Lovesome

by Sally Seltmann

  ‘Joni J!’ he calls out loudly.

  ‘Hey Dave.’

  ‘How are ya, mate. Hey James.’

  James and Dave man-shake, their faces both showcasing friendly smiles.

  ‘Wait till you see what Lucy’s done with Gatsby,’ Dave excitedly tells us. ‘Babe, babe!’ he calls out towards Gatsby. ‘Can I bring ’em in? It’s Joni.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah yeah!’ Lucy frantically calls back, sounding very much like she’s in a tizzy.

  The three of us walk along the hallway, pausing when we reach the doorway to Gatsby. I look inside, and my mind is blown. Lucy’s in the corner, setting up the gramophone on a table covered in a hot-pink tablecloth, with a bright-blue ribboned edging. She wiggles her curvy bum as she fiddles around with the records and the vase of red roses next to the gramophone. Then she turns to face us, wearing her natural resting face: seductive scowl. She looks sexed-up and on fire, and I’m captivated by her electrifying beauty.

  Her long blonde hair is out, wavy and full of life. One side is pinned up, held in place with a gold comb covered in white feathers that billow up high above her head. Her thick fringe rests just above her elegantly shaped eyebrows, and large gold hoop earrings hang beside her petite neck. Tiny gold beads and sequins cover her tight, off-white satin dress, its neckline plunging deeply, drawing attention to her voluptuous, olive-skinned breasts. Her lips are a deep red, and her eyes have extra black eyeliner and a thick coat of mascara. Her look is Hollywood Movie Star From Yesteryear meets Parisian Showgirl meets Exotic Bird.

  And the room! Lucy’s decorated it so it looks like we’re about to take part in a pagan wedding ceremony, circa 1924. Gone are all the tables and chairs. Instead, hanging high above, are wide, lollipop-coloured ribbons, each one attached to the lightshade in the centre of the ceiling; from there they stretch out, evenly spaced and pinned three-quarters of the way up the walls, creating a flamboyant canopy.

  ‘It’s a maypole,’ Lucy tells us, followed quickly by, ‘and bonsoir, my darlings.’

  She gives me a kiss-kiss, and then moves on to James.

  ‘Oh my god, Lucy,’ I exclaim, ‘this looks amazing!’

  I turn to James, whose body language suggests that he’s just as enthralled as I am. He takes the lens cap off his camera. ‘You two,’ he says, gently putting his hand on my back, suggesting I move into the centre of the room.

  I sidle up next to Lucy and she swings her arm around my shoulder, pulling a sultry pose for the camera.

  ‘Under the lightshade. It’ll look great if you’re both under the centre of the maypole,’ James tells us, looking ridiculously handsome.

  ‘Oooh, photo time, photo time!’ Juliet sings out like a sick parrot, entering the room with an overly exaggerated whoosh.

  She squishes herself between Lucy and me without an invitation. ‘Move over, girlies,’ she orders, boom-booming her hips from side to side.

  ‘Say cheese!’ James calls out from behind his camera.

  ‘Whippeee!’ Juliet calls out, as Lucy and I obey James, giving him a playful cheese.

  Juliet’s silver-and-black lamé dress almost looks cool. But her big, blow-dried hairdo takes over, destroying every inch of credibility. Meanwhile, her fuzzy peach perfume overtakes every other fragrance in the room. I look towards her and smile lovingly, enjoying the entertainment she unknowingly provides.

  ‘Juliet, do you remember James from the other night—the photographer?’ Lucy asks, her French accent sounding so obvious on photographer.

  ‘I don’t know if I properly met you, but howdy. I’m Juliet.’

  She shakes his hand, up and down, up and down, so fast it sets James off with the giggles. I join in, and then put my arm around him, cuddling in, making it obvious to Juliet that he’s mine, and I’m his.

  ‘Bubbles?’ Juliet asks, flicking her hair across her forehead, then zhoozhing it up at the back, unaware that it’s impossible to make it any bigger than it already is.

  ‘Ah, yeah…sure,’ James answers, in his cool, mellow tone.

  ‘Joni?’

  ‘Yeah, thanks, Juliet.’

  ‘Oui,’ Lucy purrs, before calling out, ‘Davey, baby, how’s the food coming along?’

  Juliet flits out of Gatsby, and Dave jumps in. He gathers me, James and Lucy together and whispers, ‘The caterers don’t seem very experienced. Lucy, um…where did you find them?’

  ‘Mais si, ils sont expérimentés!’

  ‘Babe,’ Dave answers Lucy, in his normal voice, ‘translate, translate. Joni and James don’t speak French. Unless you do, James. Do—’

  Lucy fires back at Dave, ‘They are professionals, and I found them in the city a few months ago when I was attending a private auction. They are brilliant! How dare you judge my choices, darling.’ She cosies up to him and gives him a big smooch on the lips.

  A loud knock rattles on the front door. Polly’s Pommy ‘Hello’ is just audible. We hear her let herself in, then she joins us in Gatsby.

  ‘Hello lovelies,’ Polly says, holding up a bottle of bubbly.

  ‘Bonsoir my love,’ Lucy says, gently laying her lips on each of Polly’s cheeks, then tossing her long hair over her shoulder.

  Juliet appears with a silver tray of coupes, each one filled with champagne.

  ‘Polly, did you meet Juliet?’ Lucy asks, as Juliet leans over Lucy’s shoulder. I watch Juliet give Polly the once-over as Polly removes her leopard-print coat, revealing a fabulous sapphire-blue strapless dress. Multiple strands of pink and blue beads are wrapped around her neck, and her dark-brown hair is windblown and messy, adding a paradoxically punk element to her school-prom get-up. When she smiles, somehow her bucked teeth add even more credibility and spunk to her overall appearance. Look and learn, Juliet, I think, silently. Look—and—learn.

  ‘Hello Juliet,’ Polly chirps, then quickly adds, ‘Jamie darling!’ and gives him a hug. She looks at me and I can tell she’s forgotten my name. ‘And hello…’

  ‘Joni,’ James says, saving her.

  He pulls me close and puts his arm around my waist, cuddling me affectionately. Polly immediately picks up on the romantic vibe and raises her eyebrows at James, thinking I’m not looking.

  We all grab a champagne glass and raise it. ‘Cheers,’ Lucy says, her delicate hand holding her coupe up high.

  Her gold bangles chinkle together as we all answer her call. ‘Cheers!’

  We mingle, splitting off into twos, talking about this and that. I overhear Polly and James chatting.

  ‘These ribbons look like a bit of alright,’ Polly tells James. ‘And you look like you’ve had a good day,’ she says to him, with a mischievous inflection.

  I look over at them, and she has a twinkle in her eye.

  ‘I’ve had a very good day. Very, very good.’ James looks back at me, his gaze reaffirming his desire for me.

  He and Polly clink glasses, then James leaves her standing there and walks towards me. He kisses me, and I feel the weight of everybody’s gaze. And then the thick stench of marijuana walks into the room with Simon.

  Dave breaks from his conversation with Lucy. ‘Simey boy,’ he calls, giving Simon a slap/hug across his shoulders.

  ‘Hey mate,’ Simon returns, his slurred speech, bloodshot eyes and slow-motion movements revealing his doped-up state just as much as if he had the words I’M STONED tattooed across his forehead.

  ‘Where’s Annabelle?’ Polly calls out, as though she’s asking everyone in the room.

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ I reply. ‘Um…she’s coming with Michael.’

  ‘Say what?’ Dave’s wearing his hilarious one-eyebrow-up face.

  ‘Yeah. You’ll see,’ I tell him, unable to hide my grin.

  Lucy moves us into the Red Room, where the dark, wooden walls and red vases and urns and Valentine’s Day cards are lit with the golden glow of five candles in a brass candelabra that she’s set on the mantelpiece. Six tealight candles are set in a row down the centre of the table, and stemless red roses are s
cattered over the delicate mismatched china and white napkins. The fireplace is bursting with flickering flames atop blackened logs with hot fiery coals. We all take a seat, James and I making sure we’re seated side by side. Once we’ve sat down and tucked our chairs under, James places his hand on my thigh. He looks me in the eyes and I return his gaze, thinking back to Sunday night, when I first saw him. I can’t believe this is where we are now.

  ‘Some wine?’ Lucy asks, pouring chablis into Polly’s glass, then moving on to Juliet’s.

  Annabelle’s voice floats from the hallway into the Red Room.

  ‘Hello people.’

  Michael appears in the doorway, and half a second later Annabelle pokes her head over his shoulder, then slips in beside him. She’s wearing a beautiful baby-blue silk dress with shoestring straps, red lipstick, and a black velvet choker. I give her a smile, admiring the way her diamante earrings are catching the candlelight. She strokes the side of Michael’s face, making it very obvious that they are on, as a couple.

  ‘Sorry we’re late,’ she says, directing her apology to Lucy.

  Lucy gives them both the up-and-down, and I study her face, wondering which way she’ll go. Pissed off and snappy, or warm and delighted to see that Michael has scored one of the most gorgeous up-and-coming superstars in the country.

  ‘Bonsoir, darlings,’ she purrs, waltzing up to Annabelle and giving her the double-kiss greeting, followed by a friendly rub on Michael’s back.

  ‘Hey Michael,’ Dave says, raising his wine glass and giving him a cheers with eyebrows suggestively bopping up and down.

  Polly moves along so she can sit next to Annabelle, and Annabelle can sit next to Michael; the room quickly fills with effervescent conversation and jovial chitchat.

  When the two caterers enter the room with our entrées, I realise how lucky we are at Harland, not having to wear a white lab coat waitressing uniform, or the standard black-and-white. Not with Lucy as our boss. That would be very un-Harland.

  The food is delicious, the wine is flowing, and the mood is developing from standard-dinner-party to raucous share-house get-together. Before the dessert is served, we’re already razzed up enough to spill into Gatsby and crank up the gramophone.

  ‘Okay, music, music…Dave, turn the CD player off,’ Lucy sternly orders, sounding slightly drunk, and very wound up.

  Dave, in loud conversation with Polly, is oblivious to her request.

  ‘Dave!’ Lucy howls, in her fierce lady-boss voice.

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ He hurriedly pushes past everybody, tapping her on the bum on his way out into the hallway.

  Lucy picks up the pile of old records, and dramatically flips through them, dropping one, which lands with a violent slap on the floor. ‘Michael,’ she snaps, ‘wind her up, would you.’

  ‘Ooh la la,’ Polly says in half-sing half-talk.

  Michael follows Lucy’s order and winds up the gramophone.

  ‘I’ve never seen a real gramophone. Isn’t that crazy?’ Annabelle rubs Michael on his back, peering over his shoulder. ‘Look at it. It’s gorgeous.’

  Dave re-enters Gatsby, holding a silver tray upon which he’s balancing a bottle of port with ornate glasses in a circle around it. ‘Babe,’ he says affectionately to Lucy.

  She swiftly opens the port bottle with a corky pop, and fills all the glasses. ‘Anyone?’

  ‘Port?’ Polly questions, as though it’s the most ridiculous idea she’s ever heard of.

  Lucy gives her a provocative, sexy look. Polly softens. ‘Well, why not?’

  James whispers in my ear, ‘I hate port.’

  ‘Me too,’ I tell him. ‘Too sweet.’

  We give each other a cheers with our half-full wine glasses, and I snuggle into him. He holds me close and gently rubs the back of my head, playing with my hair. Lucy drinks her port. Dave gives a big ‘Whooo!’ And then we’re off, dancing like a bunch of lunatics to ‘Puttin’ on the Ritz’.

  Juliet and Polly wiggle their bums in time to the music, chinking their port glasses together, exchanging silly giggles. Dave attempts to dance with Lucy, but she teasingly flits across to the other side of the room and makes a futile attempt to invite Simon onto the dance floor. Annabelle and Michael adopt a cute ballroom dancing embrace as they laugh and whisper in each other’s ears. And James embodies the persona of a cabaret performer and sings along, as though he’s on a stage.

  He sets the room alight with laughter. Then he dives into my arms, kisses me on my neck, and puts one arm around my waist. We give Annabelle and Michael a run for their money, dancing together like a high-society couple at a 1930s soiree. My tummy and boobs hard up against his chest, my arm wrapped around him, my hand just above his bum. The room is filled with electricity and madness, and everyone is having the time of their lives.

  28

  Eight songs in, I’m starting to feel pooped, coupled with wanting to be alone with James.

  ‘Shall we…’

  ‘Yeah, let’s go.’ James sounds as eager to leave as I am.

  ‘We’re going to head off,’ I tell Lucy, holding James’s hand, wobbling from side to side. I’m slightly tipsy.

  Lucy winks, and embraces me. ‘Bye love. You two have fun tonight.’

  I hand out goodbyes to everyone else, and James does the same, embracing Polly for a long moment, knowing he won’t see her again until he’s next in London.

  I give Annabelle a hug, and she whispers a slurred message in my ear. ‘I’m so happy for you.’

  I hug her tighter, and then Polly whisks her away from me, the two of them slipping into a cute foxtrot.

  I take James by the hand and lead him to the back door. We grab our coats off the hatstand, James swings his camera strap over his shoulder, and we brave the cold night air. The soles of our shoes kiss the wooden steps, and we hold hands all the way down. I collect my bike and wheel it along the side path. James follows, and we walk and wheel the whole way back to my place.

  When we arrive at my bungalow, we are well and truly all over each other. I fill two glasses of water in the kitchen and, after we’ve both taken a sip, we hold each other, kissing passionately. And then I lead James up the ladder steps, onto my bed, where we rest our heads on the pillows. James tells me his funny falling-off-the-top-bunk-at-school-camp story, and I burst out laughing. And then…silence.

  ‘This is great, up here,’ James finally says, rolling over to look out the small square window. He rubs my leg, and pulls me over, closer towards him. We roll around kissing, and he slowly undresses me. Then he takes off his black jumper and T-shirt. I undo his belt, and he slides his jeans down.

  We burst into a fit of laughter when he attempts to pull his jeans over his feet. He sits up and almost bumps his head on the wood-slat ceiling. Once he’s kicked his jeans off, he gently climbs on top of me, and kisses my lips, and his kisses are warm and tender.

  So this is what making love feels like. This is what truly connecting with someone who adores you feels like. Oh, whoa, hang on, this is what it feels like, I think, after he’s wriggled his hand into my undies and touched me. I become so excited and wet, I don’t know what to do with myself.

  ‘Just let me get a condom,’ he says, kneeling upright, and this time he does bump his head on the ceiling. ‘Ouch!’

  We both laugh. I can’t help but look at his wiener pushing out hard from inside his white Calvin Klein undies. I’m dying. Absolutely dying, and ready for it.

  ‘I put one in my pocket,’ he whispers, ‘because I was hoping…I was hoping this might happen tonight.’

  ‘Me too,’ I tell him.

  And once his undies are off and the condom is on, we have hot, dreamy sex. Our minds and bodies are entwined and so close to each other. So close we become one.

  When we’re done, we lie naked, side by side, staring up at the wooden ceiling. I turn to the little square window, and watch the branches of the gum tree swaying slowly from side to side.

  ‘You’re so gorgeous, Joni.’ Jame
s rolls towards me and gives me a kiss. ‘I love everything about you. I just wanna—I just wanna be with you…always.’

  ‘I have the same feeling,’ I tell him, pulling the doona up over us, snuggling into him.

  ‘I have to go to New York in a couple of weeks. I need to be there for about a month. Will you come with me?’

  ‘Um, yes, yes,’ I answer, so excited that he wants me by his side. ‘Oh, but I don’t have enough money at the moment to buy a…to buy a ticket for the plane.’

  ‘My shout, Joni. I have enough. I want you to come.’ He kisses me again, and looks longingly into my eyes. ‘Will you?’

  I’m suddenly struck with a thought, as though an arrow, launched from the reality bow, has delivered me a bout of doubt. I worry that I’m a weak hanger-on-er. A girl with no strength, no ability to do things on her own.

  But I know I’m not that. I know I’m strong and independent. I know what Annabelle says of me is true. And besides, I’ve dreamed of travelling, and being based in different cities. It would be so inspiring for my art practice. Lucy would give me a month off, I’m sure she would.

  I float back into the moment. ‘Yes…yes. I wanna come.’ I kiss James hard. And then I pull back. ‘But I’d want to do my own thing too. I’d want to paint, and…Does this sound terrible? I want to be my own person. Not just tag along with you. I love being with you so much, but I need my own time. Time to work on my art. I couldn’t just be…’

  ‘Oh my god, of course. That’s why I’m so drawn to you. Your focus on your own art practice. Your beautiful mind, and the way you interpret the world, and then express that through your paintings and drawings. You’re a strong independent woman, Joni.’

  I smile.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to have a girlfriend tagging along with me with nothing of her own going on. I’ve got some friends in Brooklyn, and I know you could sublet a studio space while we’re there, and, you know…’

  Hang on, he just called me his girlfriend. Didn’t he? I know this’ll sound embarrassing, but I decide to ask him anyway. ‘Will you be my boyfriend, James? I think I might be…falling in love with you.’