Good Greek Girls Don't (12 page)

Read Good Greek Girls Don't Online

Authors: Georgia Tsialtas

Tags: #Fiction

BOOK: Good Greek Girls Don't
8.93Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
‘Desi? Earth to Desi?'

Who said that? What's going on? Who was rude enough to bring me back to reality and disrupt that wonderful fantasy that I was in the middle of, where Chris was kissing me and slowly laying me down? Okay, given that I have only been out with this guy once, maybe it's a good thing someone interrupted me, especially given that I am at work trying to arrange my team's upcoming training. I don't think they need training in the ups and downs of Desi Delagiannis's love life

‘What?' I think I just bit someone's head off. Well, they shouldn't have interrupted me when I was deep in thought. ‘Sorry, Elaine, what's up?'

‘Phone call – he sounds gorgeous.' There's no way that Elaine would describe one of our customers as gorgeous. It must be Chris! I hope I'm not blushing.

‘Thanks.' Why is she standing right beside me? No way is she listening to this phone call. ‘I can handle it, thanks.' Good thing she gets the hint and walks away.

‘Desi speaking.' I have to be professional just in case it's not Chris.

‘Hi beautiful.' I'm melting.

‘Hi. How are you?' I hate small talk. It should be outlawed. I am just no good at it. Why the hell is the alarm on my computer beeping? Damn, meeting starts in fifteen minutes. Okay, I can have some fun before I go fall asleep in the meeting.

‘Pretty good. Trying to concentrate on some client demands.'

‘Trying, huh? What's swaying your concentration away from clients?'

‘You.'

My cheeks are on fire. Thank God these aren't video phones.

‘I've been avoiding real work and scouring the real estate listings for Ricki and trying to gather up the courage to go into another staff meeting. Someone kept me out until the wee hours of the morning and now I can't concentrate.' Laughter. God his laugh is amazing. But he probably has the privacy of his own office, not a desk in the middle of a call centre, so he doesn't have to watch out for everyone else. At this point in time I really hate my job.

‘What time do you finish work tonight?'

We went through this last night. Don't tell me my amnesia is contagious and he's now starting to forget things.

‘Eight. You still want to meet up?' He better not be cancelling on me.

‘Of course. I thought maybe you would want to come to my place and we could get some take-away and a movie or something.'

Huh? What? No. We can't do that. You're not supposed to do movies and take-away with a person until at least a month has passed. This is something you do when you really know someone, when you're comfortable with them, when you're a couple. Chris and I are not a couple –not yet. Besides, what does this mean? A night in, on a second date? What does he expect to happen tonight if I say yes? No way am I jumping into bed with him on a second date. There is no way that I am putting myself on the line like that.

‘Chris, I …' Oh, God, how do I put this without blowing him off? I don't want him to think that I don't want to get to know him or that I'm not attracted to him, but I can't just jump into bed with him, no matter how tempting it may be. ‘I don't think that would be a really good idea.'

‘Desi, relax, sweetie.'

Oh, that voice is so soothing.

‘Nothing sordid, your virtue is safe with me.'

Smart arse.

‘Just some take-away, maybe a movie and talking. I swear I shall keep my hands to myself all night.'

In a minute he's going to tell me that he swears to God and hopes to die and will stick a needle in his eye. But I wouldn't want him to completely keep his hands to himself. That would be no fun at all. But I can't, it's too soon! Isn't it? I'm so confused. How dare he confuse me when I barely know him. How dare he cause my heart to go thump and my stomach to do spin cycles after only one date. How dare he mess me up so quickly. Doesn't he know that he should wait at least a few weeks before messing with someone's head like this? What to do? What to do? Good Desi is telling me no, don't go, keep Chris at a distance, but Bad Desi is there in the back of my mind whispering, go for it, just do it and enjoy the moment. I wish Bad Desi would shut up. No, I wish Good Desi would take a flying leap out of the nearest window and really let me enjoy the moment. I think I should just lock myself in the nearest monastery and stop listening to the voices in my head. They always get me into trouble anyway.

‘Okay, your place tonight. Give me your address.' Go away Good Desi and let me write down what he is telling me. My conscience is clear. It's just going to be a quiet night at Chris's place, just getting to know each other, and nothing else. It's way too soon for anything else.

‘I will be a perfect gentleman, Des. What time do you reckon you'll be here?'

Don't be too much of a gentleman, Chris. Just enough, a little bit will do. I better not lose this piece of paper, better stick it into my diary. At least he doesn't live too far away.

‘Well, barring any disasters at work I should be there by about twenty past eight.' If anyone causes any disasters at work, not only will the shit will hit the fan but, their heads will be right up there, too.

My computer beeps again, telling me I have five minutes to get to my meeting. I also have to call my mother. I just want to check up on her, make sure she's okay. Something's not right with her. I can't put my finger on it, but I know it's something. ‘Chris, I gotta go, I have to get ready for my meeting.'

‘Yeah, I guess I better do some work, too. See you tonight, babe.' Click and he's gone. Did he just call me babe?

‘Hey Ma.' Took her long enough to answer the phone. ‘What's going on?'

‘Nothing, Despina mou.' Yeah right, from the sound of her voice there is a hell of a lot more than nothing going on.

‘You okay, Ma? You sound funny.' The kids are all yelling at each other in the background and I'll bet any money that Dad has done his usual trick and locked himself in the bloody greenhouse so he won't have to listen to it all.

‘What time is Effie picking up her army tonight?'

‘Desi, quiet when you come home. Babies sleep here tonight, okay.'

Again? Oh, for Christ's sake. So my mother has another sleepless night because every hour on the hour she will be in Effie's and Tas's old rooms making sure the kids are covered, that they are warm enough and that no one is having a nightmare.

‘Ma, when are you finally going to say no to lard arse and force her to raise her own children? Enough, Ma.' I'm really angry now. As soon as I can escape from this meeting Effie is getting a call from me. She's got to see that her selfish behaviour is ageing mum before her time. Ever since Effie started using Mum as her own personal nanny, that little streak of grey in Mum's hair has spread from her fringe to right across her head. The grey is taking over the beautiful jet black hair that she was so proud to never have had to dye.

‘Leave your sister alone, Despina. She needs some help.' And when hasn't Effie needed help? You would think that at her age she would be able to look after herself and her own family.

‘Why, Ma? What's going on now?'

‘Nothing. Don't worry about it. Just leave Effie alone.'

As if that's going to happen. ‘Sure, Ma, I'll leave Effie alone so she can run you into an early grave.' Do I think I will achieve anything by upsetting my mother? I know I won't so I may as well give up trying at this time. ‘I'm going to be late tonight. I'm going out with Chris.' There is absolutely no point in lying to my mother about who I'm seeing tonight. She's been able to see right through me from the moment I was able to open my mouth and attempt a lie.

‘Okay, Desi
mou
. Be careful.'

Another conversation abruptly ended, this time by children screaming in the background. I've got to set my sister straight about the difference between grandparent duty and the abuse of someone's good nature. This has gone on long enough. When Mum and Dad finally retired from work after all those years they were set, they thought now that us kids were old enough they could take the holiday that they always wanted to. Off to Greece for at least six months to see the relatives that they haven't seen in so many years, to enjoy some of the sights of Greece that they took for granted before they emigrated to Australia. I know Mum is hanging to see some of the monasteries and ancient churches in Greece. Mum knows I can look after myself if she and Dad were to go for awhile; hell, I would just land on Tas's doorstep for a feed every couple of days and, besides, I would always have my yiayia right down the hallway. But no, they can't go and enjoy themselves because Effie can't look after her own children so Mum has had to do it instead. No one told Effie to pop out four kids – it was all her choice and now she can't deal with it. Well, it's about time Effie took responsibility for her own life. She chose to marry Old Man Andreas and she chose to open up the baby factory. No one forced her.

I'm hopelessly late for my meeting now. I wonder if there's any point in going at all. I doubt I'll be able to concentrate on anything anyway, what with Chris and the date at his place and all this stuff with Mum and Effie.

But off I trudge, the dutiful employee.

I'm driving down Bay Street in search of the turn-off for Chris's place. I still can't believe I'm doing this. I wonder what sort of place it is. Big or small? Modern or woggy? I guess there's only one way to find out!

I'm dumbstruck. Chris's enormous apartment is beautiful. Inside it's modern but not cold; sleek and clean but still homey and inviting. But that's not the best bit – it has a view of the beach.

When Chris told me he lived in Port Melbourne, I thought he might be within walking distance from the beach but I never thought that he would have a view. The thought never even crossed my mind. I can't wait to tell Ricki about this. Growing up, we would joke about finding rich men and making them buy us neighbouring beachfront properties in Brighton. Well, it's not quite posh, old Brighton but she's off to Ocean Grove and together we'll make sure she's a stone's throw from the beach, and, I may be getting ahead of myself here, but I think I'm going to be spending quite a bit more time here with Chris. But that has nothing to do with the beach view and everything to do with the guy that's providing it.

I can't figure it out, but when I got here tonight it just felt so right. That's insane and I know I better keep these thoughts to myself otherwise Chris will run a mile, but it just felt right. Maybe I am just in lust like Ricki keeps telling me and I'm reading too much into it. Maybe I'm just losing my mind, but in the extremely short time that I have known Chris that's the effect he's having on me. What I do know is that when he opened the door to greet me, I felt such a rush – an unbelievable buzz that I've never experienced before. This is freaky.

‘Your wine, Des.' Huh, where did he come from? There I go, lost in my thoughts yet again.

‘Thanks. Dinner was lovely.' And it was. Chris's idea of a take-away dinner wasn't fish and chips or a pizza. He had bought the loveliest Thai food and a bottle of wine. Actually I better take it easy on the wine, given that I have to drive home.

I can't get over everything here. I mean, this is not a typical Greek guy's home. A typical Greek guy lives at home with his parents and has everything done for him by his doting mother, in a house that's an ode to the Acropolis just like my place. But here he is, living away from home and by the looks of things doing a pretty good job of it. The apartment is neat and tidy and not just because Chris was expecting me. I can tell the difference between a place that was just cleaned up to impress and a place that generally has everything in it's place. And there is no way the decorations were inspired by the Parthenon.

We're sitting on a small balcony that looks right over the road and onto the beach. There's a decent-sized courtyard out the back but the balcony is so much better. I can't quite believe I'm here. This is not something that happens to me – this is something out of a trashy romance novel, not a page in the life of Desi Delagiannis.

Other books

The Beast by Anders Roslund, Börge Hellström
Tiger Bay Blues by Catrin Collier
The Reality Conspiracy by Joseph A. Citro
Rue Toulouse by Debby Grahl
Stan Musial by George Vecsey