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CHAPTER
34
Joey stood in the queue at the IGA feeling so at peace with the world that he didn’t even care how long the teenager at the checkout took to scan and weigh broccolini. Teenagers were sweet, and life hadn’t battered them down yet, so who was he to deny them this opportunity to grunt at everyone and huff when customers wanted to engage in chitchat?
Thelma Kwong had hugged him in the egg section, and he’d taken it like a man. A woman who might have been his kindergarten teacher had bailed him up between the eggplant and the beetroot to ask if it was true, he wasstillsingle after all these years, and he hadn’t cared a smidge.
He’d grinned, in fact, and asked her if her husband knew she was making passes at younger men in the local supermarket.
Hah. Joey Miles was a recluse no more.
He bought the supplies he needed for his incoming farmstay guests, then went overboard picking up a few other things: morewine, some nibbles, another bag of marshmallows in case dessert-on-a-stick was called for.
Dessert-on-a-stick was romantic, wasn’t it?
He was finally at the head of the queue, handing the teenager a wedge of King Island brie, when his phone pinged.
Unknown number.
He was about to dump the phone in his back pocket when it struck him that he was running a tourism venture now. If one couple had found his website, who knew? Maybe he was going to have a rush of wannabe farmstayers flocking to book. Answering his mobile was going to have to move up the priority list. He opened the message screen and had to bite back a swearword.
The first speech bubble was bad. Kim? Gus?
The second was worse.
Also, I’ve moved out.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit! He threw his credit card at the EFTPOS machine to pay for the bag of stuff, then dialled Kim. The phone rang out, so he rang it again.
And again.
And again.
He was building up a head of steam when the call finally connected.
‘Joey Miles! Well, well, so this phone number does still work. I was beginning to think you’d gone totally off grid like your hippy parents.’
‘Where the fuck is my dog?’
‘I think you mean our co-owned dog.’
‘Fine. Co-owned. He’s mine until November according to the idiot contractyoudrew up. You can’t just take him.’
‘Let me remind you of the item at page two, label six:the groodle known as Gus can have his custody arrangements varied where an owner is going on holidays. Guess what, plaintiff? I’m going on holidays.’
He tried not to roll his eyes. When Kim started speaking in legalese, it meant she had an agenda and was trying to cover it up with the mean-girl tactics she used indiscriminately in her day job as a legal secretary.
Power posing, she called it. Bullying, more like.
‘You can’t just take him without letting me know. That’s a frigging low blow, Kim, and you know it.’
‘Try answering my calls sometimes. I tried to let you know.’
Hehadbeen dodging her calls. He’d assumed it was to do with the contract he’d instructed his solicitor to rip up, not his dog.
‘When am I getting him back? Where is he going? How do you know when his next heartworm medication is due?’
‘All excellent questions, Joey. I suggest you forward them to my lawyer.’
