Page 15 of In the Long Run

KNOX

It’s been a long time since I’ve had so much riding on a meeting. I tap my phone, waking it up. Four minutes to go.

The front door of Get Fit, Get Strom bursts open and Gen rushes through it. ‘Hi,’ she manages between choppy breaths. ‘I lost track of time putting together a new business proposal for a prospective client and thought I was going to be late. Have you been waiting long?’

Waiting long? No. Wondering about what other books she’s been reading lately after her comment at run club last weekend?

Trying to figure out how I can get her to tell me more about the things she might like or the kind of guys she’d normally go for?

See if I could be one of them? Yes to all of those. But ‘no’ is what I say.

She brushes her hair off her face and pulls it up into a messy knot on the top of her head.

A few strands escape immediately, and they dance around her face as she walks over to where I’m sitting.

Heavy bass thumps through the wall behind us.

Each time the music dips, Meredith’s voice leads a countdown.

Whatever’s happening in there doesn’t sound fun.

‘They’ll be done soon. If you ever want to regret every decision you’ve ever made, you should go to their body pump class.

’ Gen folds herself into the seat next to mine.

The big brown canvas bag she had on her shoulder slips down her arm and she places it between her feet. ‘How’d you go with the bank?’ she asks.

‘I spoke with the financial hardship team and they’re going to come up with a payment plan for Alizée’s. It’ll give us a chance to get back on our feet while we increase our profits.’

‘That’s great.’ Gen pulls out a notepad and jots something down.

‘You think they’ll go for this?’ I ask.

‘Absolutely. Meredith and Bernie love Alizée’s. Everyone does.’

I’m about to reply when the doors to the studio next to us open and sweaty people and noise fill the foyer.

‘Hey! Sorry to keep you waiting,’ Meredith says once the reception area’s empty.

‘You guys haven’t officially met. Meredith, this is Knox Watson. Knox, this is my sister.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ I say as Meredith casts a discerning glance over my body.

‘Weightlifter?’ she guesses.

‘Little bit of everything,’ I reply. Everyone in the Army has to pass their basic fitness assessment every six months, but fitness matters to me for a different reason.

Aside from Eugene taking me in, exercise saved my life all those years ago.

Taught me about the things I could control.

How I could safely channel my frustrations. It’s been my escape ever since.

‘Looks like a great set-up,’ I say as we move down a hallway, past the open weights room.

Any gym junkie would be happy with the selection of equipment available.

Rows of weights are racked against one wall with everything from kettlebells, medicine balls and dumbbells all arranged neatly.

The rest of the room is filled with an assortment of strength training machines.

Laminated signs reminding everyone to use towels on the equipment are tacked to the mirrors that span the other wall.

‘Bern.’ Meredith waves to get her husband’s attention and then taps on her watch. He stops talking to a dude in Lycra bike shorts who should be wearing exercise shorts over the top.

Gen follows my gaze. ‘Oh. Oh, no. That’s not okay.’

‘What?’ Meredith asks, peering past us.

‘There’s a sausage and potatoes situation on the shoulder press,’ Gen squeaks, and I bark out a laugh, unable to stop myself.

Sausage and potatoes , I mouth at her, enjoying how embarrassment rushes across Gen’s delicate features.

‘Gen!’ Meredith laughs.

‘It’s Knox’s fault. I have no filter around him for some reason.’

‘What’s the most embarrassing thing she’s said to you?’ Meredith asks me.

‘No.’ Gen karate chops the air. ‘Nuh-uh. We are not doing that. Not today. I’m still recovering.’

‘Must’ve been real bad,’ Meredith teases, shifting closer to me. ‘One time she said something about moustache rides—’

‘Bernie, hi!’ Gen cuts off her sister, shooting her a warning look that doesn’t have any real heat behind it.

‘Hi, guys.’ Bernie extends his hand and I shake it. His grip is firm, solid. He doesn’t do that dickish squeeze that so many guys do. I like him instantly.

‘Thanks for meeting with me,’ I say once we’re inside their office.

Meredith and Bernie take the two seats behind the large pine desk, leaving Gen and I to sit on the small couch in front of it. Our thighs brush and we both shuffle awkwardly apart but there’s nowhere to go.

‘Gen says you’ve got a proposal for us.’

‘My godfather, Eugene Black, owns Alizée’s Patisserie.’

‘Their éclairs are to die for.’ Meredith groans.

‘And recently, things have been tough. I don’t want to go in to too much detail and I’d appreciate if you could keep what I’m about to share with you confidential’—last thing we need is more sharks circling and waiting for blood—‘but Alizée’s is in financial trouble. There’s a chance it might close.’

Meredith leans back in her chair, a pained expression on her face. ‘I can’t imagine this place without Alizée’s! How long has it been open?’

‘Since the ’90s.’

‘Did you want us to put some flyers on the front counter?’ Bernie asks.

‘No, I mean, that would be great, thank you, but I had something else in mind. Actually, it was Gen’s idea.’

She squirms next to me, and the heat from her body seeps through my jeans and puffer vest. I didn’t want to be overdressed, but I didn’t think my standard daily outfit of a tracksuit was appropriate either.

‘I was hoping Get Fit, Get Strom might partner with Alizée’s. Encourage members of Croissants and Kilometres—’

‘Croissants and what now?’ Meredith holds up her hands, her eyes alight with glee.

‘You could call the run club Croissants and Kilometres—’ Gen explains but I cut her off.

‘Or you could name it after Get Fit, Get Strom.’ It sounds gracious but let’s face it, I need them more than they need me.

Gen leans forward and explains the cross-promotion opportunities.

Her excitement is building, leaching out in haphazard hand movements and words that run into each other.

‘No one wants to see Alizée’s disappear forever,’ she finishes, tilting her head and looking at me over her shoulder.

‘It’s an institution. Part of our local history and future. Same with Eugene.’

‘Sounds like it’s pretty personal for you,’ Bernie says to me.

My gut tells me they’re already on board, but I don’t want to leave anything to chance.

It’s great that they’re interested, but interest isn’t a promise.

Hope is most valuable when it’s followed by action, at least in my experience.

No way am I missing out on this opportunity because I didn’t give them enough.

‘When I was younger, Eugene took me in and helped me find a way to make the best of a terrible situation. Alizée’s was a huge part of that.

I’d meet him there after school and as soon as I was old enough to work, I did shifts there.

Cleaning, coffees, whatever was required, because he knew I needed to be kept busy.

And I’m not the only one. Eugene’s always done everything he could to help everyone.

’ The whirr of the overhead heater kicks in, a blast of hot air hitting my face.

I tug at the collar of my jumper. ‘I don’t want to leave here knowing that I didn’t do everything I could to try and save Alizée’s for him. ’

Gen’s hand lands on my forearm and when our eyes meet, hers hold a mixture of emotions. Sorrow, definitely . Curiosity, absolutely . But the one that makes me straighten my spine, square my shoulders is determination.

‘Brand Bolton’s trying to force them out of business, too,’ she says.

‘Ugh, that man,’ Bernie groans. ‘You should’ve led with that.’

‘Croissants and Kilometres it is.’ Meredith stands and turns to Bernie.

‘Oh no,’ he says, dropping his head into his hands.

‘Oh no, what?’ Gen asks.

‘She’s going to want to get shirts made up now.’

‘People love merchandise! We could sell them and split the profits!’

‘This is how it starts,’ Bernie says, but when he lifts his head, he shoots me a wink.

And just like that, I know this is going to work.

Herding cats would be easier than this.

‘Can you not?’ I swat at Yeti’s hand and push him away from the tray of roast potatoes I’ve just pulled out of the oven. I put them down next to the marketing proposal and branding plan I’ve spent the last three days working on for Croissants and Kilometres.

‘What if they’re poisonous? I’m doing you a favour. Some might even call me a hero.’

‘No one thinks you’re a hero, Yeti,’ Celeste calls from the lounge.

‘Plenty of women would disagree with that statement,’ he slings right back at her as he reaches for another potato.

I toss a can of Gravox at him, whistling when he fumbles the catch because I know it will shit him. ‘Make that.’

‘Eugene, Knox’s making gravy from a can. You gonna stand for that in your house? Want me to kick his ass for you?’

Eugene shifts in the armchair, his leg stretched out in front of him on top of a new ottoman that Celeste bought him from Kmart.

She’s sitting on the arm of the chair, showing him something on her phone.

‘Go for it,’ he replies. ‘Just don’t make a mess.

Explain to me again what I’m looking at here? ’ he asks Celeste.

Yeti flicks a tea towel at my side. ‘Oy, is Gen coming?’

To our standing Wednesday night dinner that I normally attend via FaceTime? ‘No.’

‘I like her. You should invite her round.’

I’ve thought about it. Too much, really.

Along with all the other thoughts I’ve had about her.

We’ve spoken to or seen each other every day this week so far and I don’t want to push my luck.

Exhaust her offer to help. Overstay my welcome.

But those little pockets of time with Gen have been the highlight of my days.

‘Go ask her now. I can finish this stuff for you.’

That’s unlikely. Yeti could burn water.

I snatch the Gravox back and measure two tablespoons into a mug decorated like a strawberry sponge cake.

Yeti grabs the mug back and pushes past me to grab the kettle. ‘I mean, fair enough, if you’re not interested. But you should’ve heard the chatter about how hot she is on the bus back to base.’

I frown at him.

‘She seems nice too.’

Yeti’s such a smug shit. I brace myself for whatever’s coming next when his eyebrows creep up his forehead and he clicks his fingers together.

‘And her crazy ex already thinks you’re dating …’

‘So?’ I dump too many frozen peas into a microwave container.

The spoon clinks against the ceramic as Yeti stirs. ‘So, why not have some fun together? You’re both adults. It could be mutually beneficial.’

‘That’s not happening.’ I hit the buttons on the microwave too hard and when I try to close the door, it bounces back open. ‘Shut up.’

‘Okay.’ Yeti pushes past me and starts getting plates and cutlery out of the cupboards and drawers.

It’s a reminder that even though I’ve been back for almost a month, he’s spent more time in this flat than I have this year.

Christ, he’s a good mate. Not many other guys would make the effort to catch up with Eugene each week.

He glances at me. ‘Think I’ll ask her out, then.

’ He stirs even faster, slopping gravy over the side of the mug.

I throw a kitchen sponge at him. ‘I know what you’re doing.’

He grins. ‘Good for you, buddy. Want a trophy for being self-aware?’

‘She’s too nice for you,’ I say sullenly.

‘Or maybe’—he pulls a bottle of mineral water out of the fridge and fills a glass for Celeste, who doesn’t drink—‘you’re worried that she’s too nice for you.’

‘Yeti.’

‘Forty.’ He mimics my posture, his shoulders slumping, chin dipping towards his chest. ‘I know you don’t shit where you eat’— it’s a terrible expression but that doesn’t make it untrue.

I don’t hook up with women often, but when I do, it’s never with someone I work with.

One thing you realise when you join the Army is that everyone knows everyone, and it’s not called Melrose Base for nothing—‘but you’re on a break from your real life.

Live a little. Might make being back here more tolerable. ’

Is that what everyone thinks? That I need a distraction to get through my time back in Melbourne?

That I can’t hack it? I’m here. I’m trying .

I’m shuttling Eugene to appointments. Reading to him each night.

Checking in at Alizée’s every day and digitising all their records.

Getting to know the suppliers. Picking up all the slack, since Eugene doesn’t seem to want to know what’s going on at the patisserie anymore.

He’s totally disengaged. I haven’t complained once – I’m happy to be doing it – so why can’t people see that?

‘What’s that number? The one on the right there?’ Eugene’s voice cuts through the silence between me and Yeti.

‘Knox went viral.’ I look up, and Celeste’s attempt at a poker face falls apart before she’s even finished speaking. She slaps a hand across her mouth, but giggles escape. ‘Well, not just Knox. Gen did too.’

I cross the distance between us in three steps instead of the normal five, grabbing the phone Eugene offers me.

The screen is frozen on the shot of Gen and I hugging. She’s looking up at me and I’m smiling at her. We look so happy it makes my whole body ache. I don’t think anyone’s ever looked at me like that before.

I’ve certainly never felt the way I did with anyone else in my arms.

Then I see the text underneath our bodies: Join our run club and score your own stern croissant daddy!

‘Don’t be mad,’ Celeste starts.

‘What the fuck is a stern croissant daddy ?’ I hiss.

‘You are,’ Celeste says nonchalantly. ‘And three million people have seen it.’