“Thought I’d pop in, darling,” she said.
Jason snapped out of his stare and affected a laugh. “Sorry, got caught up in my head.”
That smile grew and she gestured him behind the counter, where she perched on his seat with a grateful sigh. “Thinking of a special someone, were you? Hmm?”
Eerily close. “Um . . .”
Jason didn’t know what to do with his hands or his feet. He shifted his weight around, leaned forward with his elbows on the counter, straightened again.
“Look at you. Terrible at hiding the truth.”
Jason gulped.
She raised her hands. “Okay, guilty. Your cousin came around yesterday and spilled the beans about the new boyfriend.”
“Oh.” All these monosyllabic noises. He had to think up something better to say.
A laugh. “We can’t keep any secrets.”
“Can’t you?”
Abort, abort. Totally the wrong thing to say. All that attitude!
Patricia’s laughter came to an abrupt halt. “What was that, darling?”
Uhhh. “If you can’t keep secrets, I can’t tell you who he is yet.” He gave her a naughty-naughty finger waggle.
The frozen look in her eyes melted and the laughter resumed, the quality of it more relieved than humoured. “When’s this unveiling, then? Tomorrow I hope.”
Jason sighed deeply when she left. Well that went . . . it could have been worse.
His cell phone chimed, a welcome distraction from the strange mix of feelings in his stomach.
Pete: after work adventure! Late night shopping. Let’s drive to the city and pick up our suits
* * *
Jason: Sorry, mate. Got a date
* * *
Pete: Can’t you shift it?
He probably could, but . . . ‘Carl’s’ life didn’t revolve around his ex, and Pete would have to get used to that. Also, Cora and ‘Mum’ were expecting an unveiling, like, tomorrow, and first Jason had to meet Daniel and be sure this fakery would work. And finally, he just . . . didn’t want to shift it.
Jason: Sorry. Won’t have time tonight
The dots moved on the screen for a long time before Pete replied.
Pete: Looking forward to chatting with you both about . . . how this all happened
Jason bet he was. He’d grill the poor man to the brink of sanity. Maybe it’d be wise not to freak Daniel out about those specifics too early. Tonight would be making the fakery gig sound worthwhile.
Worthwhile. Jason swallowed. Would tickets to all his performances in Australia or New Zealand for life be a welcome suggestion? Or was that thinking too green?
He found himself texting again.
Jason: What do I offer this guy? To convince him to be my fake boyfriend?
* * *
Owen: I wouldn’t worry about that
* * *
Jason: If he asks me to milk anything, I might bolt, table around my middle
* * *
Owen: Lol. He won’t
* * *
Jason: Okay, okay. Oh, btw, can we stop off home first? Need to dress for date
* * *
Owen: You look fine as you are
* * *
Jason: I frosted my pants
* * *
Owen: ?
* * *
Jason: They’re all crusty. Delicious, I’m sure, but he won’t know that
* * *
Owen: . . .
They dropped Mary off at Alex’s for the night, and swung by home. Jason stopped with his key in Carl’s door, and swiftly backtracked to Owen pulling mail out of his letterbox.
“Thought you were desperate to change?” Owen said, flipping through his mail.
“Absolutely.”
Owen peered at him.
Jason rubbed his nape. “I need you to come.”
“Come?”
“Watch.”
Owen rubbed the corners of three envelopes against his brow. “Watch what?”
“That no snake tries to inject me with its poison.”
“I’m sure all snakes will behave themselves.”
“But what if there’s something about me they’re drawn to?” Jason made a cursory sniff of his armpit. “What if they emerge from their dark, damp crevices and come at me?”
Owen shut his eyes. “I’m going inside to change.”
He strode toward his place and left the door open, which Jason took as an invitation to follow along if he must.
Jason followed along and paced in front of the closed bedroom door until Owen emerged, fresh and sculpted in a navy cotton button-down, light denim jeans and brown leather shoes. He hung a beaten brown leather jacket over his shoulder and met Jason’s gobsmacked stare with a questioning stare of his own.
Jason laughed. “It’s always an adjustment, seeing you out of uniform. Say, are you in any of those charity calendars? You know, Mr July?”
“Mr July,” Owen repeated deadpan.
“A winter month for sure.” Jason gestured vaguely toward . . . all that. “Heat ‘em up and everything.” A pause. “You must be doing something nice this evening.”
“Nice. Torturous.”
“Is it . . . dinner with the parents?”
“Parents?”
Jason tried on a . . . smiling grimace? Or something that looked appropriately sorry and not sorry? He tagged behind Owen towards the front door, where he collected his keys and wallet. Phone. “Alex came into the store today, he needs the Jeep another few days. We got to chatting and when I said you were driving me into Mulburry, he said it’s probably because you were seeing Nanna and Pop, who I assume are your parents?”