Unzipped by Nicki Reed Read Free Book Online Page B

please-wear-your-seatbelt, fast-track to a partnership. ‘And you know I can’t be calling every minute of the day, especially with the time difference.’
    Two weeks with no Mark.
    What is the word for thrilled to pieces and scared to death?
    I bet the Germans have one.

11.
    Glenferrie Road is not my favourite strip of shops: everyone wears sunglasses, most of the women are blonde, highheeled, made-up. The men too. It’s Chapel Street with less bling and Balwyn with more youth. Taylor picked the cafe: she’d been told about its cakes.
    As our food arrives, Taylor says: ‘That girl over there keeps looking at you.’
    I’ve been looking out the window watching a woman try to park her too-big car into a too-small space. Fourth attempt and the tension is building.
    Taylor nods to a back corner of the cafe.
    BJ in her cycling clothes. With Justine. I don’t believe it. I haven’t been to this strip of shops since I was eighteen and had dinner with friends at the Nepalese restaurant up the road. That’s twice in nearly twenty years and here’s BJ with Justine. This is absurd. I’m going back to the window.
    It’s only eleven and a little early for cake, but, as she says, she might not be allowed out for the rest of the year, so Taylor will take it when she can get it. ‘I’ll have this one, it’s fruit, practically breakfast. She’s still looking, Pete. I don’t know who she is, but she has a lovely face.’
    Taylor’s right. BJ has a lovely face and I wish she’d go home.
    ‘Oh, I sort of know her. She was at the pub a couple of weeks ago.’
    BJ smiles at me.
    Please don’t come over.
    She comes over.
    I’d love to slide under the table, a puddle of embarrassment and anywhere-but-here-ness. Someone would come along with a mop and a bucket and I’d be safe.
    ‘Hi BJ. This is Taylor.’
    Taylor has an annoying habit of liking people. In the old days, before kids, she listed on her resume that one of her interests was meeting new people. She was telling the truth. She’ll be intrigued by BJ. Why not? I am.
    ‘Hi Taylor. That’s Justine.’ She points to the interested face across the room.
    ‘Would you like to join us, BJ?’
    Great.
    ‘She looks busy, Taylor.’
    ‘No, really,’ BJ looks at me, ‘we were just going.’
    ‘Stay. You can tell Peta and me why we should let cyclists onto the road.’
    That’s it. I won’t get rid of her now.
    I drop my serviette onto the table and grab my handbag. ‘I’ve got to go to the loo.’
    ‘Peta, are you here?’
    ‘Yes, I’m having a heart attack.’
    ‘Another one?’ BJ says. ‘Can you open the door?’
    I put my head out. It’s just us.
    ‘It’s good to see you,’ she says as she locks the door behind her.
    I need to get to the bottom of this. ‘Glenferrie is miles from Northcote, BJ.’
    ‘When you’re on a bike, you’re not miles from anything. We had to drop in on Jus’s mum. She needed a huntsman removed from her bedroom. Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything stupid.’
    I can hear Ruby: You don’t have to, BJ. Peta’s got the stupid covered.
    ‘We have to stop this.’
    ‘Yeah, I know. You’re married and I’m not into complications. Kiss me?’
    The toilet is cramped and there’s a Glen 20 tang. The globe has blown and the only light is from under the door. I’m afraid to touch anything. I set the environment to the back of mind—where Mark is—and kiss BJ.
    Between kisses we talk.
    ‘I missed you, Pete. How long’s it been? Twelve hours? Eighteen?’
    ‘I don’t know. I can’t pash and count at the same time.’ I disengage. ‘What are we doing?’
    ‘We’re having a bit of fun.’ She kisses my chin, my neck. ‘When it stops being fun, we’ll know. Can you touch me here?’ She unzips her bike top, places my hand on a breast, squeezes it.
    ‘Harder,’ she says.
    ‘BJ?’ a voice, Justine. She knocks.
    We straighten up and open the door.
    To BJ: ‘You have lipstick all over your face.’
    To me: