Page 33

Thirty-One

I sat opposite Rory Franklin, my arms folded and a sceptical curve to my brow.

“You’ve got five minutes.”

“Yeah, look, mate, I’m not going to keep you long.”

Mate? Did he honestly just call me mate?

Long gone was the custom-made black suit and square-tipped Italian leather shoes.

Instead, Rory wore baggy green running shorts over his bike shorts and a grey sweat-stained singlet top.

He didn’t look like an expensive, high-end athlete.

He was just a boy that could have been training with the Onslow Tigers, for all anyone knew.

It kind of had me not thawing, but certainly less on edge as I saw him stumble over his words.

“Yeah, um, I just wanted to tell you that I was sorry, you know, for what I said.”

He looked down at the tablecloth for most of his delivery, but the one time he did look up, his baby blues looking at me, damn it if he wasn’t sincere. Regardless of however big of a dick he had been, I know he meant what he said.

I thought for a long moment, assessing Rory with great interest. I had often thought about what I might say to him if I had ever the chance to bump into him again.

My fantasy was usually quite dramatic, where I would indeed spill another beverage on him, followed by a killer line and a hair flick, while I walked to the sound of Aretha Franklin’s ‘RESPECT’ (obviously the two were not related).

But in that moment, nothing grand or abusive came to mind, no matter how many speeches I had rehearsed in my head.

“It’s not just what you said, Rory, it’s the fact that you thought it was acceptable to objectify me to your mates like that. To make a judgment based on my looks and intelligence within, I’m guessing, two minutes of me sitting in your penis-extension of a car.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I hired the car for the date,” he said sheepishly.

I burst out laughing. “What, to impress me?”

Rory shrugged. “Did it impress you?”

“NO! It was hideous,” I said, continuing to laugh.

“Listen, Rory, if any girl wants to be with you based on the balance of your ATM receipt or what kind of car you drive then, seriously, they’re not worth it.

And just so you know, if any girl settles for anything less than being treated like she is worthy of a man’s respect, well, I just hope those girls don’t get lured by the bad boys and fast cars. ”

“Look, just please accept my apology and know that I will never do anything stupid like that again.”

I picked up my bag, slinging it over my shoulder.

“I hope you’re right, I really do.”

I left Rory at the table, sitting there, watching on, and hopefully at least retaining something, and, sure, there was no hair flick, or Diva music playing in the background, but I sure as hell felt like an utter badass.

If I said I didn’t want anything to change then that was kind of a lie.

I welcomed change; the new normal was most certainly different.

I rang Adam every night on my commute home from work, and he rang me back before bed.

Our conversations were as effortless and random as they ever were throughout our lives, but there was one very obvious difference.

I lived to hear his voice, for him to tell me about his day, or for him to text me random, mental things throughout the day like ‘Who would win a fight between a crocodile and a shark?’ So yeah, usual Adam stuff.

And then there were the later calls, the kind of calls that had me smiling and yawning throughout the daytime as I recalled Adam telling me what he wanted to do to me the next time he saw me; yeah, those kind of calls.

“Okay, enough; seriously, I don’t want to know,” declared Tess. I could just imagine the look of horror spread across her face.

“What?” I laughed.

“Look, I am all for you and Adam but I seriously don’t need to know about my two best friends having phone sex every night of the week.”

“It’s not every night of the week; besides, don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it.”

The line went silent, long, guilt-ridden silence.

“Tess McGee, well, I never.”

“I’ve gotta go, talk to you tomorrow.” The phone went dead.

I laughed, hearing the dial tone. “Well, well, well, you think you know someone.”

Thursday night meant many things. It was the eve of my mum’s visit so it would be my last chance to have some real privacy before the weekend, and as much as it would be nice to have Mum stay, all I could think about was Adam, and how easy it would have been to head back to Onslow for the weekend and sneak up the back fire escape into his room.

I might even use that as a possible storyline for our late-night phone call as I dialled Adam’s number with a goofy grin on my face.

“Hey,” he answered. It was amazing how well you really knew someone that you could tell so much from one simple word. He sounded flat, really not Adam.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” he snapped.

Geez, attitude much?

“How’s your mum?”

“Yeah, she’s good.”

“You sound really tired, maybe our late-night phone calls are wearing you out?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Oh God, what was with him tonight?

Anxiety swirled in the pit of my stomach. Who was I talking to? It was like I was on the phone to a stranger; this was the kind of conversation you would expect from Chris, not Adam, never Adam. What was wrong with him?

“So, what are you up to on the weekend?”

Was I really resorting myself to small talk? What was next? Talking about the weather?

Adam sighed; he sounded tired, maybe that’s all it was. Maybe helping Chris at the Onslow was wearing him down, that and the added pressure of his mum’s health. I could be patient, of course I could.

“I think I’ll head out with the boys and go camping for the weekend.”

“Oh, yay. That sounds great. It will be good to get away for the weekend, do some male bonding, swap ghost stories, chant in the woods, hold a smoking ceremony or whatever you guys do.”

“Yeah.”

Oh my God, he wasn’t even laughing at my jokes; he really was rock bottom.

“Listen, I better go. I have to get all my stuff ready for the weekend, so …”

“Oh, okay, sure, um, you’re probably getting picked up at the crack of dawn.”

“Yeah, pretty early.”

“Okay, well, you get some sleep and call me when you get back.”

There was no immediate response; perhaps he was nodding his head. “Night,” he managed.

“Night.”

I held the phone to my ear, listening to the sound of the dial tone for the longest moment. Worried, deeply worried.