Almost Perfect (11 page)

Georgie had been trying so hard to focus on work, to see her life as rich and rewarding, to be content. She wasn't succeeding. She could not pretend she hadn't met Liam, even if she had put the whole ‘rest of her life' mirage to bed. More or less. But erasing Liam from her consciousness was proving more difficult. She couldn't stop herself from thinking about him. It was like eating chocolate, or peanuts, or chips, or pretzels, or olives, or like when you were eating out and you tried to make a drink last until your food came and you couldn't, you ended up drinking it all and you had to order another one. No, that was something else again. Georgie had lost her train of thought. The thing was, with Liam it was like she'd had such a tiny taste, enough to whet her appetite, and now she'd been left with a craving for more.

He still hadn't called. And she was pretty sure he was never going to now, and that sat in her stomach like a lead weight. Of course, it confirmed what everyone had said to her. She was a sad romantic, a pathetic loser in the game of love, and really bad at metaphors as well. Liam had told her he'd disappoint her, and then gone right ahead and done just that. She had no right to expect anything else. He'd been honest. She'd been foolish. End of story.

‘Georgie?'

She looked up. Adam was watching her expectantly.

‘Sorry, what were you saying?'

They were both kneeling on the floor, the promotional bumf for a new release spread out in front of them.

‘Are we going to do a window or just an in-store display?'

Georgie had still not quite caught up. ‘Well, what do you think?'

Adam grinned. ‘Depends, will a window get her out for a signing?'

Georgie sat back on her haunches and smiled at him. ‘Got a thing for the lady writer, have we, Ad?'

‘Well, what do you reckon? Get a load of her,' he said, gazing lustfully at the pin-up girl whose improbable cleavage dominated the posters, somewhat overshadowing the book she had written. Tori Neale was the latest in the current wave of leggy blonde bombshells-turned-novelists whose literary skills seemed to relate inversely to their capacity to get published.

‘But,' Georgie said, waving her hand in front of Adam's face to regain his attention, ‘can she write?'

He gave her a lascivious grin. ‘Who cares?'

Georgie picked up a poster tube and conked Adam on the head with it.

‘Right,' he declared, grabbing another poster tube and pulling Georgie to her feet. ‘En garde!'

It was half an hour before closing time on a wet, windswept afternoon. People were scurrying past the shopfront, wrestling with recalcitrant umbrellas or shielding themselves from the rain with newspapers or briefcases or whatever else they had on hand. No one was coming into the shop to browse or even to
get out of the weather. It was the kind of day when you just wanted to be home and dry. Louise had left already, and Georgie and Adam were merely filling in time until they could close up.

‘I'll have you know that I was on the university fencing team,' Georgie announced threateningly, assuming position.

Adam gave her a bemused look. ‘You didn't even go to uni,' he retorted, poking her in the ribs with his poster tube.

‘Drats, foiled again!' she sighed dramatically. ‘Ha! I made a joke, get it,
foiled
?' she said, not noticing that Adam was gradually backing her into a corner.

‘Surrender that execrable sense of humour right now,' he declared, pointing the cardboard tube at her chest as her back came up against the wall.

‘I'll never surrender,' she said, raising her tube to knock his out of the way and jumping away from the wall at the same time. The mock swordfight continued as they leaped and bounded around the room like a pair of teenagers. Or idiots more likely.

‘Scoundrel!' Georgie cried.

‘Infidel!' Adam returned.

‘Cad!'

‘Libertine!'

‘Buckethead!'

‘Buckethead?'

They were face to face, their arms raised and their cardboard tubes crossed against each other. Finally Adam muttered, ‘I've had enough of this,' dropped his tube and bent down, grabbing Georgie round the knees and slinging her over his shoulder.

‘Let me go,' she shrieked, hitting him on the back of his legs with her tube.

‘Shh,' he said. ‘Is that the phone?'

They stopped to listen, Georgie still hanging upside down. It was indeed the phone. Adam carried her over to the counter and she picked up the receiver, breathless. ‘Hello, you have reached The Reading Rooms. We are unable to answer your call at the moment . . . because I'm being held against my will,' she blurted suddenly. ‘Help me!'

Adam slapped her lightly on the backside. ‘I'm going to tell Louise on you.'

‘Georgie? Is that you?'

She swallowed. ‘Liam?'

‘Yes,' he said uncertainly.

‘Hold on a sec.' She held the phone against Adam's back. ‘Would you put me down?'

‘Make me!'

‘Put me down or you're fired,' she said bluntly.

‘Oh, you're going to play that card.' He set Georgie down on the counter next to the phone and stood there watching her.

She covered the mouthpiece. ‘Can I help you?'

‘No, it's okay, I work here.'

Georgie frowned at him. ‘Then why don't you go and do just that,' she said, cocking her head towards the paraphernalia spread out across the floor.

‘Acts like she owns the place,' Adam muttered, skulking off.

Georgie took a deep breath, composing himself. ‘Hi,' she said into the phone. ‘Sorry about that.'

‘Is everything okay?'

‘Yes, we were just . . . in the middle of a, um . . . a team-building exercise . . . with the team, you know . . . to . . . build them.'

Adam laughed loudly. Georgie tried to glower at him, but she was about as intimidating as a budgerigar and it only made him laugh all the louder.

‘I wanted to apologise for not calling over the weekend,' Liam was saying.

‘That's okay,' said Georgie. ‘You told me you probably wouldn't be able to call.'

‘But I wanted to.' He paused. ‘I thought about you. I wanted to call.'

He'd thought about her, he'd wanted to call. He was calling now. Georgie felt flushed, and it wasn't only because all the blood had rushed to her head from hanging upside down over Adam's shoulder.

‘I was wondering if you'd like to go out for a drink?' Liam asked.

‘Sure . . . when did you have in mind?'

‘Well, now, or soon, at least. I was thinking this afternoon.'

Clearly Liam was not into planning ahead. But that was okay. She could live with that. Spontaneity was good. She glanced out the window. ‘It's pretty grim out there, are you sure you want to do this today?'

‘You don't?'

‘Oh no, I do,' she assured him.

‘We don't have to if you don't want to.'

‘I want to.'

‘You're sure?'

‘Very sure.'

‘Okay.' He sounded relieved. ‘I can be there in twenty minutes, or whatever suits you.'

‘That's fine. Just pull up out front, I'll look out for the Sabre.'

‘It's a . . . never mind.'

‘Date with the suit?' Adam asked when she hung up the phone.

‘His name's Liam,' Georgie said, sliding down off the counter.

‘Who? The suit?'

She rolled her eyes. ‘You can leave now, I'll finish this and lock up.'

‘Don't you want me to hang around?'

‘Why?'

‘In case he tries anything?'

‘What makes you think that if he's going to try something, I would want you hanging around?'

Adam smiled slowly. ‘Okay boss.' He collected his jacket and bike helmet from the office and headed for the door. ‘Don't do anything I wouldn't do,' he warned her.

‘That should leave me with all the options I'll ever need, and then some,' Georgie quipped. He shook his head as he walked out into the rain. Louise and Georgie took great delight in teasing Adam about his apparently indefatigable love life, mostly for the vicarious thrill of it. But he was learning to keep things to himself. He refused to debrief with them on Monday mornings any more, and it had been a while since he'd arranged for a date to meet him at the shop, claiming they'd already scared off enough prospective girlfriends. They insisted they were
merely protecting him. No one was good enough for their Adam, they told him, leaving him to wonder how he had earned the dubious privilege of becoming ‘their' Adam.

Georgie packed up all the promotional material and put it away in the office. She checked the time before locking the front door and turning over the ‘Closed' sign. She walked out to the staff bathroom to freshen up, recalling herself sitting here a couple of days ago, hitting her head against the wall. Georgie considered her reflection in the mirror. She took a deep breath. This was the critical date, the one where she'd start to find fault.

‘So don't, Georgina Reading,' she said out loud. ‘And don't picture him beside you in the wedding album either. You need to exercise some balance, don't expect too much of him, but then don't expect too little. Get to know him. Enjoy yourself. Just be in the moment.' She sighed, staring at herself. ‘And most importantly of all, stop talking to yourself in the mirror.'

Georgie came flying out the door as Liam's car pulled up to the kerb.

‘That was quick,' he remarked as she climbed into the front seat.

‘I saw the Saga coming.'

Liam looked sideways at her. ‘It's actually called a
Saab
.'

‘I know that.'

‘So why do you keep getting it wrong?'

Georgie grinned. ‘Because it bothers you.'

‘Well, thanks for putting some effort into that.'

‘Why do you suppose they're called Saabs?' she mused. Liam was concentrating on finding a break in the traffic so Georgie went ahead and answered her own question. ‘It's a gimmick, I reckon.'

‘How so?' Liam asked as they joined the stream of cars crawling along through the shopping centre.

‘They spelt it with a double “a” so that it comes first in the phone book.'

‘But it starts with an “S”, it can't come first in the phone book.'

‘It can in the “S” section.'

They pulled up at traffic lights. ‘So you think that's how people choose cars?' Liam asked her. ‘Through the White Pages?'

Georgie shrugged. ‘I don't know how people choose cars. It's a mystery to me.'

He smiled. ‘Mm, because you're out of the “car loop”.'

‘Except I have heard the penis is involved for men.'

‘Pardon?'

‘Isn't there a theory that a car is an extension of a guy's penis?'

Liam looked perplexed. ‘I don't know how to answer that. Besides, I refuse to, on the grounds that it may incriminate me.'

She grinned. He took off from the lights and followed Pittwater Road north out of Dee Why. ‘Where are we going, by the way?'

‘There's supposed to be a nice place up at
Newport. I've never been there, a friend recommended it.'

‘Ooh, a secret hideaway.'

Liam turned his head sharply. ‘What makes you say that?'

‘No reason,' Georgie shrugged.

‘If there's some place you'd rather go?'

‘No, there isn't.'

‘So you're okay with this?'

‘I'm fine,' she assured him. She didn't know why he seemed so nervous. Though she liked the idea that perhaps it had something to do with her.

They chatted amiably as they drove along. Georgie asked Liam all the appropriate questions about his work, even though she didn't understand most of his answers. Well, she could have understood if she tried a bit harder. But she was content just to listen. He took on a more confident tone when he was talking about his job. There was an authority in his voice that she hadn't heard before. With her he was a little tentative, not so sure of himself.

By the time they arrived the rain had eased and they were able to get from the car to the entrance and remain relatively dry. Liam pushed the door open for Georgie and followed her inside. The place was quiet, which was to be expected on a wet afternoon in the middle of the week. They sat at a table by the windows, looking directly out at the marina. A waiter approached to take their drink orders.

‘Do you have Bacardi Breezers?' Georgie asked him.

‘Seriously?' Liam frowned.

She looked across at him. ‘What?'

He hesitated. ‘It's just . . . well, you can have anything you want.'

‘Then I'll have a Bacardi Breezer. Anything orange-coloured, thanks,' she smiled at the waiter.

Liam ordered some kind of imported beer, Georgie assumed, and the waiter left them.

‘You know that stuff is just alcoholic soft drink?' Liam said.

‘So? Beer is just fermented hops. What's your problem exactly?'

He opened his mouth to reply, but then obviously thought better of it. ‘Nothing,' he said finally.

Georgie raised an eyebrow. ‘You can't help yourself, can you?'

‘Help what?'

‘Being a snob.'

He looked away from her out at the view. Now Georgie had made him feel uncomfortable again. It was becoming a habit. She hit herself on the forehead. ‘Well, that was just me and my big mouth.'

‘You mean you and your brutal honesty?'

She looked across at him. ‘No, Liam, honesty is not an excuse to be rude. I apologise.'

‘It's okay, you probably have a point. I don't mean to be a snob–'

‘And I don't mean to be insulting. Liam, you're going to have to learn to take me with a grain of salt. Most people do, believe me.'

He had a slight, tentative smile on his lips as he leaned forward, about to say something, when the
waiter returned. He sat back in his chair while their drinks were set down on the table.