Unravelled (13 page)

An hour and a half later I’m lying on a cloud. Man, this bed is comfortable, even more so than the very comfortable one in the cottage. I roll to the other side of the bed just to confirm that it is comfortable there too. It is. Blossom gives a tiny whimper in his sleep, followed by some disjointed leg movement and the predictable burst of air. I get up to open the window a bit – even though Blossom doesn’t produce smellies, I still have a psychological need for fresh air. I pull away the curtain and see a door leading to a Romeo-and-Juliet balcony and can’t help but open the door and step out onto the tiled floor of the balcony. The fresh cool air gently runs its fingers over my exposed skin and I fold my arms around myself.

What a night. Mr Wall Street did not appreciate my scepticism at his hospitality and almost withdrew his offer. And there was a moment when I almost didn’t accept. Gawd, that man is insufferable. There were so many really good retorts willing and ready to jump off my tongue and it was only with a Herculean effort and the thought that I don’t even have Bomb to sleep in that I ordered them to stand down. Erin and my mother would’ve been proud.

I lean against the balcony railing and look at the view in front of me. This room is at the back of the house and has a view of the swimming pool which is softly lit at night. I can only see the outline of the cottage with the rest of the property swallowed up by the darkness and shadows. During the stand off between
Mr Wall Street
and me regarding his hospitality, I gave a little laugh that had him ask me, very defensively, why I was laughing. I then asked him why we’re always at each other’s throats (that question has come up a few times) and he responded in a very curious way. Denial, he said it was. Denial of what I don’t know and I know that if I think about it, I will find an answer and I am convinced that this is one question I would rather go unanswered for now.

Somewhere a dog starts barking and I think of Blossom. He’d been subdued the whole time we’ve been in Mr Wall Street’s house. When we came back from the cottage to gather some things for me to stay over, he was still in the same spot on the rug with the same pathetic woebegone look in his eyes. While we were in the cottage, Adam tried to sweep some water out, but only succeeded in creating mini waves that kept returning. I think there might be some substantial damage to that beautiful cottage which is truly a pity. I quickly packed some cosmetics, clothes and pyjamas. It is one thing sleeping in the nick when I’m alone, but when I’m in someone’s – especially
Mr Wall Street
’s – house, pyjamas are called for.

He gave a funny laugh when I went into the kitchen after a quick shower, dressed in my pj’s. I gave him the umpteenth dirty look for the day, sat down at the table and started sipping the hot chocolate he had made. After a blissful second sip I realised he was still looking at my pj’s. I sighed and told him to get it off his chest. He said that he had never seen anyone wear Tigger pyjama bottoms and I told him that he should get out more. In a moment of sharing – scary indeed – I also told him that Tigger was my favourite childhood memory.

“There are so many facets to you, Alex.” He said in a soft voice that momentarily distracted me from my delicious hot chocolate.

“I think all of us have many different sides, just not everyone explores or reveals those sides.” That was a very profound thought for so late at night and I inwardly sighed at my philosophical side fighting to emerge so late at night. Alcohol combined with stress can produce the most profound insights into one’s life. Then I realised that he was still looking at me. Strangely. I cocked my eyebrows in a quiet question, ready for any response except the one I got.

“It might be an interesting journey exploring all your sides.” This sentence had so many different meanings and the blistering look in Adam’s eyes made me realise that I should maybe interpret it in all those different meanings. As if my eyes were a camera with a zoom lens, the room went out of focus and Adam became sharply etched into my visual preceptors. I was all of a sudden very aware of his smell – that clean, just shaved smell, his naked torso and those gorgeous legs encased in jeans.

Leaning against the balcony now, smelling the soft perfume of flowers drifting up on the breeze, I can honestly not remember what I said. I think there were a lot of “uhms” and “ahs” and I doubt I strung together an intelligent sentence. My mind was reeling faster than a one eyed cat in a fish market. Somehow I got myself out of the kitchen with a scalded tongue from drinking my hot chocolate at supersonic speed.

At the kitchen door I had turned around to wish him a good night and the words dried on my scalded tongue when I caught him looking at my Tigger covered bottom. And he wasn’t looking at the adorable cartoon characters. Oh no! He was looking at my J Lo butt with some very unchildlike entertainment on his mind. Seeing him look at me like that got my heart beating faster than a bongo drummer on drugs and I had to listen hard to hear those voices in my head warning me. Oh, I was so tempted to just shut all warning signs off and throw myself at him, but my many disastrous experiences came rushing to the fore and I was able to smile at him with great difficulty and carry my Tigger-covered butt off to my new bedroom.

How am I going to survive this test the gods have decided to throw my way? I know that I will not drink another drop of alcohol if it will lead to another night like this.

Chapter 11

“No!” Blossom lifts his head and looks at me with alarm in his eyes. I didn’t realise I actually shouted. My eyes are drawn back to the flat screen television and I groan in frustration. Only a short while longer to go and the batsman isn’t focused. As it is, it is a tight one day game and we really don’t need him screwing it up.

I know, I know. Most people are surprised at my keen interest in cricket and my knowledge thereof. It started with a mild interest from a previous boyfriend and I had found a passion. I slap my palm against my forehead as the fast bowler surprises the batsman once again with a brilliant throw and the unfocused gentleman – good manners keep me from calling him what I really want to – just manages to stop the ball from taking out the wickets, but totally wastes the opportunity to score some runs.

It is Sunday afternoon – more than a week of me living in the
Montgomery
mansion. Adam and I have been getting along surprisingly well and he even started calling Blossom by name and no longer ‘dog’. I’ve decided to accept Adam’s hospitality and feel so laid back today that I would make a bowl of cooked spaghetti seem tense.

Something strange happened that night that the cottage flooded. Adam stopped being
Mr Wall Street
to me, he also stopped being that ornery grump and actually turned into a human being. I stopped being disagreeable and rolling my eyes at everything he said and somehow we’ve found middle-ground. How and why it happened I am not sure, but am mightily glad that I can save my fighting energy now for Zondra.

The last week had gone by in a flash. I’ve had meetings with Jeremy about the dairy and with Andy’s aunt, Maude, about the transportation to and from the festival. Of all the meetings I had last week, she made the biggest impression on me. The voice that I got to know over the phone belonged to a petite, feminine lady in her late forties who looks fabulous. We got talking and she is the kind of woman who would run a company within a year of starting to serve coffee there. An amazing woman. I even had a meeting set with Zondra, but she cancelled at the last minute. Surprised I was not. However, I was feeling a bit premenstrual and was afraid of what I might do to her, so it was a good thing she cancelled, but poor Ray had to then bear the brunt of my hormonal imbalance, which he did with good humour.

Jamie popped into the office a few times as well, but stopped coming when Ray wouldn’t leave him alone about that girl, Tariska, he is interested in. I haven’t even had time to think again of meeting her and might lose the opportunity altogether if Ray persists in pestering poor Jamie.

“Yes!” I throw my eyes heavenwards and thank god for her mercy. I adjust the sleeves of my oversized sweatshirt and smile triumphantly at Blossom. “A six,” I say to a dog with no interest in cricket, and get back to the game. I’m rooting for
Australia
, but I must admit that the Pakistani team has given a truly impressive performance today. With only a few balls left, the game can turn in any which direction. That’s what makes one day games so great.

“Sounds exciting in here.” Adam walks into the room with two beers and a bowl of popcorn. He puts the refreshments on the coffee table in front of the couch and sits down next to me. I’m halfway through giving him a quick update on the game when the blank look in his eyes registers with me.

“You don’t know anything about cricket!” I am shocked. Horrified actually.

“And you know a lot.”

I am momentarily distracted by an almost catch that to my great relief the Pakistani fielder blotched. I release the breath I didn’t realise I was holding, grab a handful of popcorn and start stuffing my face in a manner that would dispirit my mother.

“How can you not know anything about cricket?” I give him a disapproving sideways glance and immediately return my attention to the screen. This is going to be such a close call – a really good game.

“The same way you don’t know anything about soccer.” His comeback registers with me a bit slowly since this is not the last over and we’re not home free yet.

“Touché.”

The next fifteen minutes has me chewing the inside of my bottom lip when I’m not shovelling popcorn into my mouth. I love the tension of a good game of sport. I watched European football with Adam last weekend – my first weekend in his house – and enjoyed the tension of the game between Manchester United and
Liverpool
. Adam had given me the basic outline of the game rules when I proclaimed my ignorance, and once I knew a bit more I really enjoyed it.

At work Adam has been friendlier, which I must admit I find disconcerting, but it does make for a better work atmosphere. The only thorn in my side is Zondra. A lot of the final contracts were drawn up, but nothing can be done without her and she continues to be evasive. Except for her everything else is running smoothly. Most of the big events and artists have been organised and we are now focussing on the logistics.

On the home front, Adam and I have established a comfortable companionship and I actually enjoy staying here. There are still moments when I would gleefully strangle him, but mostly I enjoy bumping into him every now and then somewhere in the big house.

But I’ll be caught wearing twelve inch heels before I admit that.

My problems with breathing and an overactive heart have not eased though. Every time I’m anywhere near Adam, my mouth goes dry. And then I start salivating at any body part my eyes fall on. A few nights I’ve had to take care of business while in the shower just to get some relieve from this constant awareness. But nothing would make me leave.

It was his suggestion on Wednesday that I continue to stay in the house, even though the cottage was habitable again. After the first surprisingly pleasant week of sharing accommodation with Adam, I had no problem accepting his offer. A sort of routine has been formed where Adam have assumed kitchen duty.

After my attempt at grilled cheese sandwiches which left the kitchen thick with smoke and me red-faced, he claimed to love cooking, but I suspect it’s a self-serving decision to protect his kitchen from me. When I stumble into the kitchen in the mornings, there is a fresh pot of coffee waiting for me. At night we’ve been repeating the first night’s episode by drinking a cup of hot chocolate in the kitchen. Adam no longer laughs at my pyjamas.

I’ve learned quite a lot about him. He’s a hard businessman with strong principles and an unyielding sense of moral and ethic responsibility. And underneath all of that, he hides a poet’s soul. There might be a few redeeming qualities to the annoying man. A few times he’s said something so profoundly poignant that I was stunned, but wise enough to not crack any jokes. I almost told him that I once thought he might be like a historic romance novel hero, but decided against admitting to him that I actually read books like that. I like the fact that he thinks I’m intellectual.

He’s also shown a keen interest in learning more about me and I find myself on the verge of opening up to him. I’ve told him a heavily censored version of my history; a little bit about my parents, a lot about my grandmother but nothing about Pam, the one person who I owe my sanity to, and absolutely nothing about my love life. I know he wants to know, but I’ll give him credit for not having asked yet.

I am a bit worried about Pam and told
Erin
so when I phoned him yesterday. Since our last conversation when he asked me to phone Pam, things were so busy that I only got around to it two days later and haven’t been able to get hold of her at all.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” The last ball and the batsman hits a six! I whoop loudly and plant a wet kiss on an unexpecting Adam’s cheek. “Wow, what a game!”

“Yea, what a game.”

I give him the evil eye for his sardonic reply and hit him across the chest with a cushion. “Hey, at least I tried to understand twenty two men running after a piece of inflated leather just to kick it around. I did not belittle it.”

“Okay, okay.” He laughs in that resigned way I’m getting to know when he realises he won’t win or maybe he just knows that arguing with me would be a futile exercise.