Virtually Perfect (6 page)

'Do you think you could slow down, just a little bit?'

'Oh my God!  This is so much fun!'

'Eve, there's a bend coming up.  No, don't overtake!  Oh CHRIST!' 

Eve giggled.  There was bags of room.

It was her dream car.  You could smell the buttery leather, the pretty silver dials gleamed from the dash.  When you put your foot down, you felt the front surge as 180 horsepower took flight.

'...Pull in here please.' 

Eve glanced at him. 

'Here?'

'Please.' 

Ben spoke quietly.  He wasn't looking at her. 

Eve rolled into The Barn Owl car park, coming to a controlled halt.  She switched off the engine.

'I'm sorry...'

Ben turned to her.  No smile.

'I...  I think I need a drink.'

As they walked across the car park, Eve watched Ben fumbling in his pocket.  He pulled out a blister pack, popping what looked like a very large pill.

'Nicotine gum?' he said, holding them out.

Eve screwed up her nose, then gave him a look.

'What can I get you?' asked the barman.  He was a big, grey, middle-aged guy, with fingers like saveloys.

'A very large, dry white wine, please,' said Ben.

'And for the lady?'

'That is for the lady.  I'll have a Coke, thank you.'

'So, you like photography?' said Ben as they sat down in one of the shabby booths.

'Um, yes.' Eve took a sip of wine.

'And surfing...'

Eve nodded, then frowned. 

'It was in your profile,' Ben told her.  'Your Stockman's profile, I mean.' 

Her eyebrows shot up.  Ben grinned. 

'Oh come off it,' he said.  'Don't pretend you haven't been Googling me.'

'I... I...'

'How do you think I knew where to send the flowers to?'

She hadn't even thought about it.

'You know, I thought that was pretty dicey,' said Ben.  'Showing me where you lived, on the first date.  I thought I was in there, to be honest.  I don't think you're stupid, Evelyn...  So come on.  Out with it.  What have you got on me?'

She paused for a moment, then looked him straight in the eye.

'Naked ladies,' she whispered.  'Lots of them.' 

Ben laughed, sipped his Coke, wagged a finger.

'I knew it!  Go on then, what else?'

'You're half French.'  Ben nodded, his smile diffusing a little.  He looked down at the table.

'My father's side, yes...  What else?'

'You're... You're quite brilliant.'

Ben's eyes flicked up to her.  He smiled. 

'That's nice.' 

'I just don't know  what you're doing with me.'

Eve watched him.

'...What do you mean by that?'

'Oh come on, Ben.  You're a good looking guy—'

'Two whole compliments in under a minute?  I'm not sure I'm ready for this...'

'All those models?' 

She's insecure.

'Drink up.  Let's get out of here.' 

Eve peered down at the golden fluid.

'It's awful,' she confessed, in a whisper.

'Leave it then.'  Ben grabbed the car keys, and her hand.  A second later, he was marching her to the car.

Ben's apartment was on the corner of Percival Terrace, overlooking the sea.  It was one of those Regency properties Brighton is so famous for.  All cream bay windows, snaking along like a scallop shell.  It was obviously very expensive.  Ben swung into his resident's bay.  He held Eve's door open for her.  He took her hand and led her up the steps, through the front door, into the lift. 

They stole glances of one another in the mirrored walls as the lift whirred upward, neither saying a word, both very conscious of the fact that they were still holding hands.  The lift pinged to a halt.

Ben knelt down as they walked through his front door.  Eve watched him take off his shoes.  He smiled up at her.  She started as his hand gently touched the back of her knee; the other unzipping her long suede boot. 

She brushed down her black boucle skirt nervously, watching with trepidation as he pulled her foot free.  He helped her take off the other boot.  She sighed with relief.  She hadn't poked a toe through her tights.

Ben slipped her charcoal wool coat from her shoulders.  Eve wandered in.

'It's lovely,' she told him. 

It wasn't to her taste, but it was lovely, all the same.

'Come and see the kitchen,' he said waving an arm.  It was open plan - lots of stainless steel.  It looked as though it had never been used. 

'No wives,' he whispered, tauntingly.  'You can check the cupboards if you like...'

He lent back against the worktop, raising an eyebrow. 

'...Would you like me to show you the bedroom?' 

Eve turned her back, wandering into the lounge.

There was a big bay; three huge windows stretching from the floor to the ceiling.  Night was falling.  All you could see was sky and ocean, a huge expanse of slate and teal. 

'It's beautiful,' Eve murmured.

The building was superb, she loved that bay window, the high ceilings.  The decor was a bit wishy washy; clinical.  Whites and magnolias, an awful lot of chrome and smoked glass, plush cream carpets and white leather. 
It looks like a show home. 
It smelt like one too, all new, fresh gloss paint.  Where she would have hung a mantel mirror, he had the biggest flatscreen she'd ever seen.

'Would you like a glass of wine?' 

Eve shook her head. 

'Something to eat?'

'...Can I ask a favour?'

Ben paused.

'Yeah, sure.'

'Say no if you want to...' Eve said ominously.

'What is it, exactly?' asked Ben.

'I have this wedding to go to...' 

'When?'

'Two weeks today.  I was wondering whether you'd...' 

Ben smiled, shaking his head.

'I don't do weddings,' he said.

'Oh...'

'There's a good photographer in town.  I can give him a call—'

'No, no. I don't mean that.' 

Ben studied her.

'Do you mean... go with you?'

Eve's gaze fell to her black tights. 

She saw him approaching her, in the periphery; felt his hand touch hers.

'Are you asking me out, Miss Blake?'

'I suppose...' 

He smiled.

'I'd love to,' he said, closing his hand around hers. 

He gave it a tug. 

'...Well?  Are you coming, or what?'

Ben helped Eve up onto the leather swivel stool.  The metal bar felt cold under her feet. 

'What's that smell?' she asked.

'Fixer.'

'It smells like rotten eggs.'

'Stop complaining,' he told her. 

She sat with her back to the counter, resting her elbows on it.  The light was very dim.  Everything was red and black.  She watched Ben removing the film roll from his SLR. 

'It's not as good as Photoshop, I know...'  Ben looked up and grinned. 
Oh God... 
She'd been bragging at
La Casona
about how she did all the shots for the January catalogue.  She didn't have the faintest idea who she was talking to then.

Ben snipped a length of film, placing it in a thin metal tray.  He came behind Eve, swivelling her around quickly so that she had her back to him.  There was a big machine on the bench.  It looked like an oversized microscope.  Ben slid the carrier into it. 

Eve put her hands down on the counter to steady herself.  He had his arms either side of her.  She felt the warmth of his chest through his t-shirt, resting on her shoulders.  She could smell his chewing gum.  He flicked a switch.  The machine started to hum. 

He flicked a foot with his left hand, turning a dial with his right.

'Watch,' said Ben, pointing to a frame on the counter. 

Murky reds and blacks began to transpose into a face.  He didn't have much hair.  What he did have was weird; light, regimented.  He bore a big, black-toothed grin. 

The image was in negative. 

'Keep watching,' said Ben. 

He  took a piece of paper, placing it down on the easel.  He leant against her again, messing around with knobs and buttons.  Shadows and highlights reversed. 

Expensive dentistry; a smug, leathery grin.  The true print materialised.  Black, slicked back hair. 

'Berlusconi?'

'Yes!' said Ben.  'I've been shooting him this past week.'

'Somebody should,' scoffed Eve.   'He looks like a pig!'

'...I thought you liked my work?' 

Ben sounded hurt.

'Oh no, I didn't mean...' 

He took the image, slotting it into a stand, frowning. 

'Try another one...'

Ben snipped at the negatives again, replacing the strip and putting the carrier back into the machine.  Eve felt his hand touch her hair.

'Tickles,' he said, pulling it to one side.

She could see him now, in her periphery.   His brow was clenched in a furrow.  He placed a fresh piece of paper in the easel.  Eve could feel the muscles in his arms working, pressed against hers as he twizzled the knobs.  He felt warm against her back.  She could feel his breath on her cheek.

'Are you watching?'

Eve looked down.

It was a bird.  In daylight, it would be brilliant white.  She could see every detail: its beady eye, its beak, claws, the serrated fronds of its outstretched wings.  She saw the roofs in the background, a church tower, a tiny bell.

'...It's beautiful.'             

'Shut your eyes.'

Ben was loading his camera.

'I don't like having my...' 

'Shhhh.  Shut your eyes, Evelyn.' 

She heard him winding the reel.

She felt him touch her right hand.  He stretched her arm taut across the counter, placed her hand down, fingers outstretched.  She felt him touch her left hand.  He rested it on the lip of the bench.  He drew her hair from her face.  She felt her right cheek touch the cold table top.

'Hold on tight,' he said.  She felt the stool wheel back.  Her back arched.  She gripped the ledge, her fingers driving into the counter, her legs stretching, feet trying to find the floor.

'Look at me.'

Click-click. 

There was no flash.  She couldn't see his face, just his silhouette and the camera.  Her heart was doing nineteen to the dozen.

'Look up...' He twisted the lens.

Click-click-click-click-click. 

He let the camera drop on the strap around his neck.  His eyes were two black pools.

'Do you trust me?'

'No.' 

His smile looked bloody in the light.

'Good girl.' 

He went behind her, standing over her.  She felt his arm around her waist, his hand gripping her hard.  The other hand cradled the nape of her neck.  She gasped as he flipped her over.

The camera rested heavy on her stomach.  She could feel its coldness through her jumper.  Her shoulders rested on the counter.  Her skirt was taut against her thighs.

Ben's hands were at the crook of her knees, gently raising them.  He was standing in between.  He leaned into her, over her.  His hands held hers.  He pushed the back of hers down against the counter top. 

Eve could hear the machine whirring behind her.  Ben's hand drifted to the small of her back, pulling it upwards, lengthening the arch of her torso.  Eve could smell him.  She felt him touch her hair.  She felt his hand stroke her face.  She wobbled.  Her legs tightened around his waist.  She felt his thumb drift across her bottom lip.  It was hot.  Stuffy.  She could smell the fixer again.  Eve struggled to catch her breath. 

The weight of the camera suddenly dissipated.

Click-click.

'Evelyn...'

Click-click-click.

Her hand reached out to push the camera away
.

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click.

Eve wriggled free.  She jumped down.

'I have to go.' she said.

Ben lowered the camera.  He stood blinking at her.

'...Let me guess.  The cat?'

'No.' snapped Eve, straightening her skirt.  'This isn't me.  I don't do... this.'