Page 30 of Plight
“I wasn’t,” I protested, stumbling back and nearly falling on my arse.
“Yes, you were.” She took a step closer, pointing at me. “Listen, I’m only keeping up this engagement charade for the duration of the garden rebuild, okay? After that, we will end ‘us’ amicably so that no one is hurt and our mothers are none the wiser. Agreed?”
More lies, although I decided to let this one go. I’d successfully cracked her shell, and now all I had to do was watch as those cracks spread. Eventually, her shell would fall away and my Danielle, the one I’d fallen in love with the first and second time, would be standing there waiting for me to fall in love with her again.
I shrugged and smiled. “Agreed.” And just like when we were kids, I crossed my fingers behind my back. Agreed my arse.
After she’d shrugged the Terminatorpersona, I’d agreed to play we-are-getting-married — in the presence of our mothers — for the next few weeks, which was how long we anticipated it would take to rebuild the garden. Her suggested false pretense was better than nothing, but I planned on playing with Danielle for longer than the next few weeks. My plan was to play inevitably, with my hands, tongue, mind and body. I wanted her in my bed — in my life — more than I’d ever wanted anyone, and that would require more cracking of her shell — more unveiling of what she seemed too afraid to admit. It was obvious that something wasn’t adding up; she was lying and holding back for no good reason, or a reason she didn’t want me to know about. Fortunately for us both, I was a human calculator with the intent to tally her up. I was going to add together every number she possessed until our problem was solved.
I was going to figure this shit out.
It was now Wednesday, and I had another problem currently placed on hold by my secretary.
“Mr Parker, your mother is on line three. She says it’s urgent.”
“Thanks, Rebecca, but my mother thinks everything is urgent, including a fifteen percent off lamb sale at Coles.” I huffed and closed my current case file, glad to remove from my head the horrific images of a battered woman who my client was accused of assaulting.
Rebecca giggled. “Oh. Do you want me to tell her you’re in a meeting?”
“No. It’s fine. I’ll take her call.” I pressed line three and answered. “Good afternoon, Mum, how can I help you today?”
“Good afternoon, Elliot. Firstly, you can help me by reassessing the audio advertisement that plays when you put callers on hold. It’s awful. The woman sounds as if she’s speaking with a mouthful of marbles.”
I chuckled. “She does not.”
“Have you ever been put on hold long enough to hear her?”
I thought about it for a moment and realised I hadn’t. “No. But the firm’s multimedia liaison knows what she’s doing, Mum. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
Leaning back in my chair, I rubbed my forehead. “What else did you ring for?”
“Oh, yes. I wanted to remind you about Laura’s appreciation gala dinner this coming Friday. You’ve been so busy lately and I didn’t want you to forget.”
“I haven’t forgotten. I’ll be there.”
“But what about Danielle? You forgot to add her as your plus one.”
Shit!
I hadn’t forgotten to add her at all. I’d forgotten that I’d be expected to add her, considering she was my non-fake fiancée now.
“Um …” Stalling, I needed to come up with an excuse as to why Danielle would be absent. “That’s … because … she can’t make it.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s busy.”
“No, she’s not.”
How the hell would you know?
“Yeah, she is,” I corrected her.
She corrected me right back. “No, she’s not. Not according to Jeanette.”
Fuck!Mothers. It was moments like these that I wished my mother were more like a harp seal. Those furry fuckers were AWOL only twelve days after giving birth, abandoning their pups in search of a new mate.
