Читать книгу Idle Lies - Lian Knight - Страница 8

Sunday, 1 October

‘IT’S DONE,’ MATT SAID triumphantly. He made himself a comfortable spot in the centre of Paul’s couch and adjusted a ragged cushion on either side for his tired elbows before kicking off his shoes and pushing them under the coffee table. The old leather gave way as he rested his sore neck.

‘Finally!’ said Paul. ‘That took you a long time.’ He passed Matt a bowl of potato crisps from a nearby armchair and sat back, tensing his wrists, admiring his forearm muscles as they flexed. The extra weights sets he had been doing at the gym combined with the bricklaying job he had got recently were paying off. He could lift far more than his sidekick Lewis now, which was perfect; it was entirely unacceptable to be outdone by your lackey.

Lewis White leaned forward from the opposite armchair and took the chips in his lap. ‘Thanks,’ he said, slouching back. He watched disappointedly as Paul relaxed and tightened his grip. Although he tried, the best he could do was at least twenty kilograms short of whatever Paul could hoist. After the first few months of regular weights work he had a sixpack too, but with his slight and rather gawky frame it looked more like a set of puff pastries that the chef had forgotten to bake than something he could impress anybody with. To avoid ridicule, he kept it covered up, generally with woollen jumpers that he wore all year round, no matter the temperature.

‘Well, I had the holiday comin’ up so I had to wait to tell her after we got back,’ Matt remarked. He lifted his weary head from the back of the long couch as Lewis passed him the chips, surveyed them carefully and selected one with a burnt edge. Paul took the bowl and put it on the glass coffee table, giving it a shove so that it made a skid line in the dust and came to rest against a pile of newspapers.

‘How did she react?’ Paul asked. He stopped flexing and began to massage instead the small goatee he’d grown over the past week.

‘I don’t know, I got out of there pretty quickly,’ Matt said, reflecting. ‘A bit stunned, I guess. I don’t think she had much of an idea.’ He chewed slowly on his chip. ‘The guy only charged me two hundred bucks for the man and the truck, so I was happy with that.’

‘You look pretty shit now, though I’d say it’s an improvement,’ said Paul, amused at his own joke. He took a thoughtful sip of his beer. ‘Does anyone need to check on her? See she’s okay?’

‘Nah, she’ll be fine.’

Paul absorbed this. ‘Well, there’s a shower if you want it, and some spare clothes in my top drawer,’ he said, gesturing towards the hall.

Matt glanced down at his sweaty shirt. ‘Yeah, maybe. I’m buggered – the stuff was heavy. I’ll have a beer first.’

Lewis pushed a dirty blond lock out of his eyes and passed Matt a drink from the pack Paul had dumped on the coffee table. ‘Here y’are, mate.’

‘It’s like a rat peeping through a straw broom,’ Paul remarked at the shaggy uncombed mop. ‘Might be the only way you can attract some pussy!’ He laughed, but Lewis gave only the slightest of shrugs.

Matt wriggled into a more comfortable position and twisted the bottle cap. It gave a small hiss as he opened it.

‘Did she know about the garage?’ Paul quizzed. ‘That was risky.’

‘I don’t think so. I did that the day before we left and she rarely goes in there. I figured she wouldn’t see it, and I was right.’

‘What did you do with it all?’ asked Lewis, opening a beer he had got for himself. He lounged across the chair again, stretching his gangly figure out and making himself at home.

‘I stuck most of it in the basement at Bridie’s place. The thing is so bloody packed now you can hardly get in there. It needs three people to shut the door.’

‘Where’s the rest of it?’

‘Here,’ said Paul. ‘I’ve got space in the shed. I’m a great mate.’

‘What did you leave her?’

‘Just the essentials. She’ll be fine. She wouldn’t want most of it anyway, I expect she’ll want to buy new stuff. And besides, Bridie didn’t have anything.’ His tone held a trace of guilt. ‘Bridie will be here soon,’ he said quickly, before Paul could capitalise on it. ‘She’s gone to get a new bed that her mum has bought us as a moving-in present. I can’t wait to try it out.’

Suddenly the front door opened and closed loudly. After a few footsteps, a dark-haired man with clean good looks appeared in the doorway arch. ‘G’day,’ said Jason De Rosa casually, acknowledging the occupants and simultaneously examining the room for a place to sit. ‘What’s the smell?’

‘Matt’s socks,’ said Paul directly, screwing his nose up and pointing to the coffee table where his outstretched feet could just be seen underneath.

‘Aw, sorry,’ said Matt, pretending to look offended. ‘I didn’t think it was that bad.’

‘Go take a shower,’ instructed Jason. ‘It’s bad.’

Matt heaved himself up from the couch by his elbows. ‘Alright, you can take my spot, just don’t drink my beer,’ he ordered. Collecting his shoes, he sauntered down the hall.

Jason inspected the couch carefully before shuffling cushions across and settling himself down closer to Lewis’ chair. ‘What’s doin’?’ he asked.

‘Matt’s left Kate,’ said Paul matter-of-factly. He pushed his chest out and looked down approvingly at his pectoral muscles through his tight white shirt.

‘Finally done it, has he? How’d it go?’

‘Well the movin’s done. Don’t know about the ex,’ replied Paul. ‘Don’t you speak to your wife?’ Paul shot Jason a wry grin. ‘Girls talk, don’t they? Aren’t Angela and Kate best friends?’

Jason helped himself to a beer and tossed the bottle cap onto the table. ‘Ange had hospital rounds this morning. Maybe they did, I don’t know. Did you help?’ He nodded across to the others.

Lewis shook his head.

‘I kept a safe distance. Better to keep out of that mess,’ said Paul, tilting his ear as an alarm rang in the next room. ‘Pizza ready, perfect timing,’ he declared. He strolled into the kitchen and began to clatter about.

Jason turned to Lewis. ‘Did you find that spare brake lever you said you had?’

‘Nah. Not in the box.’

For a while the two discussed various models and repair solutions and the regular morning ride they did from the bike shop.

‘Ah,’ said Jason eventually, when the options appeared to be exhausted. ‘Looks like I will have to get it fixed. I’ll get Paul to drop it in. I won’t need a bike for the next few weeks, so that will have to do.’

Lewis’ generally dispirited self-esteem wavered momentarily like an inflated balloon and then imploded. Jason was well built and had incredible fitness and tone that blew to oblivion his own achievements, even with the limitations of Jason’s desk job, frequent interstate trips and intermittent periods he had off the bike. Paul and Matt had impressive physiques too from physically demanding vocations that gave them a good workout, which Paul supplemented with the weightlifting and Matt with his extra-marital activities. But despite Lewis’ best efforts at the gym and long hours riding with all three of them, his muscles had little to show for it. Deciphering computer code for a living did nothing other than stretch his analytical capacity, and his introverted personality was of little help in his weak attempts to attract the attention of the opposite sex. The few he’d managed to snare didn’t last long either. Paul’s mateship was harsh and generally consisted of a regular reminder, which he used pejoratively, that Lewis was the embodiment and key representative of the nerd category and co-founder of its ideals. He particularly liked to impart this little gem of wisdom in front of any of his new catches and afterwards they invariably bolted. Lewis clenched his teeth before a noise from the kitchen interrupted his thoughts.

‘What am I dropping in?’ asked Paul, returning with two hot pizza trays and a bottle of sauce tucked under his arm. He examined the table and moved the remaining beers to one corner to make a space. ‘Ah, McCain, you’ve done it again,’ he sang chirpily, setting the food down. He looked across at Lewis, who still lay sprawled and motionless, one leg dangling over the chair arm. ‘Ah, McPaul, you’ve done it all,’ he smirked at him.

Lewis sat up and examined the pizza, ignoring the dig.

‘I’ll need the bike repaired,’ said Jason to Paul. ‘Could you do it?’

‘Sure, I’ll charge a handling fee for the trouble.’

‘Well, you guys will be riding without me if it doesn’t get fixed.’

‘We’ll sell it while you are away and split the proceeds,’ Paul said, laughing. ‘That should buy us three coffees each.’

‘That’s two more coffees than if we sold yours,’ Jason noted dryly.

Another sound came from the entrance.

‘Hi all!’ a shrill voice announced. A girl with a tiny diamond nose ring and heavily lacquered eyelashes stood airily in the doorway. From a distance her skin-tight jeans looked like they had been applied with spray paint and where they finished above the ankles, the straps of a pair of black stilettos helped with the illusion of height.

‘Where’s Matt?’ she demanded.

Lewis eyed her without offering a welcome. Jason gave her a nod.

‘Hi Bridie,’ said Paul. ‘He’s taking a shower. You can join him if you want,’ he said, giving her a lewd wink.

‘No thanks.’ Bridie Williams plonked herself down where Matt had been sitting.

‘Congratulations! The man has moved in …’ said Paul, smiling at her seductively.

Bridie scowled at him and put her phone in her lap. ‘Yes, well, this is his first official night. We can make it public now.’

‘Good,’ said Paul. ‘Jason and I were getting sick of keeping it a secret.’ He threw Jason a facetious glance. ‘We talk more than you women, you know.’ He helped himself to a large piece of pizza, scooping up the ends of the mozzarella that hung in loose strands over the edges. ‘You think we don’t gossip?’

Jason twisted his beer in his hand but said nothing.

‘I don’t care if you kept it secret or not,’ said Bridie, huffing. ‘It’s taken longer than it should have and I wasn’t keeping it a secret.’

‘Shouldn’t you be a little considerate?’ asked Paul with marginally more sincerity than a politician defending a travel rort.

‘Why should I?’

‘Well, she hasn’t got a man to manage her affairs now,’ he said cynically.

The derision was lost on Bridie. ‘Well, she can get her own man. I don’t care about her,’ she scoffed. ‘She’s toast.’

‘Ooh, a bit haughty, are we?’ taunted Paul.

‘Well, you would be too. I’m annoyed.’

‘Are you?’ prodded Paul. ‘You’ve got him all to yourself now. Why would you be annoyed?’

‘It should have been me that went to Bali, not her. I’m the one he wants to be with.’ She glared at him.

Matt returned to the lounge in an old T-shirt and track pants, rubbing his wet hair with an old brown towel. ‘You know why that was, babe,’ he said, having overheard the conversation in the hallway. ‘Kate booked the trip.’

‘You didn’t have to go,’ snapped Bridie angrily. ‘You could’ve cancelled!’

‘Ooh! A fight already!’ baited Paul. ‘You’ve gotta make it through your first night, you two, surely.’

Matt squeezed onto the couch beside her so that she now sat jammed in the middle. ‘Babe, you know how it is. I couldn’t do that, it was all organised. It’s over now and everything will be alright, don’t worry,’ he said reassuringly, taking her hand.

Bridie pulled it away with a snort and stood up. ‘You can tell me all about it at home,’ she retorted. ‘If I choose to hear it.’ Walking to the door, she swung it open with a whoosh and closed it loudly behind her.

‘Ooh! Flighty,’ said Paul. ‘Should we take bets? I’ll give it four weeks. I’m up for fifty bucks.’

‘You’re in the doghouse already,’ said Lewis.

‘Yeah,’ Matt acknowledged, dropping his shoulders and assuming the look of a berated puppy banished to it.

‘Let her stew,’ said Paul. ‘These bitches need to learn a lesson. Don’t pander to her or it will start a process you can’t stop. Show her she’s not the queen bee.’

Matt rescued his beer from the table and stared into its murky depths. ‘What do you think, Jason?’ he asked, turning to him. ‘What would you do?’

Jason studied his beer while he considered the question. ‘Not sure why you want my opinion, but here it is for what it’s worth. It looks like you’re gettin’ yourself into a mess. You sure as hell can’t go back, and forwards isn’t looking that shit-hot either. If you’re going to dig yourself a hole, you’d better wise up and make it a bloody tunnel. And don’t tell either of them what you’re doing or they’ll bog it up and make it your grave.’