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My phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, I’m surprised to see there’s a message from Mark.
2moro 2pm – 8pm? Ihaev poker one @ 8.
A couple of spelling mistakes but not bad for a guy who looked like he had more alcohol than blood in his system an hour ago.Sure, I write back and leave it at that.
‘Want a shandy?’ Margie asks as she cracks a can of beer.
‘What’s the occasion?’ She hardly ever drinks unless there’s something worth drinking for. ‘I’ll have the leftover beer.’
‘Good lad,’ she says as she pours a dash of beer into her lemonade. ‘It’s awful hot outside, and the tennis is on. Makes me crave a shandy.’
Margie mixes the lemonade and beer with a spoon and then slices up a lime from her backyard as a garnish. She places the beer can in front of me and ruffles my hair as she passes.
‘Come watch the tennis,’ she says. ‘It’s the last of the qualifying matches.’
I scoff and put on my most camp accent. ‘Do I look like I know sports?’
She looks down at my thrift-shop Carlton Football Club t-shirt.
‘It’svintage,’ I protest. And it was two dollars.
‘You know, some of the players are quite easy on the eye, Noah,’ she says as she walks back to the lounge, Sadie hot on her heels. ‘Andthe men take off their shirt sometimes.’
I don’t know why she thinks a glimpse of a sweaty male torso will convince me to suffer through hours of hit-ball-over-net. Like, porn exists.
‘I’ll pass,’ I say as I finish my dinner. ‘I’m gonna go work on an application for a new job. Forward me the email for the information day, would you? I’ll put it in my calendar.’
Margie beams from her recliner and picks up her phone. ‘I’ll do it immediately.’
I don’t have any intention of attending the information session, but at least it will get her off my back. For now.
5
Gabriel
When I get back to the hotel, Papa’s gone and Victor’s leaning over the balcony railing. The port-wine stain that runs from his ear to his shoulder is a stark red mark on his white skin. There’s a cigarette between his long, thin fingers, and a trail of smoke curls up from the glowing end. Lost in thought, he brings it to his mouth and takes a deep drag before flicking ash into the wind.
I realise he hasn’t heard me come in, so I lean forward and tap twice on the glass. Victor startles and stubs out the cigarette, crushing the butt in the glass dish at his side.
‘I thought you were quitting,’ I say as he steps back into the apartment.
‘So did I.’ He runs a hand over his bald head. I’ve seen photos of Victor and Papa when they were two scoundrels on the tennis circuit—Victor, with his high cheekbones, blue eyes and long blond hair, could have been mistaken for a distant relative of the Hemsworth brothers. ‘How was your walk?’
‘It was good to get out.’ There’s no way I’m telling him what happened.
‘No issues?’ he pries.
‘No stabbing, no harassment. No one even recognised me.’
Victor mutters something under his breath as my phone vibrates in my hand. It’s Phoebe.
Hey from me. Sorry been radio silent. Just out of surgery. Went well.
Immediately, I shut myself in my room and type,Are you okay? Sorry for the million messages . . . Iwas worried.
Phoebe:It’s okay lol. I’ve been dealing with some things.
Gabriel:Are you really retiring?
