his shoulder, I briefly spotted the smile on Marty’s face. I could tell he was genuinely pleased for me… for us. I blushed and thought my world could not be any more perfect. In fact, I remember later thinking that I wanted to have a group hug with him as well.
And for some time, life went on like that. I had my apartment. Davis had his. In personal matters he didn’t like to rush things. Business was different.
We were so loved up.
I once asked Davis about his reaction to my kiss six months prior. He explained that Marty, sensing his feelings earlier, had read him the riot act and told him he had to be absolutely certain.
Anyway Marty seemed pleased for us. And it appeared as if it was forever going to be us three musketeers, in between Marty’s girlfriends of course.
I remembered it being nothing new when Davis dragged his feet on the two of us living together, however finally he got sick and tired of going between apartments. Mind you, it only took him another three years.
We had listed a superb modern apartment in a renovated warehouse building with lots of glass and glamour, not far from work. It provided the lifestyle that Davis craved. He felt it was the way we should be living and would look good for the business, for us to be a united front.
Now, you would think that I would have jumped at the chance and of course I wanted to. But I wanted it to be because of us, not because of the business. Up until this point of time I had been an independent woman. I could have actually bought that warehouse on my own if I’d chosen to. For that matter, so could he.
Although, I was thinking different thoughts, I was thinking about the future. And by that I did not mean how much capital gain we would have on the property. Shame on me I know! Davis had recently had his thirtieth birthday and I was coming up to mine. At some stage, I did want a family.
The thing that did it in the end was when his brother Steve asked me to go to a PR conference with him to Paris. Months before, Steve booked the conference and paid for his partner, Thomas, to attend all of the dinners and partners’ events. Because of the economic decline, Thomas decided that it wasn’t timely for him to be gallivanting all over Europe and needed to stay put in his hair salon, keeping an eye on his staff and his clients.
Steve didn’t want to go without Thomas, however having an alliance with a worldwide public relations company meant he had to attend a certain amount of conferences per year to stay in the association.
Plus, he could not get his money back on what he had already paid, and, if he was going to go to Europe, he sure as heck did not wish to go for five days only. I didn’t even have to think twice when he asked.
Anyway, Davis and I were in the middle of something. The something was I didn’t want to move in with him unless we were going to go forward in our relationship. In fact, if he didn’t see us moving forward, I didn’t see us having a future. Obviously, this affected us in more ways than one.
I told him we needed time apart and I needed time to think. Time away was exactly what I required.
I loved Steve almost as much as I loved Davis. In fact these days, I do love Steve more. And if you had to pick someone to shop with in Europe then Steve would be it.
Steve was like a Staffordshire bull terrier: short, solid muscle, fiercely loyal, a loving family member, but ruthlessly tough and he knew when to stand up for his own territory. In his words: He took no shit! His wardrobe consisted of well-cut jeans and cowboy boots. He never walked anywhere but strode with sexy confidence… gay or not. He headed Brisbane’s top lifestyle public relations company and did wonders for our business. Thanks to him, barely a week went by that one or another of us was not in a publication.
When Davis and I finally got together and Steve found out, he had thrown his arms around me and yelled, ‘Bout bloody time. I was beginning to wonder if he was the poof!’
I loved Thomas equally as much. Although his uber-luxe hair salon, Groove, had quite a celebrity clientele, he still managed to keep all of our tresses styled as well.
Anyway Groove thrived. Whether it was imported beers, or the best herbal tea, or organic coffee and handmade biscuits, alongside the massage chairs and huge plasmas fitted throughout, he was a one man PR team for his own business. Personally, I would pay big money just to have him shampoo and condition my hair. There was something about those big powerful hands cradling my head and giving me the best scalp massage, it was positively erotic. I could moan now even thinking about it.
So back to the trip to Europe… yes I had to go. To be honest I was feeling a little down. Very down in fact. As much as I was excited about the trip to Paris, I knew that I had to do a lot of thinking while I was there.
To lift my mood I had set up appointments with Chanel, Lanvin and Dior. The House of Guerlain awaited my precious skin. Plus I could not miss the opportunity to visit Laduree for possibly the best macaroons and their simply unforgettable thick hot chocolate.
While Steve was at his conference I would have time on my own, a good thing, and when he was finished, we’d play, another good thing!
*
I changed lanes on the Story Bridge, heading towards my mother’s at New Farm. Although it was only a matter of kilometres as the crow flew, as I crossed the Brisbane River, I felt torn between leaving my old life and beginning a new one.
New Farm was not a love of Davis’s, and I could never quite fathom why. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that if we lost a buyer to West End, it was often because they had gone to New Farm. Davis used to say that the New Farmians thought they were better than us. I don’t believe the New Farmians gave it any such thought.
As I veered right at the end of the bridge, I was once again confronted by the huge sign someone had painted that said: The more you think about it the bigger it gets. What I couldn’t help think, and not for the first time, was that every time I saw that sign it reminded me exactly of what I wanted to forget. Blast it!
I turned into Brunswick Street and pulled to a stop at the red light. With a French manicured finger tapping my top lip, for the millionth time, I wondered if there had been any way I could have fought harder. Who was I kidding? The relationship had been exhausted. We had spent long enough throwing the blame back and forth. Finally, it was time to exorcise all and move on.
It was unlike me, because usually I held onto things even after they were broken. As a child, I’d had a teddy called Fella. Even after both of his arms, and then legs, had fallen off, I’d treasured him and taken him everywhere.
‘Come on Peach,’ my dad, Johnny, had insisted, attempting to prise my little fingers off him. ‘Surely it’s time to put Fella to rest.’ However, I could not part with him.
‘I don’t care if he’s broken,’ I had argued, through my tears.
However, my marriage was more than broken. It was shattered into little pieces. One minute I had been young in love and planning a family, the next I was nearing mid-thirties and on my own. Where had my life gone?
Slowing the car, I passed Montgomery’s on the left hand side of the road. I played the game that if there was a car park out front, I would stop for a well needed coffee and have a chat with Chilli, my dear friend and one of the owners. However if there wasn’t, I was meant to head straight to my mother’s. With disappointment, I noticed Montgomery’s was as per usual
