Page 29 of Rafferty's Rules
‘Ages. I reckon I don’t need to buy any T-shirts for a long while.’
‘This bloke,’ Roman says, pointing a finger my way. ‘He’s been known to send shit to both me and Byron, too. An apron last time for By, wasn’t it?’
‘Yeah.’ I smile because I’ve got more of the fuckers in my bag to take home. T-shirts for almost everyone. ‘Corn star, I think it read.’
‘That one should’ve gone to Flynn, for sure.’
‘Yeah, let’s not frighten Lissa quite yet.’ There’s time enough to introduce her to the crazy that is the Phillips clan. What am I saying? She’s not going to get near. She’s a tourist, not a long-term prospect.Shame, really.
‘I love that you’re all so involved. My brother and I, we have barely any relationship at all. He was almost twenty when I was born, and though I don’t think forty-five is particularly old, he behaves as though he’s ancient.’
‘Fuck me,’ Roman cackles. I frown at him, but I’m not sure why I bother.
‘Seriously, it’s kind of like having two dads. My actual dad is a cut from a stern kind of cloth. A Southern Baptist, he’s all fire and brimstone, but Trey, my brother, is justold.We have nothing in common,’ she adds with a sigh.
As I approach with a bottle of red, Lissa looks a little green around the gills. I slosh a little of the red into each of our glasses, despite her reservations.
‘You can’t have steak without a glass of something from the Barossa.’
‘Byron will cut off your balls if he hears you say that,’ Roman murmurs, snapping his linen napkin open and placing it on his lap.
‘You know Riposo is known better for its whites than reds. You need a cooler climate for—’
‘My steak’s getting cold. Let’s leave the viticulture to Byron.’ He reaches for the salad bowl when Lissa cuts in.
‘Do you mind if I say grace?’ Her voice is soft, her gaze a little wary, and it’s a good job she’s not looking at Roman because he’s looking at her with the kind of puzzlement that suggests he’s expecting her to bring along a friend. You know, a friend called Grace?
‘Course not.’ I slap Roman on the back of the head, so he realises he’s still coveting the salad bowl. And I don’t think that was one of the ten commandments. ‘Go for your life.’
She bows her head, and my brother dutifully follows but—forgive me, Father—I don’t. I’m too enthralled by the look of her. Eyes closed, her lashes are half-moons caressing her freckled cheeks. She looks so serene, so peaceful, as though any tension she’s been holding has drained away.
‘Father,’ she begins.I’d let you call me daddy. Fuck, shut up!‘This meal is the work of Your hands. And of Rafferty’s hands.’ She smiles, and if she were looking, she’d see I’m smiling back. ‘You have provided for us once more, and we are grateful. I personally confess my tendency to forget to ask Your blessing upon my life, through the comforts and friendships that You have given me to enjoy.’ I take this as “thank you for Rafferty”You’re welcome, babe.‘For everything we have is a gift from You. In Jesus’ name, Amen.’
Roman and I murmur the same but while he reaches straight for the salad bowl, I reach out and hold her hand.
‘You don’t normally say grace at the dinner table, do you?’
‘Not usually.’
‘Not ever.’ Roman chuckles. ‘Mum’ll burst with joy when you bring her to By’s wedding.’
‘A wedding? Oh, I’m not—’ Her words halt as I squeeze her hand, his words blooming into an idea.
‘Where’d you two meet, then?’ Roman shovels a mouthful of ribeye into his fat mouth as he glances pointedly down at our still joined hands. As his gaze rises, I know what he’s dying to say.My arse, you two are mates. I also see a phone call from Mum on the horizon because Roman can’t keep a secret—this is universally known. Well, known in the Phillips universe, at any rate.
‘We met in a brothel.’ There’s a clang as Lissa drops the serving fork along with a heap of salad leaves. Her expression is wide, the colour having drained from her face like she can’t believe her answer. ‘Sorry,’ she mutters, sending me a slightly panicked look. But Roman’s laughing like he just heard the best joke. Just like I knew he would.
‘Fine. Don’t tell me,’ he says, wiping his mouth. ‘I’ll just wait for Mum to worm it out of Rafferty. Mark my words, she’ll corner you, Lissa, and have your life story coaxed out of you before you can say g’day.’
‘I’m sure she’s not that bad,’ she murmurs a little haltingly, sliding me a look that seems to sayhelp. ‘Besides, I’m not—’
‘I knew you were mucking around when you said you were just friends,’ he continues, oblivious. ‘Looks like I’ll be the only one going stag next weekandgetting pick of the bridesmaids. Did he tell you,’ he says in Lissa’s direction though pointing his knife at me, ‘that Byron’s intended is from the States, too?’
‘We haven’t much discussed the family tree,’ I answer for her. ‘This is kind of a new thing between us. First and foremost, we are mates.’ I reach out, covering Lissa’s hand with mine.
‘A new thing, but a good thing,’ he blunders on. ‘I can tell.’
My poor, delusional brother. He knows fuck all.
