Unsuitable (35 page)

“I
know he’s not. He’s charming. I quite fancy him myself.” Barrett joggled her. “What
are you doing sending him away?”

“He
wants a family and I have mine. I don’t want another baby. I want my
independence and control.” And that was the unvarnished, greedy, heartless
truth.

“Oh,
that is a relief.” Barrett slapped his hand on his thigh. “I always wondered if
you’d want another one and there was no way I’d be able to refuse you. Especially
seeing how incredible tantrum central is when she’s not possessed.” He joggled
her again as if that would coach an answer out of her. “Why don’t you want
another one?”

She
didn’t need subterfuge or encouragement with Barrett. “I’m sometimes consumed
by the idea that having a child alone and not being the main carer is the
height of selfishness. I don’t regret it for a second, but it doesn’t feel
right to do it again.”

“You
do know that’s the very essence of parenthood in any society with an
aristocracy. Get someone else to do the hard yards, including the child
raising, ether paid or slave. This raise them yourself concept is a peasant
thing and relatively modern for anyone with money.”

She
laughed. “History aside, Barrett.”

“You’re
doing fine as a parent. Mia is healthy and happy and bright as a thunderstorm. What
more do you want? That little whirlwind in there could do with siblings. I had
them. Ghastly. None of us got on. But I suppose they taught me something. But
you didn’t, so I get it, and I am relieved, but if you change your mind and you
want a matching set of kidlets, I’m there for you with the same conditions.”

Audrey
snuggled into Barrett’s side. He’d been somewhere smoky. She could smell nutmeg,
cinnamon and wood. A cigar. “I do love you.”

“Shame
we didn’t fancy each other, but then you wanted the stable family thing and I like
my riotous, promiscuous bachelor life.” He looked down at her. “Where was I? You
look done in, Aud. I think you went back to work too early. You have visibly
faded as the week went on.”

“First
week back I knew it would be hard going. I need to stop thinking about Reece. It’s
making me nauseous. I have some amazing new projects, I’m going to enjoy them,
and once I get my head into work everything will be fine again.”

Barrett
squeezed her into his side. “Terrible shame I didn’t fancy you.”

Now
that his intentions about Mia were clear she couldn’t help but tease him. “I
think you did fancy me.”

He
lifted his hand and made a space between his first finger and thumb. “I think
Reece fancies you to the very outer reaches of his soul, and I’m worried you’d
reject that for yourself, and for Mia.”

He
could be absent from her life for long stretches but Barrett knew her well
enough to accurately trace the rumination of her heart. “You know I fancied you
too.”

“Of
course I do. But when I put you to bed, and leave you there alone, don’t take
it the wrong way. Jeremy called.”

Audrey
pulled away so she could see Barrett’s face clearly. He gave her the same smile
Mia did when she was pleased with herself. “Well?”

“He
grovelled.”

23:     Blurred

One
more, one more. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been smashed so one
more. It didn’t matter any longer, it’s not like he had a job to go to,
responsibilities. He had nothin’. He had starting again, and before that Reece
intended to get hammered, because then he might forget for even a few hours
what Audrey sending him away felt like.

He’d
had been drinking steadily for most of the afternoon and he still felt like a
cored apple, all the seed and stem, the heart of him removed and trashed. Polly
had joined him for a while, but he’d left to be with Les so now Reece drank
alone. He could still feel his feet and he didn’t think he had wings so he
wasn’t yet drunk enough. He could still feel the heat in Audrey’s naked body as
she took him inside her, as she moved her hands on his skin. He put his fingers
to his lips because he could feel hers skating across them, latching on and
sucking. He wasn’t near drunk enough, because he could smell her, aroused and impatient,
over the yeasty beer and fried food coming out of the pub’s kitchen.

He
should be legless and insensible by now. He should be asking Polly’s mate, Pat
behind the bar to call him a cab, but he was still lucid enough to know Carrie
had been watching him from across the room for half an hour. She’d come in with
a group of friends, all chicks, no one else he knew. She looked different,
glammed up, packs of makeup. The tightest pants, and killer boots, a top cut
low and falling loose on her, no bra underneath. If she leant forward you’d see
her tits. No accident that. No mistake about the kinds of looks she was sending
him either.

Pat
put a bowl of French fries in front of him. He hadn’t ordered them but he picked
at them anyway. He watched Carrie watching him. He didn’t smile or nod or wave
or acknowledge her in any way, and she was the same with him, but it was on
between them, and if he didn’t want that he needed to ask Pat for a cab.

He
ordered another beer.

He
watched Carrie flirt with him from half a dozen car lengths away, tossing her
hair and laughing. She must wonder what he was doing here, drinking alone. Did
she know about him and Audrey? Did he care? There was no him and Audrey. She
was shacked up with the furniture removalist. He’d been a fuckwit to think he’d
been more than sport and convenience for her. He was a free agent again. He
could fuck whoever he wanted. He drank the beer and thought about walking
across the room and putting his hand down Carrie’s shirt, filling it with her
silicon breast while he ate her lipstick.

The
fries were cold but he ate them. If he sat long enough she’d come to him. If
she came to him then fuck Audrey, right, he’d fuck Carrie. He’d forget the way
Audrey would hold his face in her hands and stare into his eyes as if she could
read his thoughts that way. Forget the way she’d kiss every concern he had out
of his head and make him tense with need at the same time. He wouldn’t think
about how her most casual touch made him happy, how the sight of her in the
morning, rumpled and cranky made his heart constrict. He’d forget the sound of
her voice, the feel of her hair, the texture of her skin. He’d forget how
pretty her tiny feet were, how delicate her hands, how wrapped in her
conversation he was. He’d forget how she looked in lingerie and her ratty
dressing gown. He’d fuck it all away in Carrie’s arms and all that would matter
to either of them was the pleasure of the moment.

His
phone rang. Not Audrey’s ringtone. Polly’s. “You still at the pub?”

He
let the ambient sound answer for him.

“Mate,
come have dinner with Les and me.”

“I’ve
eaten.”

“Pub
swill. Reece, what are you doin? You don’t want to do this.”

“I’m
drinking, it’s legal. I can get as shitfaced as I want.”

“You
can’t get over her this way.”

Carrie
smiled directly at him. She made a little come here gesture with her fingers. He
had a vision of his fingers curled inside her, making her come. He’d make her
scream. “Fuck off, Pol.”

“Think
about it, man. You and Audrey are not done. Don’t fuck it up worse.”

“We’re
done.” He’d been replaced by Cameron and Barrett in less than twenty-four
hours. “We’re so fucking done. I’m not some fucking wife she can buy.  The
sooner I move on the better.” He hung up and put the phone back in his pocket. Took
it out when it rang again. Sky. Polly would’ve suggested she call. He let the
call ring out in his pocket. He made the same come here gesture Carrie had made
to him. He couldn’t take her back to Polly’s. His car keys were behind the bar
and staying there. She’d have her car, a Beemer. He’d fuck her over the hood.

Carrie
tossed her hair. She’d be pouting, licking her lips. He’d have her use her
tongue on him in more productive ways. He watched her say her goodbyes and make
her way across the pub to him. She looked good. She’d taste better than this
bitterness.

She
stopped in front of him, not touching distance, but she didn’t appreciate how
long his reach was, even sitting on a stool, or how quickly he could move, even
half tanked, especially half tanked. That’s when he made his most aggressive
moves.

“Are
you really on your own, darling boy?”

He
nodded. She wore those tight pants like an invitation to rut.

“You
like what you see?”

“I
like that you’re offering it to me.”

“I’ve
been offering it to you for months. How come you’re in a taking mood tonight?”

“Shit
happens.”

“Audrey.”

“We’re
finished.”

Carrie
gasped. “She’d be a fool to let you go and she’s no fool. What did you do,
Reece?”

“Barrett’s
back.” It was the easiest thing to say. Barrett holding Audrey’s hand, watching
out for her. Easiest because he couldn’t explain why it had fallen apart over
his own lies and shady past.

“Mia’s
father? But they were never anything more than friends.”

He
didn’t need the analysis. He reached for Carrie, pulled her forward and stood
her between his knees. “I’m not much for conversation tonight.”

Her
eyes had gone wide. “I’m not much for stepping on someone’s territory, but I’ve
wanted you between my legs since I first saw you.”

She
closed the distance between them. Her breasts pressed full on his rib cage; her
arms went over his shoulders. “You are so sexy. You’ll make me feel good. I’ll
make you feel good too, darlin’ boy.”

He
kissed her to shut her up, to shut out the gloss and gluttony of her. She
tasted of wine and under that of loneliness and that was unexpected. He pulled
away, to look at her face, to read that pain. She put her hand on his dick,
gripped him, and he forgot to be concerned. He ate her lipstick, her lips. She
fed him her desperation in exchange for his anger. They swapped regret, hers
old and weary, his fresh green and stinging so sharp it made him grind on her
to find relief.

She
stopped him, laughing, delighted, and led him to her car by the hand. Fucking
beautiful car. She drove it like it meant nothing to her. He distracted her
with his hands, got them up under that top on her skin, plucking at her tit. She
pulled over, they were somewhere in Double Bay, the streets wide and tree-lined,
the homes mansions.

He
hauled her over the centre console and into his lap. He had the seat as far
back as it would go, but he couldn’t straighten his legs out. She let him
suckle her in the car, in the pale orange glow of a street light, she arched
into him, rolling her hips, her head tossed back. He got her unzipped, gave her
his fingertips to work against and watched her get herself off, trembling and
jerking, her breathing a series of hiccups and moans.

Why
didn’t her husband love her enough? Why didn’t she leave him, find someone who
did? Carrie came on his hand and collapsed on his chest and he stoked her back
until she caught her breath.

“Come
inside so you can come inside, lover,” she said, laughing.

Eugenia
would be in the house, the babysitter. Would Carrie’s husband come home? Did she
want to fuck him in her bed, or in a spare room somewhere in the big house
behind them? He wasn’t her lover. And he knew he never would be.

She
put her hand to his face. “I’ve lost you.”

He
took her wrist and moved her hand away, the action too much a reminder of
Audrey.

“You
really love her don’t you? Oh, Reece. I can feel it in you. Are you sure it’s
over?”

“She
didn’t give me a choice.”

In
the confines of the car, Carrie wrapped her arms around him and held him, not
as a woman wanting sex, but as one giving comfort. He couldn’t dislike her for
that. But he couldn’t be what she wanted either.

He
stumbled back to Polly’s in a blur of alcohol and frustration. He should’ve
known he couldn’t bury Audrey that easy. That he wasn’t ready to try. He needed
a new plan. And it started with sleep. He fell into bed. Next thing he knew,
Polly was standing over him with an empty glass of water in his hand.

He’d
intended to get drunk and that’d worked out well. He’d anticipated feeling
sorry for himself, having a hangover, and that was shaping up nicely, like a road
grader sitting on his forehead. But the water tipped on his face and the sleep,
the sleep that was supposed to take up all of the day, was not going as projected,
and he was shitty about that, and about Polly dragging him out of bed into his
truck, and making him stand outside a derelict structure.

“I’m
not going back to bricklaying.” Though what he was looking at was more like
demolition and in his current frame of mind smashing things with a mallet would
be a joy, despite the pounding head.

“Just
look at it and tell me what you see.”

“If
I punched you, even as hammered as I am, it’ll hurt.”

“Tell
me what you see.”

Reece
looked at the building, a corner block, well positioned, on the edge of a
public park, but not big enough to support housing or high-rise. It’d once been
a small garden centre selling plants, potting mix and cut flowers. It’d been abandoned
for years. There was so little of it left standing it wouldn’t qualify as a
fire hazard. He punched Polly in the ribs.

Polly
staggered sideways and doubled over, the air coming out of him in a pained oof.
He held onto his knees till he got his breath back. Reece should feel bad about
that. Polly was his landlord after all. He didn’t give a shit. He turned to
walk back to Polly’s truck.

“Tell
me what you see, arsehole.”

He
kept moving.

“It’s
yours.”

He
stopped, turned back too fast and his head spun. “Say what?”

“It’s
yours, ours. I thought you might know what to do with it.”

He
shook his head. Polly could fucking play silly buggers on his own time. He was
going back to bed.

“Don’t
make me shout this so the whole street can hear it.”

Thing
is he would. Reece went back to the corner and stood by Polly, facing the old
pile of rubble and busted glass. What was left of the original greenhouse was
held together by graffiti.

“That,”
Polly gestured to the heap of shit. “Is our future.”

“I’m
still drunk, but if I was sober you’d still be making zip sense.”

“Dad
bought that building off the original owner. He got it for a good price because
it’s got awkward zoning. Too many restrictions on what you can build there
because of the park.”

“And
he’s given it to us? Did I hear that right?”

“It’s
ours.”

“Your
dad can’t give me half a property. And I’m not going back to building.”

“He
used our money.”

“Jesus
Christ, Neeva makes more sense than you do. Flip has the smarts not to annoy me
with a hangover.”

“I
don’t remember it exactly so you won’t either, but you know how he was always
ragging on us about the drink, suspicious about everything else we were doing?”

Reece
nodded. They’d been a disappointment to Gino Pollidore

“He
borrowed a thousand bucks off each of us. Told you not to tell me. Told me not
to tell you. Crafty bastard. He bet on you on that final fight, the whole two
g. Then he collected big and bought that. He thought we’d end up with nothing,
broke or in jail. He wanted us to have something and not easy money we could
mess up with. He told me about it yesterday. There’s a mortgage on it to pay,
but the deeds are in our names.”

“This
is real?” It was insane, how could it be real? He had no recollection of
lending Gino money, but then that period was a haze of abused senses and lost
time.

“It’s
real. We could buy each other out. Or we could develop it, or sell it. I
thought you might know what you wanted to do with it.”

He’d
never ditched a hangover so quickly. He walked around the structure. Bewildered,
excited. He put his foot against an architrave and it gave, taking half a wall
of wooden palings and the leftover glass of a broken window with it. “We need
to get the site cleaned up before some kid gets hurt here.”