The Barbershop Girl

by Georgina Penney

  ‘You alright, love?’ Myf called out.

  ‘I’m okay. Just give me a sec. I’m sorry, Ben. I’m running a bit late.’

  ‘No problem at all. I’ll just entertain myself out here with Myf and some of your quality educational reading material.’ Ben winked at Myf before perusing a nearby shelf and selecting a magazine that advertised Sex Tips to Send Your Man Wild.

  ‘Quality?’ Myf let out a low chuckle.

  ‘Of course,’ Ben murmured. He flicked past countless outlandish advertisements for shoes, perfume and, if he wasn’t mistaken, anorexia, until he found what was he was looking for.

  ‘For example,’ he said loud enough for Amy to hear. ‘Did you know, and I have to tell you I didn’t, that men like having toothpaste rubbed on their privates? Now this is definitely news to me. According to this article—’ His words were stopped mid-sentence by Amy’s shriek from the back of the salon.

  ‘What!’

  ‘Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just reading out loud.’

  ‘Where are you taking her to dinner?’ Myf asked in a low voice, leaning towards him, her eyes sparkling.

  ‘I was thinking Christie’s on the Beach in Cottesloe,’ he whispered back. ‘Good choice?’ He raised his brows before saying much louder, ‘Oh, no, no. I can’t say I agree with this. It sounds horrifically painful.’

  ‘What? Excuse me?’ There was another thump. ‘Oh damn.’

  ‘Perfect choice.’ Myf grinned. ‘She’ll love it. You’re paying.’

  ‘Excellent, and of course, worked my fingers to the bone to come up with the cash,’ Ben replied, just as the mystery door behind the screen opened and he heard the clicking of heels. Enjoying himself, he deliberately kept his eyes on the magazine as he turned the page to be confronted with some rather fascinating illustrations of sexual positions the magazine promised would send one’s man insane with lust. He snorted at the first improbable contortion and inhaled the scent of apples and bubblegum. ‘Now this is fascinating. I’ve never tried this one. I’ve always worried I’d damage a vital piece of equipment.’ He tapped the page pointedly.

  The magazine was ripped from his hands with a crackle of glossy paper and he looked up, fully intending on making a joke but simply stared instead.

  The kewpie doll had curves – curves wrapped up in an impossibly cute blue and white pinstriped dress in a style last seen on a screaming teenager at an early Elvis concert. It curved down from a high boat-neck collar and capped sleeves to a tiny waist cinched with a dark blue ribbon tied in a bow before flaring out to a full circle skirt that fell just below the knee. Ben couldn’t be sure from the front, but he was almost positive she was wearing French stockings. Her dark blue patent leather Mary Janes instantly kickstarted a few naughty schoolgirl fantasies he hadn’t visited for a number of years.

  ‘You look . . . fascinating.’ He was aware that it might not be the most appropriate of compliments.

  ‘Gee, thanks. You look nice too,’ Amy replied pertly.

  Ben was aware of Myf next to him, hiding a smile behind her coffee cup.

  ‘Thank you, I do try, although I can’t possibly compare . . .’ He looked Amy’s ensemble up and down again, resting finally on the loose curls framing her face. She was wearing fuchsia lipstick, the same colour she’d worn when he’d visited the barbershop on Monday. He was developing a penchant for fuchsia. ‘For starters, I look hideous in blue and dresses have never suited me.’ He was gratified to see a dimple appear in her cheek. Satisfied, he pushed himself to his feet. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ Amy said, then turned to her friend. ‘Are you alright locking up with your key, petal?’

  ‘Not a problem.’ Myf pushed to her feet and held out a hand to Ben. ‘Nice meeting you, Ben.’

  He took her hand in his and clasped it warmly. He liked this woman. She knew how to play along. ‘The pleasure was mine. I look forward to viewing your work.’ He turned back to Amy and gestured to the door with a flourish. ‘Madam, your chariot awaits.’

  ‘Are you comfortable? Impressed? Overawed? You’re supposed to be.’ Ben wore a devilish smile as he slid into the black leather driver’s seat, buckled up and smoothly pulled out into evening peak hour traffic. The car purred with restraint. Amy had the feeling it would truly roar if he allowed it. Not that she was in any state of mind to contemplate the fact. Right now she was doing her best not to touch anything.

  ‘I wouldn’t say impressed so much as scared to death. This car probably cost more than my house.’ She gingerly leaned down to make sure her heels weren’t digging holes in the carpet at her feet.

  ‘It’s alright.’ Ben shrugged. ‘Gets me from A to B.’ A faint smile played around his mouth.

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’ Amy decided that she couldn’t do much damage if she stayed very, very still.

  ‘Never. And just in case you were wondering, I won’t let you drive it even if you offer me exotic sexual favours designed to make my hair stand on end.’ He said the words so casually that it took a few seconds for them to register.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You’re excused. Just so you know, I’ve made reservations for Christie’s on the Beach. You’ve heard of it? Yes? No? I hear it’s good.’

  ‘Christie’s. Wow. Um. Okay. You don’t have to take me there. We can go somewhere . . . more casual if you like.’ She stopped herself from saying ‘cheaper’ just in time.

  ‘When I’m looking so debonair? No. Definitely not. I’m told the view is excellent. Not that I’ll be looking at it that much.’ He slid her an appreciative sideways glance.

  ‘The view is nice,’ Amy said wistfully, ignoring the compliment. She loved the beach.

  ‘Mind you,’ Ben mused, ‘places with a good location usually have dire food. London’s atrocious for it. Many’s the time I’ve gone to a restaurant in an excellent location expecting it to be amazing and . . .’ He made a raspberry noise, comically out of character to his polished appearance. ‘Shit.’

  ‘Serious?’ Amy laughed despite her worries. ‘I’ve never been to London so I wouldn’t know.’

  ‘Oh?’ Ben darted her a look that told her she might as well have admitted she had two heads. ‘Well, that’s probably wise of you. Hideous place. Crowded, overpriced and full of Australians. A bit like here really.’

  ‘You don’t like Australians?’ Amy leaned against the door, regarding him with narrowed eyes.

  ‘Oh, I like you all just fine. As long as you don’t talk much.’ He grinned when she snorted.

  ‘You mustn’t mind us that much if you’re staying here.’

  ‘I don’t. I love this city. It’s winter now and it’s raining less than it does in the summer back home.’ Ben turned off towards Cottesloe and they began driving along the ocean, huge mansions on one side, an endless expanse of sea and a vivid red sunset on the other.

  ‘How long have you been here in Perth?’

  Ben shrugged. ‘A few months. My house is near here actually.’

  Amy turned to study the mansions they were driving past. Cottesloe was a notoriously affluent suburb. Damn. She was definitely out of her depth and taking on water.

  ‘You’re quiet. I get the impression you’re not often quiet.’ Ben’s clipped words cut through her panic, bringing her back to earth.

  ‘What? No. I’m just blown away by the sheer sexiness of your car.’

  ‘Oh?’ Ben chuckled. ‘Well, that’s understandable. Embrace the shock and awe while I find us a parking place.’

  Amy ran a finger over some polished walnut panelling. ‘Do you do this often?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ask ladies you’ve offended out to dinner.’

  His eyes crinkled at the corners as he pulled into an empty space. ‘Offended? Not frequently, no. Usually they’re far too busy consulting with their lawyers. I can honestly say you’re my first dinner date offendee. Or at least the first one to accept an invitation. In fact, I do believe you should feel honoured.’
<
br />   Amy pursed her lips, fighting a smile. ‘Should I? Are you going to be nice tonight?’

  He turned the engine off. ‘Of course not. That wouldn’t be in the spirit of the thing at all. Although I do owe you, so we might be able to bend the rules.’

  ‘You owe me?’ Amy’s eyebrows almost hit her hairline.

  ‘Yes. You inspired me. As a result I’ve been amazingly productive.’

  ‘At being a dentist, you mean?’

  ‘What else? I pulled out millions of teeth. Productive teeth. Fantastic teeth.’ His white, toothy grin flashed in the dusky half-light. ‘How was your day playing the female Sweeney Todd?’

  ‘Busy. Exhausting,’ Amy answered honestly and gazed over Ben’s shoulder. The car park faced the ocean and was full of surfers stripping off their wetsuits and getting changed after catching some waves.

  ‘Oh?’ Ben regarded her with a faint frown. ‘Tell me about it. Or better yet, don’t. Wait and we’ll have a little bit of social lubrication first so I can fully enjoy all the gory details. I’m all ears. And teeth.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Never more so. I have lots of teeth.’ He shrugged. ‘Pointy ones. But you might be a little more interesting.’

  Amy laughed, giving in and deciding to enjoy herself. She’d find a way to resuscitate her credit card later. ‘Alright, then. Lead the way.’

  ‘YOU KNOW, I think any man who isn’t an Olympic athlete or a lifeguard should be banned from wearing those. They’re an abomination.’

  Amy followed Ben’s gaze out the restaurant window, taking a moment to focus. The fading red sunset over the sea and white sand of Cottesloe Beach was spectacular tonight. She chuckled when she saw the object of his criticism, an intrepid senior citizen walking towards the water wearing a pair of faded red Speedos that left nothing to the imagination. Not that there was much to see, given how cold it was outside.

  ‘What? You mean you don’t have a pair?’

  ‘Perish the thought.’

  Amy grinned and reached for a wonderfully warm bread roll, slathering it with butter. ‘You know what they call Speedos here?’

  ‘No. Do tell?’ Ben raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Budgie smugglers.’

  ‘What?’ Ben guffawed. ‘Budgie smugglers? As in a small parakeet?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Amy replied. ‘And I’ve got some friends from Sydney who call them banana hammocks.’

  ‘Banana hammocks,’ Ben mused. ‘Disturbing.’ He feigned a shudder. ‘If this conversation goes any further I’m going to need alcohol. Care to choose?’ To Amy’s complete surprise, he pushed the wine list towards her.

  She internally grimaced. Her tried-and-tested technique in choosing wine was usually to order the second cheapest bottle on the menu. ‘You know, it’s probably better you pick. I’m pretty clueless about wine, which is a bit silly since I grew up on a winery.’

  ‘A winery? You become more and more interesting.’ Ben tilted his head to the side, studying her features in the soft light cast by the lone candle at their table.

  ‘Yeah. I do.’ Amy couldn’t help a cheeky grin.

  Ben waved a waitress over and ordered an Abbey Vale Chardonnay before turning back to Amy.

  ‘Which winery and where?’

  ‘Evangeline’s Rest. It’s only a short distance from Abbey Vale, actually,’ Amy supplied. ‘I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.’

  ‘I have.’ Ben raised his eyebrows. ‘Does your family own it?’

  ‘Funny you should mention that.’ Amy took a bite out of her bread roll. ‘My sister is now engaged to a member of the family that owns it, but when we were kids my dad just worked there, so we lived on the property.’

  ‘Oh? You don’t look like any country lass I’ve ever met. Not enough beefy muscles, and I checked – your knuckles don’t drag on the ground.’

  Amy eyed off the basket of bread rolls, wondering what one would look like when it connected to the side of his head. ‘You better behave, or I’m gonna be clumsy the next time you come in for a shave.’

  ‘Ah.’ Ben’s lips curved into a satisfied grin. ‘So you want my repeat business. I’m growing on you, aren’t I? Admit it.’

  ‘Maybe. Like a fungus.’ Amy screwed up her nose. She opened her menu, saw the prices and experienced genuine heart palpitations.

  ‘Fungus, eh? Well, I’ve always thought mushrooms were one of the tastiest foods in existence. Think of me as a rare truffle.’ Ben perused his own menu, then glanced up. ‘Although we can’t all be truffle lovers. You look concerned. Nothing on the menu to suit your tastes? You have an explosive allergy to seafood?’ In an unexpected gesture, he leaned forward and placed his hand over hers to gain her attention.

  Amy’s whole body felt electric as an unexpected jolt of pure lust hit her in the sternum. Inhaling sharply, she lost herself in the feeling for a few delicious seconds before drawing her hand away.

  He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Or maybe it’s my company you’re allergic to?’

  ‘No! Everything’s . . . fine. Marvellous.’

  ‘Well, it’s nice to know you think my company is marvellous, but we’re talking about the menu.’

  Amy let out an involuntary chuckle just as the waiter appeared with the wine. ‘The menu’s fine. You’re a pest.’

  Appearing faintly irritated at the intrusion, Ben didn’t bother going through the usual glass-swirling, cork-sniffing ritual that went with wine in a high-end restaurant. Instead, he tasted it impatiently, nodded, then turned back to Amy. ‘It’s not vinegar.’

  ‘Good to know,’ she said, thanking the waiter and taking a sip. It certainly wasn’t vinegar. Wow. Yum. She took another bigger sip, feeling the wine hit her empty stomach, untangling the giant knot of nerves there.

  The still hovering waiter asked if they were ready to order and Ben gave Amy an enquiring look.

  She longingly looked over the mouth-watering selection of seafood dishes on the menu before turning the page and locating the salad, thinking it would be the less financially crippling option.

  ‘Give us a moment.’ Ben politely gestured the waiter away and then narrowed his eyes. ‘You know, speaking of allergies earlier, I have one I should probably tell you about.’

  ‘Hmm?’ Amy looked at him, still distracted by the restaurant’s idea of a reasonable price for a bit of lettuce tossed in olive oil.

  Ben winced, his features screwing up comically. ‘Salad. I’m afraid if I see nothing but salad on a lady’s plate I get this twitch and experience the overwhelming urge to force-feed her red meat. You aren’t a vegetarian, are you? No? I hear the seafood here is fantastic.’

  ‘It looks it.’ Amy drew a bracing breath. ‘The grilled snapper does look wonderful.’

  ‘It does at that.’

  ‘Mind you, I am feeling stubborn.’ Amy pursed her lips. ‘It sounded like you were just telling me what I could and couldn’t eat.’

  Ben sighed. ‘No. Well, actually, yes but only to make sure you order something you’ll enjoy. It’s incredibly boring to see someone martyr themselves when there’s good food on offer. Have I offended you?’

  Amy feigned her best offended expression. ‘Horribly.’

  Ben smacked his forehead. ‘Damn. Well, would it help if I just made a blanket apology for the entire evening? I’m probably going to offend you at least another twenty times before dessert and I can’t even imagine what ridiculously stupid thing is going to come out of my mouth when I awkwardly suggest you come back to my place for sex later. I assure you that it will be hideously insulting. I apologise wholeheartedly in advance.’

  Amy slammed a hand over her mouth to muffle her surprised peal of laughter but was still loud enough that diners at surrounding tables paused in their conversations to see what all the fuss was about.

  ‘Does this mean you forgive me in advance?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Her lips twitched as she tried to hold back morelaughter. ‘Alright.’

  ‘Good.’ Ben leaned back i
n his chair, idly swirling his wine around the glass. ‘Because now you’ve given me licence to misbehave later.’

  Amy raised her brows. ‘Who says I won’t be the one misbehaving?’

  ‘Oh? I hadn’t thought of that. Well, I’m a generally magnanimous kind of guy. Give it your best shot and I’ll try my utmost to forgive you.’ Ben held her gaze for what seemed like hours, his smile slowly transforming into something more serious.

  She turned her head and looked back out over the night-darkened sea. ‘You never did tell me what you do.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. We’ll come to that.’ He paused as the waiter returned. ‘Did you decide what you wanted to order? The salad? No? Oh good. I’ll have the steak.’

  Two hours and another half a bottle of wine later, Amy still had no idea what Ben did for a living, but that didn’t seem so important any more.

  ‘I’m not going to be able to walk out of here after that chocolate mousse,’ she groaned, discreetly rubbing her tummy while blotting her mouth with her napkin.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure they have a device for extracting overfed customers at closing time. What do you think it’s called?’ Ben lounged back in his chair, looking effortlessly handsome and just a little bit predatory.

  ‘A wheelbarrow?’

  ‘Hmm, no.’ He feigned thoughtfulness. ‘It probably would be a wheelbarrow, but you’re obviously not well versed enough with the tricks of marketing. It would have to have an attractive name. We’re effectively talking about glutton extraction here.’

  ‘Are you calling me a glutton?’ Amy asked incredulously.

  ‘You’ve forgiven me for all offence this evening, remember? And no. Of course not. Perish the thought. A more effective way of removing you would be if I came around the table, threw you over my shoulder and carried you out of here. It would be incredibly manly. You’d be impressed.’ He grinned.

  ‘Or vomiting down the back of your suit.’

  ‘There is that. No. Wheelbarrow it is.’ Ben sighed. ‘Shall we go?’ He gestured to a passing waiter and requested the bill before turning back to find Amy rifling in her handbag.

  ‘Everything alright?’