Chapter 3
2560 Words
Chapter Three
When it was all over I felt drained. Not that the work itself was draining but I’d told her a lot about me, which I found slightly unsettling. However, she did love the work and kept admiring it in front of a mirror while I packed up my gear and rearranged the furniture.
“So, I have to wait a whole month to see you?”
“You can see me whenever you want,” I replied, “the studio is just down the road. I might be busy but I usually take a break for lunch.”
“Okay,” she regarded me for a moment, “we’ll do lunch sometime soon.”
I had the suspicion she was looking for something without actually knowing what she was looking for but I never expected Jodie to turn up to work. I remember telling nanna about it over dinner on Sunday night and she smiled.
“Maybe she’s got a crush on you.”
I laughed and she laughed too but when Jodie turned up on Tuesday just before half past twelve I didn’t notice until Davey, my young apprentice asked if she needed help. I’ve got designs all the way down the wall and she was close to the door. I was doing a freebie for my mate, Muzza.
“G’day,” she smiled at me, “told you I’d drop in.”
“So you did,” I turned the gun off, “um, I’ll be another half an hour.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean today,” she stared at Muzza’s chest which is a maze of tattoos, “but if you’re gonna be free I’ll duck into Belgrave and grab a few groceries and come back.”
Muzza was checking her out while she talked. She was wearing a white shirt that was open to her cleavage, and a black skirt, I knew he was mentally undressing her but she almost seemed to enjoy it because she leaned a little closer.
“Nice work,” she stared at a picture of a naked woman in a pool with her breasts covered by waist-length blonde hair, “I want her on me.”
“So did I,” Muzza grinned.
“See ya in half an hour,” she grinned, “you fancy chicken and chips? My shout.”
“No worries, thanks.”
Muzza looked at me after she was gone.
“Now that’s what I call punching above your weight.”
“She’s my accountant but she sounds curious.”
“Well if curiosity turns to rug munching, remember to take pictures.”
I laughed at that. If any other man said that I’d have said something else entirely, but Muzza is my mate. He could have been a one percenter, God knows he’s been around long enough to know some of these outlaw bikers when they were still jerking off behind the high school.
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“So you’re doing back yarders for her, are you?”
“Did the tattoo on her back at the weekend, I do her for free and she does my books for free.”
“She’s got a nice arse.”
“On that we’re both agreed,” I turned on the needle, “now, let me finish this and don’t mention her arse for f**k’s sake or I’ll make a mistake.”
We had our first lunch together in her Holden Commodore out the back of the shop. I have a car and a bike, a Kawasaki 1200 cc sport tourer, and at first she thought the bike near the door belonged to Muzza until I told her it was mine.
“So, when are you taking me for a ride?” Jodie poked my leg playfully.
“I’ll take you for a ride whenever you like.”
“Ooh, I like the sound of that,” she chuckled.
“So, when and where?”
“Let’s see,” she took out her phone and brought up an organiser, “I can’t survive without my phone, I’ve got my whole life on this thing. I’m free on Sunday, come around elevenish and we’ll have an early lunch and go for a ride.”
I hesitated before I agreed and when she left some fifteen minutes later I stared at the phone number she’d left on my phone. I had her mobile number and she had mine but everything pointed to the bi curious type.
Nanna was philosphical about it over dinner that night.
“Just go, take her for a ride. You don’t know the full situation yet, go slow and ask questions, never judge a book by its cover.”
Kind of like closing the gate after the horse has bolted I thought, I’d been checking her out all along but I did resolve to take my grandmother’s advice. Grandmothers usually have good advice and one other piece of advice she handed out was to, “get your hair done.”
“What’s wrong with it? I just had it done three months ago.”
“Because it gives you something to talk about and it gives her an excuse to run her hands through your hair, women love touching hair.”
My grandmother cracks me up like that. She’s totally supportive of my lifestyle and if ever I need advice on how to break the ice with a straight woman or go further, she’s always got tips.
That Saturday I let Davey close the studio on his own, I always keep it open until three o’clock, and I headed down to Mountain Gate for a hair appointment nanna had made for me two days ago. My regular girl was waiting for me and I sighed as I sat in the chair.
“What’s the big occasion?”
“I need to look like a lady.”
“Hmm,” she tugged at my hair.
I’ve got mouse-brown hair but it’s always been kind of thin, it was just past my shoulderblades at the time.
“How bad do you want her?”
“Huh?” I stared at her in the mirror.
“You want to look like a lady means you’re trying to impress a lady.”
“Something like that.”
“Let me see,” she picked up a book of hair styles, “how about this?”
The model she’d picked out had shoulder length hair that was swept forward in a bob, she definitely looked more glamorous than me.
“Your face is thin and angular shaped, and you’ve got a good figure so yeah, it’ll suit but it is a radical departure,” she flicked through a few more pages and while I liked some I eventually decided on the one she’d shown me first.
“Go radical and put a blonde rinse through it.”
“No worries,” she put the book down, “so, do I know her?”
“Probably not and to be honest I don’t know if I should tell you her name, I’m taking her for a ride on Sunday.”
“But you like her.”
The end result actually shocked me. It wasn’t exactly like the model in the magazine but even so it was pretty impressive work. My hair was just past my shoulders and cut into a bob style, the blonde rinse added a finishing touch and when I stepped into the house a couple of hours later with a bag of clothes my grandmother’s face lit up.
“My God, it’s a new woman. She’ll be running her hands through your hair.”
“You’d make a terrible Christian, nanna.”
“It’s just as well I’m an atheist then.”
That next day I spent an hour that morning checking and washing the bike and then showered and got changed into a floral shirt and jeans. I kissed my grandmother goodbye and started the bike and as I poured on the power I felt the thrill of anticipation. I love the feel of the bike between my legs, no pun intended! I knew the road by instinct, every bend and curve beckoned like a lover but as to where this was all going in the grand scheme of things was still a mystery.
Now as previously mentioned, I’d taken a bit of time over my wardrobe that morning although not nearly as much time as I took getting the bike ready but I considered myself well-dressed enough to meet Jodie. I was wearing a white shirt with a mandarin collar under a black jumper, I was also wearing full leathers, jacket, pants and boots. I thought the white shirt was a fashionable touch, I’d picked it up at a second hand clothes store in Bayswater the day before.
However I paled into insignificance. I’ve always had a thing for white shirts, but Jodie’s was fairly distinctive. The paired buttons were diagonally opposite so that to take it all in your eyes were forced to move back and forth all the way down. It was open to the second pair of buttons. The shirt was tucked into black Levis adorned with a black belt and gold Live to Ride buckle. Her black suede boots came halfway up her calves and were adorned with fringes and buckles.
“Nice boots,” I managed.
“Thank you,” she had a piece of toast in her hand, “nice hair,” she reached out with her other hand and flicked at my hair, “where’d you get it done?”
“The one in Mountain Gate.”
“Deirdre’s studio?”
“Yeah,” I looked at her.
“I do her books,” she stepped back, “come on in, welcome to my parlour, again.”
The lunch consisted of pasties and a side salad, washed down with Coke. We chatted a little about our week. She’d even been working on Saturday.
“Much to my disgust but thank God it was only three hours and then I was off to the gym,” she pinched her sides, “I’m planning on losing weight.”
“I didn’t know you had any to lose,” I replied.
“They love my tattoo,” she straightened up, “I think every man was looking at my back and here was me trying my best to work on my crunches. You’ll have some extra work coming your way soon enough, I gave a couple of your cards out and pinned one to the notice board.”
“Thanks,” I replied, “hopefully they’ll notice it.”
“Oh they will,” she smiled slyly, “the men noticed me pinning it to the board and two women took a picture of it for future reference,” she drained her Coke.
“Still you don’t look like you need to lose weight,” I countered.
“I need to get fit enough for my medical,” she replied, “I want to join the local C.F.A.”
“Oh right,” my eyes widened, “good for you, I was thinking of joining a few years back but I baulked when I saw the police disclosure form, I can just imagine their laughter when I write accessory to armed robbery on it.”
“It was years ago, you were young and stupid.”
“Well there is that as well, I mean I know the local captain well enough but I think it’s more that it might get out on social media that a convicted armed robber is now with the C.F.A. That’s the problem with being charged as an adult, the record stays with you for years, maybe in a few years’ time I’ll look at it though.”
“I could just imagine you in a fire fighter’s uniform.”
“I can’t imagine you in the same uniform,” I studied her, “still, it’s good you’ve applied.”
“So, are we leaving already?”
“Yeah, let’s get cracking.”
The ride that afternoon took us into Cockatoo and then back around the southern shores of Cardinia Dam, north through Narre Warren East and back eastwards to the northern shores of the dam and Bobs Park where we stopped for a breather. The park was filled with people gathered around a small lake that is one of Melbourne’s favourite swimming holes. The people on the shores were all part of some church group because as we watched, a young woman waded out to a man standing some ten or fifteen feet from the shore. He said something to her and then plunged her beneath the water before pulling her up again to the cheers from the shore.
“Well that’s another soul for Jesus,” she pinched my elbow, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
An appropriate comment given the sight of another woman on the outskirts of the crowd. I knew Xanthia from a few years ago. She and I were never an item, I was going out with one of her friends and she was going with my ex-girlfriend as I explained to Jodie. I’d just finished telling her about it when Xanthia turned and upon seeing me, left the group and made her way over to us.
“Hiya,” she grinned, “fancy seeing you here,” her eyes flickered to Jodie.
“We’re just going for a ride,” I replied, “I was surprised to see you here, how long has it been?”
“Four and a half years. I’m a Christian now, I found Jesus a year or so ago.”
“That’s nice,” Jodie smiled, “I didn’t know he was lost.”
I had to look away at that moment because the look on Xanthia’s face was bloody priceless, her mouth dropped and she turned red.
“He wasn’t lost, I was lost.”
“Oh,” Jodie took a swig of water, “well, whatever rocks your boat. Have you been baptised yet?”
“Six months ago, it was the most amazing experience of my life, I’m straight now.”
“Well good for you,” I propped against the bike, “I’m still as bent as a banana and quite enjoying the view from up here but whatever turns you on I guess.”
The conversation petered out after and she went back to her church friends.
“I was surprised to see her there,” I told Jodie as we prepared to leave, “she was out and out gay when I knew her.”
“You never know with some people, maybe she’s searching for something, they say God works in mysterious ways.”
“Too mysterious for me,” I muttered.
Jodie was right however, God does work in mysterious ways because that chance meeting with a ‘reformed lesbian’ led to a startling revelation back at her place as we sat drinking green tea.
“I kissed a girl once.”
“You did?” I looked over the rim of my cup. I was very, very interested in the outcome of this little tidbit. Can you blame me?
“When and where?” I demanded.
- Writer
