SCOTT
Retail therapy, that’s what he needs. What was it he said at Thanksgiving? ‘I’m so glad my favourite bike is being released in a carbon fibre frame in the New Year’? It was certainly something like that, and his local bike shop messaged three days ago to say they have his frame size in stock, and does he want to have a look? Does he ever!
Scott studies the bike of his dreams, loops his index finger under the cross bar, finds the centre of gravity and lifts. ‘Oh man,’ he says.
‘Like a feather, huh?’ replies Wayne, the salesman. ‘You wouldn’t imagine there were twenty-two gears attached to the sprockets at that weight, would you? It comes in at just under seven kilos.’
Wayne has been supplying avid cyclists with new bikes for years. He knows exactly which turns of phrase will draw them in. Scott places the tyres on the showroom carpet as though it is a newborn. In some ways it is.
‘Pretty impressive stiffness-to-weight ratio in this model,’ Wayne continues. ‘So, you get a lot of strength and durability despite the ultra-light weight.’
‘Wheels?’ Scott says, squatting at the front of the bike.
‘33mm carbon rim. Ultra-fast rolling hubs.’
‘Brakes?’
‘Ultegra hydraulic with resin pad.’
Scott whistles. Like an old man checking out a racing horse. This is what love at first sight really feels like. Connected. At his core.
‘You want to try her?’
Scott’s chin drops.
‘For real?’
‘As long at the boss doesn’t see,’ Wayne says, looking over his shoulder surreptitiously. ‘He’s on a lunch break, so we should have ten, fifteen at most. In the hanger, though, right?’
Wayne indicates the storage space adjoining the sales area and the narrow corridor through the middle of the showroom between bikes which are stacked two high on both sides.
Scott doesn’t need asking twice. He wheels the bike towards the test area and lifts his right leg to straddle the cross bar. It feels weightless between his legs. Scott gets only one full revolution of the wheel in the confined space. But it’s enough to tell him he’s a convert.
‘Thoughts?’
‘It’s like riding on clouds, mate,’ he says, returning the bike to Wayne.
‘Thought you’d say that.’
‘Do you take credit cards?’
‘We do.’
Just as well they take credit, Scott thinks as he hands his card over. She (the new bike is most certainly female) costs considerably more than some cars he’s bought in his time.
Wayne progresses the transaction while Scott gazes and strokes his new purchase. He doesn’t think of Heather. Not exactly. Perhaps it just reflects that it takes a lot to distract a man from some women.
Chapter 24
HEATHER
Despite,orperhapsbecauseof, Claire’s comments, Heather preens and packs for her weekend at Scott’s as if preparing for her honeymoon. An appointment with the beautician for waxing is followed by a mani-pedi at the nail bar, then a trip to her favourite department store to find the perfect outfit. She knows what she wants: something that says effortlessly sexy, is easily accessorized if they decide to go out spontaneously, but also not too try-hard if they end up slouched in front of a computer all weekend with a takeaway on their knees in the evening. It takes three solid days to assemble the look. She’s just had a stringent lip wax when Georgia FaceTimes.
‘What do you think, then?’ her daughter asks.
Three days ago, Georgia sent Heather a photo of herself and a boy – Georgia likes to think of him as a man - but Heather knows otherwise. The ‘boy’ has a hooped earring on his left ear lobe and a long, slim tattoo running from his hair line to beneath the collar of his punk band t-shirt.
‘What’s the tattoo?’ she asks in as non-judgemental a voice as she can muster. Plenty of tattoos are genuine works of art that resonate with the wearer’s authentic and lived experience. The same might be true of Todd’s.
