Project Seduction (8 page)
"You want to be her friend, huh?"
"Yes.” Andy squirmed in the chair, trying not to let on that she knew she was out of trouble. When her dad started repeating her words back to her, it meant he was amused. And if he was amused, he could no longer be mad at her.
"Why's that?” Rick asked her.
"Because she makes tea in cups that are made of bones and have piglets and cows on them."
"Is that so?"
"And she told me how her mom and dad both died in a car wreck when she was real small, and she went to live with her grandma."
"She told you that?"
"Only because I asked. She sounded sad when she talked about it, but then she told me that she loved her grandma, although I don't think I would have."
"You wouldn't?
"Uh-oh.” She shook her head resolutely. “Her grandma made her wear dumb clothes, so that the other kids made fun of her."
Rick pursed his lips and looked thoughtful.
Andy glanced at him and judged the crisis over. It always amazed her how grown-ups fell for the cutie-pie act. Cups made of bones with piglets on them—right, like she was some dumb five-year old.
It was time to get back to work on her plan, now that she no longer needed to fear that her dad would go nuclear. “She likes you,” Andy said.
"Who?"
"Georgina. She likes you."
"Likes me?” Rick's brows knitted together. “You've got to be kidding."
"Nope. Her face went all pink when I talked about you."
"It was hot in her apartment."
"And you like her too."
His frown deepened. “What makes you think that, pumpkin?"
"I saw you ogling at her legs."
"I did not."
"You always do that. You always ogle at girls in mini-skirts at the mall."
"Don't push your luck, honey. You're in enough trouble already."
"Sorry, Dad. I didn't mean it.” Andy clasped her hands behind her back and crossed her fingers to protect herself against the lie she was about to tell. “I told Georgina you're teaching me to shoot a handgun.” She gave him a crafty look. “You could teach her too."
"Did Georgina suggest that?"
Andy took a deep breath before she answered. It was cool that her dad was a cop, but the problem with cops was that they were trained to tell when someone was lying.
"I promised her that you could. She said I should ask you."
Rick shook his head slowly. “I'm not sure it's a good idea. I might end up shooting her."
"Come on, Dad. Do it. It'll make up for calling her a lesbian."
He reached out and patted her arm. “All right. I guess I could do it. If Georgina wants to, and if it makes you happy."
"Thanks Dad.” Andy leapt out of the chair and collided into his wide chest, secure in the knowledge that his strong arms would wrap around her and keep her from falling.
The following morning, Andy tidied up in the kitchen while her dad was still asleep. Then she put on a load of laundry. While the tumble-dryer churned around, she tiptoed up to his bed. “Dad, are you awake?"
The unintelligible grunt made her smile. He slept on his stomach, one arm tucked under his head, one leg thrown out and bent at the knee. Recovery position. Andy's smile faded as she recalled the countless times she'd arranged her unconscious mother's body in the same way on the floor in one of the hovels they'd lived in, until they were evicted and had to move again, each time to somewhere a little worse.
Her aunt had shown her how to do it. First check the pulse across her mother's wrist. If there's no pulse, call an ambulance. If the pulse is steady, place her limbs like this and let her sleep it off.
Shuddering, Andy moved away from the bed. She refused to think about it now. It wasn't fair for a child to have to look after an adult. She'd left it behind. She wouldn't let the niggling guilt of abandoning her mother that she kept hidden from everyone else ruin the happiness of her new life.
She drifted into the living room. It was much smaller than Georgina's. The hardwood floor was bare of rugs. The furniture was sparse and functional. A black leather sofa with a matching recliner filled the center. Opposite the window, a tall bookcase covered the entire wall. Some of the shelves contained neatly labeled files. The rest were empty, except for a stereo system, and a computer with a monitor that doubled up as a TV screen.
When Andy first moved in, her dad took her to a department store with a display of flowered bedspreads and frilly cushions. He invited her to pick out a few things to brighten up the apartment. She refused to buy anything at all. She loved everything just the way it was. It was like her dad, strong and safe and reliable. The floor was shiny and clean. Never again would she need to check for pieces of broken syringes before walking around in her bare feet. The shelves were bare of clutter. Never again would she need to shift through piles of trash to find a take-away container with half-eaten food that was the source of an awful rotting smell.
Andy crossed the room to the bookcase and reached for a file with green covers. She lowered it to the floor. The letters inside were organized by date. Some had little notes clipped to them, carrying comments written in her dad's untidy scrawl.
'Huston, Skillings, Pendleton’ it said on top of each letter. An ornate line made a box around the three names, turning it into a logo. Andy frowned. Why didn't it say ‘and’ between Skillings and Pendleton? That was the way Miss Chalmers thought them in the English class. What was the point of learning any rules, if the rest of the world didn't follow them?
Selecting a letter halfway down the pack, a short one with no comments stapled into it, Andy flipped the file open and carefully detached the single sheet of paper. Then she returned the file on the shelf and glanced at her watch. It was a hand-me-down from her dad. It was wider than her wrist and chafed her skin, but she'd refused his offers to buy her something different.
Almost nine. She'd give Gina another fifteen minutes. Nine o'clock wasn't too early, not even on a Saturday morning. Clutching the letter in her hand, Andy burrowed down in the recliner and waited.
The sound of the doorbell tore Georgina out of her fitful sleep. She opened her eyes. They stung, and when she swallowed her throat felt like sandpaper. Slowly, she pushed herself up and made her way out to the hall.
"What do you want now?” She shouted the words through the door without bothering to open it.
"It's me. Andy. I've got the letter for you."
Georgina rubbed her puffy eyelids. “What letter?"
"A letter from the lawyer. With the address."
"Oh.” Georgina fumbled at the lock. “Here. Give it to me.” She opened the door a few inches and stuck her hand out through the crack.
"Can I come in?” Andy didn't hand over the letter.
"It's not a good time."
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"You sound croaky."
"I've got a sore throat.” She'd be damned if she told the nosy child that she'd been up half the night sobbing over something she couldn't even understand.
"It's the dry air,” Andy said. “Your heating's on too high."
"I've turned it down. The air conditioning is supposed to be on."
"Sometimes the dial gets stuck. I might be able to fix it for you. Do you want me to come inside and take a look?"
"Oh, all right.” Georgina sighed and stepped out of the way. It had been a wasted effort trying to hold off the girl anyhow. Andy had a talent for wearing down resistance.
"Here's the letter."
Georgina took the sheet and glanced at the logo on top. The name sounded familiar. She had hoped for that. Pacific Bank specifically targeted SMEs, small and medium sized enterprises. It had been a good bet that the law firm Rick Matisse used might be amongst the bank's clients.
She folded the letter and slipped it into the side pocket of her briefcase. Her face grew hot when she saw the
Project Seduction
flowchart. Damn. Was this going to be the first time in her life she'd have to give up on a goal she had set? Not only set, she recalled with dismay, but documented in writing, and announced out loud to Annabel.
Georgina shoved the briefcase out of the way. It bounced against the table leg, making her keys rattle in the ceramic bowl on top. Andy was fiddling with the heating controls mounted on the hallway wall. “Can you fix it?” Georgina asked.
"Maybe.” Andy shot a quick glance over her shoulder. “I'm real sorry about last night. And my dad is sorry, too."
"Forget it,” Georgina muttered. She tried not to think about the way she'd yelled at Rick, suggesting that he expected her to fall on her back and spread her legs every time he came near her. How could she have made such crude remarks? Recalling them made her blush.
"My dad says he wants to do something to make it up to you,” Andy said.
Georgina's heart jolted. This was it. The opportunity to put her project back on track.
Perhaps your father would like to take me out to dinner one night next week.
That was all she needed to say. The words formed inside her head but refused to come out past her lips.
Andy gave her another cautious glance. “My dad's been teaching me to shoot. I said that perhaps you'd like to come too."
"Shoot?"
"Yeah.” Andy stepped away from the wall and dropped all pretense of trying to fix the temperature dial. “It's cool. You get to hold a gun and shoot at a target that's in the shape of a man. Then you press a button to bring the target back to you, and you can check where the bullets have hit."
"Your dad lets you do that?"
"He hovers over me like a mother hen,” Andy admitted. “And in the beginning he made me practice for ages with an unloaded gun."
Georgina pursed her lips. She pictured herself holding a gun in her outstretched hands, with Rick standing behind her, steadying her grip, murmuring instructions into her ear. Their bodies would be close. A little stumble would have her losing her balance and falling into him. It would only be natural to be startled by the impact and the noise when she pulled the trigger.
It just might work.
"Perhaps that would be fun,” Georgina agreed. “I've never seen a real gun, let alone fired one."
"Great. I'll tell my dad to set it up.” Brightening, Andy skipped over to the front door. She raised her hand in a hasty farewell as she dashed out to the stairwell.
"Did you fix the heating?” Georgina called out after her.
"No. I'll have to get my dad to come up. He'll know how to do it. He's still sleeping. I'll get him to come over as soon as he wakes up."
Georgina gaped at the open doorway. Rick would come up, and she was in a mess. She spun to check her face in the mirror. Her hair hung in a tangle, and blotches marred her skin. In her eyes, red veins radiated out of the iris, like a roadmap out of central London.
Ice water. That would fix it. She slammed the front door shut and ran into the kitchen.
At least the apartment wasn't in a state. She had hidden the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. The small round table attached to the countertop at one end was empty, except for the red and white gingham cloth that covered it. Georgina had been puzzled by that when she first moved in, because the rest of the apartment was unfurnished. She'd discovered the reason when she stripped off the cloth and found the cigarette burns underneath.
She extracted a tray of ice cubes out of the freezer and carried it into the bathroom. The water from the tap over the ice made crackling sounds. One by one the ice cubes popped loose and began to float around in the filling sink. Georgina discarded the empty tray and dunked her face into the water. One, two, three, she counted. Ten seconds, and up for a gasp of air.
After a few minutes her eyes stopped hurting, and her skin glowed. She scrubbed her face dry with a towel and brushed her hair loose. Then she hurried into the bedroom.
She'd barely stripped out of her T-shirt and panties when the doorbell buzzed. Her mind went blank. What should she wear? She couldn't think. If she didn't go to the door, Rick would leave. He'd think she was unwilling to forgive him. They'd never speak to each other again. One day when she was an old woman, she'd use her pension savings to fly out to America and look for him, only to find out that he'd died years ago.
Such a disaster had to be avoided at all costs. Suddenly the prospect that Rick Matisse might not wait behind the door until she was ready to open it seemed more alarming than anything else that could happen to her.
Stark naked, Georgina ran out to the hallway.
"Who is it?” she shouted through the door.
"Rick. Andy said you've got a problem with your heating."
"Yes!"
There was a short silence.
"If you want me to take a look, you've got to let me in.” She could hear the amusement in his voice.
Georgina glanced down her naked front. She knew her body wasn't what he meant to take a look at, but that didn't stop the warm tingle that surged all over her skin.
"I need a minute,” she yelled. “You'll have to wait."
She didn't stop to listen for a reply. Instead, she rushed back into the bedroom where she began to pull clothes out of the wardrobe. Her hands shook, and the hangers got tangled up with each other.
Whimpering with distress, she threw everything on the floor and covered her face with her hands. What was happening to her? She was a cool and competent person with a first-rate logical mind. She couldn't be falling apart because she didn't know what to wear in front of the man who was coming in to fix the heating.
She closed her eyes and reached down to grab a hanger at random. A flimsy summer dress with an abstract pattern in muted shades of green, one of her new clothes. A good choice. Her fingers shook as she untangled the slim straps from the hooks on top of the hanger.
She heard Rick's voice drifting in from the hallway, but couldn't make out the words. He was going to leave her, and never come back. Georgina tossed the dress over her head and ran into the hall, stopping behind the door just long enough to make sure the dress wasn't on back-to-front, and that the short hem hung untangled past her hips. Then she took a deep breath and opened the door.