Always, in December(79)



The house was a little stuffy, like no windows had been open in a while, the living room the man led them to untidy, stacks of books overflowing the bookshelf into piles on the floor, the wooden table in the middle of the room, between two mismatched armchairs, covered in coffee ring stains. There was no TV, though an expensive computer sat in one corner on a wooden desk, the keyboard buried under bits of paper. The walls were bare, apart from one photograph above the little fireplace—a murky river, surrounded in reeds, with the eyes of a crocodile just visible over the water, staring out at them. Josie felt a little shiver run down her spine at the sight of it—both for the photo and the moment of it, the intensity.

“Suppose you’ll all be wanting a drink, will you?” Geoff asked, his voice practically a growl.

“That would be great.” Max seemed to be trying hard to make his voice overly friendly, a direct contradiction to his friend. He was good at it, when he wanted to be—that charm that he sometimes seemed to hide behind. “Coffee?”

    Geoff shook his head. “Only got tea, and the straight kind. Coffee gives me an upset stomach.”

“Tea it is then,” Max said.

“I’d love a tea,” Erin said. Then all three of them looked at Josie.

“Yes, tea would be lovely, thanks.” She fixed a bright smile to her face, which Geoff didn’t return. He didn’t ask how they took it, only glided out through the door, into the kitchen presumably.

Max sat himself on one of the armchairs, slouching, looking completely at home, and Erin perched on the arm next to him, saying nothing. Josie let her gaze travel around the room, resting on two big hardback books on the desk by the computer. The one on top looked like it was a collection of wildlife photography. Josie took a step toward it, and felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

I’m sorry!!! I only just plugged my phone in. Where are you??? I can be ready in five.

Josie shook her head as she read the WhatsApp, and was about to reply when Geoff reappeared, surprisingly quickly. He handed them each a mug—Josie’s was the yellow one you got with the Mini Eggs Easter egg.

“It’s black,” he said, in a voice that strongly suggested not to contest that. “No milk in the house. I’m lactose intolerant.” He plopped himself in the other armchair, wrapping both hands around his own mug. With the only two seats now taken, Josie could only hover awkwardly. Erin shot her an encouraging look, though Josie had no idea why.

    “Josie,” said Max, “this is the friend I told you about. Geoffrey Gilligan.” He gestured to Geoff and Josie smiled politely, though she had no recollection of Max mentioning a particular friend to her. “Geoffrey,” continued Max, “this is Josie. The girl I mentioned.”

Geoffrey Gilligan…The name sprang to life in her mind, and her gaze snapped to the photography book on the desk, the crocodile eyes on the wall. A memory of that Brooklyn bar, of Max telling her that he had a good photographer friend, that he could introduce her, if she liked. Josie sucked in a breath, looked at the man. “You’re Geoffrey Gilligan?” She lurched toward him, stretching out a hand.

“That’s what he just said, isn’t it?” He took her hand, his grip firm and strong. He looked like he was still frowning, though she wasn’t sure if that was just because of his bushy eyebrows, whether they always looked pulled together like that.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t…” She took a breath. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Not what you expected, am I?” he said with that slight growl.

Josie shook her head. “No, I…I just meant Max didn’t warn…Or that I didn’t, I wasn’t expecting—”

“It’s the work that should be impressive, not the man—or woman—behind it.” He waved a hand to encompass his body. “Doesn’t matter what I look like.”

“No, of course not,” she said quickly. “You caught me off-guard, that’s all.” If Max had just warned her, then she wouldn’t be coming across like a blundering idiot right now. And had Erin known? The way she was smiling made it look like she had, which seemed bloody weird in Josie’s opinion. The two of them, teaming up in a show of let’s be friends with Max’s ex-conquest. She took a breath, fighting to claw herself back. “I think you—your work, that is—is incredible. I saw the exhibition at Somerset House and I—”

    But he waved his hand, cut her off, and looked at Max instead. “You told me the girl had talent, Max, not that she was a fan girl.”

Josie felt herself flush, both at the words themselves and at the fact that he was talking about her as if she weren’t in the room. She wanted, so badly, to glare at Max, but Geoffrey was watching her now. She looked him straight in the eye, straightened her spine a little. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t ask Max to…Well. And I don’t have talent, it’s just a hobby, I play around with it, but I do really admire—”

He cut her off again with his hand. “I’ll be the one to decide if you have talent or not.” He held out that same hand, glancing deliberately at the camera she still had strapped across her.

She only gripped it more tightly. “They’re only of the last couple of days, and that’s only been for fun, they’re not edited or anything yet.”

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