Page 72 of Rafferty's Rules
‘I’m just saying it smacks of double standards.’
‘And I’m just saying it’s none of your business.’
‘You also accepted a coffee and cake from another man.’
‘You practically forced them on me!’ I protest. ‘And that you weren’t interested in me like that.’ Because of the whole gay thing.
‘And I paid for your bike trips.’
‘I gave you cash. What is this about, Charlie? What we were talking about earlier; accepting things and expectations? How does that relate to us?’
‘Maybe I want to take you out.’
‘To get me drunk and get my nipples pierced?’ In the periphery of my vision, I can see heads turning in response to my shrill tone.
‘That just happened once. I just thought you might like to go out with me sometime.’
‘As friends, right?’ There goes that weird vibe again.
‘Maybe. Maybe as something else.’
‘You said you were gay?’ The weird vibe just took a turn into crazy town.
‘I said mostly gay. I dabble on the dark side occasionally.’
‘The occult?’ Crazy town express coming up. Toot-toot!
‘Like in vagina land,’ he retorts witheringly like I’m the one not making sense.
‘Do you think your friend would be interested?’
‘In what?’Hey, Rafferty, wanna hang out with Charlie in vagina land?I shake my head a little, sure I must look like I’m shaking off flies.
‘In hanging out, maybe hooking up with me and his current, and really cute, roommate?’
I glance down at the remains of my mostly defrosted cocktail as I think,I can’t even blame liquor.As I look up again, I realise we still have spectators.
‘A threesome,’ I state flatly.
‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,’ he answers defensively. Because of the audience we’ve drawn or because of nervousness?
In response, I slide down from the stool, swiping my purse from the bar as I murmur, ‘Thanks for the discount, but I’ll pass.’
I take myself back outside, and though the tables at the edge of the bar are all now full, I make my way up there anyway, folding my arms over the cooling metal. The sun is setting over the harbour, the sky a riot of colours from grey through to pink. As a description, riot could be right judging by the rainclouds threatening unrest to the evening.
The roiling, boiling, melted crayon box effect is a perfect backdrop for the thoughts running through my head because I absolutely have no words, let alone thoughts, to explain what that little scene was all about.
I pull out my phone. There’s no message from Rafferty, so I send him a quick text.
Call me when you get here, please. The place is so busy.
I slide my phone back into my purse, my mind stuck on repeat. I was looking forward to seeing Charlie’s friendly, sassy face after leaving the coffee shop the other day, but what just happened at the bar was completely left of field. Way left of field—like, all the way out into the overflow carpark! What the heck was that all about? If he was bisexual, why did he say he was gay?
‘Change your mind about that drink, did you?’ I whip around, angry, I realise. Though my anger dissipates as I look into the boyish face of the man I’d met earlier. ‘Come on, it’s Friday night, and you’re pulling a Monday morning face.’
Despite my mood, I find myself chuckling as I notice he’s not alone. Like him, his tablemates, both men, and women, seem to have come straight from the office. Though the table is littered with glasses, they all seem to be taking part in lively, spirited discussions without a sign of drunkenness.
‘Come on,’ he says, maybe sensing the cracks in my earlier rebuttal as he grasps the neck of a wine bottle standing in a bucket of melted ice. ‘We’ve plenty of glasses. Grab a seat. We’re welcoming the weekend.’
