Oz Tie cleared his throat and his voice rumbled. “I suppose you couldn’t choose a favourite.”
“The Silver Prion.” Zach pointed it out.
A raised brow.
He grinned. “The bonds of brotherhood.”
Oz Tie stroked the heinous strip of fabric hanging down his chest. “I understand.”
“Don’t tell me your brother gave you that?”
“He did.”
Zach groaned.
“Why?”
“Now I can’t tell you not to wear it. It does you no favours. You need blues and silvers, not lollipop red with flocking tin men.”
Oz Tie folded his arms, clearly waiting for Zach to finish, which he would totally do. “It doesn’t even reach your belly button. Someone of your height and grace and beauty shouldn’t look like he dressed himself out of the lost-n-found box at a costume party.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, but bonds of brotherhood require that I ignore all that.”
“You’re doing fabulously.”
“Perhaps I could help you take it off? For our swim?”
Oz Tie’s laughing gaze lost all humour when he took in the goosebumps crawling up Zach’s stomach. “You know, I wouldn’t want anyone catching cold. How do you feel about ice cream instead? Appropriate, I should think.”
Zach yanked his shirts back on with a shiver. He plucked up the fedora and offered his other hand. Oz Tie gripped his palm tight and pulled up. Then made a show of stretching his back.
Zach shook his head. “I thought you said you weren’t old.”
At their nest of crumpled belongings, Zach spotted Oz Tie’s phone. “Can I make a call for a sec? Just want to tell my brother I don’t have my phone on me. Not that he worries if I don’t answer messages.”
Oz Tie unlocked and handed it over. “Don’t let me get in the way of the bonds of brotherhood.”
Noah’s number was exactly like his own, only the last digit different. He answered, and Zach poured out his story.
“That all sounds . . . like a normal day for you.”
“Maybe. Except for Rory.” A headshake in the background. Zach grimaced.
“Who’s Rory?”
“My new friend. He quite heroically saved himself.”
“Saved himself?”
“I just imagine it would have been all kinds of traumatic having to eat me.”
A snort came from three feet away and Zach decided the heavy sound fit him.
“Sorry Noah, what was that? What the hell are you doing in Cubworthy? Never mind, tell me later—how were the viewings?”
“Unsuccessful, I’m afraid.”
Noah’s grim sigh punched Zach’s heart. His mood began a quick downward spiral. If only they could go back home. To their real home.
He bowed his head.
“Hey, Zach. We’ll figure it out.”
Noah always knew how Zach was feeling, even from an hour out of town. “Love you, bro.”
They disconnected and Zach dropped the phone into Oz Tie’s open palm.
A warm arm curled around his shoulders. “You okay?”
Zach sagged to his knees and face-planted with dramatic flair into the tussocks.
“Zachary?”
A shake to his arm.
Zach rolled onto his back. That tie tickled his chin. Beyond it, a frown was crowding those blue eyes.
“We’re homeless!”
“Oh. Okay. I’m very sorry to hear that. Have you applied for support?”
“What? No, I mean our home home. But also, we’re houseless. Noah couldn’t find anything.”
“Let me get this right. Homeless and houseless.”
“Yes, but we’re living with friends. So we have a roof over our heads. For now.”
“I see.”
“It’s why I came to Ask Austen Studios. I thought if I found Wentworth, he might help me convince whoever’s in charge to give me a job. I’m a musician. An actually talented one.”
Oz Tie rubbed his mouth. “Maybe I can help.”
“That’s so sweet of you. But I think someone like Wentworth might have more sway?”
“Zachary, listen. I’m—”
Zach palmed Oz Tie’s cheek. “I know who you are.”
“You do, do you?” Oz Tie did not look convinced.
Zach brushed a thumb over that furrowed brow. “The worry here, the utter patience says it all.” He sighed. “You really are Brandon.”
Oz Tie gaped.
Zach thumbed his mouth shut. “Am I right?”
“But . . .”
Zach tapped his forehead. “Deductive reasoning.”
A baffled noise.
Zach dropped his hand to Brandon’s shoulder and squeezed. “I know heaps about you.”
“Right. Such as?”
“You want to impress your boss, and he’s probably never satisfied with what you achieve and so you keep trying to do more. That’s why you work weekends.”
“That is not at all correct.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Brandon remained silent.
Zach climbed to his feet. “I believe you promised ice cream?”
Cones in their hands, they walked the promenade.
“Good call not to skinny dip,” Zach murmured as they passed a throng of kids heading toward the sand. “We’ll raincheck that one.”
Brandon choked violently, and Zach thumped his heaving, not-yet-arthritic back. The glare he got in return didn’t seem the fairest form of thanks. Never mind. He was still coming to terms with the meaning of his life.
“One lick at a time, Brandon.”
“You know, I don’t actually go by Brandon.” Brandon looked away from him. “My nickname’s much sexier than that. A ‘Y’ and everything.” Brandon was frowning now, and his ice cream cone began to collapse in his hand.
