Except now. Of all places, here at the wake, Bec began seeing things with a clarity that had so far eluded her.
Rishi’s death was the catalyst that enabled her to finally break through the cycle of”stuckness” that Jools had been talking to her about, opening a doorway to an inner strength that Bec knew she always possessed but previously lacked the confidence to bring to the forefront.
“Stop patronising me Kaz, ‘coz this girl’s got attitude!” Bec wanted to yell at the top of her voice. She’d finally had enough of Kaz treating her like a second-class citizen, so she took Jools’s advice and smashed through that invisible barrier of insecurity and self-consciousness that had been holding her back all her life.
“Kaz, I’m sorry girl, but you’re wrong. If everyone did as you’re suggesting and looked after number one and left the world to be saved by someone else as you put it, we’d all be screwed.”
Bec paused to gather her thoughts before continuing. She was in uncharted territory and needed to consolidate.
“I’m one of those do-gooders as you described us, and I’m proud of it. It’s people with a selfish attitude like yours who need to change, not me. All you’re concerned about is how much money you might lose on our Carlton project, yet we’re at a wake for one of your son’s close friends, and even then you can’t feel any compassion.”
Kaz just looked at Bec, jaw open and wondered to herself, What the . . . ?
Bec’s newfound voice was gushing so hard that once started, she couldn’t stop. Like a tightly coiled spring, she was so wound up after years of suppression, of holding back her thoughts, internalizing them, that now the floodgates were finally open, she needed to vent. And who better to feel the venom of her sharp tongue than Kaz.
Whatever came out of her mouth next was unknown to Bec. This was totally unplanned.
Kaz just stood there motionless, stunned. Speechless. Never in her life had she been spoken to like that, had her values questioned so much, or been confronted in such a manner. And it was coming from Bec, the timid one who wouldn’t answer back for fear of insulting someone.
“Kaz, I know you won’t like what I’m saying, but you’re probably the most selfish, self-centered person I know. You come here and instead of being empathetic, all you’re worried about is saving your skin.”
Total silence.
“I’m sorry you had to hear it like this, but it’s now been said. It’s up to you how you process it. I’m still your friend if you want me, but it’s on different terms. From now on, we’re equals. So don’t talk down to me ever again.”
With that, Bec finally finished her tirade. The air between them was as bloody as a medieval battlefield as they both realized what had just happened: yes, things would never be the same again between them.
“Bec . . . I, ah . . . can’t answer. In those few words you’ve destroyed everything we had between us. I was just trying to help and push you in the right direction. I never realized that you felt like that. I’m, ah . . . so sorry . . .”
With that Kaz burst into tears. Bec moved to put a consoling arm around her, but Kaz cupped both hands over her face and pulled away.
“No, Bec. I need to find Paul. Our friendship’s over.”
Kaz ran off sniffling, tears rolling down her cheeks which everyone at the wake presumed were for Rishi, but as usual they were for herself.
“G, I don’t understand,” said Kylie. “When I last spoke to Sean and you about Rishi a few weeks ago on the boat, he’d been moved into the neurological ward and was on the road to recovery. Now you’re telling me that you went to his funeral yesterday. That’s terrible.”
G had contacted Kylie almost out of courtesy. She may have been a hard-nosed barrister in her working life who had a reputation for possessing an acerbic, bullwhip tongue that had the capability of shredding an opposing counsel’s argument into a thousand disparate pieces as soon as the slightest crack appeared in their case, but unbeknownst to most of her colleagues, she also had a soft side that was genuinely concerned about the underdog and the downtrodden.
And G was aware of her concern for Rishi, even though she had never met him. Kylie had absorbed enough from what G and Sean had told her about the unfortunate events leading to Rishi’s death to feel that she actually was involved. Her life consisted of dealing with client briefs, and her training had taught her that she didn’t need to have client contact to be able to put a case together, and such was the situation with Rishi. She could see that he had been done wrong by, and her instincts told her to become involved.
With Kylie, it was the nature of the beast. While she was used to striking at the jugular with a death blow in the courtroom, she also had a social conscience, and this looked like a situation where if someone didn’t push the matter, Rishi’s hospitalization three and a half weeks ago, and now his death, could well end up being relegated by the police to the too-hard basket.
Unfortunately it was the way of the world, as the police had no leads at all as to the perpetrators. Unknown to G, Kylie had made a few discreet inquiries with the cops recently, just to see if there had been any forward movement in Rishi’s case. But then it was only a serious assault.
“Well from what Jools told me, Rishi’s recovery was proceeding as expected,” said G.
“Then he had to go back into theater for some minor corrective surgery to the bone plate in his head and he didn’t survive. He died under the knife, as the saying goes. Unfortunately he had a major bleed into his brain that ended up causing a massive stroke.”
“Oh God, G, that’s terrible. So sad. How’s everyone taking it?”
“It’s hit home really hard. It was such a tragic waste of a young life.”
“I’m so sorry for you all. How are the kids handling it?” Kylie liked G’s kids and was concerned for their welfare.
“Cait’s absolutely distraught of course and Dec’s not good either, although he appears to be coming to grips with Rishi’s death. In fact, all their friends are having a hard time dealing with it as well.”
Dec was one of Kylie’s favorites, so she immediately said, “Would it be okay if I spoke with Dec? You know, rang him just to see how things are going. He listens to me. Maybe I can help him through this.”
Given the seriousness of the situation, G and Kylie’s dalliance on Fig Jam a few weeks ago was relegated to the background. They both realized that the gravity of the current events surrounding Rishi’s death took precedence over everything, so it was never mentioned, or for that matter even intimated in a subtle inflection or intonation.
For all intents and purposes, their union never happened.
“I’m sure he’d appreciate it. It’s been a life-changing event for him in more ways than I think we understand. Dec’s just left his youth behind. He’s suddenly realized how the past can be such a strange place—they do things differently there.”
“G, that is just so to the point. Yes, I can see what you’re saying. I’ll ring him later this week. Will Jools be cool with that? She won’t think that I’m interfering, will she?”
“I’ll talk to her about it, but I don’t see a problem.”
“In the meantime I’ll ask around. See what the cops are doing about this,” said Kylie.
“Eh? What can the cops do?”
“G, this has just turned into a homicide. Rishi’s death means he was murdered. I’ve got a few contacts in the force. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Never thought of it like that. You’re right of course.”
“Give me a week. I’ll put out the feelers and see what comes back.”
“Paul, I realize this may sound like it’s totally from left field, which it probably is, but you know me,” said G, a jocular laugh backing up his comment. G was sitting at his desk at work and had just finished his morning read of the daily papers when a job advertisement in the Financial Review caught his eye.
“I’ve never been one to walk the straight and narrow, so I’m about to email you a job
advertisement. Just take a look at it, okay?”
“Shit G, you looking for another job already? I thought that you’d just settled into this one. Then again, you always have had a bit of wanderlust about you.”
“No Paul, this one’s for you. Told you it was from left field, old friend.”
“Eh? I’m not on the job market. Do you know something I don’t know?”
With Paul’s current fragile state, he wasn’t sure whether he should be amused, concerned, or confused by G’s suggestion. He wasn’t his normal self at the moment and was sick with worry about the impending collapse of their project. Last week they had received the bank’s formal letter of refusal to provide further credit and their intention to withdraw their financial support. They also demanded that all funds lent to date be repaid in full. The bank”generously” gave Paul, Steve, and Sean sixty days’ notice, which in their opinion was, “. . . ample time to allow alternative finance facilities for the Carlton development to be obtained and set in place.”
The news of their bank’s withdrawal of support didn’t exactly come as a shock to the three of them, as the feedback from the bank over the past two months hadn’t been positive. It was just the finality of it all. Plus, they only had enough reserves in the bank at their current cash burn rate to last them until Xmas, which was five short weeks away. Then the fate of their project would be in the hands of the gods as to whether they’d be able to open the gates to their building site in the new year.
So all Paul could say to G was, “Yeah, sure. Thanks for thinking of me. But the job at the bank’s all good and it’s bringing in good dollars, which is what Kaz and I need at the moment. Looks like it’s going to be a very expensive few months ahead.”
“Hey Paul, just read it. And then please don’t immediately push the delete button. Let it bubble away on the back burner of your mind for a few days. Then send it to the trash can.”
G empathized with Paul. Feelings of bitter disappointment, despondency, and hopelessness were still raw with him after the recent collapse of his own business eighteen months ago. But Jools and G had somehow managed to work through things and come out the other side, and with the benefit of hindsight, were probably all the better for it, and now it looked like it was Paul and Kaz’s turn to walk the same path.
I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, thought G. But if their business does crash and burn, well, Paul and Kaz will just have to adapt and roll with the punches.
“If I can delve back to the depths of despair when our business went belly-up, what really kept me going was an offhanded comment that my solicitor gave me: No matter what happens, the sun will always rise again tomorrow, and then there’s the prospect of another beautiful day ahead.”
G was deadly serious about his advice whether Paul wanted to hear it or not, which was probably the latter. But he continued on regardless.
“Paul, you and Kaz will get through this, and most importantly, hopefully learn from it. You just never know where it’ll take you. Hence my email today.”
G’s indefatigable penchant for new ideas and different ways of viewing what life deals up, and then solving the myriad of compounding problems that always seem to cascade forth from such dramatic events, had seen him ruminating long and hard lately about his long-time friend Paul’s impending demise.
“You’ve got me curious now. What is it . . . ah, hang on, your email’s just arrived.” Paul’s iPhone blipped at him with that annoying electronic ding-dong that said “You’ve got mail,” as surely if that synthesized women who lived in his phone had said the words herself.
“I told you, it’s left field. Read it, save it, download it, then read it again.” Paul gave a noncommittal grunt.
“Remember mate, every person’s disaster is someone else’s gold mine. Believe it or not, there’re real positives for you here. Can I make a suggestion?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me whether I say yes or no. So go on.”
“Paul, maybe you should start thinking about using Carlton as a catalyst to jump off the treadmill. Looks like you’re about to approach a pretty big crossroad in your life. Soon you’ll have to decide which fork in the road you’re going to take.”
“What the . . . ? I’ve got too much going on to think about that sort of bullshit.”
G realized that he was starting to get philosophical at a time when Paul really needed hard facts and encouraging news, so he backed off.
“Don’t worry. I’ll ring you tomorrow to see how it’s going. But in the meantime, good luck. Remember, I’m always here. And that’s a promise, not a half-arsed shallow comment to make you feel better. Call me any time.”
What is G on about? thought Paul as he sat at his desk, pensively scrolling through G’s email.
”Very funny, G. Ha ha. You’ve obviously sent me this to make me feel better,” said Paul, as if he was speaking to his phone.
G was like that. He wasn’t into forwarding porn or other mindless garbage that cluttered up your inbox with promises of “Ten years of bad luck and a curse on your entire family including your dog if you don’t immediately forward this to one hundred of your very closest friends,” or”My elderly employer died interstate and left me in charge of his private bank account and I’d like to transfer ten million dollars into your bank account to help me get the money out of the greedy clutches of my corrupt government,” or whatever.
But then Paul reread the enclosure and realized that maybe G was serious.
CEO who wants to make a difference
You have the vision, the drive, the fire in the guts and the top-level contacts to enable us to cut through the red tape and help repatriate the world’s dispossessed.
You are a truly unique individual. In fact, they broke the mold when they made you. You’ve achieved incredible business success and rubbed shoulders with the movers and shakers of the world. You are financially savvy, a shrewd and ruthless negotiator who is used to getting your own way, yet at the same time thoroughly charming and able to converse with people of all persuasions.
You have a social conscience that, possibly after years of being suppressed, is now so dominant and important to you that you’re prepared to turn your back on your current corporate life and put something back into this fragile world of ours.
A tough ask, yes, but we’re after a tough individual: a business-savvy leader with superlative contacts who can inspire and who has a vision for a better, more humanitarian world.
Is this you? Does this stir your latent social conscience? Do you have the experience and strength of character to not only drive this not-for-profit organization to achieve its humanitarian goals, but more importantly to help grow it to become a major player on the world stage?
If this inspires you, frightens you, challenges you, then we need to talk.
Paul stopped what he was doing and pushed back in his Italian black leather office chair, vacantly staring out the window at the cityscape a mile below. His mind was drifting as he watched the dinky-toy cars driving down Collins Street and the wee Lilliputian people thirty-one floors below, scurrying past on their way to somewhere important.
In that vacant moment of free thought Paul allowed his mind to wander, pondering what it would be like to be a social warrior, fighting for the dispossessed on the world stage.
“In another life, and if money wasn’t an issue, I could do that. The ad has just described me to a tee,” he mused.
Paul’s conscience had been pricked and for a moment he became that CEO, championing for the disadvantaged, using his global contacts to extract money and favors from those who were willing to help and squeezing it out of those who needed encouragement.
Paul Jones, Mover and Shaker.
That would look good on my business card, he flippantly thought to himself.
Then reality hit home.
No way. I’ve got too much going on in my life to think about saving the world. Thanks G, but no thanks.
Paul became maudlin ag
ain and felt guilty for even contemplating an existence other than the personal disaster Kaz and him were about to face. The compounding effects of recent events and the impending likely demise of their business were as if an ominous underworld of dark spirits had cast an eerie mantle over him, preventing clarity of thought and obscuring all light and joy. Instead he felt exposed to a dangerous, foreboding place that rarely felt the uplifting warmth of the sun’s rays. It was like he had his own personal void that was sucking him in, deeper and deeper, yet no one else could see it.
Maybe that’s what G was on about?
He’d actually tried to tell Kaz about it numerous times, but it seemed to be beyond her comprehension. So he just lived with this ominous sense of disaster, carrying it around with him like a monkey on his back.
When will I wake from this? Paul absentmindedly thought to himself. Surely this is a nightmare. It can’t be happening. It’s like Armageddon and World War III, all occurring at once.
But even so, Paul printed off the advertisement, just in case, and placed it into his briefcase along with his other papers he intended taking home tonight to work on.
Morning Jools. Coffee about 10:30 @ 21 squares? Feel I need a chat. U free?
Sure I’ll ring Bec see if she wants to come to. That OK?
Sure. C u there.
But it wasn’t okay really. After Bec’s outburst at Rishi’s wake, Kaz now held a deep feeling of animosity toward her former friend, so she really didn’t want her to join them for coffee. Kaz had been consciously avoiding Bec, and when they did occasionally meet, was wary as to what she said in front of her. Bec’s tirade was going to take much healing, and that took time, which with everything else going on in Kaz’s life was something she knew she didn’t have—time for other people.
The Cait Lennox Box Set Page 24
