Passers-by turned to stare at the Mercedes convertible gliding through the traffic. Christina felt self-conscious. No one ever stopped to stare at her in her ten-year-old hatchback. At the traffic lights, Jackson turned up the volume on The Rolling Stones and all anyone who cared to look could see was a crazy blond guy hooting along in his sympathies for the devil as he played the drum track on the steering wheel. Jackson seemed immune to the attention.
She closed her eyes and felt the sun warm her cheeks. Imagine what it would be like living this life? To be so wealthy that she’d never again have to stress about childcare fees or the mortgage repayments. To be one of those people she read about in magazines who rented a villa in Tuscany for the summer or went skiing in Japan each January. Today’s destination was lovely but not quite so exotic. Not that she had any complaints about Freshwater Beach.
The sign on the front gate said the graceful timber building had started life as tearooms in the 1880s. The work of local artists hung on every available wall and through the open windows an aqua sea broke in arched waves along the shore.
‘Mr Plummer, how lovely to see you again!’ The maître d’ fussed around Jackson, snapping his fingers at a scurrying waiter. ‘Show Mr Plummer and his guest to his usual table.’
They had barely been seated when a platter of bread, olives and a chunk of parmesan arrived at their table. The waiter presented an ice bucket with a bottle of sparkling water to Jackson.
‘Would you prefer vino?’ Jackson asked, although the waiter had already begun clearing the excess glasses.
‘No, no, that’s fine.’ Christina assumed he was being sensible because he was driving. He was probably right, best to keep a clear head.
She ate whilst Jackson shared stories from his recent trip to Vietnam. It turned out he owned a large apartment in a converted colonial building right in the centre of Hanoi. ‘You and Bianca should go and stay there sometime,’ he offered, sliding through the photos on his phone. ‘No one uses it when I’m not there. Sarah hates the humidity.’
By the main course, he was sharing his vision for the future of TBK. The truth was, most of it went over her head. The numbers were so large it sounded like Monopoly money. But it was a significant shift from the scattered conversations she had with Della and Mary-Lou on Friday nights between the constant interruptions of six kids, and light years from Jamie’s obsessive talk about the state of the Australian music industry.
By the time the coffees were ordered, Jackson appeared to have exhausted his topic. Christina prepared herself to discuss the comparative merits of various whitegoods or find out if he’d finally decided on a colour for the feature wall in the lounge. What she wasn’t expecting was, ‘Are you married?’
She’d known Jackson for over four months. It seemed odd to be asking this now. ‘Not any more,’ she answered. The thing was, Jackson and Christina moved in completely different circles. Chances were, the moment this project was finished they’d never see each other again. What difference did her marital status make?
‘So you’ve just got Bianca?’ Jackson selected a petit four, sniffed it and returned it to the plate.
Christina nodded, chose a small chocolate and popped it in her mouth.
Jackson pointed at the plate, indicating Christina could have the second chocolate if she liked. He didn’t need to offer twice. ‘She’s the spitting image of you, isn’t she?’
If Christina had a dollar for every time someone had said this. She couldn’t see it herself. When she looked at Bianca she saw Rosa. ‘Bee’s actually a lot more like her grandmother. We just have the same hair.’
‘And you’d be hard-pressed to create perfection twice,’ he winked.
His flirtation rippled over her.
Jackson drained the dregs of his coffee, signalled for two more. ‘It must be hard being a single mum. Do you get much downtime?’
Christina laughed. ‘Socialising isn’t exactly high on my agenda.’ Although Della was always offering to babysit. Nagging her to take some ‘me time’. ‘Book a facial, go to a movie,’ she’d say. But the thing was, visits to the beautician or a trip to the movies cost money.
‘Doesn’t your ex have her on weekends?’
Christina shifted under Jackson’s scrutiny. She made it a policy not to badmouth Jamie and never in front of Bianca. The last thing she wanted to be was one of those bitter and twisted women who constantly bitched about their ex. However, there was a big difference between badmouthing and glossing over the truth. How could she admit to a man like Jackson that she’d married an aspiring rock star? So she kept it simple, saying, ‘He works shifts so he sees her when he can.’
‘More fool him. He’ll live to regret that decision.’
Christina wasn’t sure about that. It did, however, narrow the opportunities for Jamie to be a bad influence.
‘Maybe one day you’ll meet Mr Right and you can have more little carbon copy CCs,’ Jackson laughed, signalling for the bill.
Christina blushed. If she had the emotional and economic security a man like Jackson offered, she might very well be the mother of a tribe of children. But she kept her response neutral. ‘It’s hard being an only child when you’re growing up. I used to beg my parents for a baby sister. People think you’re spoilt but I’m not sure that’s true. For Bianca’s sake I wish she had a sibling.’
Jackson leaned forward and laid his hand alongside hers, whispering, ‘Your ex is an idiot.’
Christina crossed her legs, fiddled with her coffee cup, vain attempts to squash her feelings. Please God he hadn’t noticed. It had been that long since she’d had sex, it was clouding her judgement. The last time was with a blind date Della had set up. From the moment Christina had split up with Jamie, Della had smothered her with dinner invitations and play dates for Bianca with her daughter Izzy. Della found Christina’s loneliness unbearable. Anyway, the date was a failure. Maybe it was because she and Jamie had only been separated for six months and it was too soon. She only slept with the guy out of pity, for him or for her she wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t a huge success. He was cute and far from incompetent, so it must have been her fault. Or maybe it was because the last time she had had sex with Jamie, ever, was before Bianca was born. Their marriage was already dead by then. Twenty-eight years old and she’d been laid twice in three years. Pathetic by anyone’s standards.
‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’ she blurted out, crossing her legs against desire.
Jackson leaned back in his chair. ‘An older brother, Teddy.’
‘Are you close?’
‘When we were kids we were. We surfed together most days. It was actually Teddy who started the business. Back then, he was a screen printer and he used to make these pretty cool T-shirts he’d flog at the markets.’
Christina nodded and waited.
‘Sarah was pregnant with Simon and I was holding down three jobs trying to keep body and soul together. I needed to make some serious moolah. Anyway, a couple of the local surf shops wanted to stock his shirts and Teddy was like, “Yeah, whatever, mate.” Here he was sitting on a potential goldmine and he was blowing it up in smoke, literally. Drove me nuts.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘You can’t work with someone who’s half cut all the time. There was this huge gap in the market, ours for the taking, but to Teddy it was just dope money. So in the end I bought him out, replaced him with some kids straight out of college. Our boys had started school by then so Sarah came on board and together we took TBK from the garage to the world.’
Jackson’s story had the smooth delivery of being often told. Christina wondered what else was going on. ‘What happened to Teddy?’
Jackson waved away her question. ‘When he’s not surfing, he’s sitting on the front porch smoking dope and solving the problems of the world with the old man. They’re both pissheads, they deserve each other.’
It sounds like harsh judgement to Christina’s ears. ‘And your mum?’
Jackson stared out over the ocean. ‘Shirley racked off years ago. Couldn’t stand the mean old bastard for another second so she packed up and left us to it.’
Christina followed the line of his gaze to where surfers bobbed on the swell, thick as summer flies. It was the first time she’d seen Jackson be less than charming. There was a whole other story here, one where Jackson had been hurt.
The faraway look in Jackson’s eyes disappeared. ‘Yeah well, I see Teddy does all right. He’s got nothing to complain about.’ He snapped open the bill and signed the chit.
Christina regretted the awkward end to the conversation. She’d read somewhere that successful people often came from unhappy backgrounds, that this was what drove them. It was clear that Jackson’s childhood had been far from perfect, but then without it, would he be the man he was today?
She excused herself and went to the bathroom. ‘He just wanted someone to have lunch with,’ she pouted, applying her lipstick. She spritzed perfume and smoothed her skirt, unable to contain the deep sigh of frustration. ‘You’re such an idiot, Clemente,’ she told her reflection, ‘he’s a client.’ She walked out of the restaurant feeling that she had regained her composure, but as she fastened her seatbelt Jackson placed his hand over hers and whispered, ‘Can we go somewhere private?’
Fumbling for her keys, Christina worried how tidy her flat was and when she’d last changed the sheets. As the key turned in the lock, Jackson reached around her and pushed open the door, kicking it shut behind them with his heel. Before Christina knew what was happening, he had wrapped his arms around her and his mouth melted into hers as he kissed her again and again.
Her reaction shocked her. She had expected an urgent, rough coupling that rubbed hard at the nub of desire. Not this. Not slow kisses that squeezed her throat shut and forced her breath out in shudders. Her eyelids fluttered open and she saw he was staring at her, the blue of his irises eclipsed by the pupils. She let the curve of his body anchor her to the cool wall, inhaling the intoxicating scent rising off his skin.
She was so aroused that tension screamed inside her. The loneliness and longing swirling between them felt so real she could reach out and touch it. Jackson’s mouth against hers filled her body with waves of sticky heat. Her legs trembled, anticipating his bare skin pressed against her, the contour of his muscles, the moment when he would be inside her. She struggled against the urge to rip off her clothes and absorb him into her like rain on a parched earth.
He pressed his elbows beside her head, his expression agonised, his breath coming in short rasps. Christina waited for him to kiss her again and, as she waited, the air cooled.
‘I have to go.’ Jackson pushed off the wall and raked his fingers through his hair.
‘What? Why?’ Christina clutched her blouse together at her breast, aware now of how her skirt skewed around her waist, that her thighs were slick from where his fingers had been.
‘I can’t stay,’ Jackson said as he tucked his shirt back into his jeans.
‘But you can’t go now!’
Jackson groaned. ‘Oh God, don’t do this to me, CC. I want nothing more than to fuck you inside out but we can’t.’
‘What do you mean we can’t?’
‘This will never work.’ He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. ‘Don’t you understand? This is so wrong. People who don’t deserve it will be hurt, you included.’ He touched her face, his eyes shiny with tears. ‘I’m an all or nothing kind of guy, CC. If we sleep together, it means I’m putting my whole life on the line for you.’
Christina had thought no further than hot sweaty sex with this man and now he was standing there, his cheeks wet with tears, talking of something much bigger. She went to touch him but Jackson recoiled. ‘Don’t, CC, please. This is hard enough.’
Shocked and humiliated, she buttoned her blouse and straightened her skirt. Searching for a skerrick of dignity, she said, ‘What do you want from me, Jackson?’
He kissed her hairline and placed his forehead against hers. ‘Don’t be mad, darling girl. Can’t you tell I’m crazy about you? I think I’m in love with you. And I so want you to feel the same way about me, but . . . this way I’ll just hurt you.’
Her throat was too swollen and rough with emotion to answer. She trembled with the effort not to cry.
Jackson rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. ‘I’m going now. You need to think this through, okay? I know I’m asking a lot of you, CC, but if you’re sure you want this too, I promise I’ll be back.’ He kissed her forehead and turned to leave. At the door he paused. ‘We’d be fantastic together, CC, you do know that, don’t you?’ A grin shadowed his face and he vanished, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell.
The downstairs door clicked shut but Christina kept listening, hoping he’d return and say he’d made a mistake. Her body ached from his touch, his scent wafted over her when she moved. She traced his passage over her hips and between her thighs. All she had wanted was to be naked and consumed by him; instead he had left her wound up tight with misery. She slid to the floor, desperate and empty.
In the days and weeks that followed, that afternoon haunted her. In the darkness of her bedroom, she wished the hands pleasuring her were his. It wasn’t about Jackson, she told herself, he was just the first guy she’d been attracted to since Jamie. Lack of sex had made her frantic. But oh how her insides ached, tormenting her, and in her heart she knew the torment would stay until Jackson soothed it away.
Jackson said he didn’t want a casual fling but how could it ever be more? It was easy to say that he was the one contemplating adultery, not her, but he was also right when he said that innocent people would get hurt. To avoid the issue, she scheduled her site visits around when she knew his routine took him away but replayed his voicemail messages over and over. He never referred to that day. He’d said the choice was hers. If she wanted him, she could have him, but she had to take all of him, in the full knowledge she was party to the sin. Her decision.
Christina sang Bianca ‘You Are My Sunshine’, tucking the covers around her and smoothing her curls when she was done. She kissed Bianca on her darling little nose, kissed Bluey Baa-Baa’s nose too, and reminded herself of her priorities. Life came with no guarantees. If Jackson was around for a while and then gone, how would Bianca feel? She’d always been determined that Bianca would not grow up with a series of ‘uncles’. A discreet fling was one thing because it could be conducted without Bianca’s knowledge. A relationship? All good reasons to stay away from Jackson Plummer. The risks were too great. But all her good intentions came to nothing. It began with the late night phone calls.
‘Hey CC, what are you doing?’ No hellos, there was no need. No one else ever rang after nine. No one else had that low easy drawl.
‘Not much. I’ve just put Bee back to bed. She had a nightmare and now I’m watching the news.’
‘She okay?’
‘Fine. Just shattered after a day with Jamie. He never remembers her nap and she ends up overwrought. But she can sleep in tomorrow.’
‘Mmmm. Ashleigh’s snuggled in bed with me. We were watching a movie but she’s passed out. And she weighs a ton.’
Christina smiled at the image of father and daughter snuggling under the doona.
‘Anything exciting on this weekend?’
‘Not really. Bee has her swimming lesson on Saturday morning. What about you?’
‘Sport all day Saturday. Sarah and I drive halfway across Sydney for those bloody kids. Friends are coming over for lunch on Sunday. We’re going to test out that new deck of yours,’ he chuckled.
She held her breath, so alive to him she wanted to scream.
‘I miss you, CC,’ he whispered.
Christina’s heart thudded in her ears.
‘Did you hear me, CC?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, ‘I heard you.’ And hung up before she said something she might regret.
For weeks this went on, although it felt like an eternity. Christina kept her promise. She never rang Jackson and she was never alone with him on site. But night after night, she lay in her bed, edgy and disappointed. Jackson had switched on something inside her. She tried her hardest to ignore it but it seemed staying away from Jackson only served to make him loom larger in her imagination.
Christina welcomed Christmas with Rosa and Massimo, as much for the opportunity to spend time with her parents as the chance to escape. The Plummer project was finished. Whilst she and Bianca spent twelve days caught up with life on the farm, the Plummers would be enjoying the festive season in the lavish and tasteful home of her creation. Christina and Jackson had no reason to see each other, nothing more to talk about, and she would be free. She returned to Sydney in the new year hopeful and determined that life would return to normal.
She hadn’t counted on Jamie though. Bianca returned from her father’s one day looking completely miserable.
‘Busy Bee, why the long face?’ she asked as Bianca folded herself onto Christina’s lap and concentrated on rubbing her hair between her fingers.
‘Sweetheart?’ Christina untangled the hair and held Bianca’s fingers still.
Every time Bianca spent time with her dad, she came home in a mood. Jamie’s schedule was chaotic and the lack of routine upset her. Now aged three, Bianca had a better sense that her father had no idea what to do with her. From Christina’s point of view, she thought Jamie tried either too hard or not at all. Whichever way it played out, after one of her visits, Bianca retreated to her bedroom, finding her centre by chatting to her dolls or humming tunelessly as she drew. Being that little bit older seemed to have made Bianca more aware of the tensions between her parents and increased her anxiety.
Bianca squirmed and sighed. ‘I hate Summer.’
Today had been hot. Christina ran her hands over Bianca, checking for signs of sunburn or a temperature. ‘Are you thirsty?’ she said, reaching for a glass of water on the side table. Bianca shook her head.
‘She smokes and I’m not a baby,’ Bianca’s forehead creased with indignation.
Summer was a person. A person Christina had never heard of. ‘Who’s Summer?’ she asked, her tone conversational, her heart murderous.
‘Daddy’s girlfriend.’
Now this was news and news Christina would have preferred to have heard straight from Jamie. Biting back her irritation, she said, ‘Well I’ll talk to Daddy. She’s not allowed to smoke around you. But she’s nice otherwise?’
Bianca kicked at the chair leg – kick, kick, kick – Christina held her, waiting.
‘We made peanut butter cookies but they got burnt.’
‘You and Daddy?’
‘No. Me and Summer.’
‘So where was Daddy?’
Bianca shrugged. ‘With Vince.’
Vince from the band, the band Jamie persisted in believing was on the verge of its big break.
Christina hugged Bianca tight, glad she was safe, but the urge to protect burned hot inside her, fuelled by Jamie’s wilful neglect. No one but Jamie would leave his small child with a complete stranger whilst he waltzed off somewhere. Anything could have happened to Bianca. God knows what other filthy habits this Summer had.
Christina lifted Bianca to her feet. ‘C’mon, Bee. Let’s run you a big bubbly bath.’
As Bianca stripped, Christina swooped on her clothes, depositing them straight into the washing machine. She shook the contents of Bianca’s overnight bag on top and threw in Bluey Baa-Baa as well. Adding a liberal dose of nappy wash, she turned on the machine then washed Bianca from head to toe, ignoring her complaints.
To make up for Jamie’s neglect, Christina read Bianca The Gruffalo a third time without being asked and finished it even though Bianca was already asleep. Tucking her in, Christina retreated to the kitchen and poured a generous slug of wine. She was sick to death of Jamie. He got away with paying no child support because he was paid cash for gigs and the guitar lessons he taught. He’d never turn down a gig but he was more than happy to abandon Bianca at short notice. Other men had serious jobs and were still better fathers. There was Della’s Tony, an investment banker, and Mary-Lou’s husband Brian was a paediatrician yet managed to be hands-on to three boisterous girls. She’d seen Jackson and the way he was with his little girl. All at once she felt overwhelmed by the injustices of life. Poor Bianca, missing out on what other children took for granted. Tears slid down her cheeks as she admitted to herself she was lonely. For the twelve days at Christmas, Rosa and Massimo had spoilt them rotten, then they had to come home to this. Not for the first time, Christina wished her parents lived in the next suburb instead of Tassie. She was sick to death of how hard it was doing everything on her own.
That’s all it took for her to call Jackson. Christina picked up the phone and dialled his number. He answered on the second ring. She poured her heart out, he listened. ‘Take a day off work tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’ll come round.’
She didn’t so much step over the line as charge over it.
When Jackson walked in the next day carrying lattes and patisserie éclairs, the coffees went cold and the cream from the éclairs ended up smeared between her breasts. He talked dirty whilst he explored her body, creating fantasies about where they were and who was watching. It was a bit weird at first but when he laughed at himself, she laughed too. Unlike Jamie, he wasn’t interested in black lace and suspenders; he wanted her naked beneath her clothes, always available. ‘It turns me on,’ he said, ‘knowing I only have to run my hand up your skirt to find heaven.’
Week after week, she dripped with desire, desperate to see him again; curious to find out what Jackson had dreamed up for their next encounter. One day it was a roll of black plastic and a bottle of olive oil. Another, she watched her first porno movie. The ménage à trois made her squirm but she still went down on him like he asked as he played it again.
One day he arrived empty-handed. She wore a sundress with no bra, acutely aware how her dark nipples showed through the thin fabric, aroused when she saw him noticing. He slid the shoestring straps from her shoulders, kissed the top of her breasts, rested his hands on her hips and rocked her into him. He whispered in her ear what he wanted her to do. She flushed and shook her head no, unable to meet his gaze.
‘It’ll bring us closer,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘It’s a sign you trust me.’
‘I can’t,’ she said but her resolve was weaker than her ardour. Jackson persisted with his kisses but stayed above the dress line, hands firm on her hips, rocking her, persuading her, arousing her until she submitted.
‘Can I leave my dress on?’
‘No.’
Her hands shook as she wriggled out of the dress and reluctantly let it slide to the floor. Her skin tingled as Jackson appraised her body. For weeks he had pushed the boundaries of what pleasured her. Sex with Jackson was electric, but this request made the shyness return. Naked, she climbed onto the bed and, unsure how to start, she fussed with the pillows.
‘Spread your legs, I want to see everything,’ Jackson said.
She did as she was told. Embarrassment made her shiver with goosebumps, he fully dressed at the end of the bed whilst she lay naked before him. In a low voice he guided her hands over her body, instructing her, his voice mesmerising. Her cheeks burned with desire but she wanted him inside her, not left to finish by herself. He kept her coiled tight, playing with her body under his direction. She was desperate to climax in the hope he would then come to her. When she did, it was a frustrating hollow spasm. Christina felt exposed and curled away from him. Jackson lay down beside her and stroked her spine.
He kissed her earlobe, whispering, ‘I knew you would do that for me.’
Christina turned to him and strained for a kiss but Jackson pulled away. Taking her hand, he led her into the bathroom.
Running the shower, he drew her into the warm water. He soaped her breasts, ran slippery hands over her stomach, pressed into her until she ached with wanting. Leaning against the shower wall, she arched her back, willing him inside her. Jackson turned her around and soaped her neck and shoulders. His hands slid down her back and over her buttocks, prising her legs apart. Christina arched, a silent yearning for him to take her. When he did, she screamed. ‘No!’
‘Shush,’ he whispered, covering her mouth, smothering her shock and pain. ‘Shush,’ he said again as if quietening a frightened child. He pushed further into her and to her surprise, the pain soon eased. All the time he kept whispering how good she felt, how hot she made him, and she came when he did.
Despite having been married, Christina didn’t know if this was what normal couples did. She had never had a proper boyfriend at school. She was too shy to do much more than kiss. The boyfriend before Jamie had turned out to be gay. Christina had been his attempt at figuring that out. Needless to say, the sex had not been worth mentioning. Jamie came along and he was so cool. Everyone said they were such a good-looking couple. Up until now she had thought their sex life had been fine, not part of the reason they’d split up, although Jamie’s antisocial hours and boozy habits often meant they were ships in the night. But sex with Jackson was a whole other experience. He was pushing her out of her comfort zone, challenging her to understand what her body was capable of. It was scary and thrilling and it was the best sex she’d ever had.
But one question gnawed at her. Christina didn’t know how to ask Jackson and kept putting it off. Finally, on a day he had surprised her with a purple dildo, she built up the courage to ask. ‘Have you ever done this stuff with Sarah?’ She gestured to the dildo but she meant all of it.
Jackson laughed. ‘Never. I told you, Sarah’s a cold fish. You, on the other hand, are a natural.’
Of course, she was flattered and his compliment had a powerful impact on her. Christina couldn’t recall Jamie ever telling her she was good in bed. Not beyond the ‘That was great, babe’ kind of comment. Nothing that ever went further than skin deep. Whereas one word from Jackson and she knew she would do everything he ever asked of her. She would be the woman who brought him pleasure.
She never shared the details with Della. Partly because it was an intimacy too far and partly because Christina knew Della disapproved. She made it clear right from the start that she wanted no details of Christina’s relationship.
‘You’ve never even met him. Why don’t you like him?’ Christina pressed her.
‘Because he’s married and he will hurt you.’
Christina laughed. ‘Don’t worry, Della. It’s not like that.’
Della gave her a sorrowful look. ‘All I want is for you to be happy.’
‘I am happy, Della. Jackson is the best thing that has ever happened to me.’
Della handed her a glass of wine, her fingers lingering on the stem, reluctant to let go. ‘Can’t you see? It’s the wrong kind of happiness.’