Unsuitable

“Not Flipper, Ett.” She leapt into a ninja pose, weaving a hand in front of his face. “She said you did some karate thing—hi-yah,” she kicked, “and took down sixty Chinese bad guys with nunchucks who tried to kidnap your boss, who you’re dating—um-ah.”

He looked at the verandah roof and breathed deep and it hurt. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

She slapped his stomach and he grunted. “What the hell, Reece baby. When did you get all Mortal Combat, Super Mario, Terminator?”

“Leave him alone, Neeva.” Charlie at the door. “Hello, stranger.” She stepped across the deck and he bent to kiss her hello.

Neev yelled into the house, “Gin, come on. Come see Reece’s gaping bloody wounds.”

“I’m not wounded.”

“Did they really have nunchucks?”

“Neeva, do you believe everything Etta tells you?” said Charlie.

Gin appeared in the same netball uniform. “Oh wow, look at your hands. Does that hurt?”

“No, I poked him, he didn’t do anything,” said Neev.

Gin yelled down the hall. “Flip, hurry up, we’ll be late.” Then she came at him, wrapped her arms around him and squeezed with her skinny arms. “I worry about you.”

Charlie smoothed Gin’s ponytail. Reece patted Gin’s back. “I’m all right. No need to worry.” He released her and Flip appeared in her netball uniform carrying the team ball and a bag of quartered oranges.

She offered her hand for a high five then dodged it. “See ya, Flop.”

“See ya,” he paused, “Pippa.”

She scowled at him. “Ooo.”

He shrugged and the three of them went down the stairs and out the gate. Etta would be at work, her Saturday Macca’s shift, so he had Charlie to himself.

She turned to go inside. “I’ll put the kettle on.” He followed her. “I told them you learned how to box, but that’s all I said. The rest is up to you, but you’ve obviously told Etta something before last night.”

He nodded. “Told her I was an idiot. She remembers me being away, remembers you being mad at me. Told her not to be an idiot.”

“She’s smoking.” Charlie filled the kettle.

He groaned. “Told me she’d give it up.”

Charlie put the kettle on the stove and turned the gas on. “She knows it’s not good for her. Knows I’m unhappy, but it’s no good me saying anything. She has to choose. Gin’s barely talking to her.” She opened a loaf of raisin bread. He’d get toast with tea out of this. “Should I be mad at you about last night, Reece?”

“No. They came at us. I had no choice.” She studied him and he didn’t feel wilted. Once they were in the laneway he’d had no option but to win.

“All right then. Tell me about Audrey.”

“I love her, Mum.” Shit, his voice crackled. He’d never said anything remotely like that to Charlie before.

“Oh, Reece.” She leant on the breakfast counter opposite him and lightly touched the backs of his hands, above the crusty scabs. “How much older is she?”

“Does it matter?” He pulled his hands away, annoyed, but more with himself for showing his feelings so early.

“Yes, it matters, because she has a child and a different life to you, and she’s your boss, in case you forgot that while you were lolling around in her bed.”

He shifted on the stool. “Charlie.”

“Well, you are sleeping with her, aren’t you?”

He rubbed his face. Not talking about sex with Mum. “Not lolling. It’s not like that.” She made it sound frivolous, temporary fun. It was everything to him and he knew that sounded whacked out.