Chapter Ten

GEORGINA

 

 

I made it home in the early hours of the morning. Blake and I were only driven from each other’s arms by him running out of condoms, and the club management kicking us out. I had dressed quickly and fled as Blake collected his takings.

Last night had complicated things to no end. I couldn’t even be around Blake without giving in to desire. I wanted him too badly. I wanted to do the rest of my childhood list, to find out what else was on it. But I didn’t want to hurt Blake by continuing to mess with both our feelings. I wasn’t sure what to do next.

Blake was.

I had just tiptoed through the living room where Priya and Kaley were top-to-tailing on the couch. His message pinged into my phone before I stumbled into bed.

Blake: I love your new do. I’m taking you to the beach in the morning. Bright and early. Be ready.

My first thought was Sex on the Beach, one of the unfinished items on my sexy bucket list. But we weren’t doing that anymore. I’d put it behind me.

For now. A small ball of anxiety ticked deep inside me, a countdown urging me on to completion.

This beach trip had to be something else. I didn’t know what, since I’d been out to the lake a million times, and had even gone there with Blake.

I fell asleep while making excuses not to go—about how the beach at the lake was too rocky, the weather was declining, and summer was nearly over. The warmth had left the air and transferred into the leaves on the trees, changing their greens to sunset oranges and reds. They weren’t falling yet but they would be soon. And I’d already fallen too hard.

It was way too soon to be awake again, but someone kept banging at the front door.

The banging merged with the sound of rain hammering the roof and walls. I put my slippers on then stumbled out of my room, throwing a fluffy robe over the old T-shirt and cat-covered boxers I’d slept in. Priya shuffled out of the bathroom at the same time, looking like she’d been up all night too, but from uncomfortable sleeping arrangements rather than fucking a hot part-time stripper on a dressing room floor.

I got to the door and opened it.

I squinted out at the gray rain lashing down across my front porch and Blake.

He was dressed for the beach, in boardshorts, flip-flops, and a singlet top, and he even had a line of bright-yellow zinc across his nose. All of this, and he was already soaking wet. I eyed the motorbike on the lawn.

He rode over in this weather?

“You’re not ready?” he asked as a greeting. “Or is your bikini hidden under those adorable PJs?”

“I just woke up. I didn’t think we were still going. It’s freezing. And raining. A lot.” I frowned at the weather. I’d wanted to go to the beach with Blake more than I’d realized, despite my excuses.

“For one thing, I grew up in London. This isn’t cold. Secondly, we’re going no matter what. The water will still be warm enough to swim in, and the forecast looks promising. It will clear by the time we get there, trust me.”

“By the time we get where? Not the lake?” This rain was set in; it wouldn’t clear for hours at least. I’d been assuming we were going to the lake, but that was only a fifteen-minute drive away.

“I’m taking you to the ocean,” Blake said. “I’m doing this for you. No excuses.”

The ocean.

I’d never been. It was only a three-hour drive, but with the lake so close, and everything else complicating my life, I’d just never gone, despite always wanting to. I’d always wanted to swim in the sea. To watch real waves crash on the shore.

Screw the weather. I was going to the ocean.

“I’ll go get ready. But we’re taking Jiminy, not your bike. I’d prefer to drown at the beach, not on the way there.”

I invited Blake inside, and he spotted the twins and the blanket fort of a lounge room. “Had a sleepover last night?”

Priya chuckled. “We could have if you didn’t keep Georgie out so late.”

My face flushed, remembering the banging of the dressing room door as we slammed against it.

I bit my lip and handed Blake a towel to dry off. His soaked and clinging singlet wasn’t helping things at all. “Can we change up our plans a bit?”

I chatted with Blake about what we were doing, and we agreed to make it a group thing. I wasn’t sure I could trust myself alone with Blake anymore. And with more people it would feel less like a date. Blake sent a message to some friends, and I asked Kaley and Priya if they wanted to come.

I got working in the kitchen, making hot coffee for everyone and trying to dig up some lunch and snacks for us. A container of leftovers from Dad’s restaurant in the freezer had a mix of croquettes, meatballs, and truffle mini-quiches, which would defrost by lunchtime and be good cold. I scored when behind that I found a small batch of peanut butter balls I’d obviously forgotten about or they wouldn’t still be there. I filled a couple of bottles with water and grabbed some napkins and cutlery. I didn’t have a hamper so I put it all in an antique cooler I found under the sink that I’m pretty sure belonged to the old lady landlord.

Kaley floated into the kitchen like a cartoon character following her nose to the coffee pot. We let the caffeine wake us up, then got dressed and headed out into the pouring rain.

Blake and I loaded everything into my car, and waved off Kaley and Priya, who were going in their car. I took the wheel. Mom, could you give us some help on the weather today?

I was still a bit shaky on the road. Cars just didn’t feel safe anymore, especially in the rain. But soon I barely noticed the drops splattering against the windscreen.

Blake seemed full of mischief today and sang along to the radio. Only he was singing different lyrics to each song, making them up as he went along, making them about me, or him, or lizards in top hats.

By the time he had finished perverting twenty minutes’ worth of the latest pop hits I was weak with laughter. “You should do that for a living.”

A ray of light had broken through the thick clouds, and hit the window beside Blake, making the edges of his golden hair glow. But his expression was dark.

His head dropped and his voice became low. “I did once. Not the silly stuff. But the songwriting.”

I swallowed hard. Acted casual. “Yeah?”

“Me and my first girl, we used to write songs together.” He looked out into the distance, then back to me. “You know Seyvia?”

I nodded. “I kind of already knew. That you had been with her. I wouldn’t have picked it myself, but Dad’s date at that dinner we had? She recognized you right away.”

Blake chuckled ruefully. “Here I was trying to keep all that from you. Don’t we suck at keeping secrets?”

I gulped again and focused on driving. “I know there are times when we’re just not ready to share the truth. I didn’t want to say anything until you were ready to tell me about it—about her.” I reached across the gap between us and put my hand on his leg. “I’m sorry you lost her.”

Blake grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard. “I didn’t just lose her. It was my fault.”

I tried to say no, it couldn’t have been, but he shook his head, words spilling out. “That night, I could see things getting out of control. I threatened Seyvia that if she didn’t stop and come home with me then, that I would leave her.” His voice cracked. “She didn’t even care.”

He paused for a long moment. “I wasn’t going to leave her, not really, but that realization, that she didn’t care if I stayed or left, it hurt me, and my pride made me walk away. I left her that night, and I never saw her again.”

The night she overdosed. And the world woke up the next day to find their pop princess dead, and the saddest part was no one was really surprised. “It’s not on you. Everyone knew what was going on; it wasn’t your responsibility. She made her choices.”

“If I’d just stayed with her, I could have been there for her, stopped things going too far. I could have saved her.”

“You can’t know that. And you can’t save everyone. Sometimes, terrible things just happen.”

Blake nodded, then reached up, and wiped his eye. “I didn’t want to be that guy. A widower, at twenty? I shut it all away: the fame, the music, singing, songwriting, dancing, her … I ran so far from it all. For years. The only reminders have been the bloody royalty checks coming in like clockwork from the songs we wrote together. At least I’ve been able to get by on those while making a new life and haven’t had to take too many roofing jobs.”

He turned to look at me. “But it wasn’t much of a life until you came along. Hiding from everything, I’d missed out on so much. I’d forgotten just how much I loved music, loved dancing and singing. You and your crazy lists—you’ve helped me rediscover that.”

I breathed out slowly, the weight of emotions pressing the air from my lungs. I tried to be breezy. “What do you think you’ll do next? Go for a career in economics, or get back to songwriting?”

“I’m not sure. I like both in different ways. Maybe I should just run away to join the circus. I once wanted to be a world-class juggler.”

“You can juggle?”

“Not at all. Doesn’t stop me from wanting it though. We don’t always want things that make sense.” Blake cleared his throat. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

The rain had eased a little. I clicked the wipers down to a slower setting. “When I was young I wanted to be a chef like Dad, but I haven’t got the attention span required. I always put things in the oven then forget they’re there.”

“I hope you have a quality smoke alarm,” Blake said.

I laughed. “I should have wanted to be a ballerina or something, at least it doesn’t come with the risk of burning the house down.”

“I could have been a ballerina,” he said with mock sadness. “But I only have nine toes and these bad ankles.”

I punched him in the shoulder. “You’re goofy as hell.”

“Anything to see that smile. But really, what do you want to do now?”

You wasn’t the answer I should give, so I thought about it seriously. If I got the all-clear … if I had a life ahead of me …

“I wanted to be an artist for a very long time. After my treatment, I felt like I didn’t have time for silly, frivolous dreams like becoming a professional painter. I struggled just to catch back up with normal schoolwork.” I kept my eyes on the gray road laying straight out in front of me, watching it disappear beneath the car as we sped over it. “Now, I guess I would like to be an illustrator. I had this idea once: I wanted to write and illustrate a kids’ book about a bald lion, to help kids deal with cancer.”

“That sounds beautiful.” He caught my fingers in one hand and kissed them. The touch of his lips sent a thrill racing down my spine.

I shivered, drew away, and tried to cover it by reaching for the bottle of water in the cupholder. “Or I could become a riverboat gambler.”

“That’s a good profession too. You just have to be a fast swimmer, if you’re going to win a lot.”

Would I ever know anyone else like him? Someone I could laugh with like this, talk about painful pasts with, and joke about our uncertain futures?

I grinned slyly back at him. “I’m already good with disguises. I have some experience with wigs, you know.”

“I can see it now. You’d be the mysterious woman who shows up with cards in one hand, boobs busting out of a low-cut dress, and a cigar in your mouth. Take all the boys’ money before vanishing into the crowd, suddenly a redhead with dark glasses.”

“And I could become a spy if that didn’t pan out.”

“Do both. Make good use of your wig skills.”

I’d never joked about the wigs like this before. It was a freedom I hadn’t experienced and I felt myself opening up. “There was this guy in school—you know the kind—real jerk. He grabbed my wig one day and yanked it right off my head. He tossed it to his buddy and they started doing this whole ‘keep away’ thing right in the middle of the lunchroom.”

I stopped. I’d thought I could share that like some funny anecdote, but my face and neck glowed with the shame that should have faded. I could feel it all over again, the baldness of my head, the shock, the pity, the laughter, and the whispers and the stares directed at me.

Blake said, “Some people are born assholes. Whatever happened to him?”

“He still lives with his mom. Unemployed, last I heard. He’s bald now, too,” I blurted out.

“Really?”

“As a cue ball.”

“Karma works wonders sometimes.”