Did he really want to sit around with Ry and watch Australia lose? Better than sitting around having deep and meaningful conversations with a mate who would feel as uncomfortable about the idea as he did. He tossed it around in his head and realised that giving in didn't actually feel like such a big deal. There could be worse ways to spend the day.
'Bring your own beer,' Dan mumbled.
'Listen, Dan, we're all really worried about you. Please let me come over so we can talk. I'm your best mate. Let me help you.'
The sudden change in tone was not lost on Dan and he figured Julia must be within earshot. 'She's there, isn't she.'
'Exactly.'
'She can't hear me?'
'No, that's right.' Dan chuckled at the fake sincerity in Ry's voice.
'Fuck you, Ryan Blackburn,' he said with a smile.
'So, it's a date. See you tomorrow.' Ry pressed the screen of his smartphone before setting it down on his wide modern desk. He turned his chair towards the floor-to-ceiling windows in his city office, and looked out over the Adelaide Hills skyline with a broad grin before propping his feet up on the edge of the desk, clasping his hands behind his head.
Julia sat opposite him, one leg crossed over the other, tapping an impatient rhythm with one of her high heels. 'So, you think he bought it?'
Ry's eyes were alive with mischief. 'Oh, yeah. Totally. I played to his weaknesses. Beer and cricket.'
'What about his weakness for women?' Julia teased.
'We're working on that too, remember?'
Julia smiled. 'I love you, Ry Blackburn. You are a very smart and devious man.'
'I knew he wouldn't be able to say no. And if he'd tried, I would have kicked his door down anyway. I mean, it's Australia versus England.'
Julia rose from her chair and walked around his desk, slowly, making every sway of her hips count. Ry's eyes raked over her as she lifted his feet from the desk and dropped them to the ground. She moved into him and he spread his legs, wanting her closer. When she leaned over to grip the arm rests of his chair, he pushed it back and pulled her close.
'I like the way you think,' she whispered, her lips close to his ear.
'I'm just a man with a plan.' Ry's eyebrows quirked. 'And Dan is probably cursing me right now, calling me the most pussy-whipped man in Australia. Maybe even the world.'
'Oh, you are.' She leaned closer. Her breasts were almost in his face and he grabbed her, twisting her into his lap. The chair wobbled and they clung on to each other as they laughed.
'And I wouldn't have it any other way.'
Julia glanced at her wrist. 'I've got fifteen minutes before I meet with a very important client.'
'It's a deal.' Ry touched his lips to hers softly, warm and tender at first, and then searching for more. Julia pressed into him and returned every inch of the kiss.
Ry was glad the door to his office was firmly closed.
When Dan opened his front door at lunchtime the next day, Ry barged right in with a six-pack of beer.
'Danny Boy, what's the score?' He took time to slap Dan's shoulder as he passed him. 'I need to stick the beer in the fridge. It's been sitting on the backseat all the way from Adelaide and I refuse to drink warm beer when we're playing England. It would be unpatriotic. Like some kind of bad omen.'
Ry swung open the fridge door and stopped. 'This is it?' He looked back at Dan with contempt. 'Vegemite, two apples and a dead cucumber? You really do need meals on wheels, don't you?'
'Ever heard of online shopping, you dick? I get what I need.' Hell, it wasn't much of a comeback but it was a start. Dan had been anxious about today, had felt pounded by the pressure of creating a happier version of himself to stop Ry from pushing, from probing. Creating that person was exhausting.
Ry stashed the beers in the freezer instead of the fridge. 'I'd better tell Lizzie to keep up the deliveries.'
'Mate, about that. You don't have to.'
'Oh, shut the fuck up, Dan. It's the least I can do.' Ry looked him in the eye. 'In ten minutes, those beers will be cherry ripe. Now, turn on the telly. I need a score.'
In the big glass house next door, Lizzie sat barefoot and cross-legged on one of the white sofas, a champagne glass in one hand and a dip-covered water cracker in the other.
'Really, Jools, it's fine. It's no trouble. I just put the food on the doormat, knock three times and leave.' More like run. She crunched down, hoping the basil pesto dip didn't fall onto the leather. It splattered on her knee instead.
Julia spluttered and clapped a hand to her mouth to stop the bubbly spray. 'You do what?'
'Don't look at me like that. I promised you and Ry I would take Dan something to eat every night and I've kept my promise.'
'You just drop and run,' Julia said, disbelief in every word. 'Without even saying hello?'
'I said I would take him food, not sell him insurance.'
'God, Lizzie, he can't be that scary.'
'I'm not scared of him,' Lizzie scoffed. At least not in the way you think.
'So why the knocking and running? Don't you think he might just want a little conversation or a "how's the weather"?'
'Dan? Conversation?' Lizzie shook her head. 'Those two words don't go together, Jools. He's made it pretty clear that he wants to be left alone.'
'All I know is that if I was still footloose and fancy free, I'd be knocking at his door every few minutes just to get a look at him. He's about six kinds of handsome, don't you think?'
So what if he was? Hell, Lizzie knew he was. But that didn't mean he was uncomplicated. Lizzie shrugged her shoulders. 'He's all right, if you like that gruff, red-blooded, wild man thing he's got going on.'
Oh God, don't think of that!
Julia angled her head in the general direction of Dan's house. 'How do you think it's going in there? Do you think he's opening up to Ry?'
'Your fiancé hasn't come back yet, so I figure that's a good sign.'
'God, I hope so. Ry's in serious need of some male bonding. If he tries to talk batting averages with me one more time, I might have to distract him with sex.' Julia reached for the bottle and lifted it with a question on her face. 'Another one?'
'You bloody beauty!' Ry threw his arms into the air. 'Another century to the captain. And England – you call that fielding? I've seen better cricket played by ten year olds on the beach across the road.'
This was a familiar scene. As soon as the cricket season began, Ry became a ranting maniac, both perplexed and triumphant at Australia's approach to the game. Australia had made a good crack at its first innings, the Poms' bowling was all over the place like a dropped pie and Dan had been relieved when Ry had simply talked about the match. They'd spent the afternoon shooting the shit about tactics, spin versus fast bowling and exactly how silly mid-off should be. Dan realised he didn't actually have to say very much. Ry's commentary had been more than enough to fill the afternoon.
Hours later, when Ry jumped the fence to go home, Dan stood at his front door, telling him good-naturedly to piss off and go home to his ball and chain.
'Don't worry, mate. I'll be back for day two,' Ry called from his front yard. 'We could wrap this thing up in three days if our bowlers do what they're paid for!'
Dan waved him off and then let his gaze wander over the low dunes to the white-foamed caps of the water and the horizon beyond. He'd been feeling antsy the past couple of days, housebound. Like a prisoner. He needed to get out of the house and go for a walk. But not now. Not until it was dark. Until then, there would be people around and he might run into one of the locals and be obliged to say hello, make small talk. Everyone seemed to know who he was and what had happened, even though he had no clue who they were. He didn't want to face the inevitable, 'So, how are you?' questions from total strangers, no matter how well meaning.
So he'd stayed off the beach during the day when the tourists were in town, and at dusk when the locals emerged with their dogs. He walked at night, once the sun had set, when he could roam the beach in solitude after the tide had come in and swallowed most of the beach. The dim streetlight didn't shine as far as the sand, so it was always as dark as a dog's guts out there. And that suited him fine.
Dan checked his watch. He wondered what tonight's delivery would bring. While he waited, he flipped open his laptop, connected to the world and caught up on some news. He read the online cricket coverage and the analysis of the play so far. He ordered some groceries and then checked the Blackburn and Son Developments website. Just for old times' sake, he clicked on the 'About Us' tab and was slightly relieved that his name and photo were still there, right next to Ry's profile. Looking at that smiling man, sharply dressed in a navy suit, crisp white shirt and burgundy tie, felt strange. He hardly recognised himself, hadn't been that person for months. Maybe this alternate Dan still existed, and was living back in Adelaide, enjoying the pre-accident life he'd walked away from.
He closed his laptop. He hadn't even brought any of those clothes with him when he'd moved down to Middle Point. They were all in storage, had been since he'd rented out his Adelaide home a few months back. He'd brought only the barest of essentials with him to suit this simplified, pared-down new life.