Heart of Glass (31 page)

“
Are you following me?” I
asked one night as we sat at our usual table at the Inn. Coops,
unaware of my trauma, had gone to the bar, to get a round of
drinks.

Ben’s eyes had twinkled. “I
don’t know, Pussycat, you’re telling the story.” He’d taken to
calling me ‘Pussycat’ again, even humming the damn song, but only
when the others were out of earshot.

“
Stalker.”

“
There’s heaps of things
I’d like to do to you, but stalking isn’t high on the list. Perhaps
I should revise it?”

I picked a piece of ice from
my glass and threw it at him, watching as he plucked it out of the
air with his left hand and threw it back landing it squarely down
my shirt. “Ben, that’s cold!”

“
Want me to get it out?”
His eyes were all over me, making me burn even through the cold of
the ice. “I’m very good with ice and all manner of slippery
things.”

“
No. Thank. You. And in
future I’d like it if you left me alone.”

“
If that’s what you want,”
he said, getting up and leaving the table, but not before he’d
tossed a few more cubes in my direction.

I was still fishing them out
of my bra when Coops got back with the drinks. “What was all that
about?”

“
Just Ben, being an
idiot.”

“
He’s pretty
funny.”

“
Hmm.” About as funny as a
comedian at a funeral, and it would probably be mine. The time for
funny business was long past.

***

There was nobody around when
I opened the door to Justin’s place. He’d invited me for dinner,
cooked by Ben. The thought made me squeamish but Coops and the
others would be there to protect me. Ben never played his games
when they were around. Closing the door behind me, I walked through
the living room. The stereo was pumped to the max, playing ‘Livin’
on a Prayer’ and as I reached the kitchen, I was greeted by the
sight of Ben, wielding a knife to what was obviously some life
threatening prosciutto and singing at the top of his lungs with his
back to me. Around his waist, he had a black chef’s
apron.

Leaning against the fridge,
I checked out the muscles in his shoulders as he chopped and
arranged, stopping occasionally to sing the chorus but still
unaware that I was watching.

“
Nice work, don’t think Bon
Jovi has much to worry about, though.”

Ben jumped. “Bella. You
scared the crap out of me.”

“
Got any more songs in your
repertoire or is Bon Jovi about it?”

He put the knife down and
leant back on the bench, wiping his flour covered hands on the
apron. His smile was wide and sexy. I wanted to melt.

“
How about Tom Jones?” he
drawled, taking a step towards me, and breaking into a bad version
of ‘What’s New Pussycat?’ The musky smell of his aftershave made me
dizzy and I held my breath as he leant over me, his knees brushing
against my thigh.

“
Stick to Bon Jovi, at
least it’s from this century.”

Moving away, I hopped up to
sit on the kitchen bench, beside where he’d gone back to his
chopping. I plucked an olive from the dish, sucking the sour juice
into my mouth.

“
Where is
everyone?”

“
Justin’s gone to the
bottle shop and you’re the first to arrive. So I guess that means
we’re alone.”

He turned and stared at me.
It was eternity in a second.

“
I guess it
does.”

Reaching over, he topped up
his glass with red wine. Then, grabbing another glass, he poured
one for me. “Have some. It’s a ’79. Great year… Cheers.”

“
Mmm, you too.” God. He was
doing it again. As if he would’ve forgotten the year we
met.

Ignoring him I pointed to
the chopping board. The prosciutto looked inviting. “Can I have a
bit?” I asked.

Picking up a slither, he
popped it in my mouth, his fingers lingering on my lips. “You can
have whatever you want Pussycat.”

I licked my lips. They
tasted salty from the meat, “I think I’d like some
more.”

“
I’m sure you would. How
about right now?”

Nearly breathless, I felt
him move towards me, placing an arm on either side of the bench,
trapping me. My heart was thudding so hard in my chest I thought
it’d burst. His head came closer and remembered our first kiss all
those years ago and knew I felt exactly the same. I still loved him
and there was a definite danger that I'd be showing him just how
much if I didn’t move that instant. His lips were hovering way too
close.

“
Hello? Anyone home?” The
front door creaked open. It was Luke Skywalker.

“
Fuck.” Ben released me and
went back to his chopping, pretending the intended kiss wasn’t
hanging in the air over us like his devil’s horns.

“
We’re in the kitchen,” I
called sliding along the bench, away from him.

Coops poked his head around
the door. His eyes were glacial, all of a sudden. “Hey…”

He walked over, squeezing me
a little tighter than usual, and shoved his six pack into the beer
fridge. “Where’ve you been all day?”

“
Shopping. I found this
great new skirt and shirt. Here, try this.” I handed him a
wine.

“
Nice,” he nodded, placing
his arm around my shoulder.

“
It’s Ben’s, good isn’t
it?”

“
Yeah. How’s it going,
Ben?” His face was smiling as he shook Ben’s hand but his eyes
looked like a slow death with bamboo skewers and water wouldn’t
have been out of the question if he got the chance. Justin was
right. He was always right. Coops was having to face a past he
hadn’t been involved in and he didn’t know how to react. Every time
I moved, his eyes followed. Every time I sat, he was beside me. I
knew I had to deal with it but before I could, there were things I
needed to sort out with Ben. I had to know where I stood and why he
was playing a game with me that I wanted no part of.

***

After dinner, I found Ben in
the kitchen, with his hands in the soapy suds of the sink, humming
to himself as he washed the ramekins.

“
Do you want a hand with
that?” I asked, taking the tea towel from the bench beside
him.

For the second time in as
many hours, he jumped. “Jesus, will you stop sneaking up on
me.”

“
Sorry. I wanted to talk to
you. It’s pretty difficult with Coops watching my every move like a
lovesick puppy.”

Ben smiled; he looked cute
with his shirtsleeves rolled up and his hands in the sink. The
boyish cleft in his chin was there still, hidden beneath his
designer stubble. “You tend to have that effect on men.”

The colour flooded my
cheeks; the burning went way down to my heart.

“
He really loves you, you
know,” he said.

“
I know, it’s been that way
since the first day he did his Richard Gere on me. But it’s not
what I want, anymore.”

“
What do you
want?”

“
I want to be
happy.”

He put down the sponge, his
broad shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Bel’.
I should have looked after you and I broke my promise.”

“
Shit happens.”

He stared at me, his eyes
filled with regret and I wanted to throw my arms around him and hug
it away. “Yeah… but the drugs.”

“
Who told you
that?”

“
Um… Justin. If I’d been
here for you….”

“
It wasn’t your fault. I
made those choices.”

“
You could have
died.”

“
But I didn’t and even if I
had, it wouldn’t have been your fault. Nobody forced me to shove
that powder up my nose.”

“
I’m still
sorry.”

I wiped and stacked in
silence, bending and reaching until all the dishes were returned to
their rightful place, except for two large platters. It was food
for thought. I’d made many choices over the years and I didn’t
regret any of them, even though some of them had been foolish. At
least I could say, in hindsight, that I’d learnt from
them.

“
Did you ever think about
us?” I asked as I climbed onto the bench to reach the highest
cupboard. “Hand me those, will you?”

Ben turned, throwing the
sponge into the dirty water, and ran to the bench where I stood.
“What the fuck are you doing? Get down. You’ll kill
yourself.”

I looked down at him, his
face intense, his arms outstretched as if waiting for me to fall
into them. He still cared for me, even if he was trying to be cool
about it.

“
Don’t be silly; pass me
the plates.”

He handed me the two plates
and watched as I stowed them in the highest cupboard. “Well, did
you?” I asked.

“
I used to think about you
all the time. I used to wonder what you were doing.”

“
It’s probably best for
your memories if you don’t think about that. Sometimes even I like
to forget about my behaviour. It was ugly.”

“
Anything you’d like to
share?” he asked, his mood swinging suddenly as he put his hand out
to help me down and I jumped to the floor, landing
close.

“
Maybe. One day. You know…
I thought about you, too, I wondered who you were with, if you’d
married Natasha.”

His hand squeezed mine and
he leant into me, pressing me against the bench, the insistent Ben
of old returning. “There wasn’t anyone. And I told you blonde bimbo
models aren’t my thing. I know you didn’t believe me but she was
only ever a friend. What about you?”

His face had changed again,
as he openly dared me to show him what I was made of.

“
I went out to have a good
time after you left, and that’s what I did. I grew up and I had a
good time.”

“
No deep love
affairs?”

“
One, a long time ago. He
broke my heart and I don’t know if I like love anymore. It scares
me. Sex is much more fun and way less complicated.”

Ben threw back his head. A
burst of laughter echoed around the tiny kitchen. “I can’t believe
you said that. You used to blow a gasket if I tried to cop a
feel.”

“
I told you I’d
changed.”

He stepped towards me again,
his face so close to mine, I could feel his breath against my
cheek. “I don’t think you’ve changed at all. How about we test the
theory?”

Ducking under his arm, I
looked around the tidy kitchen. “Looks like we’re done. Guess I’ll
go back to the lounge. It sounds like Coops has put INXS on and I
need a dance.”

“
You do that,
Bella.”

Chapter 21

IT’S TOO LATE

But it’s too late baby, now
it’s too late

Though we really did try to
make it

Something inside has died
and I can’t hide

And I just can’t fake
it

Carole King

I was handling the whole Ben
thing very well. He continued to tempt me with all types of dirty
tricks, which I could have found engaging but had chosen to ignore.
I held conversations with him that didn’t carry any sexual innuendo
and could sit next to him without wanting to throw myself into his
lap and purr like his Pussycat. Our connection moved to something
above teenage lust and angst. At least, I thought it had.
Meanwhile, Coops and I relaxed back into our relationship. He was a
beautiful man and I told him so, every day. Life was smooth, quite
a new concept for us, until the night that Phil returned from
Melbourne.

When we walked into Mac’s
Bistro that night, Justin and Prue were already there, sitting
close, so close in fact that they could’ve been sharing a chair. I
raised an eyebrow as I walked over to kiss Justin’s
cheek.

“
What’s the story?” I
asked, gesturing at the expanse of empty table and noting the
number of chairs. “I thought it was only the gang.”

“
Phil’s bringing a
partner.”

“
Ahh.”

In all the time we had been
friends, Phil had never ‘brought a partner’. This was a first for
us all.

“
Who is she?”

“
Some chick called Lee,
they met at the theatre.”

“
No wonder he sounded so
chirpy on the phone. Who’re the other seats for?”

“
Me.” Ben walked around the
table and stood on the opposite side. Next to him, sporting a tote
bag the size of Sydney Harbour Bridge was a brunette with the
statuesque proportions of a Sports Illustrated bikini model and the
perfect face to match. I struggled to keep my mouth closed as the
shock rendered my body impotent of muscles that functioned. It
wasn’t every day, after all, that the previous love of your life
delivered such a devious blow in the form of such beauty. I had
only just gotten used to the idea that Ben might want to have sex
with other girls, but to have it flaunted in my face was the
end.