I nod slowly. That is, in fact, quite an accurate description of Justine. ‘I’ll buy that. And I am…?’
‘Well, you just seem really…er…settled. You know, like you’ve carved out an existence for yourself and you’re sticking to it. I think it’s interesting that you two get on so well, that’s all.’
I laugh. ‘Is this the diplomatic way of calling me a homebody?
‘No! I…’
‘Sure. Don’t worry about it. My family and friends tell me pretty much the same thing on the hour every hour. Anyway, like I said, Justine and I have our moments.’
Drew’s eyebrows go up. ‘You argue?’
‘No, no.’ I shake my head. ‘Nothing like that.’
‘Then what?’
I give him another strange look.
‘Sorry, I’m being too nosy, aren’t I?’
I shrug. ‘It’s not that we argue. I suppose you could just say we agree to disagree on some points, and that’s probably why we get on like we do. Most of the time, anyway.’
Drew opens his mouth, then closes it again, his eyes giving away the fact that he’s not sure whether or not he should continue.
And, while I realise I could end the conversation right here and now, I want to know why he’s asking these questions. I want to know if he’s going somewhere with this. And, of course, I also want to know what he’s been thinking about me.
‘What it comes down to,’ I say slowly, choosing my words with care, ‘is that Justine is a really social person. And I’m not. That’s where we differ.’
‘What do you mean, you’re not social? You deal with hundreds of people for work each year.’
I eye him steadfastly across the table. ‘I mean with men.’
‘Ah.’ He stops, and I know from his expression that he is going somewhere with this. ‘Well, you don’t have to agree with each other on the subject. What’s the problem?’
‘She thinks I should date more.’ Not that I could date less, I think to myself. But I don’t have to reveal everything to Drew, do I?
‘Should you date more?’ he asks me, his eyes twinkling.
I choke on the final piece of spring roll that’s in my mouth. ‘What is it with you?’ I ask when I manage to swallow, and Drew at least has the good grace to look a bit sheepish. ‘What’s Justine told you about me?’ My eyes narrow.
‘Nothing.’
My eyes narrow further.
‘Much.’
‘Is she trying to set us up?’
‘Oh, definitely.’ Drew nods without hesitation.
‘And you have to report back right after lunch, yes?’
He nods, as if it’s a given. ‘But of course.’
I laugh at his truthfulness.
‘No, not really. Justine knows I have to see you about the photos this week, but I didn’t tell her I was coming in today. So, back to the subject at hand.’ Drew leans forward again. ‘Why don’t you? Date, I mean.’ His expression turns serious. ‘Is it a religious thing?’
Now I really laugh. ‘No! It’s just…’ My mind clicks back over to Mike and the smile suddenly drops from my face. ‘I don’t know. I suppose Justine dates because men like her. Men like Justine a lot. She feeds their egos or something. Whereas I’m…Oh, I give up. There’s no other way to say it. Men just don’t like me.’
‘What? Rubbish.’ Drew laughs. ‘Who told you that?’
I snort and look away. ‘No one told me that,’ I say flippantly. ‘I figured it out for myself. Trial and error. Mostly error. Don’t ask me why it is. I’ve no idea.’
When our eyes meet again, Drew is giving me an unbelieving stare. This time I can tell what he’s thinking, funnily enoughjust the same thing Tania did. So I spell it out for him. ‘Don’t think it’s a self-esteem thing, because it’s not. It’s just the cold hard truth. Men don’t…OK, so it’s not that they don’t like me. It’s that, um…they don’t take to me.’
I glance out the café window as I say this, starting to wonder if he’s going to ask about the sex thing. Probably. If Justine has told him I haven’t dated for well over a year, as a guy, it’ll be one of the first things that crosses his mind. Men can never believe itthat I’ve gone almost a year without sex. As for women, if they find out they never even bat an eyelid. They’ve all seen that page in the back of Cosmo. A cheque made out for $69.95, a pack or two of batteries (or three, if you’re that way inclined) and everybody’s happy.
A car drives past in the bright sunlight and distracts me from what I’m thinking. There’s a flash again. Another pink flash. That’s weird. Another onejust like I’d seen in the park. Maybe I should get my eyes checked? With this thought, Mrs Batty-Smith creeps back into my mind again. Just my eyes? Maybe I should get a proper check-up at the doctor’s as well. Blood pressure, blood test, the lot. When I turn my attention back to Drew, he’s laughing.
‘I can’t believe you just said that.’
‘What?’ I say, forgetting the pink flash and thinking back to what we’ve just been discussing. Shit. Did I say something about the vibrator out loud?
‘Men. You think they don’t take to you?’
Phew I shake my head. ‘It’s true. I am not their scene.’
‘Well, that’s understandable.’ Drew doesn’t even pause to take a breath.
‘What? Why?’
He smiles. ‘You mean you really don’t know why? I thought you were joking. The reason you don’t get on with some of themI’d say it’s because you scare them, Liv. You’re intimidating.’
‘Gee, thanks. Why don’t you tell me what you really think?’
‘No, I didn’t mean it like that…’
‘Is that right?’ I butt in, as the waiter takes our plates. ‘I’m an intimidating homebody? It’s an interesting combination. And what do you mean? There’s another meaning to “you’re intimidating”? A nice one? God, I can’t believe I’m sitting here discussing my love life with you. I haven’t even had anything alcoholic to drink. It’s embarrassing.’
Drew shakes his head. ‘Don’t be embarrassed.’
‘Oh, OK. Now I feel better,’ I say sarcastically.
Drew gives me a look that makes me shut up. ‘I never said you were a homebody. And about the intimidating commentwhat I meant is that some guys, they’re scared by a woman with drive, who knows what she wants and goes out and gets it. They’re intimidated by that kind of attitude, especially if they don’t have it themselves.’
‘And you?’ I look him straight in the eye, thinking two can play at this game.
He doesn’t flinch. ‘It doesn’t bother me. I think it’s sexy when women are self-confident. Not arrogant, mind you. Just comfortable being who they are, knowing what they want and asking for it straight outno games.’ His eyes meet mine. ‘Like you.’
‘I…’ I start, but then choke once more. When I finally glance up at Drew again he’s still watching me. His eyes are twinkling like before.
‘Oh, don’t be so coy.’ He laughs and, after watching him open-mouthed for a second or two, I can’t help but laugh as well. ‘You see, I know what I want,’ Drew continues. ‘I think it’s good if other people do too. Doesn’t matter if they’re men or women.’
‘And what do you want?’ I try and gain a bit of conversation control back here.
He leans back in his seat. ‘That I’ll just have to leave for our next lunch.’
Our next lunch. My mind goes blank when he says this. I can’t think of anything to say. Drew wants to have lunch again. With me. For some reason, I’m surprised. I look at the time thenone-fifty p.m. ‘I’ve really got to be getting back…’ I say.
‘We will leave it for another day, then.’
‘Um, sure.’ I nod. ‘I, um, love a good interrogation,’ I add, when my brain kicks back in. And so much for that cheesecake. Oh, well.
‘What is it?’ Drew says, following my eyes to the refrigerated cabinet across the room.
I laugh. ‘Absolutely nothing. I’m just being a pig. L
ast time Sally and I ate here we had the baked berry cheesecake. It was out of this world. I thought I’d have time for a piece today. You knowdo my bit in keeping up the café’s quality control.’ I go to reach for my wallet, but Drew shakes his head.
‘My treat. I owe you for fitting me in this week when you’re so busy.’
‘That’s OK. You’re sure?’ I’m still holding my wallet.
‘Of course I’m sure.’
We both get up and Drew goes over to the counter to pay while I inspect the free postcards by the door.
‘There you go,’ he says when he comes over. He hands me a white polystyrene box. I look down at it.
‘Two pieces of cheesecake. For you and Sally.’
‘Oh! I’ I begin, but Drew butts in.
‘I really don’t want to hear any of those “just a salad, thanks, I’m on a diet” girl lines.’
This stops me in my tracks. Just a salad, thanks? They’re words my lips wouldn’t know how to form. ‘OK. It’s not what I was going to say, but thanks. For the cheesecake, I mean. Sally will love you for ever.’
We walk back to the studio slowly in the heat, stopping by a dark blue Jeep parked on the left of my car in the studio car park, which must be Drew’s.
‘So, Justine tells me you’re not coming to this Cupid’s Choice thing? The ball on Saturday?’ Drew asks, jingling his car keys.
I shake my head. ‘I can’t. I’ve got three weddings on that day and three on Sunday. I don’t think I’ll be home till after nine.’
‘You’re probably not missing much.’ He pulls something out of his back pocketa piece of paper. He opens it up. ‘I got this just before I left work.’
‘What is it?’
‘My date. Michelle. She runs a website about breeding poodles, or something, and likes romantic walks along the beach in the moonlight. It’s pretty bad.’
I laugh. ‘Good luck.’
‘Well, thanks for this, anyway.’ Drew holds up the folder I’ve given him.
‘That’s OK. Thanks for lunch. And the cheesecake. It was nice.’
He moves to get something else out of his wallet. As he’s fishing around, I start to run a mental checklist of things I have to do this afternoon. I can’t help myself. I’m always zoning out and running checklists like this through my head when I’ve got a big weekend coming up. Shot lists, hotels, reception venues…
Finally, Drew finds what he’s looking for and hands something over to mehis business card. ‘So you can call me,’ he says.
I look at it, confused. I’m still half thinking about this weekend and all things wedding, and don’t catch on quite as quickly as I should. ‘What for?’ I say bluntly. ‘I thought your friends were going to make an appointment?’
For the first time today Drew looks as if I’ve caught him on the back foot. ‘Er, I just…thought you might like to call. Or not. It doesn’t matter.’
Oh, shit.
Double shit.
Triple shit.
I’m such an idiot. He thinks that I haven’t had a good time this afternoon. ‘Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean that. II was thinking about work,’ I stutter. ‘And I…’
There’s a pause as our eyes meet and we size each other up. I start to think about what the card means before Mike enters my head again, as always, and I have to look away as my chest tightens and I feel the backs of my eyes start to fill with tears. God, sometimes I really hate myself. When I turn towards him again Drew is still waiting for an explanation. ‘It’s just…’ I start. ‘I don’t know if I’m ready for…’
Drew shakes his head. ‘No, no, you don’t have to explain. It, er, doesn’t have to be like that.’ He reaches down to press the card into my hand. ‘Just take the card, and if you want to call, you can call. For any reason. There’s no pressure. It’s just a piece of cardboard with a phone number on it, that’s all.’
I listen to what he’s saying and slowly my eyes start to feel normal again. I close my fingers around the card and he leaves his hand on mine for a moment before he pulls away. He turns towards his car then, busying himself opening the door. When he’s inside, he starts the engine and lowers the driver’s side window. ‘You’re right,’ he says. ‘Lunch was nice.’
I nod, not saying anything.
‘Bye, Liv,’ Drew says, holding my gaze for a second before he starts to back the car out of the car park.
I watch the car travel down the road and stop at the lights. It’s a good few minutes before they turn green and Drew’s car turns left and is out of sight.
My eyes frozen, I keep staring up the road, thinking. Mainly about Drew. About Drew and me.
But also recalling something that Mrs Batty-Smith said yesterdayabout men. What was it? I frown, breaking my promise not to think about the event, trying to get the words right.
‘Lying pigs. Swine, all of them…All that false love. False hope.’
And I look at where Drew’s car was and think to myself that she’s wrong. Drew doesn’t seem like that. Drew doesn’t seem like that at all.
But then, just as fast, some other words pop into my mind.
Neither did Mike, at the start. Remember?
Y Y Y Y
When I reach the front door of the studio, it’s locked, and the Closed sign is hanging inside the small lead-light window. I fish the key out of my handbag and open up, the air-conditioning hitting me once again. Sally must have only popped out for a minute or two, I think, before I spot the note on the kitchen bench. I’m right. She’s gone to the corner shop to buy some more milk.
I put my handbag on the bench and go to place my keys back inside, but stop when I spot Drew’s card sitting on the bottomnext to the lipstick I never remember to reapply and the fluff-gathering tampon I’ll probably never use. I’d let it fall in there, finding its way to the bottom, but now I pluck the card out with two fingers, look at it for a moment, then tuck it carefully into the side of my wallet.
Right, Liv. Work.
I cross the room, sit down at the computer and start the work I have to finish before I head out to my engagement shoot this afternoon. Today I have to complete an engagement portrait I’d started on last week. More de-flabbing. More zit-disintegration.
I finish my work on the photo the couple have chosen (good news, they’ve both got great skin) and then start ringing around the couples whose weddings I’m going to photograph on Saturday and Sunday, just to check they don’t have any last questions. When that’s done, I print out the shot lists for the weddings as wellall the photos the couple have said they definitely want on the day.
It’s surprising how different each wedding is. Kirsty and Shaun’s will be quite informal. They want me to run around taking a photojournalistic approach to the day, capturing moments here and there. Another couple on the same day, however, want something completely different. Theirs will be a very formal wedding and they want a very formal photographic approach. The photo with Mum and Dad; the photo with Mum and Dad and the grandparents; the photo with Mum and Dad and the grandparents and the siblings; the photo with Mum and Dad and the grandparents and the siblings and the neighbour’s three-legged guinea pig and so on. I bring up all the shot lists and have a quick run through them one last time.
It’s a good hour and a half before Sally arrives back.
‘That was some trip to the corner shop.’ I look up.
‘Oh, bugger. The milk.’
‘You mean you didn’t get any?’ I check her hands and see three large bags from the gorgeous little clothes boutique down the road, but no dairy products whatsoever. Sally looks back at the door.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I say. ‘I’ll pick some up later.’
‘You’re a doll.’ She blows me a kiss before going over to rest her shop-sore bones on the couch. She closes her eyes and sighs loudly. Just as I’m about to turn back to my computer, she opens one eye. ‘Not so fast, young lady.’
‘Mmm?’ I say.
‘This Drew. What’s the deal?
’
I shrug. ‘Like I told you, Justine found him. They’ve become quite chummy.’
Sally sighs again. ‘Bugger Justine. What’s his caper with you?’
I catch sight of my handbag and think of the card inside. I shrug slightly.
‘Ooohhh, you sly dog. Well, good luck. He’s not bad. Not bad at all.’
‘No hair plugs,’ I point out.
‘I noticed. Believe me, I noticed. And is he a NG?’
I roll my eyes. Sally has decreed that I am only allowed to date NGs rated eight or higher (that’s Sally-speak for Nice Guys). She thinks it’s the only way I’m ever going to get back on the dating bandwagon (a wagon I’d frankly rather see roll right on by).
‘You know what I think about the NG scale…’ If I’ve told her once, I’ve told her a thousand timesthe NG scale is useless. In my opinion it’s the NGs you’ve got to watch out for. At least you know you have to be careful with the TSs (Total Shits) from the start. It’s the NGs that suck you in and spit you out again. Hard. Which is why I’m prepared to let that wagon roll by. With Drew on it. Like I’d remembered before, Mike had seemed nice at the start. More than nice.
‘I’ll take that as a yes. Rating, please?’
I sigh a Sally-weary sigh. ‘Um, eight, I guess. Maybe a nine if he hadn’t followed Justine home.’
‘Nine! We haven’t had a nine for…for ever! Oh, damn!’ The phone rings and Sally rushes over to pick it up. It’s a new client. They book in to talk to us both a fortnight from today. When she puts the phone down again, she nods at it. ‘I forgot to tell youboth Justine and Rachel called almost the minute you left.’
‘Oh. Anyone else?’
‘Yes. Justine and Rachel.’
Huh?
‘I think it went Justine, Rachel, Justine, Rachel, Rachel,’ she counts off on her fingers. ‘What’s wrong with those girls?’
I shake my head. ‘It’d take all day.’
Justine, Rachel, Justine, Rachel, Rachel. A little much, really. But that’s two for Justine and three for Rachel, so as I pick up the phone I decide Rachel’s more desperate to get in contact with me and call her first. I try her home number to start withshe couldn’t possibly be calling that many times from work.
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