Nazareth woke late the next morning, the edges of his block-out blinds glowing with the morning sun. He stretched, yawned and rolled over to looked at the clock, marvelling at the fact he was able to sleep uninterrupted for the first time in a week. If he got up quickly, he could go for a run, get a coffee and come back to do some work. The blind rolled up with a sharp squeal as he looked out the window of his bedroom. The grass wasn't too bad, he could probably mow it next week. He pulled a face. He needed to stop procrastinating. Pulling on his skins and a t-shirt, he padded out of the bedroom to find his runners.
The Schöneberg Marmion Remix pounded through his earphones as Nazareth's legs stretched over the uneven terrain. Navigating this area of the foothills was always a little tricky. Going too hard was a sure way to cop more than just muscle injury. He'd seen a few people with what the locals coined "mountain rash", after losing their footing and eating dirt. Not that he hadn't come close quite a few times, but he'd finally worked out the best route for him on the way to the sharp incline, and even then he still had to be careful. Years of runners and the elements had eroded away the grass on the hill, but it was rough ground in general. The music eventually faded away and the silence was filled with Nazareth's own laboured breathing. He felt the burn of his muscles and knew that he was going to pay for it later. He hadn't run in some time and winced as his footing slipped against the dirt, but his momentum kept him steady as his weight transferred to the other foot. Several kilometers later he was enjoying the view of the town over the treetops from the top of the hill. After a good break, he started the descent.
* * *
The sun was high in the sky by the time Nazareth made his way back to town. He stopped in the reserve for a stretch, then made his way across town to get a coffee from Percolate. He opted for a takeaway and stood out on the footpath while he contemplated whether to linger in town or drink it as he walked home. Taking a sip he realised the sugar hadn't been mixed in very well, so he took off the lid, turning to throw it in the bin. As he turned, someone bumped into him, causing him to spill most of the coffee down his t-shirt.
"CHRRRIST!" Nazareth instinctively jumped back, knowing the coffee was hot.
"Shit! I am so sorry. Oh god, are you okay?" The older woman looked horrified, as she stood and looked at Nazareth's stained t-shirt. She was holding a bunch shopping bags with her phone in her hand.
He tried not to be angry, despite the fact that it looked as though she'd been busy on her phone and wasn't watching where she was going.
"Can I help? My goodness I am so so sorry."
Nazareth waved his hand and shook his head. "Look, no it's fine. Don't worry." He couldn't bring himself to smile but at least he was able to keep his voice under control.
"Are you sure?"
He nodded and turned away. He had no stomach for coffee now as he threw the rest of it in the bin. One of the staff at Percolate had seen what had happened and had come out with some serviettes.
Nazareth took them gratefully. "Thanks." He soaked up what he could, but the t-shirt looked worse for wear, it was probably a throw away. He screwed up the last of the serviettes and threw them in the bin shaking his head.
"Hey there..."
Nazareth looked up to see Els parked at the curb next to him. He'd been so involved in cleaning up his t-shirt that he hadn't heard the car pull up.
"Els..." He half smiled, feeling slightly embarrassed at how he must've looked.
She pulled the sunglasses from her face and cocked her head. He noticed she wasn't wearing a trace of make-up. Her eyes were still quite dark, but she looked younger, more girlish. "That's not good. I tell you what, why don't you hop in. My house isn't far and we can get you cleaned up... if you want? Or I can drop you home?"
Nazareth blinked and gave her an easy smile. "Sure, I guess. I'd all but figured the t-shirt was ruined." He should have told her to drop him home but curiousity got the better of him.
"Nah." She waved her hand. "Let's clean it up before it really does stain."
* * *
It was immaculate. The faint smell of leather filled his nostrils as he looked around the beautifully restored interior. Els changed gears and looked at him, before turning her eyes back to the road.
"Thanks for this. I appreciate it."
She chuckled. "Thank me when we get the coffee out of your t-shirt."
Minutes later they pulled into a driveway. The small yellow bricked house featured a stone chimney and lawns were simple, but manicured, hosting a solitary streetlamp. He followed her to the front door as she opened it and ushered him in. Standing in the small hallway as she closed the door, he noticed that she stood a good head under him without skates or heels.
"Right, clothes off."
"What?" Nazareth was taken aback.
"Give me your t-shirt silly." Els held our her hand.
He pulled it off and handed it to her, feeling strange that he was standing in her hallway, half-naked in only his skins. She on the other hand was wearing black jeans, a black short sleeve mechanics shirt and her hair was down. She walked around the corner.
"Make yourself at home"
Two seconds later she came back with a black t-shirt, and studied his chest for a second before throwing it to him. Nazareth hoped that she hadn't noticed how his flesh prickled under her appraisal.
"That should fit you."
He pulled it on hastily. "Thanks."
She smiled before disappearing again. "No problem."
Nazareth felt as though he'd stepped back into the fifties, not the family home style, but more designer almost masculine with the exception of a few items he noted, seeing the row of bakelite canisters on the kitchen bench. The corner fireplace had some logs piled neatly in the hearth, but it looked like it hadn't been used in some time. There was also a simple shelf tucked against wall with a stack of vinyls and a record player.
"Right."
Nazareth turned his head to find Els standing in the kitchen.
"I can't offer you a coffee as good as Percolate, but I have instant, or tea if you feel like it. Or maybe a soft drink?"
He walked up to the breakfast bar and pulled out one of the stools. "Tea will be fine. Black and one."
She grinned. "Sure, that makes it easy." She turned on the ceramic jug and pulled out some mugs and sugar, then leaned back against the bench waiting for the water to boil.
"Nice place you have here."
"Thanks."
Nazareth looked back towards the living area. "Is that..." He shook his head trying to remember. "Paul McCobb?"
Els laughed. "I wish. It looks pretty good huh? It's a reproduction piece." She crossed her arms. "Impressive Nazareth, what else can you tell me?"
A wry grin tugged at his lips. Probably not what she'd want to hear. "I'm afraid that is the extent of my impressiveness today."
"So... you're a fit one. Run often?"
He shook his head. "Not as often as I would like." He shrugged. "As you can see, it was all going well until the coffee."
The jug reached the boil and Els turned to make them tea. She then grabbed both mugs and went into the living room. He followed her and she handed one of them to him as they sat on the lounge, balancing their mugs before Els gave in and put hers down on a coaster.
