up on her, demanding to be patted.

‘He hasn’t changed,’ she said, following me into the lounge.

‘He’s got a boyfriend now.’

‘Awwww,’ she said, scratching behind his ears, ‘you’re all grown up.’

‘Thanks for doing this,’ I said.

‘I didn’t want to tell you about the engagement over the phone, so when you asked me to dog sit, it was perfect. I get to see you, and take time off work to get the wedding organised.’

‘Sorry you won’t see much of me before I go,’ I said.

‘It’ll be great. When you get back you can tell me all about Las Vegas and I can bore you stupid with wedding plans.’

At 7pm Martine turned up with pizzas and a bottle of fake tan. ‘What do you think?’ She whirled on the spot while pointing at a new wig. Her normal wigs added inches to her height; this one was a stylish, smooth, deep-black bob.

‘Classy,’ I said in approval.

‘Very nice,’ Susie added.

‘I got it for the daytime,’ Martine said. ‘I don’t really have any daytime wigs. Martyn refuses to wear them.’

‘It probably wouldn’t go over well at his work,’ I said. I liked the way Martine discussed Martyn as if he were a different person. It allowed me to believe that he was. I had tried to mentally assimilate the two very different people into the same body. I had not been at all successful. ‘Speaking of Martyn,’ I said, ‘he hasn’t had any problems getting time off work has he?’

Martine looked confused for a moment and then she let out a laugh. ‘Oh no. Silly me. Didn’t I tell you? He
owns
Mayfair Accounting.’

‘Owns it?’ Mayfair Accounting was one of the largest accounting firms in Sydney. It had over ten branches.

‘He’s so boring, all he does is work, work, work. Got to widdle.’ She dumped the pizza and fake tan onto the kitchen bench and sashayed off to the toilet.

‘Is Martyn her boyfriend?’ Susie whispered.

I shook my head, trying not to laugh. ‘No it’s her, during the day, when she’s not in drag.’

Susie’s mouth was still formed into a perfect O when Martine re-emerged from the bathroom.

‘I got Hawaiian and Meat Lovers and of course Vegetarian for moi, but there’s plenty to share. Do you eat meat?’ she asked Susie.

‘Umm yes,’ Susie said.

‘I haven’t let a morsel of it pass my lips since I read that it gives you cellulite.’

I could see Susie staring in bewilderment at Martine’s legs, which were long and lean. There was no place at all for cellulite on
those
legs.

‘You, by the way,’ Martine said to Susie, ‘look fabulous. And what is that I see sparkling on your left hand?’

‘Oh,’ Susie said shyly, ‘my boyfriend Liam and I got engaged.’

‘No way,’ Martine shouted. ‘Girlfriend, that’s fantastic. Oops, I nearly forgot.’ She rumbled around in her ginormous handbag, finally pulling out a bottle of bubbly. ‘Chanel, get the glasses.’ She reached back into her bag and pulled out another bottle. ‘And put this in the fridge.’

‘Are you going to be able to fake tan my arm if we drink all this?’ I asked.

‘I take offence at that question. It’s not even a whole bottle each.’

‘True,’ I said as I popped the spare bottle into the fridge. There was a knock on the door as I was reaching up to get the champagne flutes out of the cupboard.

‘I’ll get it,’ Martine said.

Mum was standing at the door with a couple of bottles of bubbly in her hands. ‘Welcome Susie,’ she said, prancing into the living room. She shoved the bottles at me and then swept Susie up into a hug.

I could see the look of confusion on Susie’s face.

‘You remember my Mum, Lorraine?’ I said.

I’m sure she remembered her. She just didn’t remember
this
woman. The Lorraine she had met had had a tight perm, and worn a dour brown dress to my graduation ball.
This
Lorraine dazzled and shone, with her glowing skin and her stylish clothing.

‘Geez,’ Susie said to me, ‘when you said she’d changed…’

‘I know,’ I shook my head, ‘suddenly I’m competing with my own mother.’

Mum laughed in delight and flopped down on the couch.

There was another knock on the door. When I opened it, Bruce was standing there with Lancelot. ‘This isn’t what it looks like,’ I said.

‘You mean you aren’t really having a party that you didn’t invite me to?’

Lancelot saw Cocoa and started yipping in excitement. Bruce released him from his lead and the two dogs ran off together, racing around and around the living room.

‘Susie is going to think this is a mad house,’ I said over the noise.

‘Speaking of Susie,’ Bruce said, handing me a bottle of bubbly and a cheese platter. ‘I thought she should meet me and Lancelot before you go. Otherwise she might think I’m some weirdo.’

‘She’s still going to think you’re a weirdo,’ I said affectionately, as I closed the door after him.

Martine commandeered my iPod, rang for more pizza and the party really took off.

We had to leave for the airport at 8 the next morning so I kicked everybody, except Martine, out at 11pm. She stayed to tan my arm.

‘Should we put masking tape around the top?’ I asked her drunkenly, as we viewed the delineation between my natural tan and the area which had been encased in the cask.

‘We’re not painting a room,’ she said. ‘We
want
it to blend.’

I watched in concern as she rubbed the tanning lotion into my skin while muttering about albino scarecrows.

‘We probably should have done this a little earlier,’ she said when she’d finished.

‘Why?’

‘You’re meant to let it dry completely before it comes into contact with clothing.’

‘Why didn’t we do it earlier?’

‘I usually do it naked. I forgot we were only doing your arm.’