MultiDate

by Kirsty McManus

  “Yep.”

  “I think I can manage that. Finn, can I manage that on my salary?”

  Jules laughs. “You can manage that,” he confirms.

  “Oh! One thing. Can I have my name put on the lease?”

  Finn wrinkles his brow. “Um, sure. But most people want less responsibility, not more.”

  “I just want to have control over my living situation. I’ve been burnt before.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “And your girlfriend is okay with you taking on a roommate?”

  “She’ll have to be. I can’t afford this place on my own. And just to be clear, you know that by adding your name to the lease, you’ll have to pay half the bond?”

  “Yeah, that’s okay. I have a little money saved.”

  Jules beams and reaches out, clapping us both on the back. “I think we have a deal, people. Let’s toast!”

  Finn and I hold up our beers with bemusement. Jules clinks each one.

  “To a long and happy roommate arrangement.”

  My eyes meet Finn’s for a split second and I think I finally see a bit of warmth in them. “Hear, hear,” I say. Finn gives me a tiny nod of acknowledgement.

  Fingers crossed this goes as smoothly as Jules seems to think it will.

  ELEVEN

  On Saturday, Josh drops me off at my new house on his way to a game of tennis with the guys. As I drag my suitcase—which contains everything I own in Sydney—over to the front door, I experience a flash of apprehension. This isn’t just a holiday. This is now my life. What if Finn and I end up hating each other? He wasn’t super excited about meeting me the other night when Jules introduced us. But then he was distracted by his girlfriend. It must be hard doing the whole long distance relationship thing.

  I use my new key to let myself in. Finn had handed it to me just before I left on Wednesday night. And I already sorted out everything with the real estate agent on Friday so I’d be ready to go today. I am officially an on-the-lease, rent-paying tenant. I also texted Katie earlier to let her know I’ll pay rent at her place too until I get all my stuff out. I can’t afford to do that for long, so I’ll have to organise a trip up there in the next few weeks.

  Finn is out, which is probably a good thing, because I can settle in without feeling like a guest. I put my suitcase in my new room, which is now completely empty. Finn obviously moved the boxes in anticipation of my arrival. Hmm…I hadn’t thought through the fact that I would have to sleep on the floor until I buy a bed.

  But I also desperately need to get my eyebrows waxed and buy some work clothes to tide me over for at least the next week. I figure I can manage a night or two on the floor in the name of vanity. Not as many beauty salons will be open on Sunday, but the furniture stores will be.

  I make an executive decision and head into the city. I’m sure Newtown has some great beauticians and clothing boutiques, but I’ve always been a sucker for the Queen Victoria Building (or QVB as it is affectionately known). I head to the train station, which is thankfully only a few minutes from my new house, and catch a train to Town Hall. From there, it’s just a short walk to the QVB.

  I never thought of myself as much of a history buff, but I love old architecture. This gorgeous building opened in 1898, which is pretty ancient for Australian standards. It’s so stately and elegant with its big central dome as the main feature, and the beautifully restored arches, pillars and tiles. I always feel like a posh lady of leisure when I come here.

  I head straight to a beauty salon I visited on a previous trip, and book an appointment for two hours’ time. It only just occurs to me I’m lucky to get anything at all on a Saturday at the last minute.

  I then take my time combing through the racks at Alannah Hill, where I buy a high-waisted navy skirt that ends at my knees and has a front sash that can be tied as a feature bow. Next, I select a silky green camisole top to go with it. I get a bit carried away when I see the sale rack, and also buy a raspberry lace skirt with a flared hem, a white sleeveless high-necked top, and a black a-line dress with a thin silver belt. It adds up to more than I probably should be spending, considering I just paid bond on the place with Finn and I’m about to buy furniture, but I figure it’s worth it. Besides, I can’t work at NBS wearing stuff I bought at Kmart. I would look too out of place.

  After a quick stop at Adriano Zumbo for a gorgeous little slice of mango and passionfruit cheesecake, it’s time for my salon appointment.

  The beautician, who introduces herself as Leah, leads me into a tiny room behind reception and invites me to lie down on a treatment bed.

  “So, we’re just doing an eyebrow tidy today?” she asks.

  “Yes, please.”

  “We offer a complimentary upper lip wax too, if you’re interested.”

  Is that a polite way of saying I have a moustache?

  “Uh, okay. Sure. Thanks.”

  “Great. I’ll just make sure the wax is at the correct temperature and we’ll get started.”

  I close my eyes and try to relax. My pain threshold isn’t very high, so having hair ripped out of my face is not something I particularly enjoy. But then, does anyone?

  Leah spreads the sticky hot wax evenly above and below one eyebrow. I’m not sure if it’s just me, but the temperature feels a touch on the warm side. But again, it could just be me being a wimp.

  I brace myself for the rip and try not yelp in pain. The things we do for beauty. I can’t believe women actually do this to their bikini line. There is no way I would ever let anyone near my vagina with that stuff.

  Leah takes forever—and the pain gets more intense with each rip of the wax.

  Normally after a session like this, the beautician hands me a mirror so I can observe her handiwork. Leah doesn’t.

  “Huh,” she says in a way no woman wants to hear after subjecting herself to a traumatic beauty procedure.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask tentatively.

  “I, uh, think you might have had a little reaction to the wax. It should be fine in an hour or so, but you could experience a bit of redness until then.”

  What?

  I sit up and gravitate to the wall-mounted mirror beside the bed.

  Holy crap! A bit of redness? I look like a burns victim. Which I quite possibly am, considering the temperature of that wax just now.

  “Can you put some cover-up powder on it or something?” I ask.

  “Um, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You want to give your pores some air, otherwise the area might become infected.”

  My right eye looks like it’s starting to swell up, and the line above my lip is raised and angry. “I can’t go outside looking like this!”

  “I’m sorry,” she says miserably. “This never happened during my training.”

  “You’re new here?” I guess.

  “This is my first day,” she admits in a small voice.

  Right. I don’t want to make her feel bad, but this is not cool. “Perhaps you should ask for some assistance from one of your colleagues for the next few appointments.”

  “I can’t,” she says, starting to tear up. “They’re all busy. I told them I didn’t think I was ready to be left on my own, but they didn’t listen.”

  I can’t take my eyes off my reflection. “Well, I suppose you got the shape right. I think maybe you just need to check the temperature of the wax in future.”

  “I’ll, uh, see if I can get you a discount,” she says nervously.

  I follow her to the front counter, silently grumbling about having to pay at all, when the woman on reception does a double take.

  She looks accusingly at Leah, who cowers under her gaze, and they have an entire conversation just with their eyes.

  The receptionist turns her attention back to me.

  “Lauren? We would like your service with us today to be complimentary, and hope you return again another time. Please note that we do have several other qualified aestheticians available who will ensure your desired r
esult.”

  “Uh, thanks.”

  I walk off in a daze, glad I’m in a city where no one knows who I am.

  “Lauren?”

  Oh no.

  I glance up and suddenly wish a hole would open up in the floor and swallow me.

  “Hi, Patrick.”

  “I thought that was you!” His expression is one of pleasant surprise until he sees my face—and then it turns to one of concern. “Are you okay? Have you been in an accident?”

  “Ha-ha, no. Unless you count an unfortunate encounter with a tub of hot wax.” Oh my God. I want to die right now. I self-consciously place one hand over my eyebrows and another near my mouth.

  He nods uncertainly. “Okay. So you don’t need first aid?”

  Seriously, this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Especially since Patrick looks extra hot today in his black jeans, tight white shirt and fitted denim jacket.

  “I, uh, think I’ll be fine. But I should probably get home. Put some ice on it.”

  “Oh, okay. I won’t hold you up. But you’re having a good weekend otherwise?”

  Come on! I know he’s just trying to make the situation less awkward, but it’s having the opposite effect.

  “Um, yeah, I was buying some clothes for work.” I lift my arm to show him the shopping bag hanging from my elbow.

  “Great. You found some bargains?”

  “I did,” I confirm. “Hey, listen, I have to go or I’ll miss my train.”

  “I can drop you somewhere if you like? I don’t have anywhere I need to be until later this afternoon.”

  “No, no, that’s fine. I already have a pass, and I don’t want to put you out.”

  “You really wouldn’t be.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine.”

  He finally seems to understand that I don’t want him seeing me like this.

  “Okay then. I should keep moving anyway. I’ll be in at the studio on Monday, so I might see you then.”

  “You might.”

  I practically run outside, as far away from Patrick as possible, cringing the whole way. I swear the universe is taunting me. He really could not have picked a worse moment for that encounter. Unless maybe I’d just had a backed up toilet explode all over me.

  I need to get home ASAP. And I’m going to have to hide from Finn until I’m looking vaguely normal again. I don’t think I could handle any more humiliation today.

  ***

  The next morning, I wake up and bolt for the bathroom mirror. Okay. I no longer look like I’ve been stung by a hive of bees. I can work with this. I’d caught an Uber straight home yesterday and headed to my room with a bottle of aloe vera gel and an ice pack. I then spent the remainder of the day applying both to the red skin on my eyebrows and upper lip. Finn didn’t come home until late, so thankfully I didn’t have to actively avoid him. Today, there’s only a faint red line above my upper lip, and the skin above my right eye is still a bit swollen, but it’s not nearly as bad as it could have been. I think because of my relatively early interventions, I’ve avoided the possibility of it peeling.

  I get out my BB cream and dab it gently over my face, blending it in thoroughly over the red areas. I put on a bit more makeup than usual and study the final result.

  Passable. If I wear my sunglasses when I go out, no one should be able to tell that anything was ever wrong.

  I text Jules.

  Do you feel like going furniture shopping today?

  He doesn’t reply straight away, so it gives me a chance to explore the house better. I’d been too distracted yesterday to do a proper, in-depth inspection. And because Finn seems to have gone out again today, I can now spy freely. I start with the kitchen, which I am delighted to find is stocked with all the same brands I normally buy for myself. There’s even the exact flavour of chia seed and coconut muesli I eat for breakfast every morning.

  I acquaint myself with the location of all the utensils, which are stored intuitively, and where all the towels and linen are kept. I then move onto the living room and study the bookcase. The top shelf contains a couple of display bowls and candles, but the rest are loaded to overflowing with a combination of hardbacks and paperbacks. Mostly thrillers, but quite a few literary works. The left side of one shelf seems to be completely dedicated to Japanese authors. I’m just reading the blurb for a book called Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage when my phone beeps.

  Sure, honey. You ready now?

  Yes!

  OK. I’ll be there in ten minutes.

  I put the book back, reminding myself to revisit it later, and get ready to leave. Jules is a god-send. I don’t know what my life would look like right now without him. I’d probably be moping around Josh’s house on my own and preparing for a bleak return to Brisbane with another crappy job.

  I do a quick check of my internet banking to see what I can get away with today, and figure I’ll just go to one of those cheap furniture places where they do package deals.

  But when Jules arrives, he has other ideas.

  “Sweetie, no. Just, no. We’re going to get you some proper stuff.”

  “What does that mean? I can’t afford anything expensive.”

  “Trust me. It will cost you almost nothing.”

  “Okay.” At least he hasn’t commented on me wearing a pair of Jackie O sunglasses. I’d gone to wait out the front a few minutes early so he wouldn’t question why I had them on inside.

  “I have a few places in mind. One is a gorgeous vintage store that no one seems to know about because it’s not on the main drag, and the other is a warehouse that sells second-hand hotel furniture, but only the good stuff from five-star places that update their interiors all the time.”

  “Oh, right. I didn’t even know such places existed.”

  “It was a great find. I’ve picked up some cool things there in the past.”

  We stop at the vintage shop first. The place is crammed floor to ceiling, and I can barely move between the shelves. If I was here on my own, I’d have no idea where to start. Thankfully, Jules knows what he’s doing. He manages to find a super cool lamp that looks like something from a 1940s Hollywood movie set, and a bunch of framed film posters from the same era. I never would have thought of them myself, but I love the concept.

  Next, we go to the ex-hotel furniture warehouse and find a comfy mattress ensemble for next to nothing, and a walnut bedside cabinet with spindly legs.

  “We’ll figure out how to get these back to your house after, but I want to make one more stop first,” Jules says. “The bed cover will tie everything together, but I don’t want to get that second-hand.”

  “Don’t tell me. You have some friend who does set decoration and can make me a Hollywood-themed comforter for five dollars.”

  He laughs. “Nope. Nothing that elaborate. But I think you’ll be happy.”

  I follow him out of the shop. “I can’t wait to see what you have in store next.”

  TWELVE

  Ikea?

  “Ikea is your secret place to buy linen? I hate to break it to you buddy, but the entire world knows about Ikea.”

  “I didn’t say it was a secret. I just said I knew a good place to buy a comforter that would tie your room décor together.”

  “Okay…”

  “And I know all the shortcuts in the store. I can reach any department in less than thirty seconds.”

  “All right. I’ll admit that’s slightly impressive.”

  Jules leads me through a couple of narrow passageways, and we suddenly pop out in the linen section.

  “Why don’t you pick out a couple of pillows and some sheets while I get the comforter cover?”

  “Really? You’ll actually trust me with finding my own pillows?”

  He slaps me on the arm. “Don’t be cheeky.”

  I wander off to the boring side of the department and pick out two pillows. I grab a comforter to put inside whatever cover Jules chooses, and a set of white shee
ts.

  Jules comes bounding over and shoves something in my face. “Here! Isn’t it perfect?”

  I inspect the picture on the front. It features a California beach in orange, chocolate and white.

  “Okay, how did you do that? It’s like it was tailor-made for the theme you came up with.”

  “I know” he says happily. “I just have a knack for knowing what concept to pick, and everything magically comes together to make it happen.”

  “Have you ever thought about going into interior design?”

  “Not really. I only like to do it for fun.”

  “Well, I’m glad you made yourself available for me.”

  “Anytime, honey. Let’s go ring these babies up. Oh, do you have any objections to me phoning Finn?”

  “No. But why do you need to?”

  “I take it you haven’t seen his wheels yet?”

  “I have not. Does he have a cooler car than you?”

  He gives me a sour look. “Nobody has a cooler car than me. But Finn does own a much bigger one, complete with tray perfect for moving furniture on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon.”

  I laugh. “Ah. Do you think he’ll mind?”

  “I’m sure he won’t. And what’s the point of him having that thing if he doesn’t help people move stuff with it?”

  I’m about to argue that if I had a truck, I wouldn’t appreciate being roped into transporting other people’s furniture on my weekends off, but it’s too late. Jules is already calling him.

  “Hey, buddy! What are you doing? Do you fancy helping a lovely lady move her new furniture into your house?”

  He’s quiet for a moment and then laughs. “It’s just stuff for her bedroom. Don’t worry, we’re not going to alter the ultra-masculine vibe you’ve worked so hard to create.”

  He listens again and then nods. “Great. We’re at Ikea, but we’ll meet you at that furniture warehouse on May Street. I’ll text you the details.”

  He hangs up and looks at me, satisfied. “He’s a good one, that Finn.”