Thin Girls Don't Eat Cake

by Lindy Dale

  Cole did a U turn and began the drive. “Did you enjoy the party the other night?”

  “It was okay. You?”

  “I felt a bit like Daniel in the lion’s den, except the lions had turned into cougars. Some of those women were drooling and two of them pinched my bum when I went for a refill at the bar. Are they always that bad?”

  “I wouldn’t let it go to your head. Any new guy is fresh meat in their eyes.”

  “Thanks for bringing me down to earth. A bloke needs to know his place.”

  “And a town full of women are waiting to show you theirs.”

  “Can’t wait.” The fog had gotten thicker and Cole leant forward, squinting to see through it. “The doctor seems like an okay bloke.”

  “He’s nice. Funny too.”

  “And that’s high on your list of priorities in a man?”

  “Not always. But it helps. I’m up for a laugh. Life can be so serious.”

  “I noticed you left the party early. Did you get home all right?”

  “Ah, yeah. Sean gave me a lift.” I glanced at Cole from the corner of my eye. His face, concentrating on seeing through the pea soup fog, gave nothing away. This line of questioning was quite odd. If I didn’t know better, I’d have said he was checking on my status with Sean.

  “So, how’s the foot?”

  Okay, so he wasn’t engaging some sort of covert questioning about the state of my love life, he was just being friendly. A little bit nosy maybe, but friendly.

  “Good until about two minutes ago.”

  Which it had been. But the combination of being in the cold, walking all day and now sitting in the warmth of the car was making it throb unmercifully. Either that or I was channelling the weirdness I was feeling being in a car with Cole into my foot. I was going to have to take a painkiller when I got home. And find something to eat that had sugar in it….

  “You need to put your feet up. Get someone to give it a gentle massage.”

  “Are you offering?”

  Images of Cole, sitting on the end of the couch with my foot perched on his knee, his fingers softly kneading my skin, travelling up my calves and tickling the skin behind my knee suddenly began to assault my brain. Crap. This was not good. I had to put a stop to it. Now.

  “Stop the car!”

  Cole slammed on the brakes, the force of which was so powerful I almost found myself as a dashboard ornament. He peered at me through the dark.

  “You okay?”

  I would be as soon as I got out of the car and away from him. He was too close. Way too close.

  “Um, uh, yes. We’re here, that’s all. I mean, home.”

  “And you felt the need to announce it by deafening me?”

  “Sorry. Turn in there.” I indicated the space behind a teeny latte coloured Fiat in the driveway.

  Cole pulled into the drive. The headlights of the car lit up the lane, giving him a good view of my car and the garden behind it.

  “That’s your car?” Cole roared with laughter. “Jesus, it looks like a bread tin.”

  I let out a huff. “It’s a Fiat. Thank you. A very stylish European car.”

  “Still looks like a bread tin. Typical girl car.”

  I opened the door, leaning my crutches on the side of it while I swivelled to get out. Hmph. The cheek of him taking the piss out of my car.

  “Well, I am a girl, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  Behind me, I heard Cole mutter. “Oh, I noticed. Believe me.”

  “Pardon?”

  A devilish twinkle glinted in his eye. “You heard.”

  Not the point.

  The point was he was married. He couldn’t be going around the town making comments like that and getting me hot under the collar for things that would never eventuate. It was disgraceful. Not to mention absolutely, categorically and totally unacceptable. He did have very nice eyes though. Rather dreamy.

  “Um, er. Um.”

  “Would you like me to carry you in? For old time’s sake?”

  Oh yes.

  “No! Of course not. I mean, I’m fine. But thanks.” I knew I sounded anything but. I sounded like an utter lunatic.

  “Okay. Well, good night Olivia.”

  “’Night Cole.”

  “See you round.”

  “Not if I see you first.”

  “I hope not. I’m throwing those shorts out as soon as I get home.” And he jumped back into his car.

  Great, I thought as I fumbled with the gate and keys, dropping them twice into a bush before finally reaching the front door. If it wasn’t enough my mother was marrying my ex-boyfriend, now I was being chatted up by the local married hunk. When would it ever end?

  I opened the door to my darkened house, my house where I was alone, with nobody but the dog. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted a partner and a baby, damn it. I wanted a little life where I might learn to cook and I’d have someone to lean on when things got bad. I needed someone to cuddle me on cold nights and tell me they loved only me. I was tired of running to my friends and my mother for the solace that only a life partner could provide. I was so tired of fighting my life.

  So I did what I knew best, I got in my bread tin car and drove to the convenience store — it was always open late. I bought packet Madeira cake and Mint Slice biscuits and some lemon slices that looked like they were closer to their use-by date than not. And then I sat at my kitchen table and cried while I ate the lot. Which wasn’t very nice. The lemon slice in particular would have tasted far better without the added saltiness of my tears.

  Chapter 15

  The following week was not a good one for Cole. It seemed that the media of Perth had discovered his whereabouts and were intent on getting the latest update on his life. The phone had been ringing non-stop disrupting his schedule and Adelaide had refused to answer it anymore. It was only going to be for him anyway, so why waste the time she’d said.

  A year or so before Phoebe had died, Cole had done a TV commercial for his renovation company. The concept, brainchild of his daughter, had featured him wearing a hard hat with a tiny crown painted on it, depicting him as the ‘Reno King’. He’d also been wielding a sledgehammer at a wall whilst wearing a tight supposedly sweat-soaked t-shirt that showed off the rock hard body he’d honed over years of manual labour. The advertisement had finished with the line “I love nothing better than to make a client smile, let me do it for you” and though it was meant to be advertising his skills at renovating and decorating, Cole had been fully aware he was selling sex. He looked sexy. What he hadn’t anticipated was the barrage of female clients it would bring. Or the paparazzi.

  Suddenly he’d become public property. Reporters followed him everywhere. And women too. Some of them wouldn’t take no for an answer. He and Phoebe had had to go into hiding for a while. He’d managed to stem the tide by doing regular interviews for the current affairs show Today Tonight and appearing in the lifestyle section of the paper — Phoebe had been the Telethon kid at the time so it was like an extension of their story — but with the move he’d been hoping they’d forgotten about him completely. How wrong had he been? It seemed he was destined to have them chase him forever.

  On the second morning, having locked himself in the shop to check on the final decorating, Cole had decided to get up on a ladder and give the team a hand securing the shelves behind the counter. Everything had been fine until Lulu had gone bolting through, legs splaying in every direction like a cartoon character as she chased a soft rubber ball. She’d narrowly missed knocking over the open paint cans on the floor and as Cole twisted swiftly to chastise her he’d pulled a muscle in his neck.

  He felt like the victim of a stabbing with a very blunt knife.

  After stepping gingerly from the ladder, he’d spent the next hour locating a massage therapist who could fix the kink, which in Merrifield, was harder than trying to find taxi on a Saturday night. But there was no way he was going to walk around for the next week not being about to move his
head. Not only would he look like a right fool serving customers if he couldn’t look them in the eye but he had things to do; decisions that could not be sensibly made when one was in so much pain a death by slow torture seemed appealing.

  Having found a masseuse and taken two painkillers — the only ones Adelaide had handy were for period pain, but they seemed to be doing the trick — Cole now found himself sitting in the waiting room of a rather Zen space. He took in the room around him. He knew it was designed to make him felt at ease but Zen freaked him out. He had no idea why but the whole concept made him visualise zany, crazy women waving healing Reiki hands over his head and talking about chakras and heart healing and wanting to know the ins and outs of his life. Which he had no intention of sharing with a complete stranger. Jesus, he was barely able to open up to his family most of the time.

  The door opened and a woman emerged. She was wearing loose, sage coloured hemp pants and top that look as if it should go to the same ragbag as his favourite shorts. Not that he was looking but her breasts appeared as if they hadn’t seen a bra in a decade or so, possibly since she was a teenager. Cole swallowed reminding himself that looks weren’t everything and that he had seen real paper qualifications on the wall. If she started that Reiki stuff though he was leaving. He’d massage himself if he had to.

  “Cole? Come in.”

  Rising slowly and attempting to keep his head in one position, Cole followed the woman through the door.

  “You’ve hurt your neck?” she began.

  Blind Freddy could probably work that out, seeing that he was currently standing side on and his head was facing her.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s a pulled muscle but anything you could do would be great. I’ve got fairly limited movement, as you can see, plus a shop to open in the next week. I don’t have time to be laid up.” He demonstrated the slight movement from side to straight on.

  “And you did it this morning?”

  “Yep.”

  “Have you taken anything for it?”

  Like hell he was going to tell her — or anyone — he’d taken period tablets. “A couple of Panadol. They’ve knocked the edge off but I still can’t move it.”

  “Right. Well, I’ll leave you to get undressed. Get on the table, face down and cover yourself with the towel. I’ll be back in a minute. Oh, I’m Summer Merrifield, by the way. I forgot to introduce myself.”

  “Are you related to Olivia?”

  “She’s my cousin. She has this amazing deep red and lavender aura about her with tinges of green. Very creative. Bit lost at the moment. She’s had a tough time of it.”

  Not exactly how Cole would have described Olivia. She was always so nervy and jumpy around him. Looked at him like he was the prime suspect from an episode of Law & Order SVU when she wasn’t teasing him. He had no idea why. All he’d done was be nice.

  Summer left the room and Cole undressed, getting onto the bed and placing the towel over his bum and legs. It was sheer agony trying to position his neck in the hole for his face, so he lay with his head to the side. Hopefully, Summer could work with that.

  A gentle knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

  “You decent, Cole?”

  “Ready.”

  Well, as ready as he could be lying in the most uncomfortable position ever. If this was what yoga was like, he no intention of trying it.

  Cole heard a squirting noise above him. “I’m just going to pop a few blobs of this sports rub on your back. It might be a bit cold.”

  Cole exhaled. That sounded like a vaguely normal thing to do. Like a traditional massage therapist.

  Two hands began to rub the area around his shoulder blades.

  Ahhhhh. Relief and release began to surge through his body. Had he died and gone to heaven? Because Summer should change her name to Angel and have her fingers certified as a national treasure. It was pure bliss and not just for his sore neck. His entire body was beginning to sing.

  “Are you able to turn your head into the space for it, Cole?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay. I’ll work along this spot first. I should be able to loosen you up enough to give you most of your movement back. Then we can finish with the rest of your back and shoulders. If your neck muscles have seized there’s probably some heavy duty tension further down.”

  Cole nodded. On the inside. That sounded feasible. He hoped she was able to fix him. This was hurting like mad.

  Summer began to knead the muscles along the left side of Cole’s neck and shoulder. Her hands, warm and firm, felt good on his aching body and he felt himself relaxing further. He closed his eyes, feeling the way her hands moved. Even when it hurt it felt good which was rather sadistic when you thought about it.

  After a while Cole’s mind drifted to thoughts of Olivia. He liked her a lot. She had the ability to make his heart palpitate in a way it hadn’t since he was in his early twenties. But the feeling he got when he was with her wasn’t only one of pure animal attraction — though he couldn’t deny he had a serious desire to find out what exactly it was she kept under her exercise gear — it was deeper. He wanted to know her as a person… and then rip her clothes off.

  The problem was, for some reason she didn’t seem to be interested in anything other than friendship. Every time he got closer to her than friendly conversation, she leaped away like a wounded animal. And to add insult to injury, she appeared to have no trouble with that doctor bloke. She’d been flirting with him so much at the hospital Cole had almost felt embarrassed watching. But why? Cole knew Olivia was attracted to him. He could feel it. So why was she attempting to behave otherwise? She didn’t seem like one of those gold digger girls, she was genuine and sweet. Clearly, something else about him bothered her.

  Cole felt the towel move down, exposing a corner of his bum. He shivered a little, suddenly feeling the cold as Summer squirted more sports rub on the area and began to knead the muscles of his buttocks. Then without warning, she pressed hard in the middle of his arse, almost sending him flying off the massage bed.

  “Shit!” Cole’s eyes sprang open. He wanted to squeal but it wasn’t exactly a manly thing to do.

  “Big knot there,” Summer said, by way of explanation.

  Like he didn’t know that.

  She increased the pressure. Cole thought he was going to cry. Wincing only made it worse.

  “How do you know Olivia?” she asked, her hands continuing to punish him.

  “We met at Zumba. When she ... Ouch! Damn! ... When she hurt her ankle.”

  “I guessed that was you.”

  What in God’s name was she... Ouch! Bugger! ... on about?

  While Cole wondered how one tiny body could do it, Summer pressed harder. It felt like she was using her elbow now and giving it the whole weight of that skinny underfed body, which obviously hid quite a few muscles beneath its bony physique. Eyes to the floor, he saw her feet seemed to have disappeared. She was balancing on her knees and elbows on his body. Shit, but it was excruciating.

  “You’ve got a cheek,” she added. Her soothing voice barely disguised the veil of annoyance.

  “Pardon?” He let out a yelp of anguish.

  “Trying it on with my cousin when you’re married. Only the lowest of the lowest would do something like that.” Summer pressed at the spot again before sending her knee back in to complete the torture. It was as if she were hurting him on purpose. In fact, as she squeezed again, sending shooting pains radiating through his body, Cole was utterly convinced she was doing it on purpose.

  “I’m not married,” he replied, his voice little more than a petrified squeak.

  Summer stilled.

  Thank bloody God.

  “You’re not? But I thought, we thought...”

  Obviously, the town’s focus had moved to things other than the gaping hole in his shorts. Honestly, did these people have nothing more to do with their time than to speculate on the facets of his physical and personal life? He wasn�
�t that interesting.

  “Nope. Not married. Not since 2011, unless you know something I don’t know.”

  “But that girl... Adelaide.”

  “My sister.”

  “Oh.”

  “I moved to Merrifield a couple of months back. I’m starting a business. Adelaide’s a trained chef. She offered to help me out for a bit while she’s on holiday.”

  Summer’s hands began to knead again, this time lowering the scale of pain from somewhere in the stratosphere to something more manageable. And as she pushed and pummelled it occurred to Cole that he’d hit on the problem. Olivia thought he was married. Totally understandable, if you didn’t know him, he supposed. And being the girl he thought she was, Cole assumed Olivia hadn’t wanted to involve herself with someone who was otherwise spoken for. Which was an admirable quality. He liked a girl with standards. It was something that was sadly lacking in society today.

  His mind went back to the day on the stairs and the appalled look on her face. She must have thought he was some dirty pervert who played around on his wife or in one of those ‘open marriages’ or something. Well. As soon as he could walk again, he’d be rectifying that assumption.

  Chapter 16

  The following Tuesday, after being declared fit and well and separated from my crutches, I arrived at work to a very unusual sight. A long, red velvet rope was stretched in front of the shop across the road and a rather podgy man, who looked deceptively like Jim the Butcher in a security man’s outfit, was guarding the door. A queue — unheard of in Merrifield, unless it was Seniors Day at the Shire and there was free morning tea — was forming outside Death by Cupcake.

  A queue.

  At a quarter to ten in the morning.

  Merrifield didn’t have enough residents to form a queue. Anyone would think they’d heard Bruno Mars was stopping by for a latte or something. Either that or those cakes were the most divine in the universe.

  Pushing the thought from my mind, I slid my key into the lock and swung the front door open, holding it back with the metal piggy doorstop I’d bought at Mrs Tanner’s garage sale. It was a hideous thing and I’d pondered the idea of chucking it out on more than one occasion but how could I when Mrs Tanner commented on it every time she came into the shop? I flipped the light switch, went to the counter, booted up the computer and then, while it was loading popped out the back to fetch the float for the till. Most people flashed plastic to pay these days, but Merrifield folk preferred cash, so I had to be prepared. Which was more than I could say for that shop over the way. I’d have bet the owners didn’t know a jot about the Merrifield crowd. From the look of the exterior, that shop was about making a quick buck with flashy coffee machines and recipes that contained exotic ingredients only found in expensive restaurants in the city. I bet all they knew about was making mouth-watering cupcakes to tempt weak-willed girls into breaking their diets. Well, not me. I was on the path to success and feeling rather pleased with myself. I had no intention of ever stepping foot in that pit of sin across the road.