Shit. I should probably change. I’m currently in a pair of leggings, an oversized t-shirt that has ‘Wicked 66’ printed on it, and a pair of running shoes. My hair is in a high ponytail and once again I have no makeup on. I hardly look decent enough to be going out to breakfast.
I take a step toward my room to change but stop myself. “This isn’t a date,” I remind myself, then readjust my course, grab my bag, spray some deodorant on, and head to the front door.
“Ready?” he asks with a smile as he heads over to his car and hits the button on his keychain to beep it open.
His question causes me to rethink the changing part. “Why? Should I get changed?” I reply immediately.
“No,” he laughs. “I was just asking as in, ‘can I get in the car now’. Your outfit is perfect.”
“Oh good. Well, you’re just in jeans and a shirt, so I didn’t think I needed to get dressed up or anything. We’re just going for breakfast at a normal café or something right?”
His eyes settle on me from across the roof of the car, a look of amusement on his face as he watches me ramble. Fuck. I hate that I’m feeling nervous right now.
“Just get in the car.”
I do as he asks. I’ve never been in a Porsche before, and I immediately regret getting in one this time. “Um, do you think we could take my car?” I ask, as I try to adjust in my seat so my head isn’t pressed up against the roof at an odd angle.
He looks over at me and starts laughing. “What the hell? I’m taller than you. Why is your head pressed up against the roof?”
“It’s not my fault that all my height is in my body,” I retort, feeling indignant. Seriously, who makes cars with such small interiors anyway? “I don’t even know how the hell you’re fitting in. What are you doing? Driving from the back seat?”
He laughs again. “Almost.”
I open the door and get out. “Ok. I’m sorry. I just can’t sit in there. I feel like I’m on that episode of the Simpsons when that really tall man has a tiny car because that’s all he can afford and Nelson laughs at him. I’m going to feel like every time we’re at a seat of lights someone is going to look over and go ‘Har Har!’ and then I’m going to have to embarrass each and every one of them in return. It would make for a very long day and we’d never get the chance to eat because I’d be too busy wreaking vengeance upon all those who had the audacity to find my abnormally long body squished into a tiny Porsche, hilarious. It’s not that I don–”
“Alright. We’ll take your car,” he interrupts, effectively ending my ridiculous rant. “I’m driving though, ok?”
I dig into my handbag and press the button on my key fob to open my garage before tossing him the keys. “I hate driving. You can drive all you want.”
“You have a Landcruiser?” he asks as the door lifts to reveal my car.
“Yeah? So? I like to sit up high. You’ll find that even at your height, you’ll actually be able to sit in the front seat in this car.”
“It’s more a truck than a car.”
“Yeah, well… one day I might decide to go four wheel driving on a beach somewhere. And then I’ll be high-fiving myself mentally for being awesome enough to buy a Landcruiser beforehand.”
“Have you ever taken it four wheel driving?”
“No,” I reply simply.
“Fair enough,” he laughs as he opens the car door and climbs into the cabin. When he starts the engine, The Doors, Break on Through starts blaring through the speakers.
I make a move to turn it down but he stops me. “Leave it,” he yells over the sound. “It’s much better than that modern shit people are playing these days.”
I can’t help but laugh as I relax in my seat and he reverses us out of the driveway. I’m surprised that he isn’t singing along to the music. He’s just tapping out the beat on the steering wheel with his fingers instead. When the track ends and 20th Century Fox starts playing, I decide that I may as well sing along – it’s actually hurting me not to because I freaking love singing in the car.
Tipping my head back, I yell out the chorus line. I can sing just fine. I’m actually capable of playing an instrument or two as well, but there’s something about just yelling to really loud music that feels so good.
Looking over, I see that Marcus is grinning and alternating between watching me and the road, so I just start yelling the song at him until it gets to the point that we’re both laughing so hard that I can’t even sing anymore.
“What? Don’t you like being yell/sung at?” I ask, forcing my words out through my laughter.
He responds with more laughter, and I find myself just watching him and admiring this moment of happiness with a person I never thought I’d share a laugh with. Slowly, my laughter fades and my expression grows serious as the song comes to an end, and I’m forced to look away from him. He’s just… so bright to my eyes, and I feel a little like I’m caught like a deer in headlights.
As I look out the window, I actually pay attention to where we’re going. I had thought we would be going to one of the cafés not far from my home but it’s been fifteen minutes of driving, and I’m wondering where he’s taking me.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I lower the volume of the music so I can be heard.
“For a drive.”
“To where?”
“Katoomba.”
“Katoomba? Are you serious? That’s over an hour away. It will be almost lunch by the time we get there.”
“If it’s the first meal you have. It’s still breakfast,” he informs me.
“What’s in Katoomba that’s worth driving all that way just for a meal?”
“Lots of cafés and lots of quiet. I always find that if I go where no one is expecting me to be, then no one bothers me at all. People expect celebrities to hang out at really trendy restaurants in the city. They don’t expect you to drive for an hour just for a quiet cup of coffee.”
“Good point. I’ll go with your judgement then. I’m sure you’ve got this down pat by now.”
“I do. The photos you would have seen online, are all photos I was aware of. Did you notice each one was posed for? There isn’t a single image of me walking down the street or sitting in a restaurant right?”
I think back and realise that he’s right. Every photo was at an event of some sort and he was obviously aware of the cameras.
“You know Marcus, I’m starting to think that maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
“You’re just figuring that out now? What? You didn’t get a hint when I showed up at your house the first time.”
I wave my hand about. “Oh. That kind of thing happens to me all the time. I’m very well connected you know.”
“I’m sure you are,” he laughs, continuing to focus on the road.
I look over at him and study his profile for a moment, wondering if he knows how well connected I really am.
“What?” he asks with a grin and a quick glance in my direction.
“Why me, Marcus? Out of all the people in this world you could pursue a friendship with, why me?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. There’s just something about you.”
“Aren’t you worried about me leaking anything you’ve told me to the press?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re in advertising.”
“I never told you that.”
“You’re not the only one who can use Google. Besides, we got the interview back for approval and your friends name was on it. Any journalist worth their pay would have taken the by-line from her. Something tells me you’re a very good and trustworthy person.”
“What else did you learn from Google?” I ask.
“Nothing. Besides your professional stuff, there wasn’t much about you. No photos. Nothing. You’re a bit of an enigma.”
I look out the window at the passing scenery. “Good,” I murmur.
Marcus
“This place looks as good as
any,” I comment, adjusting my hat as we walk down the main street of Katoomba. I love the older style buildings here. Everything looks like it was frozen in time in the fifties or something. It’s quaint – relaxing.
“As long as they have chocolate croissants and coffee, I’m all over it,” Lisa says, walking ahead of me. She pushes through the wood and glass door of the coffee shop and a little bell jingles to announce our arrival. “Oh wow. Smell that.”
She inhales, sniffing at the air greedily as her eyes light up at the sight of the all the bakery items to choose from.
“It smells like butter and coffee,” I comment, watching her as she immediately relays her order to the attendant.
“What would you like?” she asks me, and I notice that she has her purse in her hand open and ready to pay.
“No. I’ll pay. Put your purse away,” I tell her.
She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Yeah. Not gonna happen. This is my shout. Tell the lady what you want.”
“Um… ok, I’ll have the same I guess.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard was it?” she smiles, handing over a twenty dollar note to pay. We are given our table number - it’s a wooden spoon mounted on a small square of wood with the number ‘26’ handwritten on it - and head outside to take in the sunshine and breathe in a bit of fresh mountain air.
“Maybe we should have brought Perry up here too,” I comment, noting a couple of other people with dogs walking up the main street.
“Yeah. You should have thought of him since he’s your best mate and all,” she jokes, smiling at me. “He’d love it up here.”
Lisa laces her fingers together over her waist as she leans back in her chair and lifts her face to the sunshine as she takes a deep breath in. She amazes me. She’s completely comfortable around me; I can’t see any sort of pretence going on. She’s just – Lisa. She’s one of those people who fits with me immediately.
As she lets out a contented sigh, I find my mind starting to wander beyond the friend-zone, so I pull myself back. “Tell me, why did you call him Perry anyway?” I ask, stretching my legs out to force myself to relax as well.
She raises her hands and places them on her head as she looks at me before answering. “He’s named after Perry Mason. You know that TV show – he was an attorney who always got to the bottom of things? Just like my dog Perry does. You may have noticed that he’s pretty cluey. He’s a good judge of people…”
“He is, is he?”
“Yeah, well, he got you in the door didn’t he?” she says, just as our croissants and coffee are delivered.
“Enjoy,” the server says, not giving me a second glance.
When she walks away I tilt my head toward Lisa and tap my hat. "See? No one pays me any attention."
She rocks her head from side to side thoughtfully. "Well, they give you a little bit of attention. If you didn't want any you’d have to do something about that pretty face of yours." She picks up her croissant and takes a giant bite, causing the chocolate filling to ooze out the other end and drop on her plate. “Whoops,” she says, flinching a little to try and stop the mess from spreading.
I take a mouthful of coffee as I watch her amusedly. I can't help but respond to her comment. "Aww, do you think I'm pretty?" I joke, batting my eyelids at her comically.
“Fuck off,” she laughs. “You’ve got a mirror. Don’t go fishing for compliments from me Marcus B —" she stops there just before she yells out my real name. Pressing her lips together, a blush creeps across her cheeks as she looks around to make sure no one heard her. “Hmmm, I’m going to just start calling you ‘Dude’ if this kind of outing is going to become a regular thing.”
“I guarantee, this will be a regular thing. ‘Dude’ it is. Now, hand me your phone so I can call you next time instead of hovering on your front steps.”
She passes it over, and I enter my own number to call my phone and get hers. I then take my picture on her phone and save myself as a contact under the name ‘Dude’.
“Show me,” she says, laughing at the name I used. I take the opportunity to snap her picture for her entry on my phone.
“What did you do that for? I probably have chocolate on my face.”
I show her the picture. She’s laughing in it. “Relax. You look gorgeous,” I tell her as I hit save and pocket my phone.
Once again, we lock eyes. So much can be said when you’re not even talking.
***
We spend the best part of the day walking around and looking at some of the specialty shops, talking and just enjoying each other's company. This is currently the first time I’ve hung out with a woman without trying to get her into bed the whole time. It's surprisingly fun.
When four o'clock rolls around we decide it might be time to head back down the mountain and to the city. Pulling the keys out of my pocket I hold them up to her. "Are you sure you don't want to drive?" I ask.
"No way. You go for it. I'm much happier as a passenger than I am as a driver."
"Any reason for that?"
"I like to live in my own little bubble. Driving means I have to pay too much attention to the outside world." She shrugs as she slides into the passenger seat next to me.
"Your own little bubble, huh? Sounds… Lonely."
She folds her arms across her chest and looks out the window, taking a breath occasionally as if she’s about to say something. After a few minutes she turns to me and says, "I’m not lonely, Marcus. I'll have you know that I'm actually very good company to myself, and besides I have Perry."
I nod my head, unsure what I said that’s made her seem so annoyed.
“What does that mean?” she snaps.
Holy shit. “Nothing. I just–” She cuts me off before I have the chance to form a full sentence.
“Who the hell are you to knock my life? I’m not the one chasing you down just so I can have a friend. I have friends. I just don’t need lots of fake friends. Isn’t that the whole reason you’re here? You’re sick of fake friends? Maybe you should try living in your own bubble for a little while. It might help you figure out what kind of a life you want for yourself. It might show you what kind of a man you really are.”
Whoa, I wasn’t expecting that reaction. “Hey, I didn’t mean any offence by it.”
“See, this is what pisses me off about you people. You think you can just sweep in and fuck around with my life and then swoop out again when you’re done with me. Talk about fake friends.” She folds her arms across her chest and turns her head away from me so she’s looking out the window.
“What? Where the hell is this coming from?”
She folds her arms tighter. “Nowhere. I’m just generalising.”
Lisa
Ok, so maybe I over reacted a little. But as you may have guessed, Marcus isn’t the first brush with fame I’ve had and spending time with him is just making all of these old feelings, I’ve tried to forget, resurface.
Remember that boyfriend I told you about? Well, when we first started dating, he had just landed a spot on one of the hottest weeknight dramas in Australia, and I was so proud to be dating the latest heartthrob to hit the streets. I believed him when he said that the tabloid photos of him with other women were just for show...
Besides the cheating, fame changed him. It made him cocky and self-obsessed. When I look back on our relationship now, I wish I had turned tail and run the moment he announced his profession. I was stupid enough to think I could handle it, and to overlook things that, under normal circumstances, would set alarm bells ringing.
I know I’ve already said this, but I was naïve, and I was beyond stupid. I’m never letting that happen to me again. I’d prefer to be alone forever.
As we drive down the long stretch of freeway, Marcus’s phone starts to ring.
He glances at it, but ignores it.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” I ask when it starts its second round of ringing.
“It’s my manager,” he repli
es flatly.
“Well, if he’s calling you on a Saturday, it must be important right?”
“It will be about going to some sort of event tonight. I’m not interested.”
“Ok, but isn’t that part of your job?”
He glances at me. “Do you want me to go?”
“I don’t know. Who the hell am I to decide what you do with your time?”
“I think we’ve already established that you seem to be the only real friend I have.”
“Marcus…” I start, not really knowing what else to say right now. I feel bad for snapping at him.
“What?”
I turn and look at him. “I like spending time with you. I really do. But… you can’t just push into my life and stay there. I need my own space.”
He grips the steering wheel tighter as his phone starts to ring again.
“It seems important,” I press.
“I don’t give a fuck if it’s important,” he growls, picking up the phone and switching it to silent before throwing it into the back seat. “Don’t you get it Lisa? I’m so sick and tired of that sort of shit. I just want one normal weekend. One normal friend. I haven’t felt like I’m Marcus Bailey all day. I actually prefer to be called ‘dude’ by you than Marcus by anyone else. You’re real. Do you understand that? I want normal.”
He doesn’t know me. “I. am not normal. You. are not normal. Don’t you get that, Marcus? This friendship you’re trying to force into existence, isn’t going to last. The moment you go on tour again, anything you’ve created here is just going to vanish.”
“Why do you keep judging me? Why can’t you actually accept that there’s something about you that makes me want you in my life?”
“Oh my god. You’ve spent like, twelve hours in total with me. The only ‘something’ you can see here is of your own creating.”
“Ok, so after spending time with me, you’re happy if I go to some party and get my photo taken with some random chick for the papers in the morning? It’s not going to bother you one bit?”
A Beautiful Rock Page 6