On the walk back, Jo had been doing some thinking of her own. She was in a foreign land. No one here knew her. Even her Mum wasn't around to nag her to death about her poor life choices.
She was here for the life of the job; that was the deal. She knew it had taken them years to chase down Memo; seven? years. But this job was a little more cut and dried; it shouldn't have a timetable like that. So maybe six months tops and she would be going home.
Should she consider Sean a foreign affair? Something exotic she would never normally go near. It was against all her usual working rules; and they worked... well at least they had for her for the last few years.
She suspected he was interested in her; he was flirty and she had seen evidence of an actual physical reaction to her. Oh my; she actually held her hand over her chest at the memory of that image.
She knew gossip travelled faster than the speed of light, but would it make it all the way back to Sydney? Probably. She sighed.
The rules were different for women. It was unfair, but it was just the way it was. She couldn't change it. Slutty guys were never criticised, but slutty girls...? She had worked so hard to get where she was. Would one fling with a partner ruin her record for life? Ruin all her hard work?
And what about how they worked together? Would it affect that? Was it better just to not go there?
She had a memory flash of Sean in the towel. A hot flush travelled through her whole body at that image. She literally smacked herself in the head. Stop it! He's your partner. So she was NOT going there...
Her thoughts had carried her right back to the office. She could see his broad back hunched over his desk. D was sitting in her chair. She placed his coffee next to his hand, patted him on the arm, froze, blushed and snatched it back. She really had to stop doing that.
D cleared his throat, "Well I got calls t' make. See ya later. Have a good day, Jo." He smiled and left the chair out for her.
"Thanks D." She smiled at him and patted his arm too. "How's Candace? Everything good?"
He stopped in the doorway. "Oh, shit! I almost forgot. She wanted to know if you'd like to go shopping this weekend?"
"Omigod!" she squealed. Jo almost bounced in place. "I would LOVE to go shopping with Candace. Can she pick me up? Should I pick her up?"
"Cool! Yeah she has no problem driving, yet." He chuckled. "You'll have to put up with Rachel, though. I got things..."
Sean's head came up and he frowned at D. He had a feeling that he'd said that on purpose. Give them a chance to talk more.
"Speaking of cars; we should go pick up yours, Jo." He stood up and grinned a bit. "Thanks for the coffee."
Jo clenched her fists, held them in front of her body, shook them and made an indescribable noise of happiness; it was kind of like a 'squee' noise. "Ohhh," she said, "Fashion AND a car." She made that noise again.
Sean looked at her like she was crazy and snorted. "Women!" But he laughed.
They went down to the motor pool and he steered her to the cage where the attendant was waiting. "I was beginning to think you were a myth, sweetheart. This car's been sitting here waiting." He handed her the keys and told them which row and slot.
Sean was correct; it was inconspicuous. A dark grey Caprice, 4-door sedan. Very blah. But it was clean and the tank was full. They got in, and she looked over the console. It felt weird to sit on the wrong side of the car. She adjusted the seat and the mirrors for her height.
She muttered to herself, "I am never going to get used to this."
Sean snickered. "You gotta put the key in the ignition if you wanna turn it on."
She rolled her eyes and gave him the Duh look. He just grinned.
"Make yourself useful," she reprimanded him. "Weren't you going to program my thingamybob... wadjamacallit..." [aussie words for when you can't think of what something is called]
"GPS, yeah." He did, putting in work, her address and on a whim, D's home address, too. Then he figured what the hell and added his own. "it's voice activated; all you have to do is say the name."
"All right, Mr Navigator... where to now? Oh, weren't you going to give me some fashion advice?"
"Uh, right. Head out and make a left. Don't forget... stay in the right lane."
"I'll try not to. Why do you drive on the wrong side anyway? Just wanted to be different to the English?"
"I have no fuckin' clue." He snorted. "Who cares?"
"I suppose," she conceded. "As long as I don't forget."
He looked at her appraisingly and fastened his seatbelt. She rolled her eyes again; he never bothered with a seatbelt in his own car. "Shit stirrer," she muttered at him.
"What?" He looked puzzled and slightly insulted.
"Shopping," she reminded him. Although the thought of any man telling her what to wear, made her feel slightly queasy.
"What did you just say?" He repeated. "Sometimes I really think we don't speak the same language."
"You were going to show me what clothes I should wear, so I look the part... remember?" He still looked confused. "And a 'shit stirrer' is someone who is teasing, I suppose... taking the piss? Is that right?"
"Oh, 'talking shit'. Why'nt you just say so?"
She whacked him in the shoulder with her hand. "Stop it!"
"Stop what?" he asked innocently. But he couldn't keep his lips from twitching. "You need to make another left up here. Next intersection."
They made it to the freeway with no problems. Jo merged into the traffic. She made a small nervous noise. She couldn't help it; the traffic was moving so fast.
"Which lane should I be in?"
"Just stay to the right." He actually touched her shoulder, just laying his hand on her briefly.
"Your exit will be on the right."
"Give me lots of warning," she pleaded.
"No problem, lots of big green signs." He pointed overhead to the one they were passing under.
"Okay then." She gave a nervous giggle. He had touched her. She also noticed that he had refrained from smoking. Had he lit up at all this morning? "But which sign am I looking for?"
"The one that says West Century Boulevard. It's a few miles. Relax. You're doing fine."
"I can do this," she told herself aloud. She risked a quick glance at Sean. "You shouldn't be so smug," she said. "One day you might have to drive in Sydney." Dear God! What had made her say that? It made it sound like he might be visiting her one day.
"You inviting me?" He growled. He was grinning. And that sparkle was in his eye.
"Ahh..." No, she had nothing.
He laughed aloud. "Stirring shit again?"
"Jeez, get it right... shit stirring," she corrected him. He just laughed louder.
"Whatever." Then he checked the road; he really should pay attention to where they were. "Your exit's coming up."
"Thanks. Which way after that?" He pointed out the streets as they moved further from the freeway and into the poorer neighbourhoods.
"I had a Volkswagon for a while and the indicator is on the other side. For months after I got rid of it, I kept turning the windscreen wipers on when I wanted to turn." She glanced at him quickly, he looked wary.
"Left side in this car and most American ones." he mumbled. He was watching the streets now. Just like the other day.
"Here. Pull over here." He indicated a wide open spot. She parked the car and made a little happy noise, as if she was pleased with herself.
"See, you survived," he laughed at her. "Now, let's see if I do." He pointed at the store two doors down. There was a big man slouched on a lawn chair under the crooked awning beside the open door.
Jo looked over the store with some trepidation. The whole place looked a little rickety. Even the front door looked temporary; as if it had been replaced recently. She gave Sean a worried look. "Here? Really?"
"Yup." He headed inside.
She sighed. She suspected if she wanted to do this job right, that most of her clothes could have stayed in the suitcase. She tried to comfort herself with the thought that she could dress up to go shopping with Candace. She was actually looking forward to it. With a last glance around the street, she followed Sean into the shop.
He was already pulling things off the racks, tossing them haphazardly over his arm. As soon as she caught up, he thrust an armful of bright cloth at her. "Here, try these." He looked up. "You can change in the back."
She took the armful and followed the hand lettered sign to the change room. It looked like it was used to store stuff. They had got really thrifty with the curtain; it barely lay flat and left large gaps at the side.
She tried on a pair of Capri pants. "Jesus God," she swore. "These are so tight I swear you can see my appendix scar!"
"Lemme see." His growl was right on the other side of the curtain.
"Wait a sec... how did you know what size I was?" She pulled the curtain back and glared at him suspiciously. She had momentarily forgotten about the tightness of the pants.
"Good guess?" He grinned. "And three sisters."
"Uh-huh."
He shrugged. "They look good. Try a couple of the tops." After she vanished back inside, he asked, "When did you have your appendix out?"
She faltered; was he making conversation? "Ah... I was three... nearly died...spent ten days in hospital... they didn't work out what it was until too late...I was on my grandfather's property... had to send the Flying Doctor."
"Ruptured, huh?" He rumbled. "I lost a cousin 'cause of that. Had no insurance and never went to the hospital. Collapsed on the street."
"It's a problem round here, isn't it? Poor medical services?" She was chatting through the curtain while she tried a top on. No, this one needed a different bra, the cleavage was a bit low for what she was wearing.
"In some areas. What's taking so long?"
"Did you want me to flash you?" She paused. "Christ... don't answer that."
"What's the problem?" Now he was growling.
"Wrong bra," she tried to explain.
"Oh, for Christ's sake! Just take it off!" He was beginning to sound aggravated.
She supposed that would work. She peeled her bra off down her arms without taking the top off. She studied herself in the mirror. Not so bad. She needed the growl of approval though. She pulled open the curtain. "How's this? If this one is okay I can just get more of the same..."
He just stood there for a minute with his mouth open. Then a wide smile creased his face. "Oh, Yeah!" He turned and almost ran back into the racks. "More pants!" He yelled over a shoulder.
Jo watched him go. "Guess that one is in the 'buy' pile," she said to herself. She went back into the tiny alcove to try on a different top. "Eep," she muttered. That one would go in her 'never in a million years' pile.
Sean arrived with a stack of pants. Without thinking, he pushed them through the curtain. "Here, try these." His eyes almost fell out of his head at the top she had on. "Oh, my... Damn!" Suddenly realizing he had his head in the dressing room, he gulped. "Sorry!" and jerked back outside.
"I didn't mean that. I was just having fun. I never realized clothes shopping could be fun." Now he was babbling.
Jo snorted behind the curtain. Maybe he could be taught some new tricks. She chuckled and grabbed the next pair of pants. Leopard print? Really? They didn't leave much to the imagination either. She would seriously have to go commando to wear these, unless she had her thong hanging out the top and she hated that look.
She wandered out to show Sean. "If I sit down in these, half my ass is going to hang out."
"Great!" He replied without thinking. "Uh, I mean that's okay. You'll really distract the subject, then." He looked at her ass. "Um, don't take this wrong, but I think we need to get you some different undies, too. Those panties are't gonna work." He frowned. "Or you could just go without?"
Jo was looking down thinking about shoes. "Yeah, that's what I thought," she commented thoughtlessly, looked up, met Sean's eyes, blushed and ran back into the dressing room.
She heard his breath whoosh out. "I need some air", he squeaked. He ran out of the store.
She was banging her head against the wall. She needed some air, too. She grabbed the first pants and top; added a plain black pair that was the same brand so she didn't need to try it on. She faltered at the backless glomesh top. She thought of Sean's reaction and put it on the pile. She was going straight to Hell... She just threw in another red top.
So she had three outfits. That should be enough. Her shoes would do for the minute and she could do some shoe shopping on the weekend. Shoes made her happy. She carried it all to the register.