“Donuts are YesYesYesYesYESSSSS, too!”
“No they’re not. They’re just YESSSSS.”
“What’s pizza?”
“Yas!”
“Tacos?”
“Yippee!”
“Chocolate?”
“OhhhhYeah!”
I cracked up laughing and dropped my head to the table. “What are we even talking about?”
“I don’t know exactly. Food. Orgasms. Orgasmic food. Foodgasms.”
“How ‘bout we talk about me getting my alpha female on and sorting shit out with Dean instead?”
“We are.”
“How?”
“With bacon, or donuts.”
The fork covered in scrambled egg that was en route to my open mouth, paused. “Somehow I don’t think bacon or donuts will do the trick.”
“They will if you serve them to him on a Tashtray. Get it? Ashtray … Tashtray?”
“Is there vodka in that orange juice?”
“No. But there can be.” She leaned over, opened the minibar, and pulled out a miniature Grey Goose. “You want?”
I shrugged. Fuck it. “Sure. Why not?”
She poured it into my OJ then grabbed a bottle for herself.
“Aren’t you still breastfeeding?”
“Yep.”
“That explains Brayden’s dribbling and constantly passing out.”
“Oh shut up. I fed him first thing this morning while you were dribbling and passed out.”
“Fair enough. Sooo … back to this Tashtray,” I mumbled, sucking down a hash brown. “What are you saying? Get him to eat food off my body?”
“Yep.”
“Sounds messy and unhygienic. I don’t know … we did the whole whipped cream nipple crap when we were younger. It stank. I stank. It wasn’t good.”
“Tell me something … does bacon smell bad?”
I thought about it for a second. “No. I can’t say that it does.”
“Does cream smell bad?”
“Yes.”
“End of story. So phase one of Operation Alpha Female is: Get naked and wear bacon.”
Get naked and wear bacon. Sounds like a commercial. “Okay. So what’s phase two?”
“Buy him a present, which reminds me, what’s that?” She pointed to the gift Dean gave me.
“It’s my birthday present from Dean.”
“What did he get you?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet.”
“Why not?”
“I couldn’t. I was too sad.”
“Are you too sad now?”
“A little, yes.”
“Okay. Open it later when you’re not so sad. In the meantime, think of a present you can get him. Something that shows him he’s on your mind even when he thinks he’s not.”
Hmm … Socks? He’s forever putting holes in them with his big toe. No, bad idea. Maybe a family photo for his desk? No. He did mention some Xbox controller thing the other day. That one was a possibility.
“You look like you’re in the bottom row of the Brady Bunch Square. Why are you looking up?”
I laughed. “I’m thinking.”
“About?”
“Gifts for Dean. He’s so hard to buy for. I don’t know what he likes and doesn’t like.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know … none of it seems to interest me, so I don’t really pay much attention.”
She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows.
“Okay okay, I’m a bad wife.”
“No, you’re a busy wife, but that’s kinda no excuse. You need to pay just as much attention to him as you want in return.”
“I know what to get him!” I exclaimed, interrupting her and pointing my knife for effect. “He loves jotting down the team stats at William’s footy games. There’s got to be an App that will give him more stats and stuff, right?”
She shrugged. “I suppose. If there’s apps for cats then there must be an app to record stats.”
“It’s not really a grand gesture, though, is it?”
“No. But it doesn’t have to be,” she mumbled around her mouthful. “It’s the thought that counts.”
“Okay. Leave it with me.” I sucked down some of my Screwdriver, squinty at the bitterness so early in the morning. “So … ” I coughed, “is there another phase?”
“Yep. Phase three: kidnap him.”
“What?”
“Take him somewhere without giving him a say in the matter. Go away. Have uninterrupted us time, and remind him of why the two of you are perfect for one another.”
“That’s a great idea!”
An awesome thought sprung into my head, and I couldn’t smile any wider. “Do you think boss-man will let me borrow one of his cars?”
“I guess. It would depend on which one, but I don’t see why not.”
“Eleanor.”
“Does Dean have a thing for Mustangs?”
“No. I mean, yes. Actually, I think it’s more a thing for the movie. I’m not exactly sure. All I know is that when he found out boss-man had picked Eleanor up, he couldn’t wait to visit and see her. So I’m thinking a trip down the Great Ocean Road to Lorne in Eleanor would be perfect.”
Her eyes lit up. “You’re right! That is perfect. Okay, leave Eleanor to me. When do you want to do this?”
“Sooner rather than later. Maybe next weekend?”
“Okay. You’re set. Now eat up, you gotta get that arse home. Operation Alpha Female is now in full swing.”
* * *
“Mum, why didn’t Dad come to your birthday party?” Thomas asked, as we drove along the Tullamarine Freeway on our way home from City Towers.
I glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his attention fixed to what we were passing by. “He had to help out a friend who got hurt.”
“How was his friend hurt?” William asked.
“She got beat up.”
“She’s a girl?” Thomas sat upright in the backseat, his eyes wide and finding mine in the mirror’s reflection.
“Of course she’s a girl, dummy.”
“William!” I chastised. “Do you have to be so nasty?”
“Well, it was a dumb question. A ‘she’ is not a boy.”
“He’s eight years of age. Remember that. You were asking ‘dumb’ things at that age too.”
“Like what?”
“Hmm … let me think. I vaguely recall you asking me why you couldn’t see your eyes.”
Thomas burst into laughter. “Because they’re in your head, dummy.”
“I did not ask that.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Anyway,” Will huffed, “you can see your eyes. You just need to look into the mirror.”
I nodded. “This is true.”
“Mum, what else did William say that was stupid?”
“I think he asked where the clouds go at night.”
There was silence, which was rarer than a leprechaun, so I quickly turned my head to see if they were both alive.
They were.
“Where do clouds go at night?” Thomas asked.
I laughed. “Nowhere.”
There was further silence, and I couldn’t help but appreciate the moment I was having. A parent moment. A moment where everything horrible, tiresome and daunting, simply melted away because of the innocence of your child’s inquisitive mind. Children were good like that. They saw black and white through a kaleidoscope of colour, a kaleidoscope I wish would keep turning before my eyes and blocking out the fact I’d just pulled into my driveway and was moments away from facing my devastated and furious husband.
It was anticipation of the worst kind.
Turning the key in the lock, I struggled due to the nervous tingle of my fingers, so I quickly shook them then opened the door, entering obvious inactivity.
“Dad! We’re home.”
The house was still and relatively dark, the curtains undrawn, the TV lifeless. “I don’t think he�
��s here, Will.”
Will walked in and out of rooms. “He’s not. Where is he?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll ring him and check after we’ve unpacked and settled in.”
I walked into the living room and put my bag down, nearly covering the note he’d written for me.
Dean: I need some time to think,
or not think.
Either way, I need some time to myself.
I’ll be home tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dean
When I got home the night before, the smell of Tash on our bed sheets punched a hole in my chest. I couldn’t sleep, each inhale triggering a vision in my head of her kissing that cockhead she worked with and wondering why … why would she kiss him? Wondering what he had that I didn’t, if it were a passionate kiss, and were his greasy fucking hands all over her body … all over my wife’s body? The uncontrollable thoughts had driven me insane, and the more I’d thought about it the more gut-churning scenarios would form and taunt me.
I couldn’t deal with the torture so slept on the couch. Except that with sleep you wake, and when I woke nothing had changed.
I was still concocting scenarios.
I was still asking why?
I was still feeling fucking murderous and needed to pay this Dale fucker a visit.
Pulling into the car park at City Towers, I didn’t exactly know where he’d be or how I was going to see him. All I knew was that this was still Tash’s place of work and I wasn’t about to make a scene. Perhaps a not so public scene, more a behind closed doors scene.
“Mr Jones, how are you today, sir?” the flamboyant City Towers receptionist asked, his immediate recognition of who I was throwing me back a little.
I inconspicuously glanced at his nametag. “Liam! I’m good, mate, how are you?”
“As right as rain. How can I help you?”
“I was hoping your Head of Security was lurking about.”
“Dale?”
“That’s the one.”
“I haven’t seen him, but I can give his phone a buzz and check for you if you’d like?”
“I’d like it a hell of a lot, Liam. Thanks.” I gave him a double eyebrow raise and turned to my side, leaning on my elbow on top of the reception counter.
Liam picked up the phone and pressed a few buttons, rocking his head from side-to-side, impatiently. “Dale, it’s Liam at front desk. I have Tash’s husband here to see you.” Liam frowned. “Oh, I’m not sure. I’ll ask.” He covered the phone with his hand. “What did you need to see him about?”
Maybe the fact that he wants to stick his dick inside my wife? “I want to thank him for organising a replacement cake for Tash.”
Liam tilted his head and mouthed ‘Aww’ as if I were an adorable puppy. “He’d like to thank you for Tash’s cake,” he repeated.
I winked. If only he knew.
“Okay, will do. Thanks.” Liam hung up and quickly jotted something down on a piece of paper. “Right. Use those elevators over there,” he instructed, leaning over the counter and pointing to a set of four elevator doors to my right. “Swipe this card on the security scanner and head to level five. When you get out, turn left and head down the hallway until you reach a door that says Security Operations. Push the button and wait for Dale to let you in.”
I took the white security card from him and said, “Thanks.”
“Wish Tash a happy birthday for me, yeah? I missed seeing her yesterday.”
“Sure, will do. Thanks, Liam.”
He gave me a ‘twinkle twinkle’ finger wave, and I found myself doing the same, immediately dropping my hand to my side when I realised what I was doing — the kid’s enthusiasm was contagious.
I made my way to the elevators and was five levels higher and standing outside of Security Operations in no time, so without hesitation, I pushed the button beside the door and waited, squaring my shoulders, ready for what I’d come here to do.
The door opened and Dale stepped out, white shirt on, collar open, sleeves rolled up. He wasn’t as tall as I remembered him to be, which was a good thing for when I swung my fist at his jaw before he had a chance to speak.
The bastard stumbled back and raised his fists, instinctively, and the fact that he was Head of Security and trained in many forms of combat wasn’t lost on me. But Tash was my wife, and I’d take on any arsehole who placed his hands and mouth on her. The fucker could be Dwayne Johnson and I’d have done the same thing.
“She’s married … to me!” I seethed, ready for his retaliation.
He touched his lip, the tip of his finger coated with blood. “I know.”
“We’re happy. I won’t let you mess with that.”
His body language relaxed from its defensive stance. “I don’t want to mess with anything, Dean.”
“Then leave her the fuck alone.”
Dale applied pressure to his lip and mumbled, “I have.”
“Good.”
The two of us stared each other down for what seemed like minutes when, in actual fact, it was only seconds, before I turned around — because I was done with the bastard — and called back to him as I walked away. “Thanks for the cake.”
My plans for the rest of the day were to forget that any of this shit had ever happened. I’d get a room for the night and go home the next day. All I wanted to do was drink beer, watch some footy, and repeat.
* * *
The next morning I woke up in a bed I’d been sharing with a few empty bottles. The TV was blaring an American football game — The New England Patriots versus Chicago Bears — and I had the driest throat this side of the Sahara Desert. I stretched and blew off a morning thunder, knowing an After Grog Bog wasn’t too far away. It was a given— the one certainty after a night on the piss.
“Food,” I grumbled, rubbing my belly and lifting the silver dome thing off of the room service plate that had my pizza on it from the night before.
A half eaten slice and three crusts remained. It was excellent. It would also tide me over until I ordered breakfast.
Grabbing a crust, I shovelled it into my mouth and picked up my phone, finding several messages from Tash. I was about to hit reply when I noticed a new app on my phone. My Game Stats app? What the fuck?
I hadn’t downloaded any new apps, so it must’ve been Tash. We shared the same Apple ID. And yet it didn’t look like an app that Tash would download.
Curious, I clicked on it and found that it was a sports stats recorder app.
“Huh?” I mumbled, scrolling through the features.
It would be good for Will’s footy game, and I wondered if that was why Tash had downloaded it. As I tapped on the Manager Mode, my phone vibrated indicating a new message alert. Shit! It was Tash, again, so I quickly opened her messages, reading them in order that I’d received them.
Tash: Please come home.
Tash: Okay. Take some time.
I’m sorry.
Tash: Where are you staying?
Tash: Please talk to me.
I love you.
You know that.
Tash: You’re such a stubborn jerk at times.
Tash: Ugh! Stop ignoring me.
We need to talk, Dean.
You can’t hide forever.
Tash: I’m worried.
Please message me back.
Tash: Don’t worry.
I know you’re at City Towers.
Tash: Ease up on the minibar.
Tash: I love you today.
Tash: Hi, my name is Natasha Jones.
I’m married to you.
I would like to know that you’re okay.
Thanks in advance.
My heart did a backflip. Either that, or it was highly hungover and just fell over. Regardless, reading what she’d sent me and feeling her concern, anger, annoyance, and love, was a simple reminder that, although pissed and hurt by her betrayal, I still fucking loved her more than my next breath. She was my life, and I was hers. I knew
her better than any cocksucker ever could or would. I knew what made her tick, sweat, laugh, blush, and cry, and what I didn’t know I’d find out. Because unlike the numbers I manipulated daily, Tash and I weren’t countable. We were infinite. I knew it the day I met her, the day I married her, the day we created life, and right now. And I would know it tomorrow, and the next day, and so on and so on.
Hitting reply, I put her mind at ease.
Dean: Natasha Jones,
Dean Jones will be home when it’s safe to drive.
I pressed send but felt my response was missing something so typed what I always did and always would.
Dean: I love you everyday.
* * *
When I walked through the front door, the smartarse in me wanted to dump my keys on the benchtop just to piss her off. But as much as payback was a fun little cherry on top, I didn’t want retribution to come in the way of fixing shit with Tash. Things had been so good these past few months, and I wanted them to continue that way. She was right; we needed to talk. We needed to come clean about everything we were feeling, felt, wanted, and didn’t want.
“Hey,” Tash said, as I walked through the door. “How’s your head?”
“Good, surprisingly.” I hung the keys on the hook. “Where’s the boys?”
“Your mum and dad’s. They have a student-free day at school tomorrow, remember?”
“Oh yeah.”
“So … it’s just you and me tonight,” she said, meekly.
Passive Tash, although quiet and cute, wasn’t my brash Tash, so I took a seat on the arm of the sofa she was reading on.
“I have one question for you.”
She put down her book and nodded.
“Do you have feelings for Dale?”
“Intimate feelings? No, I don’t. Really good friend feelings? Yeah, I do.”
Commitment Page 27
