Irrepressible You Page 10

  ‘Is it a he or a she?’ she asked the burly middle-aged man next to her, who had minutes before introduced himself as Rowan.

  ‘His name is Gerald. He’s a three-year-old purebred bulldog as far as we can gather.’ Rowan shoved a beefy hand into the back pocket of his khaki shorts. ‘He came in a year ago. They found him wandering along the beach at Hillarys Boat Harbour. He was in pretty bad shape, not that you’d know it now. A few people have tried to take him so far, but no one’s stuck.’

  Amy squatted down closer to Gerald’s eye level. ‘Why? If he’s a purebred surely people would love to have him.’

  Rowan shrugged. ‘Dunno. Especially since he’s been thoroughly vet checked and doesn’t seem to have any of the nightmare medical dramas his breed usually has, other than surgery for cherry eye when we first got him. The last people took him for their kids then returned him a week later. Said he wasn’t active enough. The bloke before that said pretty much the same thing and complained that he got depressed just looking at him. I mean, bulldogs are normally pretty sedate, but Gerald here could write the manual for bone idleness.’ He gave the dog an affectionate smile. ‘I’m the one who named him Gerald, after my father-in-law.’

  ‘Can I go in and meet him?’ Amy reached through the wire of the cage, holding her hand out for the dog to sniff. In response he moved his front paws all of a millimetre forward on the concrete floor and snuffled at her half-heartedly before slumping down with a truly long-suffering sigh. No one could call this dog attractive. Even for a bulldog, Gerald looked like he’d lost the lottery in appearance. The combination of drooping, red-rimmed, brown eyes, massively pronounced overbite, white fur and pink skin stretched over a chubby loaf-shaped body were simply too ugly not to be adorable. There was also something charming about his complete disregard for social niceties.

  When Rowan let Amy into his cage, Gerald let out a low ‘oof’ and snuffled loudly again before slumping down even further. His tiny stump of a tail wagged once, a sure sign of overwhelming enthusiasm, when Amy gave him a scratch behind the ear.

  ‘Is he house-trained and good with people?’ she asked, moving on to scratch the other ear. The dog wheezed and she took that as approval of the attention.

  ‘Yes to the house-training as long as you drag him outside at least three times a day to do his business. If you call not moving and generally lying around like a lump good with people he’s definitely grade-A.’ Rowan let out a booming chuckle.

  ‘What about being a guard dog?’ Amy asked, having a feeling she already knew the answer.

  Rowan gave Gerald a speculative glance. ‘Well . . . I’ll say this for him, he looks the part, but that’s about it. Frankly, he’s probably as useful as a taxidermied Rottweiler.’

  ‘Ah.’ Amy nodded gravely. Given her requirements, that should have solved her dilemma then and there, but true love was often irrational. ‘He fixed?’ She stood up and brushed her hands off on her skirt.

  ‘Yep, but whoever owned him before gave him a bit of cosmetic surgery.’

  Amy wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

  ‘He’s got fake nuts. Little rubber balls,’ Rowan said succinctly. ‘Never seen it before and it confused the hell out of the vet.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Amy regarded Gerald with amazement.

  ‘Yeah, but even if they were real, he wouldn’t have the energy to use them,’

  Amy looked down at the dog and the dog looked up at her for a few silent seconds before she made up her mind. ‘Can I take him today?’

  Rowan looked surprised. ‘Yeah . . . sure . . . as long as you meet our requirements. You look more like the type who’d go for Sprinkles, the little Maltese cross in the cage over there, though.’ He rubbed his chin, openly taking in Amy’s high-heeled black boots, red and white polka dot pencil skirt and cinched-at-the-waist black cardigan.

  ‘That’s what I thought too.’ Amy smiled apologetically at the enthusiastic Sprinkles. ‘But it’s not gonna happen.’

  ‘They weren’t lying when they said you don’t like exercise, boy. Come on.’ Amy half walked, half dragged her new dog through the door of Babyface, awkwardly holding a paper bag full of doggy supplies under one arm. She looked down at him. ‘It’s a good thing I don’t have anyone waiting for a shave or they’d be wetting their pants laughing. Come on, boy. Please?’

  Gerald just looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes. He snorted, took a few lumbering steps into the barber shop towards a patch of sunshine by the window then collapsed on his stomach with a thud.

  Amy put the paper bag on one of the chairs, then crouched down next to him. ‘This is gonna be your new home, boy. Well, half the time. What d’you think? No, don’t make an effort. I know ya love it.’ She scratched him behind his ears and was gratified to hear an appreciative groan.

  ‘What is that?’

  Amy looked up to find Kate standing at the rear of the store, looking at Gerald like he was an outbreak of the Ebola virus come to pay its respects.

  ‘He’s my new guard dog,’ Amy said with a cheerful smile, standing up and unpacking Gerald’s new food and water bowls. In deference to his gender she’d gone for a genteel hunter-green colour scheme.

  ‘Guard dog?’ Kate’s eyes narrowed. ‘He’s not gonna be coming next door, is he? He’ll get hair everywhere.’ She looked down at her black fleur de lys maxi dress then at the very white and pink dog by the window.

  ‘Sometimes.’ Amy shrugged, not commenting on the fact that Kate was a hairdresser who dealt with hair every day. ‘When I’m next door. He’s placid so I don’t think we’ll have any problems with our ladies unless some of them are allergic. Mostly I’ll keep him in here with me on the boys’ side. Unless you hug him, I don’t think you have to worry about hair, m’love. Actually, I think all we’ll have to do to keep the hair down is sweep around him once a day.’ She spared her new canine best friend an affectionate smile.

  Kate flicked a strand of waist-length blonde hair over her shoulder and grimaced theatrically. ‘Better keep him in here. Anyway, enough about the dog. I need to talk to you. Well, not me. Mel needs to talk to you. She’s next door. We’ve been waiting for you to get back for ages.’

  ‘Mel?’ Amy asked, simultaneously feeling a wave of relief and sharp stab of anxiety over the fact things were playing out exactly as they had every other time. Myf’s words about the problem with treating friends as family ran through her mind but she ignored them for now. Mel hadn’t completely let her down and that’s what counted. That didn’t mean Amy was going to be a total pushover. She couldn’t afford to be. Myf was right. She had to put her foot down some time and in light of Kate’s behaviour this past week, she never wanted to be down to one senior stylist again.

  ‘Yeah. You gonna talk to her or not? She wants her job back,’ Kate said briskly.

  ‘You two back together again?’ Amy asked.

  Kate averted her eyes. ‘Yeah. Last night. Anyway, you gonna talk to her or not?’ Her voice had an edge you could cut wood with. This kind of attitude was nothing new and Amy usually ignored it due to Kate’s exceptional talent as a stylist, but today it abraded her nerves like a cheese grater.

  ‘Send her through. I’ve got Beau Jameson dropping by here for a shave in a bit so she can keep me company while I get ready,’ Amy replied curtly.

  ‘Yeah, alright.’ Kate spared one last disapproving look at Gerald and went next door.

  The minute Kate left the room Amy hauled a deep breath into her lungs and closed her eyes. ‘You can do this, Ames. Toughen up,’ she whispered to herself, then quickly rifled through her handbag, found her make-up case and began to touch up her lipstick and powder in the mirror.

  ‘Amy?’

  ‘Hmm?’ Amy ran her pinkie along the edge of her lower lip to tidy up the scarlet gloss she’d just applied.

  ‘Can we talk?’ Mel walked into the barber shop, closing the connecting door behind her.

  ‘Yeah, sweetie. Come sit down.’ Amy gestured to one of the barber chair
s and took the second, crossing one leg over the other. ‘Kate just said you two got back together. Congrats.’ She watched as Mel took a seat, noting that her friend had lost weight, which was a worry. Mel was one of the few people Amy knew who was actually shorter than she was. She had a straight up-and-down figure, which was made even more pronounced by the baggy trousers and loose-fitting vintage bowler shirts she liked to wear. She’d changed her weave since Amy had last seen her two and a half weeks ago. Mel’s shoulder-length bob was now a ponytail of sleek mid-length red braids that complemented her caramel-coloured, lightly freckled skin beautifully.

  ‘Thanks.’ Mel gazed down at her hands, where she was picking at her cuticles. ‘Amy? I know I’m asking a lot. And you can say no . . . but I wanted to know . . . did you still need someone to . . . ah . . .’ She raised her mocha-coloured eyes to Amy’s and bit her lip.

  ‘You want your job back?’ Amy asked gently, fighting the urge to immediately say yes, knowing all the reasons why giving in quickly was a bad idea.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Amy abruptly pushed herself out of her chair, picked up a broom resting against the wall and began sweeping the already clean floor to stop her hands shaking. She hated, absolutely hated, this part of running a business. Confrontation had always been her sister’s specialty, not hers.

  ‘Amy?’

  ‘It’s been really hard, Mel.’ Amy kept her eyes on broom running across the floor. ‘If you’d left it any longer, I woulda had to advertise your job. Mrs Sadiq came in last week and I had to turn her away,’ she said, referring to one of her most loyal customers, a Somali matriarch who had been coming monthly for two years.

  ‘I’m sorry, Amy.’

  Amy looked down at the scant pile of hair she’d swept up. ‘Yeah, I know you are, m’love. But you were sorry the other times too. I love you, but I need to know you’re not gonna do this to me again. Every time you and Kate split, this happens. You know, I was a bit worried when you two got together.’ Her eyes met Mel’s. She didn’t say any more, knowing full well Kate had her ear pressed to the door. In Perth’s small lesbian community, Kate had a reputation for being a jaded diva pillow queen, while Mel was in her first serious relationship after an extremely difficult coming-out to her conservative Kenyan family.

  Mel nodded, her eyes darting to the connecting door at the back of the room.

  ‘I just need to know you two can keep your private life separate at work. If you have another fight, you’ve gotta sort it out at home. Not here. I know it’s hard, but you’re gonna have to. I’m running a business here. This is the last time. You understand, yeah?’

  Mel nodded again, biting her lower lip, obviously trying not to cry. Amy’s tear ducts activated in sympathy.

  ‘Can you promise me this won’t happen again?’

  The ensuing silence was only punctuated by the faint melody of Nat King Cole’s ‘Unforgettable’ from the record player.

  ‘I promise.’

  Amy set the broom aside. ‘Alright. Welcome back.’ She held her hand up when Mel broke into a relieved smile. ‘But you’ve gotta stick to your word. I missed you too much this time. It’s not the same without you.’ She approached Mel, pulling her out of her chair and giving her a warm hug.

  ‘Thanks, Amy.’

  ‘You’re welcome, sweetie. Just please, please don’t let me down.’

  ‘Okay. I won’t,’ Mel said against Amy’s hair before stepping backwards. Unfortunately she stepped back into Gerald, who didn’t move a muscle. Mel landed on her backside with a thump.

  ‘He is an effective guard dog,’ Amy said in amazement, helping her reinstated employee to her feet. They were both chuckling as they checked that Gerald was alright when Kate reappeared.

  ‘So you gave her the job back?’ Kate demanded, looking from Mel to Amy expectantly.

  ‘Yes,’ Amy said.

  Mel gave her a relieved grin. ‘When do you want me to start?’

  ‘You free this afternoon?’

  ‘I should be.’

  ‘Now would be a good time.’

  ‘Amy?’ Roslynn poked her head around the door. ‘You back, Mel?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Mel replied.

  ‘You needed me?’ Amy waved a hand to attract Roslynn’s attention again.

  ‘Oh, yeah. Um, while you were out a guy called and booked a last-minute appointment for five-thirty. I told him we closed then, but he said you wouldn’t mind.’

  Amy frowned. ‘I kinda do. It’s been crazy busy this week, Ros. I need a break. I think we’re gonna have to cancel this one.’

  ‘Alright.’ Roslynn shrugged. ‘I’ve left his number for you if you want to do it personally, otherwise I will. His name is Ben something.’

  ‘Oh! That changes everything.’

  Late that afternoon, Amy was humming to herself over the sound of her coffee machine when a warm mouth surrounded by bristly stubble kissed the point where her neck met her shoulder. She spun around, clutching her heart to find Ben standing behind her wearing a five o’clock shadow and a wicked smile.

  ‘I missed you.’ His words, clipped and incredibly sexy, reverberated up and down her spine a few times.

  ‘You scared me!’ Her pleased grin belied her words as she ate him up with her eyes. He was standing only a few inches away, close enough for her to smell his wonderful citrusy scent and too handsome for his own good in black jeans and a pale green jumper. She noticed he was holding a rectangular pale pink cardboard gift box in one hand.

  ‘Did I? So sorry.’ He didn’t look the slightest bit repentant. ‘Let me give you something to make up for it. Here.’

  ‘Thank you. What is it?’ Amy automatically took the box from his hands before looking down at it, stomach jittering.

  ‘Something naughty,’ Ben whispered, leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on her half-open lips. While she was momentarily stunned, he took the opportunity to pick up the coffee she’d just made herself and took a sip. ‘Hmm, this is good. May I? Thanks.’ He wandered over to a chair and sat down, legs splayed out comfortably in front of him.

  ‘Naughty? What?’ The man seriously scrambled her brain. She was still thinking about the kiss.

  ‘Yes. Hurry up and open it so you can put it on and thank me.’ He looked her up and down, pale green eyes intense, no doubt noticing everything. ‘You look . . . fascinating.’

  Amy blushed. ‘I hate to break it to you, but that’s not really a compliment.’

  ‘It is when coming from me.’ Ben shrugged. ‘Are you going to open the box or am I going to have to wait in suspense for–what the hell is that? Some sort of grotesque fur pillow?’ He looked pointedly down at Gerald, who was sleeping next to his chair.

  ‘Oh. Meet my new dog.’ Amy felt a pang of anxiety and cursed herself for it. Three years before she’d given up joint custody of her sister’s cat, Boomba, because her boyfriend at the time hadn’t liked animals. The last thing she wanted to find out right now was that Ben hated dogs.

  ‘A British bulldog?’ Ben studied Gerald’s prostrate form before leaning down and giving the dog a scratch on his wrinkled head. ‘It seems I’ve inspired you. Hopefully not in the looks department. Although . . . I have to admit I do sometimes look like this in the morning before coffee.’

  ‘Yeah? I could see that.’ Amy chuckled. ‘I’m not too sure your influence is a good thing, because I didn’t mean to bring him home. I wanted to get something a little cuter and heaps more energetic, but he grew on me.’

  ‘We do that,’ Ben replied with a grin. ‘Is it alive?’

  Amy could see how he’d come to ask the question. Gerald’s long pink tongue was hanging out the side of his mouth, his face was so folded and scrunched up that his eyes were invisible and other than the random thunderous fart, snore or half-hearted woof, he hadn’t moved all afternoon.

  ‘Yeah, he’s just saving up his energy. He’s my new guard dog.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I haven’t worked that out yet,’ Amy admitt
ed. ‘I saw him this morning and he looked at me . . . and the rest is history. Do you like dogs?’ She surreptitiously crossed her fingers behind her back.

  ‘Love them,’ Ben replied. ‘I’ve never owned one though.’

  ‘Not even as a kid?’

  ‘No. Can’t own dogs in boarding school and later I was far too busy working to own a pet.’

  ‘Oh?’ Amy asked, curiosity nearly overwhelming her. This was the first time Ben had openly referred to his career and she wanted to ask questions, but before she could form any his expression shuttered, replaced by his usual sardonic smile. ‘Aren’t you going to open my present?’

  ‘Present? Oh. Yes.’ She raised the box she was still holding and shook it lightly. A soft sound greeted her ears. ‘Hmm.’ She turned it over to find the opening.

  ‘Open it, woman,’ Ben ordered brusquely. ‘The suspense is excruciating.’

  Amy was completely unfazed by his surly tone. ‘It’s my present. I’ll open it how I want to.’ She made sure she took her time peeling back the tape holding the box closed, enjoying the way Ben’s frown got more and more pronounced and his eyes narrowed. The big scary tiger was worried she wouldn’t like his gift.

  ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘I haven’t seen it yet. Oh.’ Amy was stunned as the box came open and an incredibly soft, sheer, pale blue negligee pooled into her hands. ‘Agent Provocateur? Ben! This must have cost a fortune.’

  ‘Irrelevant. Do you like it?’

  ‘Yes. My God, how couldn’t I?’ She held it up against her, luxuriating in the softness of the fabric. It was calf length and looked like something Elizabeth Taylor would have worn as Maggie the Cat. Sexy and a little bit trashy. Amy loved it.

  ‘I hope you don’t think I’m horribly tacky. I was looking for something more respectable but I saw this in a shop window, thought of you, and the rest is history. As a matter of fact, if you consider the number of times I’ve imagined you naked over the last few days, it’s quite appropriate,’ Ben mused, his wry façade well and truly back in place, accompanied by a faint trace of smug satisfaction.