Australia doesn't really have any Winter holidays. Christmas is in Summer and it's often hot, humid, and full of flies and mosquitoes. On the other hand, it's also the time of year where things slow down and it is very common for businesses to close between Christmas and New Year.
This is set in the same world as one of my Christmas stories from last year—Secret Santa—and a character or two crossover. No need to have read it, but there is a link between the two stories.
As always thanks so much to the amazing analysts who read through and offered suggestions on my draft—you all rock!"
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If I'd allowed him to buy me a drink, I might have understood why I was sitting here listening to his drivel, but, as always, I had insisted on buying my own gin and tonic. Acting the polite person I sometimes was, I surprised myself and did not simply leave once he had opened his mouth.
"I mean, I kinda get it, but, I mean, there's just sumfin' about it, like, those fuckin' pigs just never see it comin' and then, BOOM! You get 'em right between the eyes and they're down. I got a pic, here..."
Shoot me now. I avoid guys who brag about their love of pig shooting, but his profile said nothing about his hobby. He talked about being a landscaper and I figured we'd talk about plants, but no, he mows the local cricket field as a volunteer (I'm suspecting community service order) and does odd jobs for mates as he tries to work out what to do with his life.
I shouldn't judge him. Here's me at almost twenty-three trying to work out what to do with my life. I might have graduated with first-class honours in literature, but no one is banging down my door wanting to read my stories. Instead, I'm stuck in a dead-end retail job.
"See look! Fuck she was a big one. I'm headin' up north again over Chrissy—you should come with us, I mean, we need a cook, plus, I mean, it gets lonely at night and there's four of us blokes to take care of, if ya get ma drift. You ever been spit-roasted?"
I almost spat out my drink. He's on his third rum and coke and I'm pretty sure that's just with me—something tells me he's been drinking most of the afternoon. He looked nothing like the profile photos he had shared with me. I was surprised he hadn't already sent me a dick pic.
"You seem different from your profile." I try to divert the conversation.
"Yeah, me missus helped."
"You're married?" I hope my incredulity was hidden in my sudden reply.
"Nah, got a kid together ya know. She's great when I'm desperate like, but, she's too fuckin' uptight most of the time. I prefer looser chicks if ya get ma drift."
I knew I needed to get away from this disaster of a date. We had absolutely nothing in common. When I saw Charlotte again, I was going to murder her. It was her idea for me to try the online dating thing again. I had been so determined to get good grades at uni that I had avoided contact with men. I was sure I was the only twenty-two-year-old virgin left in this city.
"Estelle? Estelle Wittington, is that you?"
Rock, meet hard place, both abutting me.
"Na mate, this is Stella and she's wiv me." My date had stood by this stage. It was almost comical seeing him try to square up against a man who was at least a head taller than him.
"Sorry, um, Bruce, this is Tobias Mortimer, he's my sister's boss. Tobias, this is, well, Bruce." I hoped I would never discover his last name.
"How's Sophia getting along? I keep meaning to check in on her and Alice. I assume Lydia's doting over both of them?" I was almost surprised Tobias could speak pleasantly towards me, but then again, he was not in the same class of douchebag as Bruce.
"Yeah, Soph's doing great. Alice is amazing. She's almost two months old now and has the most precious smile. Lydia is just besotted with both of her girls."
This was the most I'd spoken since I had met Bruce at this bar which was unusual in itself as I usually developed verbal diarrhoea when I was nervous. Perhaps my brain had realised there was nothing to be nervous about when with an idiot like Bruce. He told me he'd never been here before and complained it was a little yuppie, but I guess as long as they had rum flowing, he didn't really mind. I glanced over to see him slumped in his chair.
"Sorry, Bruce, was it? Yeah, Estelle's sister is my PA, but she and her wife have just had a baby."
"Ya mean she's a fuckin' carpet muncher? Geez! Does she let ya watch? I mean, girl on girl, that's hot as fuck!"
Tobias had a look of shock on his face. I didn't care what he thought of me. I'd met him a few times and always found him to be a grumpy stuck-up douchebag. At Sophie and Lydia's wedding, he'd cornered me and tried to talk about web design or phone apps or something that didn't interest me. When I suggested we hit the dancefloor together he looked at me as if I had two heads and told me he could not deign to embarrass himself in such a manner. He then turned to another stuck-up douchebag guest who I did not know and started to talk about horse racing.
Soph had often commented about how kind he was, but to me, he was just a jerk-face arsehole who had nothing in common with me. Sure, he was hot, but it was the kind of heat that was meant to burn, and I doubt it would ever burn pleasantly. He also had a reputation that preceded him.
Every time I read a newspaper he was in the social pages, usually with another blonde model dripping off his arm at gallery openings or nightclubs. He'd done well for himself and was always described as one of this town's richest eligible bachelors. I doubted if a woman had achieved the same success as him, she would have been described as a rich eligible spinster or bachelorette or whatever.
Reaching for my phone I opened the dating app and clicked several buttons allowing me to delete my profile. It was clear after my third disastrous date for the month, that it was never going to lead me to someone I could even contemplate having sex with.
I never bought into the whole virgin purity myths that seemed to abound and it didn't bother me that I had not yet had sex, but I also knew I was unusual. I wasn't saving myself for the right man, I just hadn't met anyone I had wanted to have sex with, so images of a Hemsworth brother (it didn't matter which one) ravishing me would have to do for the moment. My fingers had served me well up until now, and it looked like they would be serving me well for a while to come.
When I was six and Sophia was eleven, my parents had divorced. They'd always fought like wildcats and, even though I was young, I could see that the separation was a good thing. Mum was an academic who used poststructural feminism to deconstruct educational opportunities for girls in mathematics. She'd been a primary school teacher before Sophia was born but was drawn to academia.
Dad was an accountant. They were like fire and oil—attracted to each other and so volatile. I had always assumed I was never planned, or if I was, it was to try and shore up their relationship. Dad had remarried and I got the impression he and Rachel, my stepmother, were happy. They had moved up north and I had two half-brothers who I hardly ever saw. Technically, I should be visiting them this Christmas, but I was able to blame my retail job for not being able to get away.
I lived in my dad's old unit, the one he moved into when he and Mum first separated. Sophia had lived in it going through uni and Dad insisted I do the same. He refused to take rent from us. He'd always paid his child support on time and gave more than he needed to by law. It was great being able to move out of home, but at the same time, it had not been the same love nest for me that it had been for my sister.
"That's interesting, don't you think, Estelle?" I had been too absorbed in my thoughts to focus on the conversation the two men I'd been ignoring had been having.
"Um, sorry, look, just got a message and I have to go. Sorry, Bruce, I really don't think we should do this again." And I hurried out of the bar.
~*~*~*~*~
"How was your date?" I was so happy to be working with Charlotte the following morning.
