Husband Sit (Husband #1) (20 page)

As
the backwash of emotions flowed over me, I realized Missy Lou’s revelation was
the thing that worried me the most. She’d always been so strong, the one we all
relied on, but tonight she’d seemed...brittle, as if the years of pretending
had worn her thin. I suddenly feared that someday a stiff breeze rushing off
the harbor would shatter her.

Her
vulnerability made me even more determined to protect our friendship. I’d never
planned to ask her for money to pay Brittany’s hospital bills, but I sure as
hell wasn’t going to now, especially when I had the perfect job—distasteful
though it was—to cover those costs. Missy Lou needed me to be reliable right
now, and I was damned well going to do whatever it took to convince her I was
there for her.

The
thought of her two rooms away, lying in bed beside Marcus, made me squirm,
wondering if she had just enough alcohol in her system to blur the hard edges,
ready to comply if he wanted his conjugal rights. And why? What possible reason
could she have to stay?

I
shook my head on the cloud pillow, tempted to go over the past in my mind and
try to track a moment where I should have seen what was happening for her, but
my eyelids were too heavy. Despite all the sleeping I’d done under anesthetic,
I was exhausted.

Having
your stomach pumped would probably do that.

So
I succumbed, thinking tomorrow would provide answers.

As
usual, I was wrong. No answers. Just Missy Lou waking me up—with some
difficulty, as I was super groggy. She gave me the fake smile to shoo me along
to breakfast which I shared with Marcus. She ate nothing, again. After that,
Marcus offered me a lift back to my car in King’s Cross because today was the
Bentley’s scheduled clean and vacuum, and the car detailers arrived at eight am
sharp.

It
sounded like an excuse for Missy Lou to get out of telling me more, but what choice
did I have? I waved her goodbye from the front seat of Marcus’s silver Ferrari.
As we backed out of the driveway onto the road, I felt so low to the ground I
should have been worried about the danger of getting gravel rash on my butt,
only I was hopelessly distracted, thinking about Louella and what a bad friend
I’d been—not noticing her life was so terrible that she’d turned into an
alcoholic.

Not
only that, I’d completely forgotten to ring Brittany yesterday, and I needed to
do that later in the morning when it was after breakfast in Bangkok. The added
guilt of forgetting my own sister made my burden of feel-bad emotions even
heavier.

Marcus
nudged me with an elbow. “No teasing about my new ride?”

I
refocused on my surroundings and noticed we were purring down the road that
hugged the harbor. Sunlight sparkled on clear blue water that had launched a
thousand postcards, its glittering surface dotted with yachts. I wondered if
Marcus had aquatic toys as well.

I
sniffed with affected displeasure. “That your vehicle is ostentatious goes
without saying. Not to mention that it’s slightly pathetic.”

“In
what way?”

“Mid-life
crisis.”

“Is
that all you’ve got?” He slanted me a glance over the top of his sunglasses.
Today he was in a classic grey flannel suit, looking every inch the sartorially
savvy mogul.

“Pretentious.”
I waggled a finger at him. “No one likes a showboat.”

He
smirked and looked back at the road. I’d never understood why he wanted my
barbs, but they seemed to content him. We drove in silence after that and I
realized I still liked Marcus. It wasn’t his fault that he was gay. Maybe he
hadn’t discovered his sexuality properly until after they were married. By all
accounts, he’d been faithful to her. That counted for something. And he seemed
so happy with her. That was the weird part. How could Missy Lou be so
unhappy
when he seemed fulfilled? It didn’t make sense.

We
finally arrived in the laneway where I’d parked, and I couldn’t wait to head
off for my hotel in Newcastle where I could change into clean clothes. Missy
Lou had given me underwear, but I was still in the same sundress I’d vomited in
yesterday. It didn’t smell bad—that I noticed—but I wanted out of it.

I
shoved the door open and got out. It was a long way up from that low seat to be
standing on the footpath beside him. I felt every one of my thigh muscles. Then
I leant down and said, “Thanks, Marcus. You’re not bad for a pretentious ass.”

He
grinned. “And you’re my favorite trashy drunk.”

I
had to grin back. Then I noticed for the first time that his respectful gaze—which
stayed on my face rather than drifting to my exposed cleavage—probably wasn’t
old-fashioned manners, but simple lack of interest.

When
I would have straightened, he said, “So there’s no chance you’ll get back with
Doug, eh?”

“What?”
What was with these people and match-making?

“Louella
told me you just broke up with someone else.”

I
said slowly and clearly, “Doug is off my radar. Permanently. I will never get
back with him.”

“Pity.”

“Why?”
A sudden intuition made me ask, “Did you like Doug?”

The
question caught him unawares, and while I watched, a slow blush crept up from
his neck. He ignored that to shrug. “He’s funny. Self-deprecating.”

The
perfect match for a showy mogul. Only, Doug wasn’t gay—that I knew of.

I
shrugged back. “No reason you can’t keep in touch with him,” I said casually.
“It won’t worry me.”

He
quickly shook his head. “Louella wouldn’t let me. She’d say it was disloyal.”

“
I’m
saying it’s not disloyal.”

He
stared at me then, and I could almost see the cogs going around inside his
brain. “Well, I’m having cocktails next weekend. I’d hoped to invite the two of
you, if you were back together.”

Did
that make it safer for Marcus, having a guy he liked—
liked—
as part of a
couple? He could still enjoy Doug’s company, but not risk anything on either
side. It would have been cute, but...“Doug’s probably got a girlfriend by now.
It was months ago we broke up.”

“No,
he’s single.”

The
blush came back and I crouched to continue the conversation, super-intrigued by
now. “You’ve kept in touch with him.”

“Promise
you won’t tell L.”

“I
promise.”

“It
was all about you—”

Of
course...

“—and
seeing if I could match-make you back together again.”

I
had a sudden clear memory taking Doug to visit them. We’d stayed for the weekend,
and the first night Missy Lou and I had crashed at about ten pm, but the boys
had kept drinking and I hadn’t any idea when Doug had come to bed. He’d had a
hell of a hangover the next morning, and had been particularly sheepish. I’d
thought that was embarrassment at getting trashed on his first visit with them,
coupled with his obvious awe at their wealth. He was an electrician with a
modest three-bedder in suburban Brisbane. Any odd behavior that weekend I’d put
down to ‘fish out of water’ nerves.

But
what if it had been something else entirely?

“Did
you ring him?” I asked.

“Email.
Then phone.”

Several
contacts.

“Okay.”
I nodded. “I’m not upset. I mean, you guys can have a friendship quite
independent of me.” He opened his mouth to refute that, but I held up a hand to
stop him. “I’m just telling you, I’m not getting back together with him. I’m in
love with someone else.”

Finn
had spoilt me for any other man—at least in the short term. And if I hadn’t
been content to settle for Doug before, why would I now, having discovered I
was capable of so much more than lukewarm affection? My feelings for Doug had
been a trickle in a dried-up creek bed compared to the roaring torrent of
emotion I felt around Finn. But as previously stated, my love life was officially
in
drought
status until the husband sitting job could be sidelined. And
when it was back on track, I wouldn’t be getting involved with any married men!

When
I refocused on Marcus, he was frowning at me, and at last he said, “So...do you
want to bring this ‘someone else’ to cocktails?”

I
could tell he wasn’t interested in the idea at all.

“No,
we broke up, remember?”

“Right.”
He nodded, then glanced away and seemed to take stock of his surroundings.
“Look at the time. I’ve got to fly, Jill.”

I
was relieved to say, “Sure. Thanks for the ride.” Then I straightened and
closed the passenger door. It didn’t look like I was going to get an invite as
Suzi Solo. Just as well, I’d be working again by then. My next husband was a
thirty-eight year old supermarket manager who played up with the checkout
girls. I was tasked with keeping him away from them while his wife visited her
family in New Zealand. It sounded boring and easy. I certainly wasn’t planning
anything dramatic with that job. I really needed to keep my emotions under
control for a while.

Marcus
waved at me through the windscreen before pulling out and purring off down the
lane and I quick-marched to my car, let myself in and then locked the doors
again. King’s Cross wasn’t family-friendly, and for all I knew there might be
addicts roaming about looking to rob someone so they could buy their morning
fix.

It
was testament to Marcus’s distraction level that he hadn’t waited to see me get
into my car. He always did that. Thoughts of Doug had clearly distracted him.
Or so I imagined. I could be completely wrong. And anyway, what business was it
of mine?

Focus
on yourself, Jill.

Frith
had quoted enough pop psychology at me to clarify that fixing other people’s
problems was just a way of avoiding your own. So I set off for the beachside
hotel in Newcastle where I’d booked a few days, trying not to think about
anything beyond the morning traffic, and plans to catch a few rays by the pool
when I arrived. I was barely out of Sydney an hour later, heading north, when
my phone rang. It startled me, as I usually had it on silent. But Frith had
made me promise to keep it on top ringer volume since my unfortunate incident
at the nightclub. She wanted to be able to reach me whenever she felt worried.

I
dutifully pulled over and fished it out of my handbag, but the caller ID wasn’t
hers. I answered with a cautious, “Hello, Jill speaking.”

“
Jill,
this is Nadine. I’m afraid I have to cancel our booking for next week
.”

“I
see.”

This
was a first, and I wasn’t sure what to do—couldn’t remember for the moment if I
had a cancellation clause in the contract she’d signed.

While
I was thinking, the silence lengthened, and eventually she blurted, “
He’s
run off with one of the girls.
”

“Oh.
I’m...sorry.”

How
awkward! I wasn’t sure how much sympathy was warranted in the circumstances, us
being virtual strangers and all.

“
Please
keep the two thousand dollar deposit. That will come out of his settlement
.”

“Oh.
Thank you.” It seemed incredible to me that she was bothered with finances at such
a time, but I guess we all handle grief in our own way. Some people like to
focus on details. Whatever. I was appreciative. “Are you still going to New
Zealand?”

It
was none of my business, but I remembered how much she’d been looking forward
to seeing her mother and grandmother again.

“
Yes,
I am. Thank you for asking Jill. You’re a kind person. I wish he’d been happy
to...stay at home with you. I wouldn’t have minded that
.”

“Oh.
Thanks. Well...good luck.”

“
And
you too
.”

She
hung up and I put the phone down and stared out the windscreen at the freeway
with its cars racing back and forth, full of people getting on with their lives—like
Marcus, heading happily to work with no idea that he’d left a critically
unhappy wife at home.

Nadine
would be having a
very
crappy day, and I felt sorry about that. But in
the end, she was better off without him. She’d been a genuinely nice person,
unlike Katinka or Molotov or Simon’s mother. Nadine deserved to be happy.

And
she thought I was
a kind person
. That made me smile. Plus, I’d just
earned two grand—replacement for my recent hospital fees—for nothing more than
showing up in their home for an interview. That was fabulous, only now I was
wondering how I would fill my next fortnight. I’d have to spend the afternoon
going over my enquiries. I wanted Brittany home before she could get herself
into any more trouble.

There
was also the
Fuck one man to forget another
program running in the back
of my mind, because Finn’s visit to the hospital had stirred up all my romantic
angst. Now that I was away from Missy Lou’s house, her problems were fading
from my mind. That brought Finn flowing back into it like a warm, seductive
wave that threatened to pull me under and drown me in unrequited love. Desire
had definitely been reciprocal, and I could see he was even jealous about the
other husbands, but love… He was staying married, and that was enough to
convince me it was all about sex.

So
I tried to push him out of my mind by counting cars on the road or singing
loudly and off-key with the radio, but he determinedly stayed front-of-mind
with those large hands and that sexy smile as he gazed into my eyes, telling me
about every dirty thing we were going to do together. It was cruel punishment,
especially when I felt my body responding to those naughty thoughts. I needed
to get it into my head that he was
gone,
but that was hard.

By
the time I reached the outskirts of Newcastle, it was past midday and I was
hungry and emotionally exhausted. I decided to check in to the hotel, eat and have
a nap, either poolside or in my room. I could worry about booking my next
husband sit when I was calmer.

The
place I’d booked loomed over the surrounding hotels on the tourist strip across
from Newcastle Beach with its iconic white sand and brilliant blue water. As I
pulled into the circular drive outside reception, the ivory marble, blue carpet
and stainless steel decor looked every bit as clean and fresh as it had on the
Internet—no doubt in homage to the sandy beach across the road.

The
concierge came to help me with my bags and then offered to valet park my dusty
old Ford, and I thought,
Why the hell not?
I was too tired to worry
about another ten bucks here or there.