He indicated for her to go ahead, and Jo proceeded around the perimeter of the news floor till she got to his office. The door was open, so she just walked straight in. He followed her, closing the door behind him.
‘Do you want to sit down?’ he asked as he moved around his desk to his chair.
‘He’s going because of you, you know,’ Jo blurted.
‘I’m sorry? Did you start the conversation without me?’
She sighed. ‘Lachlan is going to Iraq,’ she began, saying each word distinctly, ‘because of you.’
He frowned, dropping down into his chair. ‘I don’t get the impression that Lachlan would try to emulate me in any way at all.’
‘He’s going to prove some kind of a point.’
Joe shrugged. ‘That’s his issue then, it has nothing to do with me.’
She bristled. ‘Well, can’t you speak to Leo? You’re friends.’
‘And just what do you expect me to say, Jo?’
‘Tell him it’s dangerous, tell him some of the stuff you told me, tell him that someone without experience shouldn’t be going there.’
Joe sat back in his chair, considering her. ‘I don’t think it’s any of my business.’
‘Well, that hasn’t stopped you butting your nose in before.’
He sighed. ‘I don’t think either Leo or Lachlan would care about what I had to say,’ he said levelly.
‘Why didn’t you offer to go?’ she snapped.
‘What?’
‘You know the place, this’d be a picnic for you.’
‘What did you say?’
He looked shocked, angry even. What did she say? A picnic? She just compared going to Iraq with going on a picnic? After what he’d told her the other night?
‘Um, sorry, bad choice of words,’ she muttered. ‘I didn’t mean . . . it’s only . . . look, you know the place, I was just thinking it wouldn’t be that big a deal, a couple of weeks . . .’
‘I can’t help you, Jo, sorry,’ he said brusquely.
Well, she’d botched that. She turned to walk out, flustered and frustrated. But he had no right to get on his high horse. She paused at the door and turned her head, but she didn’t look at him.
‘Honestly, Bannister,’ Jo said. ‘Carla Delacqua?’
‘At least she’s not married.’
He probably shouldn’t have said that. She left the room without another word.
He’d stuffed up monumentally, and he still didn’t know how he was going to put it right.
That afternoon
‘So how’s the little woman?’ Will asked Joe.
They were sitting at a table by the window in an Irish pub down in Haymarket, the peak-hour traffic clogging the road outside. Joe had been calling him for days, and leaving messages, but Will was notoriously difficult to track down, mostly because of his exasperating habit of forgetting to turn on his phone, or keep it charged, or even to keep it on him. But now that they were out from under each other’s feet, Joe didn’t want the relationship, such as it was, to fade away. So when Will chose today to finally reply to his latest message, Joe jumped at the opportunity to leave work early and meet him for a drink. He had been feeling claustrophobic in the office. He’d had to stay low to avoid Carla, and though he’d barely laid eyes on Jo, he could feel the tension between them permeating the atmosphere, making it hard for him to breathe, or at least breathe easy.
‘Little woman?’ he frowned.
‘Little Jo.’
‘Don’t ever let her hear you call her that.’
Will smiled, sipping his beer. ‘So . . . you two seemed to be hitting it off.’
‘What?’ Joe blinked. ‘There’s nothing going on between me and Jo.’
‘There isn’t?’ He appeared surprised. ‘I thought I picked up on a bit of chemistry happening there. A spark, if you will.’
Joe looked at him. ‘You think?’
‘I do.’ Will considered his brother. ‘You like her, don’t you?’
He shrugged. ‘Doesn’t much matter, she can’t stand me.’
‘Didn’t look that way the other night.’
‘Yeah well, things went downhill from there.’
‘It’s your sense of humour, Joe, I’ve told you before. Don’t try to be funny, you can’t pull it off.’
Joe shook his head, gazing out the window.
‘So what happened?’ Will prompted him.
He sighed. ‘She’s seeing someone, he’s married, and well, I had an opinion about that, which she didn’t exactly appreciate.’
Will was nodding slowly. ‘Smooth, Joe. Women love being told they’re in the wrong. That kind of sweet-talk reels them in.’
Joe didn’t say anything, just took another long drink from his glass.
‘So how are you going to fix it?’ said Will.
‘There’s nothing to fix. Nothing’s actually happened between us.’
‘And it’s not going to if you keep that attitude up.’
‘What am I supposed to do?’ he protested. ‘She’s with someone else.’
‘Does she think he’s going to leave his wife? ’Cause she didn’t look that stupid to me.’
‘She doesn’t want him to leave his wife,’ said Joe. ‘She made out it was more of a convenience, sex with no strings attached.’
‘Wow,’ Will said thoughtfully. ‘There are women who want that too?’
‘Apparently.’
Silence fell between them as Joe contemplated the lay of the land. It was pretty obvious that he needed to put Jo Liddell out of his head and move on. He didn’t know why he’d got so stuck on her, maybe it was the whole experience of being trapped in the elevator together. She had mentioned something about not developing a siege mentality, he remembered, that they shouldn’t pretend there was some kind of bond that would hold them together. She’d hardly led him on. In fact you could say she’d made her position crystal clear from the start. But then she’d sat outside his house for hours, and she’d charmed his dad . . . And there was the little problem of wanting to kiss her every time he so much as looked at her.
‘You need a grand gesture,’ Will declared suddenly.
‘Huh?’
‘You’ve got to sweep her off her feet.’
Joe shook his head, smiling. ‘You’re such a tragic. If only life were a musical, eh, Will?’
‘Piss off,’ he said. ‘Your problem is you’ve spent too long around sweaty blokes with crew cuts and big guns. You’ve got to start courting her, Joe.’
‘Jesus, now I really do feel like I’m in a musical. Who says courting any more?’
Will was shaking his head. ‘I’m telling you, that attitude is not going to get you anywhere,’ he insisted. ‘Have you even asked her out?’
‘I asked her to your play.’
‘But that wasn’t like a date date, was it?’
‘I don’t know. What makes it a date date?’
‘Did you ask Angie or did she? Because if she did, she was letting you know that it wasn’t a date. But if you did, you were sending her the same message.’
‘I invited Angie along,’ Joe admitted, staring down at the table.
Will dropped his head in his hands with a groan. He looked up again, leaning forward. ‘You know, I used to think you were the coolest guy out. I wanted to be you when I grew up. You always had gorgeous women hanging off you, jetting around the world, you were like James Bond. What happened?’
Joe was laughing, shaking his head. ‘I guess your alarm clock went off.’
‘Come on, I wasn’t dreaming, and it wasn’t my imagination. You can’t pretend that you haven’t got a certain level of experience with women, Joe.’
No, he supposed he couldn’t pretend that.
‘So what happened? Did that simpering Brit break your heart?’
‘Who, Sarah?’ he frowned. ‘She wasn’t simpering.’
‘You reckon?’ Will frowned. ‘I don’t know how you put up with her. She complained about everything, the heat
, the flies, even the food, for Chrissakes, and she was from England! Hardly the culinary capital of the world. You’d never have known she just blew in from a war zone, she was so fucking precious about everything.’ He paused. ‘I can’t believe you let her break your heart.’
‘I didn’t. She didn’t.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Nothing, we just drifted apart.’
‘Good. I couldn’t understand what you saw in her in the first place. Or she in you, for that matter.’
Joe glanced sideways at him. ‘Thanks.’
‘No, I just mean you weren’t suited. But you and Elevator Girl . . . like I said, there’s chemistry there.’
He felt an unexpected warm rush across his chest.
Will was watching him. ‘You’ve got it bad, haven’t you? That’s why you’re fart-arsing around like an overgrown adolescent.’
Joe laughed, shaking his head at the irony of Will calling him an overgrown adolescent. Though perhaps he did have a point. ‘Aren’t I supposed to be the one giving you big brotherly advice?’
‘Not if you suck at it,’ he declared. ‘Did you lose your mojo over there or something?’
Joe shrugged. ‘It’s never been this hard before. I’ve never really had to pursue a girl, I’ve never had to put in any effort, anyway. You meet someone, you hit it off, things . . . develop. But this, it’s up and down like a friggin’ roller-coaster.’
Will grinned. ‘Ain’t love grand? Mark my words, brother, you need to do something dramatic.’
‘I guess I could challenge her lover to a duel. Pistols or swords, do you reckon?’
‘I reckon you’re a pistol,’ he said wryly. ‘I’m telling you, grand gesture. And then once you’ve got her attention, ask her out on a real date.’
‘Are you forgetting she’s taken?’
‘Bullshit. She’s hanging around with someone who’s taken. All’s fair, buddy.’
Joe drained his beer. ‘Is it my shout?’
‘Do you have to ask?’
5:30 pm
It was warm outside the airconditioned building as Jo trudged home. The atmosphere had that stuffy feeling, like someone needed to open a window and let some air in. It was the cloud cover, it trapped all the heat and pollution and grime as effectively as if it was plastic wrap stretched taut across the sky. The strap of her handbag dangled from her fingers so it was almost scraping on the pavement as Jo passed noisy, dusty building sites, weaved her way around snarling traffic, being shoved and jostled by equally snarling commuters.
Needless to say, Jo had not had a good day. In fact she’d had a crap day. The crappiest. She’d handled everyone and everything with about as much aplomb as a brash schoolgirl, but with less maturity.
She had tried to speak to Lachlan again, but he was still in that weird cryptic mood. She had even invited him over tonight, but he had declined. He did have to talk to Sandra, and Jo had at least summoned enough commonsense to defer to that.
She had also managed to avoid Bannister for the rest of the day, not that it had been difficult, she’d barely laid eyes on him. He’d obviously decided to keep a low profile. She knew she hadn’t handled that particular encounter well either, suggesting that he was somehow more expendable than Lachlan. She hadn’t meant that, only that he was more experienced. But she was still kicking herself for that ‘picnic’ remark, it was completely out of line, considering what he’d told her the other night. It was just that she was genuinely worried about Lachlan. He was doing something totally out of character, and for dubious reasons. And she didn’t think that was the best mindset to take into a potentially dangerous situation. He needed to be focused and clear about his intentions, yet it was quite evident to Jo that his intentions were anything but clear. Was he trying to prove something to her, or to himself?
Jo groaned out loud, no one would hear her anyway. She hated days like this; days where not only did everything go wrong, everything seemed wrong, bleak, tedious, or just too hard. It was impossible to see the good in anything, and her whole life looked like a series of bad decisions and wrong turns, compounding exponentially towards the ultimate futility of her eventual demise.
You really knew you were having a bad day when your thoughts turned to death.
As she walked into the quiet of her apartment she didn’t feel that comforting sense of home. She felt lonely. God, she had to snap herself out of this mood or it was going to be a long night. She dumped her bag and keys on the table, kicked off her shoes and slipped out of her jacket, hanging it over the back of a dining chair. She was on her way to the bathroom when the intercom buzzed. Had Lachlan decided to come after all? Or maybe Bannister wanted to have it out with her? That was a ludicrous notion. It was probably only Angie; she hoped so anyway, she could use the company.
She picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi, Jo, it’s me.’
‘Belle? Is that you?’
‘I just said it was, didn’t I?’
‘But what are you doing here?’ Jo said anxiously. ‘What’s happened?’
‘You broke up with the nicest boyfriend you’ve ever had. Where do you think I’d be?’ she said, her voice almost breaking.
‘But it’s a week night, Belle . . .’ Jo was speechless, overwhelmed that her sister had actually left her sorority in the suburbs to be with her. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘“Come on in” would be a start.’
Jo immediately pressed the button to release the door, and hurried out to wait by the elevator, just as the ping sounded and the doors began to glide open.
As their eyes connected Belle squealed and lurched at Jo, hugging her tight.
‘I don’t believe I’m here, I don’t believe I actually did it!’ Belle bubbled over excitedly. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day,’ she went on, stepping back to look at her, ‘and all the times you’ve been there for me. And I was telling Darren when he rang at lunchtime, and he said he’d take the day off tomorrow. Just like that. Apparently there’s not much work on at the moment, so he said if I wanted to visit you . . . and you know what, I said yes! Without even thinking about it! And then I was running around like a chook without a head just to organise myself, I didn’t even have time to get something ready for their dinner, so they’re really on their own. God only knows what Darren’s going to feed them tonight. But you know what? I don’t want to know. I don’t care. I mean, of course I care, it’s just that coming in on the train, I had this overwhelming sensation of freedom. And it didn’t feel bad, at all!’
Jo eyed the sizeable overnight bag slung over her sister’s shoulder. ‘How long are you planning to stay?’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Belle laughed, ‘just the night. But I had to bring supplies. You weren’t expecting me and I didn’t think your cupboards would be all that well stocked anyway.’
‘Belle, I’m not out in the sticks,’ Jo reminded her as she led her down the corridor to the apartment. ‘We’re in the middle of the city, you can get anything you want around here.’
‘Yeah, for twice as much as I can get it at my local shops.’
She had a point. Jo opened the door and stood back for Belle to go through. She dumped her bag on the floor and gazed around the room. ‘It’s still very . . . stark, isn’t it?’
‘That’s because I haven’t unpacked all my bits and pieces.’
‘Well, good, we can do that later,’ she said, crouching down. ‘But first things first.’ She unzipped the bag and drew out a bottle in a paper bag, passing it up to Jo. ‘I brought gin, of course. And . . .’ She pulled out a cooler bag and opened it. ‘Tonic . . .’ She passed up a four-pack of mixer bottles, chilled. ‘. . . and lemons!’ she said finally, holding one in each hand as she stood up again.
‘What? No ice?’ Jo remarked.
‘Ha ha.’
Jo regarded her sister with a mix of incredulity and amusement.
‘What?’ said Belle.
‘I can’t believe yo
u’re here,’ she said. ‘But I’m really glad you are. I had such a crap day.’
‘I know, that’s why I’m here.’ Belle smiled. ‘And it’s why God made gin. So let’s get on with it.’
Ten minutes later they were sitting cross-legged at the coffee table, halfway through a couple of very potent G&Ts. Belle had insisted on doubles to get them started.
‘It’s like when the doctor puts you on antibiotics,’ she explained authoritatively. ‘He always says to start with a double dose so the effect kicks in sooner.’
There was enough food spread out on the table to keep them going for most of the night. Chips and dips and olives and cheese and gorgeous bread. Jo decided Belle’s local shops were all right, and after another gulp of her drink, she decided her sister was more than all right. And then she felt a little weepy. Bloody gin.
‘So come on, spill, tell me the whole story,’ said Belle. ‘Get it off your chest.’
Oh God. She felt awful about the whole bloody charade, but it was the first thing that had actually motivated Belle to visit her in the city in years. So that made it okay, kind of, didn’t it? Besides, it wasn’t her idea in the first place. Bannister got her into this pickle, and then he’d gone and poked his pickle elsewhere, leaving her with . . . chutney? This gin was strong.
She felt Belle’s hand covering hers on the coffee table. ‘Oh, poor thing, you can’t even bring yourself to talk about it. But you’ll feel better if you do.’
Jo gave her a lame smile. ‘I just don’t know what to say.’
‘Okay,’ said Belle, ‘I’ll start you off. Personally, I don’t understand how he could have cheated on you. He was besotted at our place. My friends noticed too. It was the hot topic at Tuesday morning coffee after Spin class. Everyone was swooning over him. We were trying to work out who he was like, and the consensus in the end was that he was a cross between Denny from Grey’s Anatomy, do you remember him? He was the one who died after Izzy cut his lifeline, well, not directly because she cut his lifeline, I mean, he would have died anyway.’ Belle gave her head a little shake as though to clear her thoughts. ‘It’s a long story and it doesn’t matter, the point is we all agreed that Joe is a cross between Denny, with a smattering of Mark Ruffalo, just the rumpled part. Then Nicole nailed it in the end, she said he had something of the Jake Gyllenhaal’s about him, but of course, he’s a bit younger than your Joe, so we decided maybe he was like Jake Gyllenhaal’s dad, well, not actually, because none of us knows what Jake Gyllenhaal’s dad even looks like, for all we know he may have taken after his mother, and besides his dad is probably a little too old for Joe, so if you can imagine what his father would look like at Joe’s age, or better still what Jake Gyllenhaal would look like at Joe’s age . . . crossed with Denny from Grey’s and Mark Ruffalo.’
Crossing Paths Page 25
