Blokebusters Page 15

  Realising that she wasn’t going to do any more of her official job she packed up for the night. She walked over to her window and parted the dusty vinyl blinds to peer out into the blackness. It always felt like the day died too soon in winter, she hated travelling to and from work in what seemed like eternal night. She removed her fingers from the blind and a small cloud of dust showered her jacket.

  “Damn. Let’s hope Dan Goldstein likes dusty women.” She frantically flicked at her jacket.

  *

  The bar was quiet. It was something that happened annually after the excesses of Christmas and New Year. Everyone tried to ease up on drinking for the first half of January but by the second half everywhere was packed as usual. Georgia was grateful that they hadn’t skimped on heating and relished the warm air as it hit her throat and hands. She went to the bar and ordered a Diet Coke before casually turning round and scanning the bar room. He was at a table. She squinted at him – he didn’t look like the other Rabbit – he was the other Rabbit. What should she do? She couldn’t back out and tell the client she’d tested him before. That would be unethical. She could say he wasn’t there but the client could easily disprove that. He’d hooked another woman using a different name. What a rat. She paid the barman for her drink and couldn’t help laughing. The same man twice. Any client wanting him tested should get a discount. Blokebusters could offer a loyalty card scheme. Or rather a disloyalty card. He caught her eye and indicated she should join him. She drained half her drink. He’d recognised her. She reached him as he wrote the final clue in his crossword. He tucked his pen back into his jacket pocket looking satisfied and pushed the crossword slightly away from him.

  “Lisa – jeez, I’m glad to see you’re OK. When you ran out on me in the bar last year I thought maybe something awful had happened. I’m not used to being dumped like that.” His accent was sexy and understated, not brash New York but mellow and educated. He knew he had an appealing smile and flashed it at her. Teeth, dimples and just the right amount of stubble.

  “Sorry about that.” Georgia hadn’t expected him to remember her so well. “This is really embarrassing but I can’t recall your name.”

  “Dan. Dan Goldstein.”

  “Dan.” She screwed up her face as if trying to dredge the information from archived files. “Why am I thinking Louis?” She smiled at him to indicate she’d rumbled him but didn’t care. “Louis Cohen.”

  “Oops,” he smirked without attempting to apologise or explain.

  “I love this record,” she said as a jazz-lite version of ‘Mack the Knife’ started wafting out the speakers. “But not this version. Bobby Darin.”

  “Bobby Darin’s shit. I’m more of a Tony Bennett man myself.”

  “I’ve slapped men for less.” She held his gaze. “You’re still in England then?” She unbuttoned her coat but didn’t take it off.

  “It would appear so.” His eyes were dark brown, like Matt’s, and sparkled with a cheekiness she found disarmingly attractive.

  “You never said what you did for a living.”

  “That’s right. I didn’t.” His stare bored into her eyes daring her to ask. She decided not to play along. Peering into the bottom of her empty glass she shook it to indicate only ice cubes remained.

  “Sounds like you need another drink.” He cupped her hand in his and tilted the glass towards him. “Get me a beer while you’re up at the bar please.” He leant back in his chair, one elbow casually resting on the back of the seat, a smirk on the outer reaches of his mouth.

  “That’s not very gentlemanly of you. What would your mother say treating a girl like that?”

  “You haven’t met my mother.” He glanced at the bar and she took in his dark, smart hair, his strong chin, and the soft neck that led down to the opening of his shirt where a tuft of hair was visible. If I was single… she thought and stopped herself. Firstly she wasn’t single. Secondly, where had that thought even come from? She didn’t want to be single. Thirdly, this man was an arrogant rat – twice over.

  He turned back to her, his expression suggesting she’d said it all out loud. “The bar’s free – if you go now you’ll get served quickly. Bottle of Bud please. And a smile.”

  At the bar her stomach compressed with fear. Suppose this man worked for a rival organisation – Girlbusters? Suppose Matt had paid to test her? A light sheen of sweat prickled her neck, the air suddenly felt hot and stuck to her like cling film. She turned to look at Dan and he smiled at her, his eyes lazily dropping to admire her figure. To her horror she didn’t mind. It was usually when they started undressing her with their eyes that she found the necessary venom to go for the kill. But she liked Dan. She shouldn’t but she did. She relaxed as she went over their earlier conversation; if Matt had hired him he would have told him that Bobby Darin was her favourite singer. Dan had said he was shit. Calm down, she urged herself. This business is making you too cynical, too suspicious. God – remember the good old days when if a bloke chatted you up you assumed it was ‘cos he fancied you?

  “You look hot,” Dan said as she returned to the table. “Here, let me help you with your coat.” He got up and stood behind her easing the coat from her shoulders, making far more contact than necessary. He wore a cloud of expensive aftershave, the sort she could never get Matt interested in wearing. “Nice suit.” His hot breath made her ear feel damp.

  She sat down and tried not to watch as he removed his jacket. There was no one nearby to focus on so she watched the barman pouring two glasses of wine. Dan sat back down and rolled his shirtsleeves up, revealing dark-haired arms with a golden tan. She could tell he had a good body.

  “Do you know what I’m thinking right now?” he said.

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  A flicker of excitement sparked in Georgia’s stomach. Not one Rabbit, not a single one had managed to raise her heart rate – not even Gavin who said he had something freakishly amazing to show her whilst unzipping his trousers (it was a scar that looked like a smiley face). Not one had managed to excite her. Until now. This man was giving better than he got. Usually Georgia did all the running and the flirting to make the Rabbit go silly. To get some back was thrilling. He was completely in control, toying with her and enjoying it.

  “So Lisa, why’d you run out on me last time?”

  “Why did you give me a false name?”

  “Are you married?”

  “Are you ashamed of what you do for a living?”

  “I think you’re married. I can’t imagine you roaming this planet and not having some guy go screwy over you. I’d imagine he’s wealthy and career orientated, vain but stunningly handsome so that you don’t trust him and he’s too selfish to satisfy your womanly needs.”

  She converted her laugh into a cough.

  “What’s funny?” He smiled. “Am I right?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Before she realised what had happened he held her hand to his mouth and kissed it. His lips were as smooth as warm marble and Georgia felt herself teetering on the precipice of something incredibly stupid. She snatched her hand back.

  “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted me to,” Dan said and took a drink of beer. “You are an incredibly beautiful woman.”

  “Am I?” It sounded wonderful coming from his mouth and she wanted more.

  “I always say what I mean.” He arched an eyebrow. “Unless I’m kidding of course.” His hand stroked her face and dropped to her blouse. He teased the collar and lapels between his fingers, letting them slip under the fabric to her collarbone. Normally she’d push a Rabbit’s hand away before it got under her clothing. But not tonight. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so excited or daring.

  “What are you doing later tonight?” he asked, his index finger as light and tickly as a feather tracing her collarbone, circling her shoulder and travelling back along her collarbone again. It was when he slipped it under her bra strap that common sense took control of her b
rain. Gently, she took his wrist and removed his hand.

  “That was cruel. I was just getting to the good bit,” he pouted. “I like you Lisa. I want to make love to you. Tonight.”

  Talk about making it clear cut, she thought and ruefully realised she had just been given her cue to leave. He stroked her hands and ran a finger up her arm. “Come back to my hotel room with me. You won’t regret it.”

  Georgia had already sited the toilets. They couldn’t help her as they were on the side of the bar furthest from the exit.

  “OK,” she said. “But I need to pop outside and make a call first.”

  “I’ll come with you – I’m not risking you running off again.”

  “No you won’t. I’m going outside so you can’t hear.”

  He grinned.

  “How about I wait outside and let you make your call here? It’ll be far more warm and comfortable for you. And you accused me earlier of not being a gentleman – that stung me.”

  She squirmed and his eyes took it all in before he laughed softly. It seemed more for his thoughts than the situation.

  “All right Lisa – you win. Go and make your call. I’ll be waiting here for you. Hurry back.”

  She put her coat on and sprinted for the exit. Dan watched her go and sighed. He took his mobile from his jacket pocket and made a call.

  “Yeah. She’s just left. No – you got the right one this time. It was the brunette… No… I didn’t get a chance… yeah… OK… I’m on my way back now.” He ended his call and finished his beer. “Till next time Georgia,” he softly toasted her.

  *

  All the way home Georgia chastised herself for her behaviour. It was too easy to say she was playing a part. She knew her feelings. When he’d flirted with her and touched her she’d wanted him to. She didn’t understand why, all she knew was that he’d hooked her. Maybe Matt had been right and women did find bastards irresistible.

  She tried to be rational. She loved Matt, she loved being married to Matt, he was loving and kind and funny and sexy. Going home to him was like putting on a comfy pair of slippers. But for a moment at that bar she had the chance to be someone else, to experience a different relationship. To be told with a fresh voice that she was desirable. Did she really want to sleep with Dan? It took a while to get a clear-cut answer. Yes, she did want to sleep with him. Would she? No. Because what she had with Matt meant more to her than a quick thrill. Her conscience wouldn’t let go and posed increasingly more difficult questions: would she sleep with Dan if she were guaranteed Matt would never find out? She leaped out of her seat suddenly realising the train had reached her stop. Pulling a hankie from her pocket she felt a strip of paper – a note from Matt. It read: To my sexy little auditor – you can review my stats anytime! Her self-loathing cranked up a gear.

  She couldn’t help laughing as she entered the living room. Matt was watching telly and Gyp was curled up on his lap purring at the long caresses being lavished on him.

  “You look like a Bond villain in the making.” How could she even have given Dan houseroom?

  “You’re nice and early,” Matt beamed. “I’d come and kiss you but I don’t want to disturb Gyp. He’s comfy.”

  Georgia leant over and kissed him.

  “You smell of aftershave,” he said quietly.

  “Do I?” Georgia guiltily sniffed her blouse. “He overdid it a bit.”

  “Did he go for it?”

  “Yeah. I’m dying for a cuppa. Can I tempt you?” She headed for the kitchen, “Matt? What are all these bits of kitchen paper on the worktop draping into the sink?”

  “It was a spider ladder. There was a spider in the sink, I couldn’t figure out how to lift him without crushing one of his legs against the side, so I put some paper for him to climb up on.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Is there a spider in the sink?”

  She peered into it.

  “Don’t think so.”

  “In which case, yes it did.”

  While the kettle boiled she went back into the living room.

  “You’re a very silly man.” She kissed him again.

  “Did you speak to Fi about taking on more Carrots?”

  “Yeah – she’s suggested her sister Emily. I think she’d be a good choice.”

  “I haven’t met her, have I?”

  “Yes you have —” Idiot. She stopped herself. “No, I’m thinking of Jackie I used to work with. No. You’ve never met Emily – she couldn’t come to our wedding. She’s nice. Attractive and flirty. Perfect really.”

  “So you won’t have to go out so much?”

  “No.” Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of how badly she’d behaved that evening. Matt spotted it straight away,

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” He gently put Gyp on the opposite armchair and wrapped his arm around Georgia.

  “I’m just being daft – ignore me.”

  “You’re crying – that’s not being daft. What’s wrong? Please tell me.”

  Georgia felt more and more disgusted at her thoughts about Dan.

  “The client upset me. That’s all.”

  “Why? What did he do?”

  “Nothing,” she sniffed, “but I’d tested him before – last November sometime. All these horrible men never learning their lessons or treating women with respect. It just upsets me.”

  He held her close; the smell of another man’s aftershave on his wife was off-putting but he tried to ignore it. Matt didn’t claim to be the most perceptive man on the planet but he did know when Georgia was holding back. There was more going on than he was being told.

  Chapter thirteen

  Matt suppressed the email from the Evening Standard for a week before finally telling them. Fiona almost burst when she heard.

  “We’re going to be famous! Picture me hanging out at the Met Bar with film stars and pop stars! I’ll be a quirky celebrity! I’ll only drink some obscure brand of alcohol and they’ll stock it purely for me – Matt’s dandelion wine. Party pages in the magazines will have pictures of me and Johnny Depp drinking aperitifs and nibbling canapés, with him laughing at some fabulous tale I’m telling him. The magazines will have style pages about me – get Fiona William’s look; they’ll analyse my handbags and shoes and see what great taste I’ve got and ‘cos I already wear Prada and Lulu Guinness and Jimmy Choo they’ll have to come up with high street equivalents for the poorer women trying to emulate me. I’ll win Rear of the Year and get an underwear-modelling contract. I’ll fall out of nightclubs and get in with a bad crowd. I might even get my own daytime quiz show on the BBC.”

  Both Georgia and Matt watched her performance gob-smacked. It didn’t sound improvised. Fiona finished her monologue in the middle of the living room with her arms raised. She realised that she may have got a little carried away and sheepishly lowered her arms before shuffling back to the sofa.

  “Now might be a good time to remember that we all agreed anonymity was an important component for this business to work out,” Matt said.

  “No Met Bar?” Fiona visibly sagged.

  Matt shook his head.

  “No style pages?”

  Another shake.

  “No Johnny Depp?”

  “’Fraid not.”

  “No Rear of the Year award?” her voice cracked.

  “Guess not.”

  “Maybe Matt should do the interview?” Georgia said.

  “I couldn’t. Y’know I’m no good at that sort of thing. I wouldn’t know what to say.”

  “Larry would.”

  Matt considered it. Larry would be better than him. He suspected that Larry would be a media whore given half the chance. He took his glasses off and rubbed them on his t-shirt as he thought about it.

  “I’d only do it by phone – no photos, no meeting her – and neither of you two twittering about in the room while I was being interviewed.”

  “Larry gets all the sodding breaks. And he doesn’t even exist,” Fiona muttered.


  “They did ask for Larry in the email,” Georgia said.

  “Larry – pah! Bloody gay mafia if you ask me. All these newspaper sorts are like that.” Fiona’s tone was seldom so bitter.

  Matt grinned at his shoes thinking how his parents would disapprove of what Georgia had got him into. They’d have been appalled. It was all the motivation he needed.

  “I’ll do it. If Larry gives a good interview think how the business might explode! You’d better get some more Carrots lined up.”

  Georgia kissed him lightly on the forehead.

  “You’re the best.”

  His stomach twitched, partly at Georgia’s compliment and partly in fear of giving an interview. Clients didn’t suspect Larry was a fake; perhaps a journalist would be tougher to convince.

  *

  Larry called Marisa Smith, at the Evening Standard, to arrange an interview and to make his terms clear. She balked at it being done over the phone and balked again at the ‘no photos’ stipulation but agreed to both as long as he didn’t give interviews to anyone else before her. Larry promised not to, carefully omitting to disclose that no one else wanted to interview him. He argued about a fee but she refused. They settled on the website address being clearly displayed at least five times throughout the article.

  *

  By the middle of January, before the Evening Standard article appeared, both Georgia and Fiona were used to handling up to four clients each per night and it was proving to be exhausting. If possible they’d operate the microphone for each other to spare Matt travelling in to town. The regular advert in WOT magazine provided them with respectability but it was word-of-mouth recommendations that were bringing in the business.

  The Friday morning the article was due to be published, Georgia was in a daze. She willed the paper to appear but by willing it, made time pass slower. She spent the whole train journey to work holding her Kindle and staring vacantly into space. It was only when everyone else got up that she realised the train had reached Liverpool Street station. As soon as she entered the department her secretary caught her and directed her into a meeting with David Crossley, her boss, and a prospective new client. David often hauled her into such meetings; she realised that she was the more acceptable face of accounting but resented it today. The meeting went on until 1 pm and Georgia was so knotted up inside in desperation to go and see if the newspaper was out yet – Friday’s edition often appearing earlier than the rest of the week – that she could focus on nothing else. She escorted the client out of the building. He was a touchy-leery sort, exactly like many of her Rabbits, and she couldn’t help wondering if she’d meet him in her other job.