Sold. Blair Denholm
‘I’ll try to sneak out early. See ya,’ he said, ending the call. Why the hell couldn’t he just tell her the truth? He had no illusions: Maddie knew he’d come home a wreck tonight, but turning off the bullshit tap was proving impossible.
Perhaps he should ring Foss and maybe catch up for a couple of jars. Foss was a good sounding board; the advice was sometimes a bit iffy, but he regularly came up with genius ideas. Gary speed dialled.
‘Hey Foss, it’s Gaz. How are ya?’
‘Drowning in work this week and I’m glad it’s over. Could do with a couple of beers tonight.’ Foss’s voice was like the voice- over guy for just about every Hollywood movie, deep as the Pacific Ocean, except with a broad Aussie accent. Gary sometimes wondered if his mate had a third testicle.
‘I’m taking an early mark. Just gonna grab some KFC at the drive-thru and head down to Castaways. You coming down later?’ Gary’s usual Friday routine was to pick up some takeaway junk to line his stomach before downing vast quantities of beer, scotch or wine; whatever took his fancy.
‘Yep. I’ve got to meet a client in an hour and finish up some paperwork back at the office, should get away by about four-thirty. Don’t be too pissed before I get there.’
Gary sensed pessimism mixed with sarcasm – Foss had known him a long time.
‘Hey, how’s tricks?’ a female voice chirped behind Gary’s right shoulder. He was studying the racing form guide, a nubby pencil clenched between the teeth. He had to find a winner – and soon. He’d already lost $200, and had only $40 cash and a few coins left. Bad news because his maxed-out credit card now refused to give cash advances at the ATM. Plus there was the $3,900 he owed Jocko. He spun around on his bar stool ready to tell the voice to please fuck off.
Smiling broadly at him was a woman who’d bought a car from Southport Euro Motors three months ago. Short bleached blonde hair framing a squarish face. Corporate outfit – black skirt and red blouse – and carefully applied makeup. She radiated confidence. Gary remembered he’d sold her a neat little Audi, plenty of kilometres on the clock but mechanically sound and with an impeccable service history.
‘Hi Dawn,’ he replied, ‘Great to see you again. How’s the Audi running?’
‘I’m surprised you remember my name.’ She beamed a hundred- watt smile that rivalled Gary’s best effort. ‘Like a dream. It’s perfect for work. Not too big, not too small and it looks great. Only problem I’ve had is a flat battery, other than that I couldn’t be happier.’
‘I always remember the names of my customers.’ Gary laughed. ‘And don’t be offended, Dawn’s an old-fashioned name that’s hard to forget. The only other Dawn I’ve heard of is Dawn Fraser and you look nothing like her, thankfully. Plus there’s that rather obvious name tag you’re wearing.’
His internal flirt button switched itself on and he couldn’t turn it off. From what he could make out, clouded though his mind was from the half dozen schooners he’d stuck away and the imminent threat of physical injury and/or death, Dawn was flirting right back.
‘You’re a cheeky bugger. My mother told me to be careful of men like you,’ she said, twirling her hair in the time-honoured manner of females engaged in the mating ritual.
‘Don’t worry. I’m married to a wonderful woman.’ He held out his hand to show off a gold wedding ring. Did he imagine it, or did Dawn look like she’d won the Lotto, only to find out it was a big mistake? There was something magnetic about her; if he was a single man he’d do everything in his power to hook up.
‘So, what are you doing in Castaways? Doesn’t seem to be the kind of place someone like you would go for a casual drink.’
Before she could answer, the barmaid tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Hey Gaz, ya wan’ another beer?’
The elegant enquiry came from Angel, one of the busty models in barely-there bras the pub employed to boost patronage. Her boobs bulged out the minuscule triangles of cloth just covering her nipples.
‘Yeah sure, and…’ he turned to Dawn, ‘can I get you one?’
He hoped to hear ‘yes’ so they could keep talking. On the other hand, his money was disappearing fast and he needed to catch up on the lost bets. Catch bloody 22.
‘Um…’ Dawn pretended to waver; she looked at her watch and glanced towards the door. ‘Just a quick one. But I’ll buy it. And I’ll get you a beer, for selling me such a great car. I never thanked you properly.’
She ordered another schooner for Gary and a house Chardonnay that looked like a pathology-bound urine sample.
Gary eyed off the glass before him with the appreciation of a connoisseur. A layer of foam crowned the liquid amber and condensation beads formed on the glass. It was about time his luck changed. A free drink and the lovely Dawn to talk to. He’d just see how things went. Nowhere would be best. Just one drink with a charming blonde client, that’s all.
‘You didn’t say. What brings you to this pub?’ Gary asked. He slammed down the remains of his schooner.
‘I’m supposed to meet a client at five. He’s selling his house down at Robina but works on a construction site in Southport. Building some units I think. Anyway, he’s been kind enough to spare me the drive down to Robina and agreed to meet here.’ She took a sip of her wine and squinted. ‘Ooh, that’s a bit shit.’
‘Yeah, this place isn’t renowned for its wine list. But the beer’s always cold. I’ve been drinking here for years.’ He felt no need to apologise on behalf of his local. It was what it was.
‘Doesn’t matter. I’ll manage.’
A third of the fresh schooner’s contents disappeared down his throat. Dawn’s presence disrupted his thought process. The alcohol also exerted an increasing influence, but as a seasoned drinker he was still coherent and capable of conversing at a social level. He decided to keep talking business so he could stop picturing her naked on the bar stool.
‘When you say customer, what do you mean?’
‘I’m in real estate. Been selling property here on the Coast for a couple of years now, three and a half to be exact. I used to be a hairdresser but thought I’d try something more challenging. It was bloody hard at first but now I love it. That Audi I bought from you – it was all my own money. No loan. If I’d stayed cutting hair I’d still be driving the crappy Berlina I had since high school. Surely I mentioned that when I bought the car.’
He must have been hungover as hell that day. How else could he have forgotten those details? Bit of a worry: he was too young for alcohol-induced memory loss.
Gary just wanted to flirt and fantasize about having sex with Dawn. Now he was intrigued about Dawn’s job.
‘That’s impressive.’ Gary pursed his lips in admiration.
‘Not at all.’ She shook her head. ‘One of the guys where I work made two hundred thousand in commissions last year. And if they’re motivated, agents can also build up passive income from rent referrals.’ She went to have another sip of her wine, screwed up her nose and put the glass down.
Gary looked at his watch. When’s that bastard Foss getting here? If he didn’t show soon, Gary would ask Dawn to take him to the park for a blow job, which might just get him slapped in the face. Or it might get him a blow job. Hard to tell.
‘You’d be good at it,’ Dawn added, staring him right in the eyes.
He gave her a blank look. Good at what? She must mean selling real estate.
‘You sold me that Audi when I wanted something much cheaper. You convinced me that I needed it.’