A faint trace of Lucy’s perfume still lingers in the car’s dark leather upholstery – alluring, tantalizing; like fruit punch with too much alcohol. It’s as unforgettable as the woman herself. Amusing. Exciting. Probably trouble. All I can think of is the shock in her eyes just after I slammed into her with the hot drink, the full softness of her; and the shape of her back as I loosened the zipper of the stained gown.
She was like some kind of mermaid in that slippery green dress, shapely as a figurehead on a pirate ship. Lucy’s danger. She’s a temptress.
In the rear vision mirror, I catch my reflection, eyebrows up. I still can’t believe Lucy’s audacity in “saving me the parking fine.” Outrageous. But helpful.
I must work out how to set the car alarm to repel other intruders. Takes a while to learn all the features of a new car, especially one like this.
At the lights, I pull out my phone and make a note to read over the full manual. It’s a mistake. My phone also carries the trace of Lucy’s perfume. I plunge it back into my pocket, and frown.
Just then, it rings. Lucy? My heart quickens as a female voice comes through the car’s speakers.
It’s Jill.
“You have no clue, Dirk,” she says. “That woman. Lucy. She will eat you alive. Men can be so childish. And I saw you in that car. What is that?”
“It’s Jamison’s,” I say.
“It’s bait, Dirk. You’ll find new fish in the sea, alright, but they won’t be the right kind of fish. Lucy’s a piranha.”
“Pretty sure piranhas are freshwater fish, Jill.”
“Don’t be pedantic. You know what I mean. Or maybe Lucy’s exactly what you and Jamison have in mind. You might think you want someone like Lucy, but she’s not who you need. Not after everything you’ve been through.”
I’m silent.
“Don’t get me wrong, Dirk. You’re a generous man. Too generous. I’ve benefited myself, of course I have, and I’m more than grateful.”
I grunt.
“Maybe I’m being too protective, Dirk,” she says. “I can’t quite put my finger on what worries me about Lucy, but you get a feel for them after a few years – the ones who really can’t afford what I have to offer. They try on my clothes to test the sizes, then go home and search for them online. They cheat me of sales. I have to pay rent. I invest in my stock. I’m not a free fitting service.”
“Of course not, Jill.”
“To be fair, Lucy did buy a few things. I love my customers, but you’d think some women had nothing better to do than shop – half their luck.”
I consider reminding her of the loan, and telling her I’m cancelling it, but a bus roars past too close and there’s some kind of alarm blinking at me on the side mirror. I have to concentrate.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be so quick to judge Lucy,” Jill says.
“I liked being asked my opinion about those shirts,” I say.
“Blouses. But when she pulled out the leopard skin one, she actually growled at you. I don’t want you making a fool of yourself.”
Am I a fool? Would it matter? Don’t I deserve to live a bit? Over lunch, Jamison told me to lighten up. It’s not easy after a lifetime of caring for other people’s ills. Fool or bore? I’m floundering.
I clear my throat.
“Jill, about your loan ...”
“Gotta go, Dirk. Customers.”
The sun is out. It lights up the line of beaches heading north and south. Lucy mentioned a coastal restaurant. How long since I enjoyed a long lunch, a lunch with wine, a lunch with a beautiful woman? Decades.
Despite Jamison urging me over lunch to get out and enjoy life, Jill may be right to warn me. Lucy’s a distraction, and I don’t do surprises. These days I’m a creature of habit; of order; of logic and control and routine. It’s the only way. It’s everything. Especially now.
I drive and think of Jill and her debt to me, and her boys, my nephews – young Lachlan and Cameron – almost as tall as I am now, with their own aspirations and idiosyncrasies.
The sun starts to set, glowing behind the tall buildings of the city, and I turn the sleek red car back towards my apartment. The day may be over, “but the night is young” I hear myself say, and allow myself a smile.
