Free The Year I Went Pear-Shaped by Tamara Pitelen Page B

threw his beautiful head back and laughed. “Well, I guess there's no point in me trying to hide anything from you then is there, you know all about my murky past as the randiest little bugger to ever come out of Rosewarne High. Lord, how embarrassing!”
    He laughed again but to his credit, he also look a little embarrassed, evidenced by a pink flush rising up his chiselled cheekbones.
    “Yes, well we didn't call you The Gardener for nothing Gordon, what with all that deflowering you did, but don't worry, your secret's safe with me, quite frankly I'd rather erase the Rosewarne years from my memory as well.”
    God, how can anyone be that good-looking? I thought, taking a moment to lap up his beauty. He was like one of those Greek statues come to life. I wanted to lick him all over.
    “The Gardener? Jeeze, that's hilarious, I never knew that. God, if you manage to write this article without mentioning details like that from my notorious youth, I'll be ever in your debt.”
    Va Boom! He hit me with another smile warhead straight between the eyes. Houston, we are under attack, please send reinforcements.
    “So, do you still see anyone from back then?” He asked.
    “Just a couple of close friends. I seem to have let everyone else drift away.”
    “Yeah, me too, sad isn’t it? But I remember you always hung out with the clever chicks, you were one of the smart posse.”
    “Yeah, me, Kate, Roz and Heather, the brainy bunch. Although I seem to remember that by half way through the final year, they’d all put their books down for long enough to have a close encounter with The Gardener,” I smirked at him.
    This time he really was embarrassed. The pink flush deepened to scarlet and he clamped his palm over his eyes.
    “Aghhhhh! Oh god, I was a monster. And you know what's really awful, I can’t remember half of the, ah, close encounters, I had back then. I mean, for all I know, I might’ve even...you, um, did we...? That is, you and I...?”
    I put him out of his misery.
    “No Gordon, you and I never had sex.”
    “Oh thank god... no! I didn't mean it like that”, he said quickly, noting my expression. “Not that having sex with you would have been awful or anything, I just mean that...”
    “Oh shut up!” I laughed. “I know what you mean, you idiot, don't worry about it. I don't blame you for sewing a few wild oats in your youth, admittedly probably enough oats to keep Scotland fed for a decade, but the point is that you found something you were good at and you stuck to it. It's that kind of dedication to the job that has made this country great.”
    Gordon was laughing out loud when Walking Shoulders came over with our coffees.
    “Here we are people! A decaf almond milk latte and a flat white.”
    “Thanks for that Trev,” Gordon said. “How are things with you mate?”
    “Aw, y'know, hanging in there Gordy, waiting for some big shot producer to look up from his double espresso and discover my considerably enormous talents,” replied Walking Shoulders
    “What happened with that TV show about the cool twenty somethings in Perth that you were up for?”
    “God, don't talk to me about that! I lost the part to some closet queen who goes round pretending to be straight, to the point where he gets his female flatmate to pose as his girlfriend for interviews. It kills me! I'd have been perfect. Ah well, thank god there’ll always be a demand for my coffee and muffins eh. If anything comes up on your show, keep me in mind would ya Gordon?”
    “Of course I will, take care Trev, see you round.”
    We watched Trev walk over to take an order at another table.
    “We were at drama school together,” Gordon said when he was out of earshot. “He's a bloody good actor too, it's a damn shame he hasn’t had a break yet. I might have to see what I can do.”
    “Can you do anything?” I queried.
    “Well Darla, it's all about who you know and after ten years in soaps I know a few people. I mean, I can’t get him