This story contains sexual situations between males. If material of this nature offends you then you should not read this story. If you are under 18 years of age you are probably not legally allowed to read this story. This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the web sites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author.
Even though there was no knock on the door from Frank the next morning, I woke early; it quickly becomes habit on a farm. I wanted to turn over and go back to sleep but I had an urgent need to piss. I jumped out of bed, pulled on my boxers, and padded down the hallway. I could hear a tap running and some quiet humming.
I reached for the bathroom door but before I could turn the doorknob the door swung open and when he came face-to-face with me, I thought Scott was going to have a pulmonary seizure.
"Fuck!" he yelled, jumping backwards. "You frightened the crap outta me! You're not supposed to be here!"
"Sorry mate," I smiled. "I ended up not going to the Coast. I thought you'd have known that I didn't leave with everyone?"
"I wasn't here when they left," he replied. "I said goodbye to Mum and Dad before I left the house. But why didn't you go?"
"Well," I sighed. "Um, well ..."
"It's Ty, isn't it?"
"Yeah. We had a confrontation and I said I wasn't going with him. I then drove around for a while and came back here. I went to bed before you got home."
"What's his fucking problem?" Scott urged. "I'm getting the cold shoulder too, and I haven't done anything wrong."
"Gotta piss," I said as I squeezed past him to the bowl.
Scott remained in the doorway. "So what's gonna happen?" he asked. "With you two? Like, you guys never fight ..."
"I don't know, Scotty," I sighed as I flushed the toilet. "He's so angry at the moment I think we're just better spending a bit of time apart. If he wants to talk, I'm just a phone call away. If he doesn't ... he doesn't."
Scott frowned. "I remember when I was 12, Ty got like this with Lachie when he wanted to join the Army, wouldn't talk to him, yelling at him. Only this time it's way worse."
He scratched his head before adding, "Let's have some breakfast."
"Yeah, great idea," I smiled. "Some muesli for me, and some toast, orange juice, and coffee."
"I was thinking you'd be making it!" Scott giggled.
"I'm having a shower, mate!" I chuckled as I pushed him out of the bathroom and started to close the door. "Keep the toast warm. Wrap it in a napkin ..."
Showered and dressed, I wandered into the kitchen to find Scott had done a good job of throwing breakfast together although it was a toasted bacon and egg sandwich for him in preference to cereal, toast and juice like he'd set out for me.
We talked about Ty's behaviour and I filled Scott in on the pressure his brother was under from the record company and the media.
"I don't get it," Scott shrugged. "Like he's the most famous rock star in the country and he's flipping out because everyone wants to interview him and photograph him. Man, I'd be lappin' it up!"
"It's not all it's cracked up to be, Scotty," I confided. "The whole media thing can be relentless. But it's more that Ty wants to talk about his music, not all the bullshit that women's magazines fill their pages with. I do understand that. But then again, he signed on for it. If he didn't have that contract he signed, agreeing to all of this, I'd go to bat for him more."
"He's also got his tits in a tangle because he thinks I'm seeing someone and he's not across it."
"And are you seeing someone?"
"I might be."
"You wanna talk?"
"Not ready yet, Mike," Scott said honestly. "I need to be sure myself before I talk about it to anyone here."
"Cool, mate," I smiled. "But I'm here if you ever want to chat."
"Thanks Mike," Scott replied, bumping fists with me before grabbing his keys. "Gotta go."
"Where are you going?"
"Well Mother, it's like this ..." he began, before I hurled a scrunched up tea towel at him.
"Go, have fun!" I grinned. "Don't take boiled lollies from old men ..."
"What are you gonna do?"
"I'll just hang around here and feel sorry for myself ..."
"Catch ya later, sad sack!" he smirked before scampering out the side door. I poured myself another coffee as Scott's blue Mazda disappeared down the driveway.
The first few days were relaxed for me, although my mind was much consumed with the problems between Ty and me. He hadn't rung me, and I hadn't rung him. I heard from George two or three times and was pleased to know that Dot and Frank were having a wonderful time. Ty was doing all the right things to keep them entertained and well fed, but according to George there were several instances where a phone conversation with Vince would completely change his mood.
Frank had tried a couple of times to talk to Ty, about the way he was behaving and to ask questions about me, but he was headed off at the pass every time.
I also had a few texts from Lachlan and Ellie, who were having the time of their lives in Bali. I worded my replies in such a way as not to make it obvious I wasn't on the Gold Coast. The last thing I wanted to do was give the honeymooners anything to worry about.
A couple of nights Scott stayed home. The first night we had steak and salad on the verandah, and the second night I took him to the local for a pub meal and some beers.
I hadn't contacted Steve because I knew he thought I'd be on the Coast. He had a long list of things to complete around the house before Lachlan and Ellie got back and I didn't want to distract him. More to the point, I wanted to delay for as long as possible being grilled about why I'd stayed behind in Stanthorpe and what was going on between Ty and me.
It was a matter of finding the courage to face it. One evening, I decided I'd just drop in at Sugarloaf Road and surprise Steve after his busy working day. I parked and walked up the steps to the front door, which had been left unlocked.
I walked in and was about to call out to Steve when I heard a wailing sound from somewhere close by. It took me a moment or two to focus before I realised I was hearing the sound a woman being pleasured, and that clearly Steve was busy getting off. Never one to have sex in silence, Steve was telling his girl exactly what he was doing to her and how good she was making him feel.
I tiptoed out of the house, started the car and wondered all the way back to the farm whether those strangled cries of "OH GOD! ... yes! yes! yes!" were coming from Frances. As if I didn't know ...
I called Steve the next morning during his morning break. He was pleased to hear from me, but totally surprised when I told him I was still at the farm. "I thought you were on the Coast?" he questioned.
"Nah, I ended up not going," I said simply.
"But why? Is everything OK?"
"Yeah, it's a bit of a long story, mate," I replied. "You got time for a coffee?"
"Sure, you wanna come over here?"
"Nah, meet me at Bella Rosa's on Granite Belt Drive at 11?"
I cleaned up the bedroom and bathroom and washed the breakfast dishes before jumping in the car and driving to the tearooms. I parked, headed inside and found Steve already waiting for me at a quiet table. I ordered Devonshire tea for us both before joining him.
"So how come you've been so quiet since the others went to the Coast?" Steve asked tentatively.
"Just needed some time to myself, mate," I replied. "I did try to drop in and see you last night ..."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, dropped by and the door was open I came inside, but ... um, let's say I realised you were busy!"
Steve's face broke into a grin. "Yeah," he said a little sheepishly. "Little brother's been catching up on what he's been missing out on!"
"I assume it's Frances?"
"Yep!"
"You move quick, mate! Hasn't she just broken up with that guy ... Casey isn't it?"
"Well, they just broke up recently, but the relationship's been on the rocks for a while," Steve explained. "He's a full-on computer boffin and apparently he's been neglecting his duty for quite a while!"
"So you've just been picking up the slack?" I smirked.
"It's been my pleasure!" he chuckled. "And there's nothing `slack' about Frances, if you get my drift! Man, she's been hangin' out for it as long as I have! Mate, that first time! – it was like the New Year's Eve fireworks! And she's not a once-a-night kind of chick either, praise the Lord!"
"Well good on you, mate!" I laughed. "No more beating up Bob and the twins!"
"You got that right!" Steve grinned. "Anyway, enough about my awesome sex life. What's going on with you? I thought you couldn't wait to go to the Coast?"
"Well, it's like this mate," I began, before pouring my heart out about Ty and the doubts I had about our relationship. He got the lot; the record company, the media, pressure to be seen with chicks, his anger over his perception of me not taking his side, his issues with Scott ...
Steve remained quiet, but quietly shocked I think, through my whole unburdening. Once, when I was in danger of losing it, Steve reached out his hand and held it on my forearm, steadying me.
When I'd finished, Steve stayed silent for a few moments, collecting his thoughts. He lifted his head and looked me in the eyes. "Mike, I don't know what to say," he said. "It's kinda hard to believe. You and Tyson are like, well ... you know ... Mr. and Mr. Perfect. I've watched the two of you ever since I knew, and you've been so ... I dunno... solid."
"That's what I thought," I sighed. "We were. And then it all ... turned to shit. I feel bad dumping it on you like this, but I just had to talk about it with someone outside the Hill family ..."
"I've dumped on you so many times over the years, mate," Steve said sympathetically. "For once in my life, I can be here for you. But just to rule it out, I gotta ask ... do you think? ..."
"There's somebody else?" I asked, finishing the awkward question for him. "Honestly, no. It's just not Ty's nature. What I'm sensing is ... it feels like he hates me. Or at least resents me. And I just don't know why."
"Instead of letting him brush you off, maybe you should have pushed the issue a bit more? Steve shrugged. "And I don't just mean just suggesting you both sit down and talk. Like, push it."
"I'm a lawyer, Steve. My default is always discussion and resolution. I've never lost it with him, I'm just not the type to initiate a blow up ..."
"Maybe that's part of the problem, Mike," Steve replied, his hand gripping my arm. "I don't mean this as a criticism, but you never go ape-shit over anything. You always suck it up. Like with me, you just put up with all my shit for all those years. You just kept bailing me out when you really should have punched my lights out. I mean, you'd probably have got a bloody nose in return, but it might have been an earlier wakeup call for me."
"It's not the way I deal with things, Stevie," I explained. "I could never punch your lights out. Or Ty's. That's assault, for a start. A fist fight might occasionally clear the air, but it doesn't solve the problem."
"No, but like me, Tyson maybe thinks you feel guilty because you don't fight back. You don't ever say `Enough!'."
I pondered Steve's comments for a while and caught him glancing at his watch.
"You go," I said. "Sorry, I've probably held you up."
"It's just I've got a tradesman turning up in 15 minutes and I need to show him what has to be done," Steve replied. "Let's talk about this some more? Are you up for dinner tomorrow night?"
I smirked. "You reckon Frances will let you out of bed?"
"Got a plan," he winked. "I've got three hours off in lieu for doing some work last Sunday. So I'll take that tomorrow afternoon and let Fran benefit from a couple of other tricks I have up my sleeve! By the time I'm ready to leave for dinner, she'll be exhausted and she'll want to sleep!"
"Good plan!" I laughed. "Thanks Steve. I feel good that I've verbalised all this shit."
"Mike, I never want to see you unhappy," Steve said. "You've always been the happiest guy I know. Right now, I'm not thinking good thoughts about Tyson Hill, I can tell you ..."
"Don't let this colour your opinion of Ty," I replied hesitantly. "He's a beautiful guy. I'm just floundering to find out what's caused the closed door."
"I've gotta go, Mike," Steve said. "Come over anytime you like. Just ring first! Otherwise I'll see you for dinner tomorrow night. How about Anna's, the Italian place on Omara Terrace? Lach and Ellie go there a bit, they reckon it's great."
"Done! We'll make it 7.30."
We stood. "See ya then mate!" he smiled as he hugged me. "And call me any time."
I smiled as Steve walked out of the tearooms, focused on getting back to Sugarloaf Road and doing an honest day's work. I sat for a while longer over my tea, trying to formulate a plan for when Ty returned from the Gold Coast, but nothing was falling into place. I needed to know exactly what was weighing so heavily on Ty's mind before I could even think about fixing it.
I went to settle the bill only to find Steve had taken care of it! I sat in my car for a few moments in Granite Belt Drive before taking off towards Wallangarra Road. I stopped at the lights at the corner of College Road and did a double take.
To my left I saw Scott strolling down the driveway of a block of units, walked to his car by an older guy; an older guy who just happened to be Andrew Wall, the one-time pastor of St Michael's Church ...
As a lawyer I have learnt the art of not letting my face register my thoughts. But alone in my car, I was suddenly aware that my jaw had dropped and I was watching them with my mouth open. Scott was with the former man of God? Seriously? This was something I wasn't expecting...
When the lights changed I pulled over and parked a distance from them on the other side of the road. They were too engrossed in their conversation to notice my car and, as Scott prepared to leave and he and Andrew embraced, I started my car, did a U-turn and high-tailed it back to the farm.
I expected Scott would arrive home just after me, but it was actually several hours before he turned up, just in time to ensure he'd get some dinner. I decided to play it cool. Scott had a shower when he got home and turned up in the kitchen whistling, wearing shorts and a singlet.
"What's cookin'?" he asked with a grin.
"Pasta," I replied as I hauled the boiler on to the gas jet. " We're having Penne with mushroom, zucchini and chicken, with basil pesto and crumbled goat's cheese."
"That sounds pretty fancy! You've been spending waaaay too much time with George!" he giggled.
"How was your day?"
"Yeah, good. How about yours? What did you do?"
"I had a coffee with Steve this morning."
"How's he? Did he end up nailing Ellie's sister?"
"I believe he did, as a matter of fact!" I chuckled. "After I caught up with Steve, I drove down Granite Belt Drive and when I got to the lights at College Road, I could have sworn I saw you getting into your car ..."
"Oh," said Scott, suddenly flushing. "Yeah, well I was ... er, visiting a mate."
"Andrew Wall's a mate? You only met him at like, Christmas?"
Scott got defensive. "Jesus Mike," he said crossly. "You're starting to sound like Ty. Who? What? When? Where? I feel like I'm being stalked."
I put down my cooking utensils and grabbed him into a hug. "Sorry mate," I said as I ruffled his curly hair. "It's none of my business, and I'm not checking up on you. I just happened to be driving by. But I'm a bit surprised, that's all. I mean, I wasn't expecting you'd hook up with a guy just out of the ministry, who's like, six years older than you."
Scott took a couple of steps back and looked at me intently. "Whoa!" he exclaimed. "Fuckin' hell. Look Mike, we really need to have a talk. I don't feel ready to have this talk, but I think we've gotta do it."
Over two helpings of my (excellent!) pasta, the story of Scott's recent life unfolded. I had regained my unreadable lawyer's visage, but inside I registered surprise several times. We moved into the lounge and I let Scott continue talking it all through without interruption. He laid everything on the line and when he was done, all I could do was open my arms and let him scurry in for a cuddle.
I told him we'd sleep on it and talk about it some more tomorrow, which gave him breathing space to enjoy the rest of the evening watching a movie with me, snuggled under my arm. Not long before the movie ended I realised he was asleep. I extricated myself, cleaned up and then woke him and steered him down the hallway to his bedroom.
Once Scott was asleep, I lay in my bed contemplating how Ty would handle this latest turn of events. He'd flip out, for sure, and in a way I could see where he'd be coming from. Eventually I relegated it to the "Ty's problem" basket, and only then could I sleep.
As was now his pattern, Scott disappeared after breakfast, presumably to see Andrew Wall. Before he left I managed to casually ask him if he'd like to join Steve and me for dinner at Anna's and he jumped at the opportunity.
I spent most of the afternoon lying on the couch trying to get my head into how to handle things with Ty, but every plan of action I hatched ended up fraught with complications. I was frustrated at the irony of knowing my skills as a lawyer more often than not brought swift resolutions to my clients and the parties with whom they were in conflict, yet they were letting me down when it came to my own relationship.
By the time I heard Scott's car coming down the drive, I had two things resolved in my mind, yet sadly they were at odds with each other. On one hand, I loved Ty with all my heart and I truly believed that we were soul mates. But on the other hand, our relationship was falling apart and I felt a sense of futility in the realisation that there was no immediate means of fixing it.
I sighed and sat up as Scott walked in. "How's your day been, mate?" I asked.
"Great, Mike. How about you? Did Ty call?"
"No mate, he didn't," I shrugged. "You worked up an appetite yet?"
"Man, have I ever," he giggled. "I only had half a sandwich at Andr ... um, where I was!"
I smiled when he coloured slightly. "It's your life Scott," was all I wanted to say. "I hope you know what you're doing with it." I said.
"For the first time in a long time, I actually do feel like I know where I'm going," he smiled back.
"I'm happy for you, mate," I replied. "I'm just gonna grab a shower and then we'll go meet Steve."
Scott wandered into the bathroom while I was under the shower above the bath. He took a leak and then brushed his teeth and I caught his eyes in the mirror.
"You're not checking me out are you?" I asked, feigning shock.
"Well, maybe just a bit," Scott giggled. "You've got an OK body for an old bloke!"
He ducked when I threw a wet face washer at him and then scurried out the door while I dried myself and dressed for dinner.
Scott wanted to drive me to the restaurant so I jumped into the passenger seat of his immaculately clean Mazda 3 Maxx and relaxed as he drove very skillfully to Omara Terrace.
"I'm pleased to see you're looking after the car," I remarked as we pulled up near the restaurant.
"Yeah," he agreed. "But I've been thinking maybe I should just give it back to Ty and save up for my own car. So I'm not obligated to him ..."
"Don't do that mate," I urged him. "That'd break his heart."
"But it's OK for him to break your heart?"
"Don't let what's happening between Ty and me affect your relationship with him, Scott."
"I don't really have a relationship with him at the moment, Mike. He's just ... I dunno. Weird."
I put my arm around his neck and kissed his cheek. "We're gonna have a nice dinner and worry about all this shit some other time, mate!" I grinned. "Let's go eat!"
Inside the restaurant, Steve was already seated and he waved as we walked towards him. Before I could explain why Scott was with me, Steve had welcomed him warmly and arranged an extra place setting at our table.
"You're looking really good Scotty," Steve enthused. "Your hair looks ... I dunno, curlier than usual?"
"Yeah I got caught in a rain shower when I was in Toowoomba today. My hair goes mental when it rains."
"That's the same with Ty ..." I started, before trailing off. "So have you checked the menu, Steve?"
"I have! French onion soup for me, followed by the crumbed John Dory."
I got Scott to order a bottle of white wine and some sparkling water while I scanned the menu. "This is nice," I said. "I reckon I'll go with the stuffed mushrooms and the scallops au gratin."
I handed the menu to Scott and as he perused, I added, "I already know what you're going to order!"
Scott smirked and read the menu. "OK smart arse, what am I having?"
"Prawn cocktail, followed by chicken parmigiana!"
"How do you know that?" he asked, surprised.
"Because you're a Hill boy, and I know what Hill boys like to eat!" I laughed.
We ordered our meals, and listened while Steve proudly told us how well the renovations at Sugarloaf Road were progressing. Our entrees were served, and we were just finishing them when I looked up and saw the former Reverend Wall in the restaurant's reception area.
He noticed me at the same time and waved, before starting to walk towards us. I wasn't quite sure how awkward this was going to be, but I did notice Scott's face light up.
"G'day Mike!" Andrew smiled broadly, as he shook my hand. "Hey Scotty!"
I introduced Steve, who quickly invited him to join us for a meal.
"Thanks for the offer, mate," Andrew replied. "I've got a bit of stuff to do at home tonight so I've ordered some pasta to go."
The waitress signalled that his order was ready. "I'm glad I saw you here," he said to Scott, as he reached into his pocket and dropped a watch on the table. "You left this at my place earlier."
"Oh ... thanks," said Scott, trying not to look embarrassed as he slipped it back on his wrist. We both stole a glance at Steve but his eyes were following a shapely girl's arse as she returned to her table, and he appeared not to have heard what Andrew said.
"Well, better be going," Andrew smiled. "Nice to meet you, Steve. Maybe there'll be time for us all to catch up for a meal or a drink before you head back to Sydney? Tyson too?"
"Yeah, that'd be good mate," I replied. "Ty's away at the moment, but maybe when he gets back ..."
Andrew gave us the thumbs up, collected his food and left the restaurant. "He's the minister dude, yeah?" Steve asked.
"He was," I explained. "He's left the ministry now."
"He probably just got desperate for some pussy! Seems like a nice bloke."
"Yeah, he's a good man," I agreed, and was thankfully spared further discussion about Andrew when our main courses were served.
The rest of the night was fun. Steve deliberately kept things light, sensing there was angst in the air. He told jokes, listened to Scott's thoughts about enrolling in Uni locally and encouraged him, and shared a little too much information about his new girl Fran and how much she was enjoying playing `let's hide Steve's sausage' ...
He laughed at our disinterest in his new love's sexual skills, and we almost fell off our chairs laughing when he screwed up his nose at our descriptions of the joys of hot and sweaty man-on-man sex. By the time we were served our coffee, we were lightly buzzed and completely relaxed.
I was surprised when Steve again settled the bill. I thanked him for dinner, and for lending me his ears when I needed to unburden myself. "Mikey, you were always there for me, even when I was fucking you over. I'm here for you now. Don't get the `dick in the bum' stuff with guys, but I want you to be happy."
There was a pause when Steve looked at Scott, unsure of whether to proceed. He took a breath, looked at me and continued, "Little brother's advice – punch the rock star in the nose!"
"Hey!" Scott objected, before he thought it through. "Well, yeah. Maybe. Like, don't hurt him. You could smack him on the back of the head, like does with me ..."
Scott suddenly welled up and I grabbed him. "It's OK mate," I tried to reassure him. "You haven't done anything wrong. Ty's not in a great place right now, but you know he loves you. He's your brother."
He sniffed and hugged me back. "You're more of a brother to me at the moment," he snivelled. "You know I love you Mike."
Yeah," I sighed. "I know. And I love you too."
Steve's interruption with "Can you two get a room?" made Scott laugh. As we climbed into the Mazda, Steve asked if I wanted to have coffee again the next day?
"Let's play it by ear, mate," I suggested. "Everyone's home from the Coast tomorrow, so I'll just see how that pans out."
Scott dropped Steve at Sugarloaf Road before driving us back to the farm. He switched on the television and we sat, but it was obvious he wanted to talk some more. I poured us each a bourbon and coke and I listened as he once again detailed his dilemma. This time, he asked for my input. And so, for the next hour, I told him what I thought. I gave him every `worst case scenario'. I cautioned him strongly. I made him aware of how his family might feel.
He listened carefully to everything I had to say, nodding every now and again. Once or twice he leaned back on the couch and put his hands behind his head with his feet of the coffee table; that's something Ty often did when he was giving serious thought to something ...
When I finished, Scott scratched his head. "Well, I'm making you my lawyer," he said. "And you can tell me what to do?"
"This isn't something a lawyer can solve for you," I replied, "Only your heart can do that."
Next morning I was woken from a peaceful sleep by a door slamming. I jolted, but kept my eyes closed until I heard a thundering "WHAT THE FUCK?"
I sat bolt upright and looked straight at Ty's fuming face.
"Ty!" was all I could think of ...
"What are you doing in my bed with my brother?" he demanded.
"What?" I asked, before turning around and realising for the first time that Scott was in bed with me, and now very much awake.
"I didn't ..."
"You didn't WHAT?" he thundered. "So what's happening now? You've got the whole legal control thing stitched up, and now you're working your way through my family?
I was angry and I threw back the doona and jumped out of bed. I was about to yell back when Ty started in again. "Oh great. You're naked, too. Naked, and in bed with my brother."
Scott, wearing Lachlan's boxers, jumped out of bed and screamed at his brother. "What the fuck's wrong with you, Ty? I had trouble sleeping and I came in here at about 3 this morning. Mike didn't even know I was here. I just needed to be with someone. And guess what? Lachie's in Bali, Mum and Dad were on the Coast, and you've been living in Weirdsville."
Ty clenched his fists and said, between gritted teeth, "Well I'm glad my naked lawyer could be there for you."
He turned and started stomping down the hallway and we both heard him mutter something like, "Mr Fucking Wonderful ..."
After we'd showered and dressed, breakfast was a whole lot of fun! Ty ate while playing his mobile message bank over and over again, his phone pressed to his ear so he didn't have to engage in conversation, Scott skulked and I quietly fumed.
"Why are you here on your own?" I finally asked. "Where are your mum and dad, and George?"
Ty mumbled something about his parents arriving in Brisbane and deciding they'd spend a whole day in the "big smoke" shopping in the department stores, which I guessed was something they seldom got to do. George had volunteered to stay with them, probably to be out of Ty's company. With a three-hour drive ahead of them, they wouldn't be home until afternoon.
Scott wandered into the kitchen, ate some toast quickly and grabbed his keys. "I'm going out," he said, disappearing out the side door. Silence prevailed for a while, before I tentatively suggested, "Ty, we really need to talk ..."
Ty looked at his watch and said dismissively "I'm meeting the plasterer at Sugarloaf Road. I've gotta go." He grabbed his keys and headed out the door.
"Can we make a time to talk when you get back?" I called after him from the porch, but I got no reply. Slumped against a railing post I watched him roar off down the driveway. That familiar gnawing feeling returned to my stomach, the same feeling I occasionally got when, after a lengthy court battle, I realised that I was going to lose the case.
I walked back into the kitchen and started cleaning up breakfast dishes when I heard Scott's car returning and then his footsteps up the back stairs.
"You're back early," I said. "Everything OK?"
"Yeah, Andrew wasn't home. I forgot he does volunteer work at the community centre some mornings," he replied. "I'll go see him this afternoon."
He picked up his iPod and headed towards his room before doubling back and asking, "Where's Ty?"
"Sugarloaf Road," I said. "He was meeting someone."
"Did he apologise?"
My quick chuckle gave Scott his answer.
Scott had only been in his room for a few minutes when Ty's car came screeching back down the driveway and I watched him stomp to the back door with fury all over his face. I braced myself.
He stormed into the kitchen and confronted me. "What in fucking Hell's name are you trying to do?"
"What are you talking about?" I asked, confused.
"Scott and that fucking minister from St Michael's? YOU KNEW?"
"Knew what?"
"Don't fuck with me! Your brother filled me in. You went out to dinner and Andrew fucking Wall turns up to give Scott back his watch. You knew Scott's been fooling around with him and you didn't tell me??"
"He's been going to Andrew's ..."
Ty cut me off as he yelled, "Are you INSANE? Do you know how much this would hurt my parents, to think their youngest son is fucking around with a church minister?"
Before I could respond, I heard Scott hiss "Jesus fucking Christ" as he literally thundered down the hallway. The kitchen door flew open and slammed so hard against the wall I thought it was going to come off its hinges.
He stood in front of his brother and screamed, "THIS HAS GOT TO STOP TY!"
"You're out of your mind!" Ty spat back. "That fucking cradle snatcher was your local Pastor!"
"I'M NOT HAVING SEX WITH HIM, YOU ARSEHOLE!"
"Really? Then what are you doing with him? Naked Bible readings?"
"Well seeing you're so fucking determined to know everything I do or even think, I'll tell you," Scott seethed. "Simon Miller's back and he wants us to get back together. He's staying in Toowoomba and I've seen him a few times. We've talked, but I've been really confused about whether to give it another go or not. I got talking to Andrew after the Christmas service and he could tell I had something on my mind, and he offered to talk things through with me. That's it, Ty. He's a great guy and he hasn't even looked at me the wrong way. He's just been there for me and he's listened and he's given me advice. And yes I eventually told Mike. I would have told you both, but I hate being in the same state with you at the moment, let alone the same room. It's time you just fucking backed off and let me live my own life. I'm an adult now in case you hadn't fucking noticed."
The two brothers stared each other down for a few seconds before Scott spun on his heels and stomped back to his room, slamming the door behind him.
"Ty," I began ...
"You knew about Simon too? And you didn't tell me? Fuck me dead, I've kind of become superfluous in this family since you wormed your way in," he snarled, before picking up his keys.
As he started for the back door, I followed and lightly grabbed his shoulder, but he spun back towards me. "Please Ty, can't we ..."
That's as far as I got. I knew I'd caught him off guard, but as he spun around my world went into slow motion. I saw his arm rise, I saw a fist hurtling towards me and I felt the pain as it connected with my jaw. I heard a snap as my body reeled backwards and my head hit the cupboard, and then I tasted my own blood.
Ty stood shaking in front of me, half defiant and half like a deer caught in headlights. I put my hand over my mouth and gently felt my jaw as he walked shakily from the kitchen back to his car. I stood at the sink and used a wash cloth to mop up the blood running down my chin and my shirt. Through the window I could see Ty slumped across his steering wheel for a few moments before he started the car and roared off.
As I spat blood into the sink, I spotted a broken bottom eye tooth. With my tongue I felt where it had snapped, and I picked up the broken half and put it in my pocket. Sitting at the table with a handkerchief, I realised my bottom lip was also cut.
My head was reeling and I was having trouble comprehending what had just happened. I had wanted Ty to sit down and talk to me, but he'd lashed out and punched me in the mouth, breaking a tooth in the process. Fuck! He'd punched me!
I was still mopping up blood when Scott suddenly strolled into the kitchen. He took one look at me and gasped, "What the fuck? Did Ty do that? Jesus, there's blood everywhere! Are you OK?"
"I'm OK," I said, but when I looked at him face-on, he realised I had a split lip and when I tried to smile, he noticed the broken tooth.
"Fuck!" he exclaimed. "Did you smack him back?"
"It all happened so quickly. I didn't have time to do anything ..."
"This is like ... so wrong, Mike. And it's not like Ty. He never does this sort of shit ..."
"Well he did this time, mate!" I smiled wanly.
"You need to get that mouth looked at. I'll drive you to the dentist," he said, grabbing his keys.
"No mate," I assured him. "I'm OK. It's only a flesh wound!"
"Come on Mike, you've gotta see someone about it."
"Seriously Scott," I cautioned. "I'm OK. Just leave me alone for a while, I can clean myself up."
"Are you going to just let him get away with this Mike?" Scott asked, his face a picture of disbelief.
"Just drop it Scott, please," I insisted. "I'll be fine. I just need to clean up."
I gave him a quick hug as I walked past him and down the hall to the bathroom. Closing the door, I took a glass, filled it with warm water and rinsed my mouth several times, alarmed at the amount of blood I was spitting. I used a mouth wash several times before the bleeding stopped. I dabbed my cut lip with antiseptic and panted my way through the sting.
I sat on the toilet lid and leaned back into the cistern, trying to work out my next move. I thought about my best course of action for some time before I made a decision.
I walked out of the bathroom and down to the bedroom I'd been sharing with Ty. I closed the door, grabbed my suitcase from the wardrobe and started to pack. Before shutting down my laptop, I jumped online and booked the first available ticket from Brisbane to Sydney. There was one flight - departing in four hours and the seat was in Economy. I paid for the ticket, logged off, checked my wallet, keys and phone, and wheeled my suitcase through the house and out to my hire car.
I was tempted to just drive off but I couldn't leave Scott worrying about where I'd gone. I strode back into the house and he walked into the lounge room at the same time I did.
"I was wondered where you were?" he sighed, relieved.
"Mate," I began, before realising I was lost for words. "Come here."
Scott walked towards me and I held out open arms for him to sink into. I kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back before pulling back and looking him in the eyes.
"Scott, the best thing for me at the moment is to not be here," I started.
"You CAN'T leave!" Scott exclaimed. "Ty has to face up to what he's done ..."
"Scott," I soothed. "I'm doing what's right given the situation. Yes, something has to be done about this but I'm not going to deal with it here, not with your parents arriving back soon after their first holiday in years, and Lachlan and Ellie about to come home from their honeymoon. It's just not fair to have them all back home and having all this dropped on them. I'll just cut out now and go back home."
"Please don't go!" Scott pleaded, his eyes brimming with tears.
"I have to Scott," I sighed. "I need you to do something for me. I would never encourage you to lie to your family, but I want you to promise me that you'll tell them when they all get home that I had an emergency at the office and was required back in Sydney immediately. Please Scott?"
"I want to tell them that Ty's been treating you like shit and giving me grief and that he punched you in the face and broke your tooth ..."
"Promise me you won't do that mate?" I urged.
"OK Mike," he reneged, tears filling his eyes.
"Mate," I said. "I hate to walk out and leave you, especially when you're trying to work out what you need to do with your own life. Just remember, the answer's never outside mate, it's inside. My heart's telling me that removing myself from the picture is the best thing for me right now. You need to look inside, and ask yourself whether getting back with Simon is right for you. Andrew Wall can't tell you. Ty can't. I can't. Only your heart can."
I gave him a hug, kissed him on the top of the head and then lifted his chin so he was facing me. "See ya soon!" I whispered.
I picked up my luggage and walked out through the door, down the stairs to my car. Scott had followed and stood on the verandah, visibly upset. I felt like crying myself. I started the engine, and before I did the U- turn that would take me to the road, I wound down the window and called out to Scott, "I love ya, mate!"
How I wished it didn't have to be this way, but I had to get out of Stanthorpe ...
I was knackered by the time I dropped the hire car off at the airport and made my way to the terminal. I took my place in the slow lane, got through security and was then faced with sitting in the departure lounge aware of how unkempt I probably looked, and clearly the recent recipient of a smack in the mouth.
I was waiting for the flight to be called. Opposite me was a fellow passenger passing the time by absentmindedly turning the pages of the latest issue of Weekender'. While he was holding the magazine up, I mindlessly read the cover and spotted the tease Celebrity Siblings: including Natalie and Antonia Kidman & Tyson, Lachlan and Scott Hill'. He looked at me strangely when I said "could I just look at your magazine very quickly?", but he handed it to me all the same.
I flicked through to find a double page spread of Ty and his brothers; one full page of them in their dressed- up gear and several photos on the other page of them as farm boys. I handed the magazine back to it owner and he went back to reading the horoscope.
When the flight was called, I sat back and waited for almost everyone else to board before getting up. As I wandered through the rows of lounge seats I noticed a copy of the previous week's Telegraph' which someone had discarded before the flight. On the cover was a huge photograph taken at Lachlan and Ellie's wedding, with a smaller inset photo of Ty. The headline read Tyson On Hand As War Survivor Brother Ties The Knot' and a cover line pointed to a larger spread inside.
I snatched it up and put it under my arm until I was on board and buckled up. As the hostess went through her safety spiel, I flicked through the newspaper and found the full page report of Lachlan and Ellie's wedding. The slant of the article was as I'd expected it would be ... an injured Aussie soldier marries the pregnant love of his life and his rock star brother serenades them ... a few quotes about Matthew Burgess and Rodney Maguire ... and more about Ty.
The accompanying photos showed Ellie and Frank about to walk down the aisle, the boys waiting at the altar, Ty singing The Wedding Song', Ty accompanying Lachlan while he sang Mama', Ty dancing with his mother, and a shot of the whole bridal party.
I must have been studying the page for a long time. The chubby girl squeezed into the seat next to me leaned over slightly and said, "You think he woulda married her if he hadn't knocked her up?"
I was taken aback, but managed to reply, "They look pretty happy in these photos."
"Yeah, I guess so," she agreed. "But if you were marrying into that family, you'd be going for Tyson wouldn't you?"
"You reckon?" I asked.
"God yeah!" she laughed. "He can park his boots under my bed any time he likes!"
"Well, I hear he's single so you could be in with a chance!"
I folded the newspaper up and placed it in the seat-back compartment, before terminating any further discussion by putting on my headphones and closing my eyes as the news headlines were read.
No priority luggage for Mike this time! I waited an eternity at the carousel for my cases and finally jumped in my car and started driving towards Point Piper, stopping on the way to pick up some Malaysian takeaway and a bottle of wine. Walking through the front door, a shiver ran through me when I realised that I didn't feel as if I was returning `home'.
It was much later after I'd eaten and was sitting on the balcony nursing a glass of wine that I realised I hadn't switched my phone back on after the flight. I'd missed two or three calls from Scott and one from George, but Ty hadn't called me. I sent texts back assuring them I was OK and letting them know I would be having an early night.
I switched the phone off, watched the evening news and climbed into bed where for several hours I tossed and turned, dealing with anger and sadness in equal measure. I eventually fell into a fitful sleep and woke late in the morning, feeling like shit.
I sat around drinking coffee until I had the energy to face the day. I shaved and made myself look as respectable as I could, showered and dressed, and then sat in the lounge and gave some serious thought to my next move. I knew I had to talk to someone ... but who?
As a lawyer it was difficult for me to accept that I was the one needing counsel, but through a process of elimination it dawned on me that there was only one person I could turn to in a crisis. New Zealand was two hours ahead, so it wasn't an unreasonable time to call. I picked up my mobile phone and dialed.
"Hello Dad? It's Mike!" I tried to enthuse.
"Michael! Son, it's good to hear from you! How are things?"
"I'm good Dad, how are you?"
"I'm great Mike. Still got a bit of a problem with the arthritis and the doctor reckons my blood pressure's a bit high, but I'm not complaining."
"Dad," I said quietly. "I'm not so good, actually. I need to talk to you. Is now a good time?"
"What's wrong, Michael?" he asked, the worry evident in his voice.
"I just need to talk to someone Dad, and this is not something you're gonna want to hear I guess. But there's nobody else who'll be honest with me like I know you will be ..."
"Are you in trouble son?"
"No Dad," I assured him. "I'm just troubled."
And for the next 30 minutes I blurted everything out, as Dad listened in silence. He knew I was gay and he accepted it, but he had never wanted to know any details. He knew about Aaron but had never met him or even asked about him. He knew I had sex with men, but he'd always chosen to focus on the success of my career and not the intimate minutiae of my sex life.
I started by telling him that I'd been in a relationship with Ty for more than a year.
"You don't mean that rock singer?" he asked in disbelief.
"Yeah, the very same, Dad."
"They play his stuff on the radio here all the time!" he exclaimed. "I think Kitty's got one of his CDs. In the magazines here they reckon he's beating the chicks off with a stick!"
"That's just media hype, Dad," I sighed.
I told him how I came to meet Ty, the wonderfully happy times we'd spent together and the deep love we'd experienced – without sparing him the details of how explosive our sex life had been - knowing well he couldn't quite grasp it. To his credit, he didn't gag.
I told him what had happened in recent days and I chokingly admitted that I was now an emotional wreck with no idea of what to do.
For the next 30 minutes I listened as my Dad shared his thoughts. Ten minutes of it, of course, was the preface about how he really didn't understand how I'd turned out gay, and how he needed reassurance that it wasn't anything he'd done. He was relieved when I assured him that he'd been a great Dad and that I was very happy living my life as a gay man. For the remaining 20 minutes, he talked me through the best advice he'd given me in more than 30 years.
I thanked him for his patience and understanding, and he ended the conversation telling me he loved me, something he'd rarely said even though I knew it was true. In doing so, he gave me the strength to move forward.
That night and all the next day I stayed in bed with the television on, just for noise. Sometimes I lay on my back with my hands behind my head, remembering good stuff. Other times, I curled up in a ball and fought back tears as I reminded myself of the bad stuff. I dozed on and off for more than 30 hours.
It was only on the second morning that I awoke with any sense of clarity. Dad, I decided, was right; relationships have their ups and downs but the first act of physical violence is the First Bad Sign. I knew he was right. "And don't forget son," he'd cautioned. "A leopard doesn't change its spots ..."
In boxers and a tee shirt I sat on the kitchen balcony – the site of so many amazingly happy memories – with coffee and toast, gazing out the sea and steeling myself for the days ahead. I turned on my mobile and flicked through the many messages; all of them I expected, but the one I wished for most wasn't there.
I washed my dishes and put them away and then walked into the bedroom and pulled two big suitcases from the closet. I opened them and placed them on the bed and then set about packing my clothes and my personal belongings.
I was doing pretty well. I was foggily indifferent as I folded the tee-shirt Ty had given me for Christmas – emblazoned with the lyric of "Until You Came Along" – and sighed when I packed the many items of my clothing that Ty had borrowed and worn so often.
It was only when I opened the bottom drawer of our dresser and was confronted with our Batman and Robin costumes that I finally lost it. I sat on our bed and wept. With my head in my hands, I cried it out for a long, long time. I choked with the sadness of what was actually happening and allowed myself a rare foray into self- pity, a luxury someone with my legally trained mind seldom gave into.
I eventually pulled myself together, gathered various knickknacks and objets d'art and packed them in the car. My furniture from Melbourne and other items I'd bought for the house could stay.
I made a quick call to my dentist and arranged an appointment for the following morning before scrounging around in the drawers until I found a cigarette. I smoked it as I sat on the balcony and called Adam, the real estate agent who'd found us the Point Piper property. I was reminded why I didn't smoke as I coughed and spluttered my way through the call, but it ended with Adam in no doubt that he needed to pull a rabbit out of a hat for me – and fast.
I found the strength to walk around the house Ty and I had called home for so long, making sure it was secure. I stood in the lounge room and looked at our view one more time and then turned, picked up my cases, and walked through the front door without looking back.
Rather than be obvious and stay at the Intercontinental, I checked into Sheraton on the Park, one of the few top Sydney hotels Ty and I hadn't stayed in so far. I unpacked my cases and headed to the nearest shopping arcade. I found a Telstra shop and bought a new mobile phone, and registered a new number. Back at the hotel, I transferred the address book from my business phone to my new personal phone before disabling it and packing it a small box.
Using the new phone, I called Adam and left the number, and then phoned the office and asked for Max. He wasn't at his desk so I got his crusty old secretary Trish to pencil in his diary a meeting with me for 1pm. That gave me enough time to make a few calls to alter billing addresses, to notify the post office of a redirection, and to order a small salad for lunch.
At 12.30 I took a slow stroll through the city streets to my office, making sure I was there right on one to avoid getting caught in conversation with any colleagues. I was shown straight to Max's empty office. Trish told me Max was just finishing up in the boardroom and would be with me soon. I was surprised when she offered me a cup of tea, even more so when she sniffed the air and said, "What cologne are you wearing? It's nice."
I laughed. "I'd like to say Viktor & Rolf, but I think it's a combination of Manuka honey soap and body odour!"
Max appeared in the doorway and also declined the offer of tea. He closed the door and sat behind his desk, shuffled some papers and then looked at me. "You don't look so good!" he smiled.
"Yeah, haven't shaved and haven't slept so well."
"Best case scenario? You're here to ask for a raise, to finally be paid what you're worth?"
I sighed and pulled the envelope from my back pocket. "Worst case scenario," I replied, tossing it on the desk, "I'm tendering my resignation."
The lawyer in me desperately wanted to see the looked that registered on Max's face, but I couldn't eyeball him. I had my eyes focused on the edge on the desk in front of me. I must have been holding my breath because when Max spoke, I exhaled sharply.
"You can't resign!" he exclaimed. "You're the blue-eyed boy. If this is a roundabout way of asking for a raise, you can have it. How much do you want?"
"This isn't about money Max," I sighed, finally looking him in the eyes. "I just can't do this right now. I need to just ... lick my wounds."
"It's your personal life, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"When we had dinner I asked about it and you said everything was fine."
"I lied."
"You lied to me?"
"I'm a lawyer."
"And a bloody good one!" he chuckled. "Seeing this is about your personal life, can I ask you a personal question?"
I pondered. "I guess so," I said.
"It's Tyson Hill isn't it?"
I think I stopped breathing for a while, like sleep apnea without the sleep. "What on earth makes you think that?"
"Well, let's see? You remember the Christmas party when you turned up with Tyson Hill? You went in opposite directions as soon as you walked through the door but all through the night, you could barely take your eyes off one another. And then you both just ... disappeared."
"I was a lawyer looking out for his client," I replied indignantly.
"A lawyer flirting with this client, I'd say," Max smirked. "And the client was guilty of mentally undressing his lawyer from across the room."
I felt embarrassed. All I could think of to say was, "Making assumptions isn't like you, Max. In the gay community, they'd call that gaydar."
Max folded his hands in front of himself on the desk and thought for a moment. He looked up and said, "I should probably tell you something Mike."
"Sure."
"Remember that time in the kitchen in the Melbourne office not long after you started, when we were talking about your dirty weekend?"
"Yeah," I chuckled at the memory. "You said `I hope you left him a quivering mess!'"
"Well it was me who left the kitchen a quivering mess."
"What?"
"I realised you'd found someone, which meant I didn't stand a chance."
"What??"
"When you joined the firm, I thought you were the most gorgeous guy I'd ever laid eyes on, and you were always so friendly. I created this little fantasy in my head that if I played it cool you might look at me twice ..."
"Are you serious?" I asked, my hand over my mouth. "You were married and the girls and ..."
"My marriage ended because I finally confronted who I really am."
"Max," I stumbled, "I never knew ... I mean, it never ..."
"Hey, it's OK," he laughed. "That was a long time ago, and I grew up enough to know that nothing could ever happen between us. All these years later I feel a bit like your Work Dad. As well as you being a valued employee, I want you to be a happy man, because you deserve it."
I could only shake my head. "Max," I started. "I ... I don't know what to say. This is ... wow, this is a head fuck ..."
"Let's go have lunch?"
"It's almost 2pm."
"Well, a late lunch then!" Max laughed. "You're probably hungry. You've only had a salad."
I looked at him in disbelief. "How do you know that?" I asked.
"Spinach," he smirked. "Between your upper fourth and fifth ..."
Max grabbed his keys and wallet and before we left the office he made sure I noticed him dropping my resignation into his wastepaper bin. He steered me through the office and out into bustling Elizabeth Street. We walked in silence to George Street, and once again stood waiting for a table at the Glass Brasserie in The Hilton.
Seated, Max asked me what I felt like eating. I stared at the menu for a while but couldn't seem to focus on it. "Tell you what, I'll order," Max said as he called the waiter over. He asked for roasted lamb rack with gnocchi to share. When he ordered a 2005 Craggy Range New Zealand Shiraz, I realised this was a serious business lunch.
We remained silent while the waiter poured our wine and it was only when he moved away from the table that Max spoke. "What's with the lip?"
I shrugged. "I threw myself in front of a fist," I said.
"He hit you?"
I felt momentarily embarrassed and could only nod.
"That's not good, Mike," Max replied, shaking his head. "Not good at all. I know this is hard for you son, but it's time to talk. And I'm a great listener."
I sipped my wine quietly for a minute or two, as I struggled with whether opening up to my boss was a wise thing to do. But fuck it, Max had always done the right thing by me, and I really did need to unburden myself, if for no other reason than to hope someone else might make some sense of what had suddenly turned my life upside down.
I leaned in closer to Max, drew a breath, and told him everything, right from the very start. I spared him most of the sexual detail but shared with him more of the business side of our shared relationship than I had with my Dad, knowing that Max understood it and was privy to all of it anyway.
A couple of time I stopped and breathed through the threatened tears as I was reminded of the idyllic side of my life with Ty. God bless Max. He didn't sympathise or console. He just maintained his serious but friendly face and waited for the right moment to encourage me to "go on", as I'd seen him do so often with clients.
By the time I filled him in on the events of the last few days, Max had finished his meal and mine had barely been touched. Max looked at me for a while and then said "Eat!"
"You don't have anything to say?"
"You need to eat."
"I'm not really hungry."
"You eat, I'll talk."
I sighed, picked up my fork and speared a piece of gnocchi. Max waited until he was convinced I was going to eat my half of a hellishly expensive meal before he shared his thoughts. For 20 minutes he succinctly analyzed his take on my relationship with Ty. He was completely on top of the professional side of Ty's unhappiness; as an entertainment lawyer he'd seen all this before. But his personal concern was for my welfare.
Having acknowledged that I really was hungry, I made quick work of the lamb as Max concluded his observations.
"I'm not going to give you advice, Mike," he said. "You're a smart boy. Your ability to work it out is why I hired you. And you need time to work it out, which is why I'm not accepting your resignation. I'm going to give you three months suspended leave."
"No Max," I protested. "I'm no good for the company at the moment. I'm so grateful for everything you've done for me, but it's wrong for me to keep taking advantage of your kindness and the company's tolerance."
"Unless you've got another job that you haven't told me about," Max responded, "you may as well accept the offer. You won't be paid for 12 weeks, but you'll still be employed. Trust me son, it's a lot better than the alternative."
"Thanks Max," I said sincerely. "No guarantees though. I don't know what I want to do at the moment."
"You'll call me any time you need to talk?"
"You bet," I smiled. I reached into my jacket pocket, extracted the box containing the company's mobile phone and handed it to Max.
"You can have the phone!" he laughed.
"I can't deal with all the calls I'm gonna get about this," I implored. "You take it. I got a new phone today."
"I'll need the new number."
"You won't give it to anyone will you?"
"Of course not! Where are you living?"
"I'm staying at the Sheraton, but I've got an agent finding me a serviced apartment."
"Can you afford that?"
"Yes Max," I chucked.
"You can come and stay at my place if you like," Max offered. "No strings or anything. Just somewhere to stay."
I was genuinely touched. "Thanks mate, but I earn more than two hundred thousand dollars a year plus bonuses, Max. I think I can afford a serviced apartment."
"You do what's right for you Mike," Max smiled. "I need to know where you're living. I'll deal with the calls to your work mobile and if there's something you should know I'm going to tell you. I'll give you all the time you need, but you're not going to stick your head in the sand."
"I've got a dental appointment tomorrow and then I'll come by the office and sign a salary waiver. But, er ... who's going to take over as Ty's legal counsel? He could be headed for major trouble with the record company ..."
"Leave it to me," Max cut in, holding up his hand. "I'll take over. Don't worry, I'll get the contractual stuff sorted."
Max settled the bill and as we left the restaurant, I felt a huge sense of relief. We walked in silence back to the company car park and as we got to my car, I couldn't resist. "The most gorgeous guy you'd ever laid eyes on?" I smirked. "Really?"
"You bet!" Max smiled back. "But that was then. These days you're all grown up, not the cute little twink you were then! Besides, you mightn't think so now, but you're in love."
I did something I'd never done before; I hugged Max. "Thank you, Max. Thanks for everything."
"I'll see you tomorrow," he shrugged. "And by the way, you need to shave. Your face is too handsome for whiskers!"
Spilling my guts about everything that had been happening between Ty and me had left me drained. As soon as I was back in my hotel room I showered and climbed into bed. I started watching an episode of N.C.I.S. but gave in to sleep before the first commercial break. I woke at three in the morning, the television still flickering in the room. I took a leak, turned off the TV, and slept for another four hours.
I woke feeling sad, but managed to perform the basic morning tasks ... shit, shower and shave followed by a light breakfast.
I took a call from my real estate broker Adam, who happily let me know he'd found me a one bedroom serviced apartment in Castlereagh Street in the heart of the city. It met all my requirements – windows that open, heating and air-conditioning, shower and bath, security entrance and off-street parking.
"So what's happening with the Point Piper place?" Adam asked.
"The guy I was sharing with is still there," I said quickly. "For work reasons I need to be in the city."
I arranged with Adam to inspect the apartment later in the day. In the likely event I'd be happy with it – Adam certainly knew how to give his clients what they were looking for – I wanted to allow enough time to do some grocery shopping.
I took a casual stroll through the city to the World Tower and took the elevator to Mr. Hoffman's rooms. Funny, he had been my dentist for the entire time I'd lived in Sydney, and he was the only man I ever addressed formally. Everyone did, even his oral hygienist and his receptionist.
I took a seat and thumbed through the latest `Men's Health' magazine until I was called. Mr. Hoffman was all smiles and after we shook hands he remarked that it had only been three months since my last checkup.
"I'm not here for a checkup," I smiled. "I had a bit of an accident." I pulled my lip out and let him see my broken tooth. At the same time I reached into my pocket and pulled out the piece that had broken off, and handed it to him.
He chuckled. "When someone loses a finger in an accident it's useful to pack the severed digit in ice and take it to the hospital immediately," he said seriously, "but we tend not to just glue teeth back together."
I felt ridiculous. The hygienist took my jacket and then clipped a serviette around my neck. Mr. Hoffman poked and prodded around in my mouth for a few minutes, saying "hmmm" every now again. He eventually told me to sit up and rinse as he took his rubber gloves off.
He sat on a stool next to me and explained that the eye tooth had been snapped by considerable force (tell me about it!) and that the tooth was a little loose. I had two options. A crown would do the job but the tooth would continue to loosen and I would probably get only two or three years benefit from it instead of ten years. Alternatively I could have an implant, which would likely do me for life.
I asked about the cost difference and when I realised what an implant would set me back, I whistled. "Does it have a Cartier diamond in it?" I asked. The oral hygienist giggled.
"Just as well I've got top dental cover," I said.
"I should warn you Mr Stewart, very little will be covered by your health fund. You'll get probably 20 percent of it back."
I sighed. "Well, as long as you can guarantee I'll still have my smile, I guess I'm saying yes!"
Again the oral hygienist giggled. "Yes, Mr Stewart," she beamed, "you'll still have that cute smile!"
I had a momentary thought I'd probably be quite successful at picking up girls, and that made me think of Dad and how pleased he'd be!
"When can you do it?"
"I can do the x-rays and take a model of your bite straight away, and then you'll need two visits for the surgery. You can make the appointments with Mrs Faraday. Space them a week apart."
The preliminary work was done and a couple of hundred dollars later, I was back on Liverpool Street. I had time to kill so I found a busy patisserie, ordered a coffee and flicked through some tabloids. Famous' magazine probably wasn't the wisest choice. Pages eight and nine were a pinup of Ty and a story about how wary he was of committing to a deep and loving relationship because he couldn't be sure if the girl was interested in the real' Ty, or just the trappings of his astonishing success.
All of a sudden I felt sad again. I settled the bill and strolled to the office. Once again, Max was in meetings, but his secretary Trish let me read and sign the paperwork in his office. I was stopped by two colleagues before I was able to leave the building.
I grabbed a cab to the apartment building in Castlereagh Street where I'd arranged to meet with Adam and, arriving a little early, I did a quick reconnoiter of the city block, to work out where everything was if I agreed to take the apartment.
I arrived back at the building just as Adam was walking up the front steps. He checked his phone as we rode the elevator to the 15th floor and he fumbled with his key in the door of apartment 1512.
It wasn't Point Piper, but I was impressed. It was clean, newly painted and carpeted. The bedroom was roomy with a small balcony and the bathroom was more modern than I expected. The kitchen and lounge rooms were well equipped and tastefully furnished, and it was set up for cable television and fast speed internet.
I told Adam I'd take it, and asked what the lease terms were. Minimum three months, maximum twelve he told me. Not having any idea what the future held for me, I opted for the minimum term of three months, hoping that if I wished to extend, the fact the rent was paid and the apartment was well looked after, the owner would be happy.
We arranged to sign the lease first thing the next morning, and I decided I'd grocery shop then, after I'd moved my luggage from the hotel.
I bought a bottle of wine, some cheese, grapes and olives and returned to my hotel room where I indulged my taste buds at the same time as I immersed myself in two back-to-back `latest releases' from the in-house movie menu.
In the hour between the second movie finishing and the start of the late news, I had a bath, and ordered some vegetable noodles from room service.
I'd kept myself busy all day but now, with a full stomach and nothing but doom and gloom on the news, I found myself thinking of Ty; what was he doing, how was he feeling, did he miss me as much as I missed him?
I turned the television off, curled into a ball under the doona and wallowed for a while until, with a movie reel of the magic moments we'd shared playing in my head, I fell asleep.
As I lay on my back in the early morning quiet, it finally hit me that I wasn't leaving a hotel today and going home. I was leaving a hotel and moving into an apartment by myself.
The `pause' button on the remote control of my life had been pushed and I was in limbo. I thought it through again. I'd been shut down by Ty, I'd walked away from his family without any kind of goodbye and I had no income for the time being. Way to go Mike!
I willed myself to remain positive and got up, showered and dressed. I repacked my suitcases ready to move out of the hotel and into my new place, and then hit the street and headed to the nearest coffee shop for an espresso and a croissant.
Ready to face the day, I walked to Adam's office, signed the lease, paid my bond and all of the rent in advance and took possession of the keys. Adam walked me to the door and we shook hands.
Ten minutes later I grabbed a trolley and strolled into the supermarket, trying not to be daunted by what I needed to buy. I was effectively starting from scratch. I did the cleaning products first, then the bathroom stuff, and then food and drinks. It felt strange to be buying beer at ten in the morning but I wanted it handy in case it was needed.
I paid for my groceries and then struggled to carry everything back to the apartment. I opened the door and walked in, dropping the bags of groceries on the couch. I opened the curtains and a couple of windows, and turned on the radio for noise. I moved the shopping bags to the kitchen, quickly put away the perishables, and then took a brisk walk back to the hotel where I grabbed my luggage and checked out. It was too difficult contemplating walking with three suitcases so I convinced a cabbie to drive me the short distance to my apartment.
I had barely opened the cases and lined them up in my bedroom than my new mobile rang, making me jump. I briefly wondered if my number was no in circulation, but was relieved when I looked at the screen.
"Hey Max!" I smiled. "I'm just unpacking at the apartment."
"It's not Max, it's Trish. Max needs to meet with you urgently. He wants you to meet him for lunch at Veranda on Elizabeth Street at 12.30."
"Oh. I guess ... um, can I speak to him Trish?"
"He's doing a mediation at the moment. He just said to say he'll meet you there, and to stress that it's very urgent."
"OK Trish, thanks. I'll be there."
I hung up and my stomach sank, but I reasoned my way through the panic. If it really bad news, Max would speak to me face-to-face, not have his secretary call me. So that was a relief. I knew nothing bad had happened to Ty.
I looked at the oven clock, quickly changed from jeans and sneakers into pants, shirt and jacket and good shoes, and made my way to Verandah.
I knew not to expect a disaster, but I was still feeling unsettled. When Max says something's urgent, it's usually not a good thing ...
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