Page 19 of Rafferty's Rules
‘Well, he wasn’t much in the way of competition,’ he says with a straight face, though his eyes glitter with amusement.
Great, not only was I in a brothel with a strange man, but an ugly one, too.
‘But you were there looking for your friend... not paying for a good time.’
‘I wasn’t even interested in being paid. You know, after you started throwing money at me.’
Oh. The. Mortification.
‘I tried to buy your...? ’
‘Cock.’
‘I was going to pay for your services?’ My words come out strangled and strange. The man said cock at the breakfast table. With a straight face. No, a cocky face!
‘Fine. I’ll meet you halfway; you wanted to pay me for the use of my tool of the trade.’
‘You are enjoying this way, way too much. And surely it—that—would only be a tool of the trade if you were actuallyinthe trade. So to speak.’
‘Does it count if I considered it?’
‘What?’
‘If you hadn’t been drunk, I might’ve taken you up on it.’
‘I’m still not sure that’s very flattering,’ I mumble, my further mortification turning me beetroot red even if I can’t help but mourn the fact I’m all out of cash.Something tells me Rafferty would be worth every penny.
‘I would’ve given you mate’s rates,’ he counters with a wink.
This is all so surreal. I wonder if last night’s excessive drinking has changed my brain chemistry? If someone had told me ten days ago I’d be unmarried, sitting in a house overlooking the Sydney Harbour, drinking coffee with a man who not only saved my butt—and hoo-ha—in a brothel, but who also looks like he should be on some celebrity red carpet somewhere, and furthermore, that we’d be engaging in flirty smiles and banter? Well, I’d suspect they were on an acid trip. This relaxed exchange, thiswhole situationis so,so ... unreal.
But it beats being sad. And angry.
And heartbroken. Even if I’m beginning to suspect that’s not what I’ve been feeling.
‘Because my rates are pretty rich. Or they would be if I was selling. And while I didn’t keep your money, I can guess someone in the joint did.’
‘And my cards?’
‘Seems the most obvious answer. We could report it to the boys in blue—the police, I mean.’
‘Oh.’ I blow the word out on a long breath. ‘I’m sure that interview recording would find its way onto YouTube.’ I shake my head as though shaking away a swarm of flies. ‘Cards are cancelled, and I expect the cash will be already spent. I’ll leave my drunken lesson at that. Besides, maybe whoever took it needed it more than me.’ Truthfully, this is much more charitable than I feel because, ‘Meantime, I need to conserve my cash because my new card won’t be here for at least ten days. And they can’t send it until I give them an address.’
‘How long was your cruise?’
‘Twelve days.’
‘So your cards will arrive just in time for you to leave?’
‘So it seems,’ I answer breezily. Who knew I was such a good actress? But it’s going to be okay. Things will work out. This isnotworst-case scenario—I’m not married to a lying, adulterous, prostitute-using weasel.
‘Still, it’s a long time to hang around waiting. I can pay for your flight so you can meet the ship in Picton or—’
‘No, absolutely not.’ Never a borrower or a lender be, as Gammie used to say. It’s something I’ve taken to heart. I have a credit card with a zero balance and a little apartment with an even littler mortgage. Besides, hasn’t he done enough?
‘You can pay me back when your account is up and running again.’
‘No,’ I repeat. ‘Thank you, but no. You’ve already been so kind to me.’ I dread to think what might’ve happened last night without him.
