Lists spoke to her. They comforted her and made her world safe and orderly.
When she had a list, she always knew what to do next. A list, or a flowchart.
But there had been nothing in her flowchart that told her what to do with Rick Matisse after she achieved her objective of seducing him.
When a project ended, the results were filed away, and a new project was taken up. That's how it worked. Rick Matisse had been filed away. Her new project was being the Head of Compliance, and getting an improved level of output from morons like Simon.
Georgina shifted in the kitchen chair. She picked up a pencil and inspected her latest list. She scored a tick against ‘Defrost refrigerator'. What was next? She ran her finger down the page. ‘Pack bed linen'. She sprinted up and strode into the bedroom and began to pull sheets and pillowcases out of the closet.
At the end of the day, she fell into exhausted sleep on the partly stripped bed.
Sunday was no better.
Georgina dedicated the entire day to packing away the rest of her clothing. When the clock struck nine that evening, painful cramps tore through her stomach. First she thought she'd picked up a bug. Then she realized she'd forgotten to eat. In the back of a kitchen cupboard she found a box of butterfly pasta. She boiled the pasta and made a cup of soup to pour over the top.
After she'd eaten, she realized she'd packed away all her office clothes and had nothing to wear for work. She opened all the cardboard boxes she'd already sealed, and made a heap of clothes over the bedroom floor, until she found what she wanted.
It was all right, because repacking everything would keep her busy on Monday night.
Busy, while she waited for Andy to come up and say all was forgiven and they could still be friends.
Monday night came and went, and so did Tuesday and Wednesday. There was no knock on the door, no message on the answering machine, and no note pushed under her door.
The lists that kept Georgina busy got more and more complex.
On Wednesday night, she made an inventory of every one of her outfits, now neatly sealed inside the cardboard boxes once more, and planned what to wear each day during her first three months in London.
She typed up the list in her computer, neatly blocking the days into weeks, starting from January second, although that was only a part week.
On Thursday, she compiled a menu for the whole of January, including the brand of chocolate bar she'd have with her afternoon tea each day. She could remember fourteen different brands, including two she'd never tasted.
The one list she didn't make was a list for Christmas. She refused to acknowledge that the festive season was near, and she'd be alone again in Brighton, in a cold rambling house filled with dark furniture and the ghost of an unloved child.
* * * *
Rick scowled at his daughter.
"You've got to do it,” Andy insisted. “You always have to ask at least twice."
"How would you know?” Rick grunted. He was doing push-ups on the living room floor, and Angelina had just made him lose his count.
Andy grinned. “I looked it up on the Internet."
Rick slanted an angry glance at her.
"That's what you always tell me when I ask you questions,” Andy told him. “You say, stop asking me, go Google it. Why can't I say it back to you?"
"Grown-ups give orders. Kids take them.” Rick heaved another five push-ups leaning only on his fingertips. Then he lowered himself on the floor and rolled over on his back and started a set of crunches.
"Stop that, Dad. I'm trying to talk to you."
"And I'm trying to work out."
"That's all you've done all week."
Rick ignored her and started counting his reps out loud.
"Dad, please,” Andy begged. “Ask her again. This is your last chance. Georgina told me she's flying out on Saturday. That's tomorrow. You've got to do it tonight."
"Georgina's not the kind of woman who changes her mind,” Rick huffed between sit-ups.
"You didn't ask properly,” Andy said. “There's got to be something you can do to change her mind."
"Such as?"
"Did you tell her you love her?"
Rick stopped mid-crunch. His fingertips rested against his temples, elbows pointing out. “What's that supposed to mean?"
"You didn't, did you?” Andy gave him a victorious scowl. “I knew it. That's what you did wrong. You're supposed to say that."
"I frigging well asked her to marry me.” Rick almost yelled at her. “That should be enough for any woman."
"It's not,” Andy said stubbornly. “You're supposed to tell her you love her. That's the most important part. I bet you didn't do it."
"Georgina's smart. She can figure it out,” Rick muttered. He rose up and wiped his arms with the towel that had been folded to make a pillow against the hard floor. The grey vest over his torso was soaked through with sweat. His newly cut hair was still long enough to pull into a curl in the damp. He raked his fingers through it, annoyed that he had done one more thing for Georgina, even though she'd never see him again.
"No, Dad.” Andy's voice was exasperated. “You've got to tell her. Trust me. I'm a woman."
Rick felt his lips tug into a smile. “So you are, pumpkin. Heaven help me when you get old enough to date."
"Are you going to do it?” Andy reached out for his hand. “Are you going to ask her again?"
Rick tossed the towel over his shoulder. “I'm going to take a shower. You'd better be in bed when I come out."
"Dad! It's only ten."
"Bed time,” Rick ordered. “Scoot."
Andy pouted. Then she burst into a grin. “I get it. You don't want me to get in the way while you practice what to say. It's real easy, Dad. I love you. Say it after me. I-Love-You.” She danced around him. Then she scampered out of the way, hooting with laughter when Rick tried to swat her with the towel.
A few moments later, Rick stepped under the shower and stood there a long while, letting the cascade of hot water wash away his sweat and his troubled thoughts.
He'd be damned if he understood women. He'd always been a man who recognized the word ‘no’ and accepted its meaning with a good grace. Was this the one occasion when he should assume that no didn't really mean no? Should he ask again?
After toweling himself dry, Rick dressed in a pair of freshly laundered jeans and the white shirt Georgina had once said she liked. Then he pulled open the drawer on the nightstand and took out the small velvet box.
He really needed to take it back to the jeweler and get a refund. He'd been meaning to do it every day for the past two weeks. He was honest enough to admit that his lack of time due to other chores would only last until tomorrow, when Georgina was gone. Then he would go downtown and return the ring.
At the press of a tiny catch, the lid sprung open. Even in the dim light the diamond glittered inside, twinkling ‘forever’ at him. He snapped the lid shut and folded his fingers into a fist over the box. Then he stormed out through the front door, and up the stairs, until he came to a halt outside Georgina's door.
He stood there quietly for several minutes. What was he going to say? The right words wouldn't form, not even inside his head. And what good would it do anyhow? His fist tightened, until the corners of the little box dug into his skin.
Georgina was not the sort of woman who didn't know her own mind. Asking her again would achieve nothing—it would only embarrass them both.
He turned and left, descending the stairs in defeat.
Andy stood waiting for him at the door. “Well?” she said, her eyes shining with anticipation.
"It's no good, pumpkin.” He lowered his head and brushed his hand over her hair. “I'm sorry."
Andy wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his stomach. “It's all right, Dad. It will be all right with just you and me."
He held her tight. She wasn't making a sound, but he could sense her crying. It was there in the way her b
ody shook, and how the thin material of his white shirt felt damp against his skin. He only just managed to hold back his own tears, having failed not only himself, but also his child.
* * * *
That night, Georgina worked her way through everything in her apartment. Each piece of furniture had a numbered label. Her master schedule listed forty-seven items. The labels were color-coded, according to the room each piece belonged to in her London apartment.
When she'd finished checking the labels and ticking off the pieces of furniture on her list, Georgina inspected the kitchen cabinets. Starting from the left, she opened every door and ran her hand along the blind recess at the back of the shelves on top.
The search yielded an egg cup and a salt shaker, neither of which she recognized as her own. She examined them, then put them back where she'd found them, and carried on.
Next, she went through the contents of her briefcase. Don't think, she instructed herself as she opened the side pocket. She barely glanced at the flowchart with the torn top corner. Folding her fingers over the edge, she tore the sheet of paper in two. Then she lined up the halves and tore them in two again, carrying on until she clutched a pile of small paper squares.
Staring at her hands, Georgina felt completely numb. Not even fully conscious of her actions, she got up and walked into the centre of the room. She stood straight, tilted her head back, and threw her arms high in the air, opening her fists.
The little paper squares rained down over her like confetti.
Georgina left the litter on the floor and crawled into bed, without bothering to change out of her jeans and her sweater.
The darkness lurked full of monsters, the kind that had filled the big old house in Brighton when she was a child. She'd always known that the monsters would go away, if someone held her hand.
But no one ever did.
Georgina lay on her side, curled into a ball. Her mind teetered between present and past. Twice she got up to check the time on her plane ticket, and to make sure her passport was in her bag.
It wasn't until six in the morning that she fell into a fitful sleep.
There was a little girl in her dream. “I hate you,” the little girl shouted.
"You don't mean that,” said the lady standing next to the little girl.
"Yes, I do,” shouted the little girl.
"Don't say that, Georgina dear,” pleaded Grandma Ethel.
Georgina woke up with a pounding heart. The face of the little girl in the dream was hers, and that was when she knew.
She'd never loved Grandma Ethel.
There had been respect, obedience, even affection. But there had never been love. Like a flood, the early memories came back. The howling anguish of a bereaved child who couldn't understand why Mommy and Daddy weren't coming back. The awkward efforts of consolation by a baffled woman who did her best to deal with the new demands that fate had thrown in front of her.
Grandma Ethel had loved her, and had tried to show it. It was Georgina who hadn't loved her back.
She'd never loved anyone at all. Not one single person in her entire life, since her parents had died. She hadn't dared to, for the fear of loosing again.
Georgina remembered her envy when Rick and Andy had stood at the bottom of the stairs in the garage, father and daughter. His arm slung over her shoulders, her fingers curled into the hem of his sweatshirt.
To be loved like that, she had thought. If only someone loved me like that.
That was wrong.
To love like that. If only I could love someone like that. That was what her wish should have been.
Rick and Andy loved her. It was she who was unable to love them back.
At that moment of realization, something shattered inside Georgina. Emotion flooded through her as though a dam had broken.
Her eyes searched the bedside table, but the clock had already been packed away. Racking with sobs that choked her breath, Georgina threw off the bedspread. She struggled up, and lurched to the window.
The sun shone high in the sky, so it had to be almost midday.
Georgina ran through the hall. She forgot to pick up her keys from the china bowl, but that didn't stop her. She raced on, unconcerned that the door slammed shut behind her, locking her out.
The single flight of stairs down to the third floor seemed endless. And then she was there, her fists once again pounding against Rick's door. This time she stood back as she waited for someone to answer.
"Andy!” Georgina cried when the door opened. She fell down to her knees. “Oh, Andy,” she sobbed, throwing her arms around the girl. “I do want to be your mom."
"You do?” Andy stiffened in her embrace.
"Yes,” Georgina said. Her lips curved into a shaky smile. “You can have it in writing, if you want to."
"Oh no,” Andy said. She slapped both hands over her eyes, then parted her fingers to peer through the gaps at Georgina. “He's gone. My dad's gone."
"Gone? Where's he gone to?"
"He's gone to take the ring back to the shop,” Andy wailed. “He can't ask you again if he returns the ring."
"What?” Georgina shouted. “What has he done? Why didn't he ask me first?"
"I told him,” Andy said. “I told him he should ask again. He didn't do it right, did he?” She propped her hands against her hips and glared at Georgina. “He didn't say he loves you, did he?"
"It doesn't matter,” Georgina said. “I love him. That's much more important."
"You do?” Andy brightened up. “You really do? I mean, Dad's a jerk, but he is a jerk in a good way, if you know what I mean?"
"I know what you mean.” Still on her knees, Georgina leaned in and propped her forehead against the child's. “How do we find him? My car's gone to a dealer. We need a taxi. Do you know where the jeweler is?"
"No. It's in some place downtown. That's all I know."
"We'll have to call him on his mobile,” Georgina said. “He isn't working, is he?"
"No.” Andy looked sheepish. “But we can't call him."
Georgina frowned. “Why?"
"I was going to put his denim jacket in the washer,” Andy said. “I emptied the pockets and took out his phone. He didn't realize when he put the jacket on.” Andy hung her head. “He's going to be mad at me. He already calls me a neat-freak."
"Oh my God,” Georgina said. “I'm messy. I make lists to keep myself organized, but I'm terribly messy. You'll end up tidying up after me, just like you tidy up after your dad."
"What kind of lists?” Andy said.
Georgina bit her lip. “I'll tell you about it one day,” she promised. “But what are we going to do now?"
"I'm allowed to call Roy if it's an emergency.” Andy frowned with concern. “Is this an emergency?"
"This is definitely an emergency,” Georgina assured her. “Where's the number?"
Roy was on duty. He screeched up to the security gate in a squad car within twenty minutes. “You remember Howie, my partner?” The older cop next to him was dwarfed by Roy's bulk. Georgina recalled meeting him before, but only vaguely. Howie was the kind of man who blended into a wall.
"What's the trouble, ladies,” Howie said. His deep voice sounded as though it ought to belong to a bigger man.
"It's an emergency,” Andy said.
"Sure it is, hon,” Roy said. “But you've got the cavalry to the rescue. Where to, ladies?"
Andy and Georgina piled into the back of the patrol unit.
"Do you know what jeweler Rick might have got my ring from?” Georgina asked as Roy gunned the engine.
"Ring?” Roy turned around in his seat and almost hit the pillar of the electric gate as his hands twisted the wheel. “What fucking ring?"
"Uh-oh.” Andy said.
"Right,” Georgina echoed. “I should have realized."
"Would someone mind interpreting?” Howie looked at each of them in turn. “I'm a single guy. I don't do female-speak."
"The man's been snared,” Roy e
xplained helpfully. “He's bartered his freedom for regular sex."
"Watch it,” Georgina warned. “There's a child in the car."
"I'm not a child,” Andy said. “And I know you're shagging my dad."
"I'm never going to have any privacy again,” Georgina wailed. She reached out to clutch Andy's hand. “And as long as I'm going to be your mother, you are going to be a child to me."
Andy collapsed against Georgina, and both exploded into a hysterical mixture of laughter and tears.
"Is this an emergency?” Roy chanted.
"This is an emergency,” Andy and Georgina chanted back.
"Here we go then,” Roy yelled. He flicked a switch and the siren and the flashing lights came on. “Hold on to your boobs, girls. It's going to be a rough ride with your uncle Roy.” He looked over his shoulder, winking at Georgina. “I guess I'll never get to say that to you in private now?"
"Watch it,” Georgina mouthed silently at him, gesturing toward Andy, who slouched against the side of the car, looking out of the window.
"There's a jeweler on Earl Street who's supposed to give a good deal to cops. Lots of guys have been going there for Christmas gifts,” Howie said. “We should try there first."
"I don't understand why you can't just wait for Rick to get home with the ring,” Roy said, racing between rows of cars which parted to make way. “What's the hurry?"
"He forgot to say he loves her,” Andy explained. “He did it all wrong. I told him, but he wouldn't listen."
"Hmm.” Howie nodded, trying not to look totally baffled. “That's Rick all right. Always thinks he knows best."
"Not when it comes to her, he doesn't.” Roy jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Georgina. “I'm telling you, she's had him running around in circles since day one. It's been awesome, watching a big man take a fall. Scares the shit out of me to think it might happen to me one day.” He floored the accelerator and cleared a red light, going up on the curb to avoid hitting a black limousine. “Son of a bitch,” Roy shouted out of the window as they sped past. “Don't you know the meaning of a flashing light and a siren? It means I get to go first."
Project Seduction Page 24