Billie Jones - Mexican Kimono

I searched my memory for other people he’d had passionate one-night stands with.

Ah. ‘Ashley?’

‘No, not Ashley, ma préféré .’

‘Shannon?’

‘No, ma seul véritable amour .’

For God’s sake, what was this? A quiz show? What was with all the French mumbo jumbo?

‘OK, JJ, I give up.’

‘You mean, you really don’t know?’

‘No.’

‘It’s you. It’s always been you. I just needed to experiment for a while. All along I had the perfect partner right here, in little sunny old Perth.’

Well, you can imagine how shocked I was. I thought he’d been swearing at me in French and I still hadn’t forgotten pouring my heart out to him after the whole Toffany fiasco. It never rains, but it pours. First Alberto, then this.

‘Is this another attempt to humiliate me in the gay community?’

‘That was uncalled for, Samantha. If I could take it back I would.’ His azure-coloured eyes looked sincere as he stared right into my soul. A wave of desire washed over me like a spray tan. Alberto strode to our table with a bottle of champagne and two flutes standing expertly on a small tray.

‘Excuse me, Sir, Madame, are you ready to order?’ He was all charm. He even looked like what you’d expect a hoity-toity waiter to look like. Thick black shiny hair. Manicured nails (I can always tell). Sharp, tailored suit.

JJ spoke up first, ‘I’ll have the lime and vodka oysters to start,’ he gave me a lascivious wink, ‘and for main I’ll have the fennel and honey pork belly.’

Great. I was going to have something as equally calorie-laden, but now he was hot for me again I wouldn’t be able to eat like that in front of him. I’d have to order something healthy.

‘I’ll have chorizo and garlic bread to start. Hold the garlic,’ I couldn’t stand the smell of garlic any more after my ex-boss bathed in it, ‘and the Wagyu beef for main, thanks, Alberto.’ I sincerely hoped JJ wanted to share his pork belly. That was half my reason for coming here.

JJ stood and moved his chair closer to mine. He bent down, nuzzled into my neck, and whispered, ‘So, what do you say? Can we go back to where we left off?’

That kind of nuzzling gets me every time and he knows it. It sent shivers down my body. I felt woozy, intoxicated by him. Still, there were rules in these kinds of circumstances and I must play by them if I wanted to remain on top in this town.

‘Look, JJ, I’ll consider it, but don’t hold your breath, OK? I’m kind of seeing a few people at the moment and I’m pretty sure one of them is a keeper.’ OK, not true, but if I say I’m alone and have been since he tore my heart out, threw it to the ground and then beat it to death with his straightening iron, he’d change his mind for sure. I know I would.

‘I understand, just tell me you’ll think about it?’ he said in a syrupy voice.

‘I’ll do my best. Now, can you excuse me for a minute? I need to ring the office and check everyone is meeting their KPIs.’ I stood up quickly and strutted to the ladies’ room. I shut myself in a cubicle and screamed, ‘There is a God! He’s not gay, he’s NOT GAY!’ I did a little happy dance and a kind of karmic ‘up yours’ to Toffany.

That taken care of, I walked back and joined JJ at the table.

He’d ordered a bottle of Margaret River chardonnay while I was gone. I tried not to sit there with a stupid love-struck grin on my face, because it’s just so damn cheesy, and I didn’t want JJ to know I was happy.

Our entrées came and we ate, quietly taking in the view of the Swan River. We used to come to Silk together every Friday after work, when we were a couple. It was where all the power couples went so, of course, it’s where we went.

I was mentally weighing up the pros and cons of getting back together with JJ. We’d be invited to all those cute little couples only dinner parties. Those couple types could be downright hostile if you were a singleton. I’d have my personal shopper back for good. Oh, and the sex thing. I’d have sex on tap again and I’m sure you are all aware of the calorie-burning properties in that particular activity.

I glanced at JJ’s oyster-shovelling smugness. Suddenly I remembered the cons. First, running off with a delusional drag queen and telling the world about it. His uncanny ability to spend every last cent of mine and then disappear like my lost youth. He was almost too good-looking. How can you be that good-looking and be faithful? I sort of understood. I was good-looking myself.

You know, it’s like expecting a big famous rock star who travels around the world being mobbed by models, to say, ‘No! My gorgeous ninety-five kilo, brown-haired haus frau is at home with my two sugar-happy hyperactive kids. I must say ‘no’ to you, you blonde forty-nine-kilo, waif-like supermodel. I took a vow on my wedding day, you know.’ Trust me, it will never happen.

I knew I was one up in the ridiculous mind battle we were having when JJ asked me, ‘What are you thinking?’ In case you don’t know, that’s a very big NO NO. What are you thinking? Are you ever honest when someone asks you that? NO! God, I would have been fired at least six or seven times by now if that was the case. Kylie would have stabbed me in the jugular with her thinning shears. And JJ. And my mother. It doesn’t bear thinking about. So I did the right thing and said, ‘I was thinking about cutting my credit card in half.’

His face contorted in sheer horror, like I just told him Toffany was expecting his first child. (Impossible? I get confused). ‘Why? Why would you do something so hurtful?’ He was grasping at his napkin like a safety blanket.

‘It’s virtually empty anyway. I’m just sick of the pressure of all that free money. Why? You’ll still love me sans credit card, won’t you?’

His blue eyes turned crimson. I’m not kidding. His face turned purple. I had my answer. That bastard. I folded my napkin and stood up again, ‘Excuse me, JJ. I need to call the office again.

Pamela mentioned they were having some issues with their IPLs. Back in a jiffy.’ I grabbed my bag and headed for the exit by the back door. I waved goodbye to a drooling Alberto, who I knew was mentally undressing me as I hurried past. As I rushed off, I began to ponder why JJ was suddenly back in town. He usually came back to Australia in summer, and he made sure we all knew he was coming, probably so we could save money to lavish on him. It was autumn and he hadn’t warned anyone. Very unusual.

Chapter 5

The Hair Psychologist

I held my breath until I reached the taxi rank. Once I flagged an incoming taxi, I managed to relax and do a big old evil belly laugh. I pictured JJ finishing the bottle of chardonnay, ordering another perhaps even more expensive wine. He’d eat my main meal, then his. Then it would dawn on him. I was not coming back. He would have to leave his fake Prada sunglasses as collateral and make some frantic phone calls for cash to get out of there with any shred of dignity.

The taxi pulled up, and I jumped in without taking any notice of the driver’s details. I was too distracted picturing JJ’s handsome face trying to explain to Alberto why he couldn’t pay. Then, JJ takes Alberto’s soft, manicured fingers in his strong, warm hand, and convinces him he could pay in other ways.

Alberto’s eyes light up and he kisses … eww, hang on. Damn it!

That’s not the right fantasy. Bloody cheating bisexual men. It’s rife around here, I’m telling you.

I shook the image from my mind and glanced at the registration of the driver. I began to text it to my mum when a distinctive voice pipes up and says, ‘So, how was lunch, love?’