by Lindy Dale
God, I was having a conversation with... Rugby Barbie.
I knew it was rude but I looked her up and down. Kirby was gorgeous, the epitome of the sporting wife and the exact opposite of me. She had the hair, the nails and she was swathed from head to foot in baby pink fluff. Her whole coiffed presence was intimidating even though she was a good four inches shorter than me.
“Rambo thinks he’s all that but, honestly, he uses that cheap man moisturiser from the chemist. He hasn’t got a clue about facial hygiene. I’m going to rectify that when we’re engaged of course. What’s your name again?”
Having no idea what on earth this conversation was about, I latched onto the part I could comprehend. “I’m Millie. Millie McIntyre.”
“So, who are you here with? All the girls, like, want to know. Is it Woody? Mitch?”
“Sam,” I said and spilt my red wine down my coat. It was appalling that the mere mention of him would have such an effect on me but I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d knocked a jumbo cup of coke over Alex’s leg when I saw Hugh Jackman take his shirt off in Australia.
Kirby’s expertly shaped eyebrows shot to the top of her golden head and her cherry coloured mouth formed a perfect ‘O’. “Sam Brockton?” she said, as she innocently produced a baby wipe from her tote and began to dab at my chest like I was five. “There. All fixed.”
“Thanks.”
“So you’re with the Sam Brockton?” she repeated.
“Um, yes?” I didn’t like where this was heading.
Suddenly, there was a terrible shrieking. Kirby was squealing in my ear. She was grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. The remains of my wine slopped in the glass barely missing my clothing.
“Omigod! Omigod! Omigod! I thought Sam was totally taking the piss again when he said he’d invited a girl. This is, like, totally unreal. Wait till I tell the others. Stay right there,” she commanded shoving me back into my spot next to the bear. “Do not move a muscle, I’ll be right back.”
So, I did as she asked but I wasn’t sure if I'd won the lottery or put myself in front of The Hornets Ladies Firing Squad.
I was not alone for much longer. Kirby elbowed her way back through the crowd, leading an array of rugby girls, armed with alcoholic beverages. They stopped and smiled in unison like the Miss World judging panel. Then, they began to fire questions at my head, some of which I was able to dodge. Mostly, I just stood there with my mouth open.
“So, you’re going out with Sam?”
“Isn’t he a hottie?”
“How long?”
“Where did you meet?”
“Do you like rugby?”
It was too much. Where the hell was Sam? He was supposed to be looking after me. I had no idea how to deal with this. It was worse than being banned from the Pandora shop.
Desperately, I swallowed and scanned the room above their heads for Sam to save me. But, of course, he wasn’t there. He’d abandoned me to a stuffed bear and a girl who looked like Barbie. This did not bode well on his part for a repeat date.
Then Kirby said something completely left-of-centre. “Are you wearing that new Napoleon plumping lipgloss?”
“Um, er, yes.” It’d been my one extravagance in preparation for my non-date with Sam. That lipgloss had cost me more than I cared to admit.
“Nice. The shade suits your colouring, though you could have gone a smidge on the pinker side.”
I stared back at her, mute. How did one respond to that?
A dark haired girl pushed Kirby aside. She rolled her eyes at me and smiled. “Oh for fuck’s sake… just ignore her. She’s a complete idiot about makeup—”
Sounded like she knew what she was talking about to me. I think.
“—Kirby works at David Jones cosmetic department. She’s always analysing people’s makeup. And honestly, I’d be a good deal richer if I hadn’t let her talk me into the latest indelible fucking foundation by Lancôme.”
“You have to admit, it’s totally changed your makeup routine,” Kirby said.
“Absolutely beside the point. Now leave poor—what’s your name by the way?”
“I’m Millie. Millie McIntyre.”
“Good. Now leave poor Millie alone, Kirbs. She looks like she’s about to faint as it is…I’m Melanie Samson, anyway.”
Melanie was tall, dark and slim, with the kind of lush pink lips and peaches and cream complexion that didn’t need lip plumping gloss. Her clothes hugged her figure in all the right ways and her amber eyes were highlighted with the exact right amount of shadow. She was incredible looking. And it’s not often I call another girl incredible.
She was also slightly intimidating.
“Sam’s always last out of the rooms,” Melanie said, her voice low and smooth like coffee. “I don’t know what he does in there. There was speculation at one stage he had a harem to satisfy before he made an appearance. I wouldn’t put it past him. He thinks he’s God’s gift.” She laughed at her own humour.
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. Sam’s trés popular with the girls.”
“So, what do you do, Millie?” asked another girl who’d introduced herself as Sasha. Curious, she cocked her head and gazed at me, taking a deep drag on her cigarette and blowing smoke rings towards the ceiling. I didn’t think smoking was even allowed in public places anymore. These girls were a law unto themselves.
“I’m a nanny.”
“Oh, that’s like so, totally, sweet,” gushed Kirby. “I adore children. Ryan and I .... He’s like, a teacher you know .... Well, we want to have at least six.”
“Can’t understand why anyone would choose nannying as a profession,” Melanie remarked to on one in particular. “Fucking crap wages. People flinging shit on you all the time. Literally.”
I shrugged. The wages were crap but I got a whopping bonus every Christmas and tonnes of holidays on the slopes of Italy. Even if I did have to look after the kids at the same time. “It’s not my only job. I’m also a waitress at The Lederhosen. That’s where Sam and I met.”
I explained my plan-slash-dream, the one where I was no longer ironing school uniforms and going to playgroup but running a boutique B & B for rich people who wanted loads of privacy.
“Wow, you must be knackered by the end of the week,” said Sasha. “Dragging myself to the hospital every day is enough for me. And looking after Simmo is a full time job. The guy still can’t work the coffee machine.”
The other girls laughed.
“I do get tired, but I have a goal so I concentrate on that,” I answered, pleased with myself that I was having such a deep conversation with women I didn’t even know.
“You know, Millie, I can’t believe you’re going out with Sam,” Melanie said.
“Why?”
Was I not pretty enough? Not sophisticated enough for a man like Sam?
“He’s an absolute man-whore. I think he’s slept with most of the single girls in the club, not that he’s one to kiss and tell. He doesn’t do dates and girlfriends. He’s not the commitment type.”
“How long have you known him?”
“This season and last. We sussed him out pretty quick. It happens when you spend entire weekends in people’s company.”
“Yeah,” Kirby agreed. “You must be like totally special. Sam never bring girls to the club.”
“He’s too busy flirting with the girls who are already here.”
“And he, like, takes the piss so much I don’t know when he’s being serious anymore. I think it’s his way of showing he loves us or something.”
Okay. It seemed pointless explaining that I was only here as a favour to Sam, that I wasn’t interested in him. Not really. Except when he looked at me and his eyes did that thing.
Oh, I don’t know.
“But he’s such a darling when he wants to be,” Sasha added. “He has a very kind heart and he’s very protective of us girls. He might tease and be an arse at times but I truly believe it’s because he thinks he’s being funny. I don’t k
now that he realises he’s hurting people’s feelings. He always looks after us and if something were to happen, Sam would be the first one there to make it right.”
“Totally. He, like, opened a door for me the other week,” Kirby said.
I tried not to laugh. I mean, Kirby seemed serious.
“And he saved me from that sleazeball who was putting the hard word on me at Onyx Bar. Simmo was a waste of space on that particular occasion but Sam saved me.”
“He’s a man of mystery. Nobody like really ‘knows him’,” added Kirby, doing finger quotes in the air. “He never mentions his family or where he came from. He just, totally, appeared one day. POOF!” She paused, her head tilting in thought. “Do you think he’s, like, endangered from his parents?”
I gaped at Kirby. What was she on about?
Sasha smiled and gave Kirby’s forearm a squeeze. “It’s ‘estranged’ Kirbs. And I don’t think he’s estranged. He mentioned a sister once. She lives in Sydney.”
But Melanie snorted. “Maybe Sam just doesn’t want all and fucking sundry knowing his private business? Honestly, you two are such busybodies.”
“No, we’re not. We’re just concerned.”
“How many people have you gossiped about in the last hour?...”
Deathly silence.
This was gold. Straight from the horse’s mouth. Sam was a supposed man-whore. Hmm. But he was also a diamond in the rough, a lone wolf who revealed nothing to nobody. At least that was the impression they were giving me. Maybe there was more to Sam than he showed to the world. From what they were saying he was a big softie. He simply didn’t like to show it.
9
At last Sam appeared, his dark hair damp from the shower. It stood in irresistible spikes and, as he pushed a hand through it, a sigh almost escaped my lips. Almost…but not quite. It was lucky I was only doing this as a favour, I decided. Otherwise, I’d be hyperventilating worse than Alex.
He walked up to the group, positioning himself at my side. Eyebrows raised. Lips bent in knowing smirks.
“Hi,” he said, rubbing his sneaker against the back of his jeans where I’d spilt my wine for the third time while pretending I wasn’t looking at his chest. I think, after weeks of seeing me in action at work he was becoming quite blasé about my clumsy ways. I don’t know if he’d recognised that he was the cause of most of them.
Timidly, I gave him a hint of a smile. “Hi, yourself.”
A second guy popped out from behind Sam’s back, proffering a hand. His smile was wide and friendly, quite a contrast to the size of his head, which appeared very small in comparison the size of his enormous neck.
Briefly, I wondered how a man could get shirts to fit a neck so large but then Sam spoke. “This is Rambo. Ram, this is Millie, my friend from work.”
“Nice to meet you, Millie.”
“Rambo’s my boyfriend,” Kirby cooed, taking up a possessive position in the crook of his arm.
“Yes, I think we know that, Pumpkin,” he replied and kissed the tip of her nose. She giggled and proceeded to adjust his collar and hair, lost in her own little world of romance.
Dismissing the antics of the pair, Sam swivelled. His large eyes, framed by coal black lashes, seemed even greener than before and they twinkled disarmingly. “Sorry I took so long, I always seem to be the last out of the showers.”
I nodded. It was the best I could manage. Visions of a naked Sam scrubbing himself with a loofah were assaulting my mind and I was locked in a futile battle to keep them under wraps.
Sam’s hand grazed my mine, catching my attention. Surges of sexual energy pulsed through the tiny hairs and into my body. Talks of favours dimmed in my memory. “Did you see the whole game?”
“Mmm.”
“Awesome.” He waited for me to add something but I couldn’t. His eyes had trapped me in a world where words were as meaningful as legs on a fish. His palm was burning a hole in my sleeve and somewhere in my chest I could feel my innards self-combusting.
“Enjoy it?” he probed, being nice, trying to engage me in conversation. He couldn’t see it was making things worse. The gravelly quality of his voice was like a drug to my ears. It seeped into my brain and rendered me wasted. Incapable.
God. What was happening to me?
“Um.... er, yes,” I mumbled.
Sam frowned. He seemed confused by the star-struck girl standing in front of him. Usually, I gave him as good as he got, which I’m fairly positive was one of the reasons he’d asked me out in the first place. “Great. You right for a drink?’ he asked, and not waiting for a reply, he dashed towards the bar.
Biting the corner of my lip, I chastised myself for behaving like a teenager. What was wrong with me? I’d been fine before he appeared, talking and laughing with a bunch of girls I didn’t know, but now I was acting like a fool and we both knew it. Sam had been trying to spark up some sort of chatter. He was being so nice to me and I’d been no help at all.
I looked over to the bar where Sam stood in his usual two hands resting pose, like he did when he talked to me at work. He was laughing at something the guy behind the bar was saying, a full throaty chuckle that filled the room, causing people to glance in his direction and yearn for him to respond to them that way. What I needed was a plan. One that didn’t involve spilling more wine, getting uproariously drunk and falling all over him or jabbering until he begged me to stop. The most sensible thing to do would be to act normal. I would stare at his forehead and behave like he wasn’t the hottest man alive, possibly throw in the odd smart remark or two, just like I did at work.
Easy.
I wouldn’t look any lower either because there wasn’t a shred of hope if I did that. After all, I was only here for a favour. This wasn’t a real date. There was no call for swooning of any degree.
As Sam returned with fresh drinks, I fixed my gaze on a tiny scar above his right eyebrow and launched my plan into action.
Step one. Conversation.
“For the life of me, I had no clue what was going on in the game and I think I was standing on the wrong side of the ground for most of it, but it was quite interesting. Why do you have to throw the ball backwards?” I heaved a relief-filled sigh. My tongue had received the message from my brain.
Silently, Sam took in my words. Then his shoulders relaxed and his luscious mouth spread into a sexy grin. I know I’d declared I wasn’t going to look lower than his forehead but I couldn’t help it. He was enchanting me. “You didn’t stand with the Panthers’ women, did you? They’ve been known to use those umbrellas to break their lads out of custody. They don’t respond well to females who aren’t wearing black.”
“I figured that. They looked at me like I was about to become a human kebab if they could just find the marinade.”
“I think the word marinade is probably a stretch in the vocabulary of your average Panther girl.” He gestured to the other girls. “You’ve met our delightful ladies though?”
“Kirby introduced me.”
Kirby, who was grasping Rambo’s bum like it was about to sprout wings and make a bid for freedom, giggled again and did a little curtsey sending her fluff flying up my nose.
Sam leant toward my ear, “Naturally, she’d have to be first in. Kirby’s the club gossip. Nice girl, though. Great tits.”
I spluttered. And, of course, inexplicably drawn by some force greater than I could control, my eyes fell to Kirby’s chest. It was like they were suddenly two magnets and my eyes were ball bearings.
“Is Sam talking about my boobs again?” she asked, giving him a pointed look. “Apart from rugby, I swear my boobs are, like, his favourite topic of conversation.”
“That’s because they’re the most perfect specimen of fake breasts I’ve ever seen, Kirbs. I’d like to know the name of the surgeon so I can ring him and congratulate him.”
“How many times do I have to tell you they are, like, totally natural.”
“Sure, Kirbs,” he chuckled. I could tell
he was getting a kick out of teasing her.
But Kirby wasn’t laughing. Her eyes had filled to overflowing. Her pretty lashes batted the tears away and she waved her hands in front of them to stop her mascara from running. “God damn you, Sam. My breasts are not fake. I’ve always been, like, a big girl.”
Sasha put a comforting arm around her friend. “Don’t be a prick, Sam. And don’t tease her. She doesn’t like it.”
“Yes, she does.”
“Oh and that’s why she’s crying then, is it?” Melanie added, joining the conversation.
“She cried during the Queen’s Christmas message,” Sam said. “And when she found out Strictly Ballroom was going to be made into a musical.”
“What’s wrong with that? I, like totally, adore that movie!”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I was teasing Kirbs. I’m sorry.”
Kirby gave a sniff and shoved her tissue up her sleeve. “Apology accepted.”
But Mel wasn’t ready to let up. “Honestly, Sam. You have no idea about the things you say and do. You just go around here telling it like it is and people end up pissed off and hurt.”
“You don’t think it’s important to tell the truth? I only say what everyone else is too afraid to.”
“I think you need to hone your social graces, that’s what I think.”
“And are you going to teach me? If so, I shall wait with baited breath,” Sam purred, his mouth twitching at the sides and his eyebrow cocked, just enough to make him look even more devilish. And oh, so loveable.
“Jesus, you’re a bastard,” Melanie replied, smiling. “Get out of our sight.” And she shooed him away with her hand.
Chuckling to himself, Sam took my hand and led me to the other end of the room away from the girls. “Ignore them. They make out that they’re upset but they love it when I tease them. Besides they take the piss out of me quite regularly and I have to take it on the chin.”
“From what I’ve seen you deserve everything you get.”
Sam stopped near the window and leant against the ledge, crossing his ankles. He patted a space beside him and I sat too. It was weird being close to him when not in a working situation. I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. It felt nice.