Monkey Business (28 page)

The next night I visited Jack but just for a short time. Steve was there, and happy to see me, raising his eyebrows at my hair, but Jack kind of ignored me. They were having a good old laugh about something when I walked in.

Steve said, grinning, ‘Tigers are back.'

‘What? Oh, yeah.' They'd thrashed Carlton last week but I didn't really care.

I left the boys and their football talk, and took myself to a movie in Brighton. It was comforting to know I could do something as innocent as seeing a movie all by myself while Jack was safe and sound in hospital. I chose Brighton not only so I could drive past Jack's house, but because Church Street, Brighton, is about as different to Saint Sebastian as any place could be.

On the way home it started to rain and I slowed my car. The roads were oily, and tram tracks are slippery in the wet. I was in an especially bad mood after the stinking movie, which for some reason made me think about Jack's surliness and everything else that had ever annoyed me. Driving up Swan Street I got stuck behind a tram, right in front of that horrible nightclub. Through the blur of heavy rain and a misting window, I watched the line of kewpie dolls huddled against the wall of the building. A figure emerged from the shadows, trotted to the front of the queue, shook hands and laughed with a security guard at the front door, and walked in. Mick bloody Jansen.

Weirdly and suddenly, some alien force acquired my body and parked my car illegally, pushed me out of it and across the road, past the protesting security guard and into the nightclub, right up to the bar where Mick Jansen stood and where I punched him in the face. He was so shocked he didn't respond right away, which gave me time to punch him again and again and then kick him in the balls. By which time security had caught up with me, grabbed me in a bear hug and hoisted me across the room to a quiet space, away from the delighted crowd, where I was detained while the police were called. The police of course looked bewildered and unconvinced, amused even, but took me into custody anyway because, after all, I had violently assaulted someone for no apparent reason. No reason other than the fact that several witnesses, and I, declared him to be an arsehole. So then I was in the local lock-up. Who to call?

Joe arrived at the police station and presumably dealt with all the paperwork. I didn't know or care if money had to be handed over for my release/bail/whatever – Jack could afford it and Joe had access to Jack's money. And I really wasn't interested in the process.

On the way to get my car, Joe, looking pretty sceptical, said, ‘Who'd you assault?'

‘Mick Jansen.'

He pulled over. Actually, he swerved so abruptly I was surprised we didn't cause an accident. He stared at me, mouth hanging open.

I said, ‘Do you want to know why?'

‘I'm pretty sure I know
why,
Erica. What I don't understand is how you survived it.'

‘I sort of took him by surprise.'

Joe stared at me for a few seconds more then threw his head back and roared with laughter. It made me smile. I'd never seen Joe so delighted.

‘It really hurt,' I said, shaking my wrist and flexing the fingers of my right hand. Actually, I'd used both.

‘I'll show you how to hit so it doesn't,' he said, still laughing.

‘You won't tell Jack, will you?' What the hell would Jack think? What would he say? Gawd.

Joe considered that, gazing through the windscreen. ‘No, I won't tell him.' He looked at me.

‘Thanks.'

‘The reason I won't tell him is because he's already so distressed by the danger he's put you in.'

‘He hasn't put me in danger.'

‘We've talked about this, Erica. If it weren't for Jack, you'd be living a quiet, safe life.'

‘Yeah and be bored out of my brain. And with no money.'

‘Jack doesn't care if you're bored. He just wants you safe.'

‘Safe, schmafe.' I huffed.

Joe started driving again.

I sat with my arms crossed, huffing, watching the blurry lights of Richmond glide by. After a while I said, ‘Joe, why's Jack being so unfriendly to me? He's hardly spoken two words to me and he's being nice to everyone else.'

Joe didn't answer for a long time. The windscreen wipers squeaked as the rain eased and stopped. Finally he said, ‘He's hoping you'll give up on him.'

‘You have
got
to be joking.'

He shook his head. ‘I'm not.'

‘After all we've been through, as if I'm going to give up on him!'

‘You have to remember, Jack doesn't do relationships.'

‘I'm not asking for a commitment. I don't want a boyfriend.'

Well, I didn't want anyone
else
to be my boyfriend, but I didn't go into that detail. ‘I like my job with the Team.'

‘Good,' he said. ‘I don't want you to give up on him.'

I nodded once. ‘Good.'

My car wasn't where I'd left it, and I assumed it'd been towed. I reckon it'd been blocking the trams. Joe said he'd get it for me tomorrow.

When we pulled up at my house, I asked, ‘What do you think will happen to Mick Jansen?'

Joe smirked. ‘You don't need to worry about him.'

I went to the hospital the next night. Joe was there.

‘I need to tell you something,' said surly-face Jack, ‘but I don't want you to be afraid.'

‘What could possibly frighten me ever again?'

‘Mick Jansen's been seen. He's back in Melbourne.'

‘Really?'

Joe and I exchanged a quick glance.

Jack continued, ‘He's already been in trouble. Apparently a woman attacked him last night . . .'

He stopped talking and narrowed his eyes at me. I set my face to innocent. Bambi eyes. I hid my grazed knuckles behind my back and avoided looking at Joe.

‘It was probably Lucy,' I said.

He held my gaze, worry clouding his.

‘I'm joking,' I said and he relaxed slightly. ‘What will happen to him?'

Jack was looking unconvinced but probably deep down he didn't want to know the truth anyway. ‘We'll sort him. Don't worry.'

‘I'll try not to.'

Jack was sent home a couple of days later and I left it a few more days before visiting him. I wanted him to miss me, think about whether he'd like his life without me. But then I worried he might, so after work one night I drove straight to his house. Joe was happy to see me.

At the front door I said, ‘How's the patient?'

‘In bed.'

‘Is he still feeling the same about me?'

Joe nodded. ‘Yeah. He's a bit depressed, actually. Kind of angry.'

‘Well, he needs to get over himself.' I marched up the stairs, barged into his bedroom. The room was dark except for the light from a bedside lamp. There was no one there.

‘Oh,' I said out loud, but then the door to his ensuite opened and there he was, standing in the doorway, backlit by the bathroom light, naked apart from the bandage on his leg. The glow from his bedside lamp was strong enough for me to get a good look, and I did. But then I felt embarrassed, the puffed-up wind knocked out of me. I wasn't sure if I should look away or not as he stood there, making no attempt to cover himself.

He limped across the room and got into bed.

I recovered, puffed myself up again, stomped across to his bedside and propped there, hands on hips. He was full of self-pity, I could see that. He hadn't shaved in a while.

‘Can you give me a
good
reason to walk out of your life?'

His frown deepened. ‘Obviously —'

‘For example,' I interrupted, ‘do you find me boring? Or maybe it's because of my hair?'

He shook his head.

‘No? Well, are you worried I might have romantic expectations of you?' I thought about what I'd said in front of all the people at Samson's house – that Jack was ‘my man' and Joe was to be best man at our wedding.

He didn't respond, so I said, ‘Get over yourself, Jones, you're not that good.' (This wasn't exactly true.) ‘Yes, I like having sex with you and,' I muttered, ‘wouldn't mind doing it again, but,' I held up a finger to emphasise my point, ‘I have no expectations.' Even though my mother did.

He didn't say anything.

I said, ‘So, you're worried I might get hurt or even killed if I hang around you?'

He mumbled, ‘Of course.'

‘But you wouldn't care if I were devastated because you've ended our friendship, and I was so distracted by the grief I'd walk in front of a bus and get killed. But at least
you'd
be free of the burden of guilt, because you would have no way of knowing the reason I walked in front of that bus.'

I thought there was a tiny lift at the corner of his mouth. Those telltale eyes certainly weren't sulking any more.

I poked the air. ‘You're a very selfish man, Jack Jones. You only think of your own heart. Not that you've got one anyway.'

He nodded slightly.

‘Well, I'm going.'

He had the decency to hesitate before saying, ‘All right.'

I huffed and left his bedroom, went down the stairs and out the front door. I didn't bother saying goodbye to Joe because I knew I'd be seeing him again, with or without Jack's friendship.

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, sighing loudly, thinking about moving to America.

Axle heard something before I did. His head popped up, ears twitching, and I was aware of my front gate squeaking as it was pushed open. I was sure I'd locked it. But then, I did know someone who was especially good at picking locks. I smiled because I was happy he was here, and then I was cross because he was so bloody presumptuous.

There was a tap on my bedroom window and he called out, his voice deep and low and always sexy, ‘You'd better be alone in there,' and that pissed me off too.

When I yanked open the front door, there he was, a look of hope, despair, sadness, happiness all mingled on his gorgeous, freshly shaved face.

Axle dashed up his leg – the good one – and Jack hissed, ‘Jesus Christ.' He lifted Axle by the scruff and held him in front of his face. ‘You're getting too big for this monkey business.'

Axle didn't respond. I took him and put him on the floor.

Jack looked at me, sheepish, said, ‘Joe reckons I'm an idiot.'

‘And what do you reckon?'

‘I agree with Joe.'

I looked past Jack at the white Mercedes humming by the kerb, Joe behind the wheel. The passenger window was open and I could see his face in the glow from the streetlight. I said, ‘What's he doing?'

‘Waiting to see if you'll let me in.'

‘Why would I?'

‘Because you love me?'

If he wasn't looking so pathetic I would have hit him over the head. I took a breath, ready with an onslaught of, well, not abuse exactly, but maybe a whole lot of information about what I thought he should know about himself. But there was no fight left in me and besides, I did love him. And I hated him.

He said, ‘So, can I come in?'

‘What's in it for me?'

‘My friendship.'

‘Maybe that's not enough. You're a pretty crappy friend.'

‘Money?'

‘How much?'

‘Ten thousand dollars.'

‘You gave Lucy fifty thousand!'

‘All right. Fifty thousand. A hundred thousand.'

I nodded slowly. ‘Hmm.'

‘You could renovate your house.'

‘I can afford that without you,' I said. ‘What else?'

‘Really dirty sex.'

‘And sweaty?'

‘Of course.'

‘Well, okay.' I stepped back and swung the door wide.

Jack gave Joe the thumbs up.

I could see Joe sitting there, his broad smile. With a wave he drove away and Jack limped through the door. He put one arm tightly around my shoulders, drawing me close. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘Good.'

‘It's just, I couldn't bear it if you were hurt, especially —'

‘I know.'

He kissed me softly. ‘Thank you for rescuing us.'

‘You're welcome.'

Together we walked into my bedroom. He kicked off his shoes and flopped heavily onto the bed, groaning.

Axle sat on his stomach and I lay beside him, my head on his shoulder, my arm draped across his chest. I played with his earlobe and twirled my fingers in his hair. He squeezed me very hard for a long time.

Finally, he said, ‘I lied. I don't think I can.'

‘Then let's sleep.' I pushed Axle gently away and knelt beside Jack, carefully pulling off his jeans.

He sat up, lifting his T-shirt over his head. ‘Is that what I think it is?' He was checking out the palm tree vibrator on my mantel.

‘Probably.'

‘What's it doing there?'

‘Long story.' I pulled the doona over us both, kissed his cheek and we held hands as I lay there watching him until he relaxed into a peaceful sleep. Axle settled between our feet and I turned off the bedside lamp, gazing at Jack's dark shape, listening to a glorious duet of soft snoring and thunderous purring.

After a few hours, Jack's breathing changed and he stirred.

I said, ‘Are you awake?'

‘I am.'

‘How are you feeling?'

‘Sensational.'

Well, I did what any self-respecting girl in my situation would do. I sat on him, my hands on his chest. Light from the street glowed through the blind. I could see his smile.

‘Do you like my hair?'

‘Yes.'

‘You're just saying that because you want sex.'

He chuckled and ran his hands up my arms. ‘I suspect I'll get that with or without compliments.'

‘True.'

‘Actually,' he said, reaching up and pushing his fingers through my hair, ‘I was thinking you look like that actress —'

‘Halle Berry?'

‘Yes, but better.'

‘Better!'

‘Yes.' With a hand behind my head, he pulled me into a deep, delicious kiss. ‘Watch the leg,' he murmured, and kissed my nose, my chin.

‘Don't you worry, Jack Jones.' Like a cat in the sun I stretched out along his hot, hard body. ‘You're in safe hands with me.'