Walking Shadows (16 page)

Folding back the tissue paper revealed a pair of black and pink earrings. They matched the art
deco brooch he'd given me for Christmas. "Gary, they're beautiful."

He picked up the notepad, then the drawing, put them both down again. "Does this mean we're
okay?"

"Yep." I reached over and ruffled his hair affectionately. His bewildered expression
resolved briefly into exasperation.

"When are you going to stop doing that?"

"I calculate about never, at the moment."

He grinned. "I'm going to have to learn to duck, aren't I?"

Unable to sit still, I bounced up from the chair. I think most likely I wanted to dance, which
was a pretty unusual impulse for me. "Come on," I declared instead, "Let's go out.
Have you ever played pool?"

"A long time ago."

"Great. I might have a chance of beating you."

His eyes narrowed. "Don't count on it."

"Ha! A challenge! I might need backup. Time you met some friends of mine."

He baulked at this announcement. "I'm not…"

"Come on. It'll do you good."

"I don't, usually, I don't do stuff with people."

"You do stuff with me."

"You're different."

"Seriously Gary, they're a good crowd." The word 'crowd' elicited a widening of the
eyes. "Well, not crowd, there's just a couple of us. We made friends at uni. They're great
guys. Give it a try. Get your mind off Ballarat, anyway." The uncertainty remained.
"Please. It's just for a game of pool. If you don't like it, you never have to see them
again."

I don't know if the
please
or the lure of billiards made Gary acquiesce. I made a few
phone calls, threw together a cheese sandwich for a late lunch - grilling it primarily for Gary's
olfactory entertainment - and an hour later we were walking through Chinatown. We bypassed the side
street that led to the Gold Bug and took instead a wider alley lined with posters for upcoming
concerts and special music events at various nightclubs.

"I haven't been down here in ages," Gary said. He glanced up at the overhanging sign.
"It was different then."

"The friends we're meeting introduced me to this place," I told him, entering the
concrete foyer which led to the tiny, clunky and periodically out-of-order lift. I had stumbled
across the joint last year, after I'd first met Gary. The idea of coming back, given that it was so
close to Magdalene's joint, hadn't occurred to me until I'd made new friends and they'd brought me
along. "They do karaoke too." Now, that had been a funny night.

"I've heard of that. Are you, do you...?"

I've never seen anyone so horrified and speechless at the thought of singing in public. And this
includes me. I view karaoke more as a spectator sport, in the same way that watching smash-up
derbies used to be.

"No, that's not till tonight." The graffitied lift shuddered open onto a small bar
area, littered with stools and tall tables. To the left, the karaoke stage was bare with a couple of
mike stands shoved to one side. We turned right instead.

The look on Gary's face was rewarding, as he saw the banks of pool tables in the large, dimly lit
room. The pool hall was actually several large rooms that smelled variously of decades of stale
cigarette smoke, spilled beer and mildew. On a Friday and Saturday night the place was full to
bursting with students. Mid-afternoon of a Sunday it was much quieter, with only the front room
active.

"Heya, Lissa!" A petite Chinese-Australian woman was jumping and waving from a table in
the corner. Her black hair was streaked with purple and blue that matched her two-tone shoes and
accessories exactly. Two people beside her also waved as we approached. Her smile widened. "And
who's this?"

"Gary, this is Tina. I met her last semester. She's studying design."

Gary nodded acknowledgment, looking vaguely ill at ease. I diverted his attention by introducing
Mez and Drew. They smiled in a friendly fashion. Would they be able to detect something more than
ordinarily odd about Gary? Belatedly, I felt nervous on his behalf.

Mez, dressed in her customary striking black-red-white combo, stuck out her hand for shaking then
returned to chalking her cue with the dramatic flourish of someone pretending to be a pro. Drew, a
short and wiry redhead, grinned his greeting and immediately shoved a cue into Gary's hands.
"Unless you want a different one?"

"Uh. Thanks. No. This is fine."

Drew nodded firmly and spent a few moments shifting his own chosen cue in his hands, getting the
feel of it. He was in his habitual jeans and bandshirt garb. Today he wore a vintage '80s Joan Jett
shirt. Knowing Drew, he had liberated it from his mother's collection.

"What are you studying?" Drew asked, peering along the length of his cue, "I'm
doing law with a history minor."

"Ah. Nothing. I used to, um, I started with engineering." Gary studied the cue in his
hands. "I had to drop out."

"That sucks. Still," Drew grinned, "more time for other stuff."

Gary mumbled something inaudible in reply.

"Shut up, Drew," Mez chided lightly. "Ignore him, Gary." She prodded Drew in
the ribs with the chalky end of her cue. "Drew talks a lot but he never
listens
."

"Your face," Drew threw back at her good-naturedly.

"
Yours
."

Gary regarded me hopelessly, probably wondering if they were talking in code.

The guys had already set up the table and, with odd numbers, we played the first round by taking
turns, the winner being whoever sunk the black once everything else was down. That turned out to be
Gary. He played very seriously, concentrating over each shot.

Next round Tina elected to sit out, so I teamed up with Gary against Mez and Drew. Our opponents
suitably expressed their awe at Gary's prowess with a cue, as did I.

"Where'd you learn to play like that?" Drew asked.

"My dad taught me, and I played a bit at uni," he said, matter-of-factly. "It's
all maths: angles, vectors, pressure. It's the only thing vaguely like sport I was ever any good
at." He regarded his cue tip thoughtfully and burnished it with blue chalk. "I haven't
played in a long time." He bent over the table, lined up the shot and proceeded to sink three
balls in a row.

Tina returned with arms full of drinks and nibbles from the bar. Mez and I helped her unload and
Tina offered a bottle of beer to Gary.

"Oh. Ah. Thanks. No, um, I don't drink."

Tina thrust a bag of cheese corn chips at him instead.

"Um. Or eat."

Everyone glanced up at that and Gary shuffled uncomfortably and said, "I, I'm a…"

For a horrible moment I thought he was about to confess all.
Hi. My name is Gary Hooper. I'm a
vampire but I haven't bitten anyone in 40 years.

"He's vegan," I shoved in rapidly, "With a lot of allergies."

"Oh man," Drew nodded sagely, "That sucks, I know. I've got allergies so bad. I
nearly died once from a peanut. It was vicious, man."

"My life has changed since they brought in the smoking bans," added Mez, "I could
never come here before 'cos of my asthma. I used to wheeze for days after. I can deal with the
rising damp smell, though. It's kind of atmospheric."

That dubious claim was met with laughter. Tina shoved all the theoretically deadly and unethical
food and beverages down the far end of the bench and covered her bases by telling him, "If you
want anything, just say so, I'll grab it."

"Thanks. But, yeah, thanks."

Conversation moved from life-threatening allergies to ranking the atmospheres of a range of bars,
from The Espy and its infamous sticky carpet to the sterile space of the huge concert stadiums. I
wouldn't have thought Gary had much to add, but he spoke of St Kilda's old Palais Theatre without
quite revealing he'd last been there in the mid-60s. From there the conversation turned to music and
then old films.

He was, I was delighted to see, getting on well with my friends. If anything, he was amassing a
certain amount of geek cred, with his vast knowledge of schlocky horror films and current Goth and
indie bands. If a song had even the vaguest undead references, he had it in his collection. His area
of expertise was narrow but very deep.

Drew got him onto the subject of the '60s and Gary was unexpectedly off and running, talking
about his favourite bands from the period. He had, I recalled, an eclectic collection of vinyl
albums covering everything from the Carpenters to Iron Butterfly. Mez, a budding music journalist,
was impressed. She laughed at his wry dismissal of everything from the '70s as being "10 years
of songs about disco dancing", then dragged him off to the video jukebox to introduce him to
punk.

Drew challenged Gary to pool
mano-a-mano
, much to the jocularity of the
double-x-chromosomed persons present. Mez, Tina and I sat against the opposite wall, watching them.
I was bah-bah-bahing along with the AC/DC song currently playing.

"You're in a good freshly-laid kinda mood," Mez observed.

She grinned at me as I snorted beer through my nose. My attempt at a stern glare dissolved into a
deeply smug smirk and she laughed at me with her eyes. "Gary, huh?" she said.

"Oh, no! He's just a friend. I met a guy today at the St Kilda craft market." Mez's
lips pursed in a teasing moue which only made me defiant. "His name is Evan and he's sex on
legs."

Mez laughed and Tina leaned forward, keenly alert. "So that means Gary is available?"
she said.

"For what?" I said, not thinking. Then, "Why?"

"He seems really shy. I like that in a guy."

"This is just like your last boyfriend, Tina," Mez pointed out. "And the one
before that. Short, cuddly, sort-of-clueless guys. What is it with you? You like initiating them or
something?"

Tina grinned. "They have a certain charm, fewer bad habits, and they're ever so
grateful." She giggled wickedly.

The conversation finally sank in. "Are we talking about
Gary
?"

"You don't have to sound like that about it," Tina protested. "He has got that
kind of nerdy-cute thing about him, don't you think?"

"I've honestly never thought about it."

Mez clearly thought me deficient. "He is kind of adorkable, you've got to admit."

"Totally adorkable," Tina agreed emphatically.

The observation flummoxed me. Gary was absolutely not my type. Or breathing. Breathing was
definitely a prerequisite. I couldn't even begin to explain that one to them. "He's not very
into girls."

"Oh, gay, is he? Maybe Drew will notice the geekboy allure then. Plus, Drew's into
bears."

"No. I mean…" There had been some conversations with Gary about his failed
attempts to date at uni. "I don't think so. I meant he's not into,"
Think brain!
"he had mumps when he was 20. I hear it can affect a guy's libido."
No, brain, not
that.

"Oh, I don't know," Tina said, leaning back with a feline smile to regard the guys at
the table. "Maybe he just needs to warm up first."

You don't know the half of it.
I wondered if I should warn Tina off. Any attempts at
warming up were not going to go anywhere except the Land of Disappointment. Unless it was the Land
of Acute Embarrassment. Or Aghast Horror.

Alberto's photographs of his lost loves flashed into my head, and I realised that there was
another, appalling possibility. More places my brain ought not be going.

"How does he get his skin so pale?" Tina asked suddenly, regarding Gary intently.
"I've got friends on the scene who'd kill for skin that white."

"He's naturally pale," I said, "and he stays indoors a lot."

At that moment, Gary glanced over at me with a glimmer of a smile, and played a final shot. I
hoped to heaven he wasn't actually
overhearing
us. Damn vampire aural superpowers.

Tina jumped up, clapping, and threw her arms around him. "Well done!" When Tina decides
to activate the Flirt-a-tron, she does it at 10,000 volts. She leaned against his arm and gazed
coquettishly into his face.

Drew scowled at the table, which still bore every single one of the balls he was supposed to have
sunk. Gary - after blinking bemusedly at Tina - held out his hand for a gentlemanly, post-game
shake. "Good game."

"Bite me."

Gary drew back sharply, snatching in his hand and stepping away from the table and Tina. "I
- Don't - I - Ah... What?"

"An
drew
," scolded Tina fiercely.

"Hey, chill, Eddie Charlton," Drew scratched his fingers through his hair, "I'm
being a bitch-faced loser." He sighed and squared his shoulders. "Could you teach me to
play like that? That thing you do, checking the angles and stuff. It looks like you know what you're
doing."

"Oh. I guess. Yeah. Sure."

Gary looked endearingly perplexed at this new development.
Gary, this is called making
friends. You might have forgotten how it goes
.

"I'd like to learn." Tina leaned on his arm once more and smiled prettily at him.

Gary said, "If you like," before extricating himself and setting up the triangle for a
new game. "Want to play, Lissa?"

I leapt up to team with him. Mez elected to commentate, leaving Tina to join forces with Drew.

"Reckon you could teach me too?" Mez asked Gary casually.

"Yeah. Um. If you like."

"My brothers are always ragging me about how crap I am. It'd be nice to blow a figurative
raspberry at 'em next time I'm home for the weekend." Then she smiled at him, her eyes
twinkling, and I realised that Tina wasn't the only one attempting to engage the Flirt-a-tron. I
almost laughed aloud. If Gary was failing to register Tina's batting eyelashes, he was certainly
going to miss Mez's more subtle efforts.

Three shots in, my phone rang and I pounced on it with embarrassing enthusiasm. I dropped the
phone onto the table in my urgency, dislodging a ball, snatched the phone back up to my ear and left
someone else to fix the table while I held my breath and waited for the caller to speak.