Exploits

by Poppet

  I nod, and watch his suave stroll into the room close to the front door. Those jeans just suction over his derriére like ganache on twin cupcakes. Yummy doesn't do him justice. I lock the door and gate, and move to wrap my arms around his waist, my head tilting back as I join him in my tiny kitchen a fifth the size of his. "This is a nice surprise."

  His happy smile just warms me to my toes, melting my nervous system on its way down. He's teasing as he lowers his nose closer to mine, a smile dancing at the corners of his mouth, "Good thing you were home."

  Oh slurp! He wraps his arms around me and just lifts me right up off the floor to kiss me. I can't describe it to you. But his embrace, the way I feel with him, the way I respond just to his presence, before he's even touched me, I feel home. He makes me believe in soul mates and happy endings. Gary was never like this. I never, ever, felt this happy or safe, with Gary. I didn't react this way to Gary. Marty has a gentleness inside him. He's tender and warm whilst simultaneously being reassuring and confident. I let him prop me against the counter top to rain kisses down my neck, his hands already feel familiar. I know it's early but I swear I'm feeling love for this man.

  He pulls away, smiling at me. I can't help but react in kind. He fumbles through the drawer next to my leg and pulls out two spoons. "Chocolate or vanilla?"

  I shake my long hair across my shoulders as my head moves in disbelief, "Chocolate."

  He grins and lifts me off the counter with one arm. Go Mr Perfect! He laces his long fingers through mine and picks up the chocolate tub and walks me back to the lounge. It's as if he's always known me. He manages to make himself perfectly at home. He flops down onto the carpet, reaching his long arm up, hooking my hand and tugging me down to join him. He says nothing. His eyes warm, flirtatious, naughty, playful. He pops the lid off the tub and dips a spoon into it. Chuckling, he wipes the cold wet chocolate across my mouth, holding me down with one hand, he starts kissing and licking the chocolate off my lips.

  I collapse, relaxed next to him, giggling happily as I let Mr Perfect make chocolate ice-cream instantly, and forever, a memorable experience. It didn't take him long to find out I was ticklish. Lying on the floor looking up into his dark reflecting eyes, happy to just be with him, my wavy blond hair splayed around me, he starts tickling my knees, then my waist and hip bone. I am squealing and laughing a belly laugh so loud I'm sure the neighbours can hear me. He is just scrumptious. I'm squirming to get away from his hands, he's laughing at my giggling, the two of us making a real ruckus, when my bloody doorbell ding-dong's an intrusion into perfection.

  Breathless, I crawl away from his hands on my blue jeaned knees, before standing up, cheeks flushed, a happy smile smirking across my face, I open the door without looking first. My heart instantly plummets as I stare into the disapproving faces of Graham and Cindy. I swallow heavily, my breathing has vanished as I stare at the past invading my future, waiting to be let in. How the hell do they know where I live?

  Graham looks past me, to Marty lying with his shoes kicked off, still sprawling on my floor, watching him with unfeigned interest. Graham's grey eyes swivel to mine, "Hello, Stefanie."

  He could have been the schoolmaster and me the naughty child with that tone. Marty notices and sits up, pulling his shoes back towards him, as I nod woodenly and look to Cindy, who's now glaring at me.

  "We thought we'd come over to say hi. We were worried about you being all alone."

  Graham adds coldly, "But you aren't alone. That didn't take you long."

  "Aren't you going to invite us in?"

  I look at Cindy and sigh heavily. Fuck. Here goes nothing.

  I unlock the gate and stand aside, "Come on in."

  I look to Marty, who's giving me his ‘I sense all’ reassuring warm glances, sensing my discomfort and their disapproval.

  "Marty, this is Cindy and Graham." Then to them "Guys, this is my friend Marty."

  What the hell am I going to say? He isn't my boyfriend yet. I'm not sure if we're even dating. But a friend, yes, I think so.

  Graham squares up, he's thick set but much shorter than Marty, he shakes Marty's hand, "Hi."

  Cindy just shoots him the once over and comments sarcastically, "Nice to meet you."

  I stare at them, they are unwelcome. "We were busy, I wasn't expecting company."

  Cindy doesn't mess around, she flicks her long curly blonde hair a-la-bitch mode and stares at me. "So, is this your new boyfriend?"

  I look at Marty, I want to laugh so badly. He grins at me and shrugs. I look back down at the impertinent haughtiness confronting me, "I hope so."

  Well, that just snapped something in Graham, he shoves a finger into Marty's chest, "Who the hell are you? Couldn't wait?"

  He glares at me then, "I never figured you were such a slut." He grabs Cindy's hand, "Come on, we're leaving."

  I'm appalled, embarrassed. Somehow they have ruined a delightful evening.

  Marty shoots me a wink, "Don't bother. I should go." He smiles at me, "I'll call you."

  Before I can say three "ums" he's gone. I stare at Cindy and Graham and I am livid.

  Cue song: Andrew Chester, ‘Understand’.

  "Who the hell do you think you are? Gary can date, but I can't?"

  Graham glares down his nose at me, "Gary did well to get rid of you. Now I understand his problem perfectly. Cindy insisted that we had it all wrong. But you aren't pining over Gary one bit. Slut."

  I feel as if he slapped me. Fuck you.

  "Just go."

  Cindy stares coldly through me, "Fine. I thought you needed a friend. I can see I was wrong. GOOD BYE, STEFANIE."

  And, self-righteous and pompous, she struts out of the still open door.

  The vacuum after this awful confrontation just sucks the joy out of my home as the quiet pervades. I slide down the closed door, wondering how I'm always the one to blame? I stare at the two spoons and the open tub of chocolate ice-cream sitting, waiting, in the middle of the room. I smile. Then I start crying. Did they ruin it? Will he run from me now knowing that kind of baggage is just waiting to jump on us?

  I lost track of time. I was sitting in the half dark, smoking moodily, feeling depressed, when thumping started again on my front door. What now?

  I drag myself off the sofa and fling open the door.

  "Neville?"

  "Thank God!"

  "What?"

  "Open this door!"

  I unlock the gate and he pounces in, looking half mad and deranged. He looks around behind himself nervously before shutting and locking the door.

  He grabs my hand and squeezes it, "Are you okay?"

  Adrenalin starts coursing through me. "Yes. Why?"

  "Gary is furious!"

  What?

  "Why?"

  "Stefanie, you can't stay here. He wants you dead. Tonight."

  My legs lose their rigidity and I wobble weakly to a sitting position, looking up at Neville seeming terrified, wild and insistent.

  He leans over me and emphasises, "He's taken a hit out on you."

  My heart is racing as fast as my thoughts. I'm afraid, scared, angry, everything all at once.

  "Pack things! Quickly! You're coming home with me."

  Oh no! No fucking way.

  I shake my head. I'd do anything, in fact I'd rather be dead than be alone with Neville.

  "What happened?"

  He stares at me as though my head is sprouting carrots, "Cindy and Graham left here and went straight to Gary's. I was there. You have to leave.NOW."

  I hate that little snitch bitch. Some friend! I could SCREAM.

  Shaking my head, "Thanks for worrying Neville, but I'm not leaving. I've got work tomorrow and I'm done being afraid of Gary. I won't let him control my life any longer."

  He falls to his knees, grabbing both my hands in his, pleading, "Pleeeease Stefanie. I can't lose you. I only just found you."

  Oh fuuuuuck. Shivers of revulsion charge my spine.

  "You should go. If he find
s you here, all hell will break loose."

  He stares at me in disbelief. "Do have a death wish? Aren't you hearing me?"

  Sigh. I'm drained, exhaustion claiming my rationale.

  "Neville, fuck Gary. I'm not afraid of him. And I'm sleeping in my own bed tonight."

  He grabs me and engulfs me in a suffocating hug against his cold, black, leather jacket. He pulls away and I can see tears unshed, glistening his eyes. He's really worried. He believes Gary will do it.

  He stands and pulls me up with him. His hand holding onto mine. He whispers, "I love you."

  Oh God. No. Don't do this to me.

  I smile and pat his hand patronisingly, "I know. Now go."

  He kisses the top of my head, hugging me again as though I'm already a corpse. "Please be careful."

  It was a faint pleading whisper.

  I nod, showing him to the door insistently, "I will. Thanks for the warning."

  He pauses outside my door as if in two minds about leaving.

  I take charge, "Goodnight Neville."

  I shut the gate and lock it. Then smile sadly at him. He looks as though someone just grabbed him by the throat and started squeezing. I close the door and lock it.

  Shaking, I switch off the lights and move to my bedroom with my smokes and an ashtray.

  I huddle on my bed, light a smoke and start crying uncontrollably.

  Chapter 26

  Sob

  Nothing happened. I sat through the night, sleeping with one eye, and one ear, open. The longer I pondered it, the more convinced I became that Gary was going to have me bumped off the planet. And if he was going to have it done, being afraid wouldn't change that fact. So, by the time I arrived at work, I had resigned myself to an early death, taken with a double, and neat, helping of paranoia.

  "You look ill. Are you okay?"

  Tired, I smile at Selene, "I didn't sleep well. Gary drama."

  That gets her undivided attention and she drops the cards in her hand that she was about to file and gives me a piercing brown-eyed stare, "What happened?"

  Briefly I outline the course of events to her.

  She leans back with a smirk flirting over her lips, "Stuff Lindsay. It's about time you found someone else."

  I love her. Girl power support is just what I need. I'm dreading seeing Lindsay.

  "Problem is, I don't even have his phone number."

  Shaking her head, Selene chuckles. "How blonde are you?"

  I'm embarrassed, and grin back stupidly. Ted and Lindsay arrive together.

  She throws a cool glance my way, sans greeting, but Ted chuckles evilly as he deliberately saunters past my chair. Pausing briefly to murmur into my ear, "Good weekend?”

  He doesn't wait for an answer as he swaggers to his desk, throws himself into his chair and casts an infuriating and knowing smile at me.

  Does that mean he's spoken to Professor Kiss and knows? Did he say good things for me to have Ted's transparent approval? I push it from my mind. Work is work and I'm tired, and have a long payday ahead of me.

  Just after lunch my phone rings.

  "Stefanie speaking, how may I help you?"

  "Well, that all depends on how far you're willing to go."

  "Pardon?" Who is this?

  "Don't play shy with me. I'm missing you."

  My heart speeds by increments as I wonder if this is Mr Perfect. People sound so different on the phone. "Are you?" I'm playing it safe.

  "We were interrupted and I wasn't finished with you or the ice-cream."

  My heart bungee jumps across the office, "So when can I expect the next rendezvous?"

  "We'll see. I like surprises."

  I have an awfully mortifying blonde moment, "How do you have my number? I don't have yours."

  Silence.

  Hmm, not good.

  "You're joking, right? Ted and Lindsay work with you."

  My cheeks flood bright pomegranate, "Just teasing."

  Ted starts laughing as my cheeks begin radiating. Belatedly, I realise that he put the call through to me.

  "Later babes."

  And just like that, he's gone. And I still don't have Mr Perfect's phone number.

  Shayne sits opposite Ted, and he's been watching the silent interaction. God! I overhear him speaking to Ted.

  "What's going on with you two?"

  Oooh, Mr Suspicious is on duty.

  Ted laughs and pretends to shuffle papers. Finally he stares with unfeigned "fuck off Shayne" written across his face, "It's a private joke."

  Shayne pushes up his spectacles and scrutinises me. Great. Now he thinks I'm screwing Ted as well. I stare back, feeling cheaper than chewing gum, as he flicks his gaze to Lindsay, and thinks he understands why she didn't greet me. Go on! Jump to conclusions. You know you can't help it.

  I sigh heavily. When will this day end? Maybe a bullet with my name on it is a godsend and not a curse. Being stalked by the angel of death is tiring. I just want to go home. Bullet or no bullet.

  One thing I do, now that I'm Gary-free, is treat myself. I pass up the lift home from Selene in order to go to the florist on my way home. I buy St Joseph's lilies every payday. Or tulips. Sometimes both. I don't have a garden to grow my own bulbs, so I buy these as a treat. Call me a hypocrite. After purchasing my flowers, I take a languid stroll home past Rondebosch common, savouring the waning day. Each time I do this, I get a knot in my stomach when I have to pass Gary's garage and his road.

  I've got droplet-forming, hot Chinese takeaway in a stretching plastic bag in one hand. A bouquet of stunning flowers in the other, but I hesitate as I reach his road and carefully peer around a tree to see if he's home, before walking down to my road. My heart stops as I voyeur like a cheap thrill-seeker, as fate kicks me in the heart. His car is poised at the front door. And he's opening the door on the passenger side for someone. I squeeze myself behind the tree and hold my breath, almost afraid that he will sense me with his preternatural vibe sensors. I watch tentatively, as he helps a girl about my height out of the car. She's voluptuous, with very blonde hair. Without equivocation, the hate resurfaces.

  Fucker. Why do men do that? Open doors for women, if it won't last? He never ever opened my door for me. Not once. Scowling, I feel tears splintering my eyeballs with cactus-like prickles, as I watch him wrap a sexy arm around her waist and pull her close. Intimately they stroll inside together. GASP. I hadn't realised I was still holding my breath.

  My anger gauge reaches close to warp pressure as I stalk into the road and storm home.

  Why? Why does he want me dead if he's obviously moved on? He's the one who dumped me, for ‘an old friend’. But now that I'm anywhere close to happiness, I must die? That's so unfair. It's deranged.

  … Pause …

  How long will it take me to accept that he's a psychopath?

  … Play ...

  The pleasure of the flowers, not cooking and the prospect of a surprise visit is lost as I reach my home. Every parked car is cause for paranoia. All traffic meandering nearby makes me hold my breath; my eyes focus unwaveringly, until the threat has passed. I almost run to my door and fling myself inside, hands shaking, fumbling with the keys to lock the security gate behind me.

  Slamming the door in rage, fear, trepidation and relief, my eyes sting as I allow what I just witnessed, to fully hit me. I don't want him but it still hurts like Russian eye-drop torture, to see him with another me.

  I hate you!

  I fling the flowers onto the closest sofa, kick off my shoes, determined to reach for red wine and a cigarette. Instead, I form a human puddle of misery as I sink to the floor and allow myself to feel the pain of betrayal.

  Sob.

  From now on I'm calling Gary, Fuhquim.

  Fuhquim. Fuhquim. Fuhquim.

  Chapter 27

  Mr Melt

  BANG BANG BANG BANG! THUMP!

  I jump, jolted rudely from my miserable reverie as my front door threatens to leap out of the frame. Night has fallen and
I creep with anxiety to the door, and sneak a swift glance through the peep hole. Damn. I forgot to buy a bulb and it's so dark out there it could be anyone.

  Taking a deep breath, I brace myself to face the Mob. Some huge, shaved, bald man, with a gun and a silencer, probably already lined up to the spy hole to shoot me clean in the eye, through the brain, dead. I unlock the door, ready for the release of emotional torture called life. I take a last deep breath, tears left unshed, causing my eyes to sparkle, and open the door.

  "THANK GOD."

  Sigh.

  "Hi, Neville."

  He still seems frantic. Waiting with obvious impatience for me to unlock the security gate, which I do. He bolts through it, locks it swiftly, and slams the door behind him.

  I stare at him in the enveloping anticlimax of silence.

  He runs a hand down my arm. "I was so worried. I couldn't drive here fast enough after work."

  Death is overrated. Who cares if I die? And why does this male always have to touch me.

  "Neville, stop worrying about me. I'm fine. Gary's probably just stuffing with my mind. He knew one of you would tell me. He's probably getting a diabolical kick out of this."

  I am so good at pretending to be in control and fine.

  Cue song: Feedback. ‘Fallen’.

  Neville notices my food, cold, still in a bag on the floor next to the couch. He sees the flowers, follows the shoes, my bag; he scowls.

  "I'm not stupid. I can see you're upset."

  He flicks the lounge light on, blinding me momentarily, and before I can sidestep him, he's fucking hugging me again.

  SHOVE.

  "Would you like some coffee?" I query casually as I use the momentum to walk into the kitchen.

  "No. Stefanie, tell me you're okay."

  Repulsive shiver as he slides his hand down my spine. He always stands too bloody close to me. I feel suffocated and step back, away, towards the fridge.