Long Game

by Catherine Evans

  ‘Sorry to break the gawking, but the traffic’s on the move.’

  Cress grinned as she seated herself properly inside again. ‘Thank you. This has been the best fun. I’ll have to send a few pics back home.’ But they’d wait until her trip across the bridge was over. She wasn’t missing a minute.

  Words were hard to come by as she drank it in. She couldn’t see too much of the view of Sydney but she didn’t care. It was the structure that kept her gaze, and she wouldn’t be getting bored of that in a hurry.

  Quin’s tapping against the steering wheel made her glance across. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Traffic. I hate being at a standstill, or crawling along like this.’ Quin gave her a quick glance. ‘But I know, it’s the best thing ever in your whole life, and if there wasn’t traffic, you’d have missed it all.’

  She grinned before chuckling. ‘Took the words right out of my mouth.’ Then she poked his arm. ‘But stop interrupting me. I’m having a moment with the coathanger, and you’re not rating as highly.’

  His mutter of, ‘Well, excuse me,’ had her grinning but she didn’t glance back at him, no matter how many fidgets or agitated tics he displayed. She didn’t tune him out, she found that impossible, but she’d spent years perfecting the art of pretending he wasn’t affecting her.

  When they got off the bridge, she let out a sigh and twisted around to see it for a last moment. Quin chuckled. ‘No hanky-waving goodbye?’

  ‘Oh, hush. Just because you don’t have a monument you love.’

  They drove in silence for a little bit and then Cress looked at the signs for the suburbs. They didn’t make sense. Her geography of Sydney wasn’t good, but she was sure they were heading the wrong way. ‘Aren’t we meant to be going west, and this is North Sydney?’

  Quin flashed her a glance. ‘Yes, Watercress. We can slide up here a bit, then cut across and get home. Don’t worry. I’m not going to get you lost on our first outing.’

  She chuckled. ‘Didn’t you say you were lost when we ended up on the bridge?’ The tugging across his forehead and the slight colouring of his neck gave him away. ‘Quinlan Fitzpatrick, you did that just for me.’

  He frowned deeper and shuffled in his seat, but didn’t admit to anything.

  Not that she needed his admission. ‘If you weren’t driving, I’d throw my arms around you and give you the biggest kiss.’ If only. She’d give him a smacking cheek kiss like she’d give her brothers. Only in her head did it get any better than that. Making sure she slotted him back into the right place in her brain, she added, ‘You’ve just motored up to the number one brother spot.’

  Quin’s grin was easy, quick to flash at her, and exceptionally satisfied. ‘Can you text Tris and let him know?’ As her eldest brother, and Quin’s best mate while growing up, Tris and Quin had always kept up a steady rivalry vying for top brother position. After Quin left town, when she was thirteen, Ollie, Damo and Gar tried to push Tris out of top brother at various times. It was a fun bit of sibling rivalry that she’d miss now she was in Sydney without them. But if she could do it via SMS, that would keep them all still in touch.

  Cress laughed. ‘I should. I’ll send them all photos.’ She buried her head in the phone and shot a couple of photos to her brothers and Dad. When she was done, the phone went back in her pocket and once again she marvelled at the number of cars, the people, the lights, and all the shops.

  The congestion seemed to ease with the traffic flowing more smoothly when Quin said, ‘The Sirens guernsey has the Opera House sails. Did you try to get them to change that?’

  Cress sighed dramatically, then shot him a smile. ‘I was shattered they didn’t incorporate the bridge, but sadly, I’m so low down the pecking order, I had no say.’ She waited a beat before she said, ‘I did wonder if I could hang back from signing until they put it on there.’

  ‘When Tris said you were signed, I kept expecting them to announce they’d been remiss and were now incorporating the bridge into their design.’

  ‘I figured that sometimes not everything can be perfect.’ She swallowed her chuckles and became a little more serious. ‘I have a shot at my dream. Not everyone gets to do that. I have to just be glad to be playing, and not stress about everything else.’ She took a slow breath. She had to say this before she chickened out. ‘Do you reckon you can remind me of that when I’m freaking out about some little minor thing, probably tomorrow?’

  Quin’s chuckle made her sharing worthwhile. ‘I’ll remind you, Watercress. If you need a kick up the bum, I’m the toughest brother you’ve got, so believe me, I’ll give it to you.’ She glanced across as he shot her a wink. All her insides went smooshy.

  ‘Were you scared when you came to Sydney? You were a few years younger than me, and you didn’t have anyone to come to.’ She was being nosy, but knowing Quin, he’d tell her if she overstepped, or he’d ignore her if he didn’t want to answer.

  ‘I think I was too young and too excited to think about it.’ The car seemed to slow a little as he flicked her another glance. The traffic was slowing for the lights ahead. Cress hadn’t seen them at first glance. There were so many lights and signs and sights, it was a little bedazzling.

  ‘Aren’t you excited?’ he asked.

  ‘I haven’t really had the time to get too excited. I got off the header late yesterday, on the train today. Tomorrow I’ve got a team meeting and I’m sure I’ll start getting excited then.’

  His eyebrows lifted but before he could turn his head, the lights changed and they were moving again. ‘Weren’t you excited when you signed that contract?’

  She chewed her bottom lip and tried to remember how she felt. ‘It came on email, Quin. It wasn’t any big deal. Not like you with the agent coming to school and all the media you got.’

  He stiffened for a moment and then said, ‘The contract came on email? Did you get an agent to negotiate it?’

  Cress laughed. ‘There was no point. It was a flat offer across the board, take it or leave it, except for a few who went in the draft.’

  He shook his head. ‘No agent? That’s crazy?’

  She fought back a grin. ‘You don’t have a clue how much money I’m earning, do you?’

  ‘No. I didn’t ask.’

  ‘Eight grand.’

  ‘Oh right. Per week? Per match?’

  Cress chuckled. ‘Total.’

  ‘Total for what?’ Quin didn’t seem to have any idea at all. He was genuinely puzzled, she could tell by that deep crinkling near his eye and the tugging of his jaw.

  ‘Total for the season. It’s only eight games. A short season. Kind of an experiment.’

  While she spoke, his jaw dropped further and further. Then he snapped it shut, slid a look at her, before his jaw bunched tight. ‘You’re okay with this?’

  Cress laughed. ‘Well …’ She’d explained this a lot but it was a bit difficult to explain it to someone who was her male counterpart. ‘Women’s sport has to start somewhere. I’m stoked that they’re recognising us and giving us a competition. I understand that they’re not sure how it’ll go, so they can’t offer big contracts.’ She took a breath. If it wasn’t someone who was like a brother, she wouldn’t add this bit. ‘But yeah, it was a bit like a slap in the face, paying us that. I don’t know why they offered us anything, really. I would have played for nicks.’

  Quin swallowed and it was a pretty loud one.

  ‘I’m sorry. I thought Tris would have told you why I had to ask to stay with you. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find work to fit in around football, which meant I wasn’t sure I could afford to rent.’

  He held up his hand. ‘There’s no rent. No problem, Watercress.’

  ‘No, it’s cool,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ve got a job. It starts tomorrow too.’

  ‘You got a job?’ He sounded incredulous.

  ‘I’m a pretty capable chick, Mr Fitzpatrick. Did you doubt my ability to be employed?’ She tried so hard to make it funny, but she could hear the defens
iveness. She hoped Quin wouldn’t hear it.

  ‘No. It’s just …’ He hummed. ‘I … geez … I thought you might want to climb the bridge?’ His question quite swept the air from her lungs.

  She nodded. Vigorously. ‘I do. I do.’

  ‘I thought we could do it this week.’

  ‘A weekday?’ Cress shook her head. ‘I’ll probably be working. I’ve got to fit that in around training.’

  ‘Oh. Will you have the weekends free?’

  ‘I think we train some Saturday mornings. Not sure if they’re scheduling trial games or not. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.’

  A few more kilometres passed in silence.

  Then Quin said, ‘Do you need to work?’

  Cress snorted. ‘Pretty much. I don’t want Dad footing the bill. I want to try to make this work. They reckon I can fit the work around footy commitments.’

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Labour for a landscaper. It’s local.’

  ‘I was hoping you’d see the sights with me.’ There was just a tiny bit of a young boy’s plea in his tone that made her heart soften.

  ‘If I can fit it in, you’re on.’

  Quin’s head shook, then was still, then shook again. If she had to guess, she’d say he was having a great conversation with himself and answering himself in the negative all the time.

  ‘It’s going to work, Quin. I feel it in my soul. I can juggle farm and footy, been doing that for years, so this’ll be just the same. Don’t stress. If I can still manage to get to the Royal to catch up with people, I’m sure I’ll fit in a few trips with you.’ She leaned over and squeezed his forearm. ‘I’ll let you know tomorrow night what my schedule is and we’ll fit in the Bridge Climb. There’s no way I’m coming to Sydney for months and not getting on that thing.’

  Quin chuckled. ‘Watercress, you’re going to set Sydney on fire.’

  That, or it’d burn her completely.

  Chapter 2

  After arriving home from checking in with the team, Quin sorted through his mail. He should shop but he had no idea what Cress would want. He should know, and until last night he thought he did, but little Watercress had become … someone older. That was the best way of thinking about it.

  She was the kid sister he didn’t have. Her brothers were the brothers he didn’t have. As an only child, the Kennedys’ property was heaven on earth and, growing up, he’d spent as much time as possible out there. Mum or Dad would drop him off, usually with a pile of Mum’s baking, and he’d spend the whole weekend, or days at a time in the holidays. He couldn’t think of any time when Tris stayed with his family in town, not before they were eighteen anyway. Moving to Sydney meant, even now, the number of times Tris had stayed with Quin’s folks were few, and a little hazy.

  He was never quite sure, but Quin suspected he began playing Aussie Rules because it meant spending more time with Tris. He’d certainly learned the finer aspects of the game from Mr Kennedy, and hours of practice occurred in the Kennedy farm paddocks. There was no way he’d be a Hercules player without his childhood.

  He owed the Kennedys even if they’d never breathed any suggestion of that.

  His repayment of that debt wasn’t going so well. Watercress had been here less than twenty-four hours and he’d already messed up.

  A key slotting into the lock of his backdoor pulled him from his thoughts. He neatened up the pile of opened mail and turned towards his new flatmate. ‘How did your day go, Watercress?’ He glanced at her as she swung into the house.

  His throat went dry.

  He turned back to stare.

  He blinked. Checked her out again. Blinked fast, trying to break his gaze. It worked and he turned his head, staring back at the paper in front of him.

  Muscle definition.

  Sixpack.

  Biceps. Triceps.

  Watercress was better muscled than any of her brothers. And better looking.

  Quin took a glance at his own thighs and breathed a little easier. His legs were a lot bigger than hers, so more muscles. Competition wasn’t what had shocked him, even if it helped him focus.

  Cress dropped her bag and shoes in the corner and padded over to the table. As she slid back the seat, she asked, ‘Do you want a water, Quin?’ After he nodded, she filled two glasses and came back, taking her seat this time. One sip and she let out a sigh. Then blinded him with a smile. ‘My first day was okay. How about yours?’

  ‘Mine was normal. But tell me about your job, the team, what you’ll be doing?’

  ‘The job will be kind of fun, I think.’ She grinned and sipped again. ‘I’ve got a ute and a trailer. I’m mowing lawns and doing gardens. If they need me, I’ll help out with their landscaping, but being my own boss is awesome. I can fit it in around footy. They reckon it’s the best for all of us, but we’re going to see how it goes over the next few weeks.’ She seemed genuinely excited to be working, which bemused Quin.

  ‘Do you know where you’re going?’

  ‘No idea.’ Her eyes gleamed. ‘But there’s a GPS thing that’ll talk me through.’

  He gave her a high five. ‘The team?’

  ‘Yeah. Good. I know one or two girls but everyone seemed pretty keen and friendly. Coaching staff’s good. We’re going to do early and late training sessions to fit around people’s jobs and study and things, so that’s good. They seemed really aware of our commitments, even the girls with kids.’

  ‘There are girls with kids?’

  Watercress’s head tipped, her brow lifted, and her lips twisted just a little. ‘You don’t have guys with kids?’ Softly spoken, hiding the steel behind it.

  ‘Ah yes. Yes, we do.’ It was the perfect lead-in to his admission. ‘Speaking of my double standards …’ He hated confessions but he had to do this.

  ‘Yes?’ She said it all drawn-out, as if she knew he’d done something stupid. With four brothers, no doubt she knew all the tells.

  ‘Well, I asked in at the Sirens office today about your salary …’

  When he hesitated, she groaned and held her head in both hands, staring at the table. Or maybe glaring. ‘And …?’ Another drawn-out word that made Quin’s chest tighten.

  ‘And I reassured them that you hadn’t said anything to me, that I was interfering off my own bat, and that you’d kill me if they said anything to you. They didn’t mention it, did they?’

  ‘You gave them my name?’ Her face pinched as she looked at him.

  ‘No. Of course not.’

  ‘Just the Grong Grong connection?’ Her eyebrows rose, along with the corners of her mouth. ‘Which will never lead back to me.’

  He lifted his hands and flipped them so his palms were upraised and outstretched. ‘See. That’s why I’m telling you what I did.’

  He had to hand it to her. She just shook her head, made a noise like a chuckle, and gave a bit of a snort. ‘Brother dearest …’

  Everything drew upwards towards his throat. He remembered these words all too well, now she spoke them. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll never interfere again. I know you hate it when we do.’ Heaven help him. He sounded like a twelve-year-old being scolded. He growled and slapped at her hand as she laughed and shot back, ‘How do you do that, Watercress, you little pipsqueak?’

  ‘Practice, big brother. Many, many years of practice.’ Her grin was lethal. ‘You guys are all the same. When will you learn that I can look after myself?’ She said this with a smile, but he could almost hear the echoes of the past when she used to bellow those words at the top of her lungs, with a pause between each one, as if there were full punctuation marks there.

  ‘I’ll try,’ he muttered. ‘No guarantees though.’ It wasn’t a case of him looking after her, or not really. He was concerned that she didn’t have an agent, hadn’t negotiated her contract, and wasn’t being paid a decent salary. Compared with him, she was on a pittance and that didn’t sit right. However, what she’d told him was true, and as the club had pointed out to him, men had started i
n much the same manner and he hadn’t thought about it that way.

  She curled her fingers over his, startling him. ‘At least you’re willing to try.’ When he glanced up from their grasp, she grinned. ‘And that’s why you’re my number one brother.’ She waited until he grinned back at her before adding, ‘For now.’

  Watercress certainly knew how to keep him in line. He told himself it was a breeze creating the zapping down his spine; it had nothing to do with interest.

  Without saying a word, Cress got up and went to the fridge. She moved like a cat—not a domesticated one. Contained power, balanced yet fluid, she padded across the kitchen. He couldn’t decide which muscle group should have his attention so his gaze flickered between them all. When she stopped at his sink, he was caught by the flexing of her arm muscles. Shoulder, upper arm and forearm all had perfect delineation.

  He reached for his water and finished it without truly noticing what he was doing; his gaze was caught on her body, along with most of his mind.

  Water was running when Cress’s voice interrupted his absorption. ‘From now until Christmas, we’re working on fitness and drills. We’ve got Christmas until after New Year off. Then we’ll be doing practice matches some weekends before the season kicks off in at the start of February.’

  ‘Aha.’

  She moved, opening cupboards which made her shoulders bunch and stretch, but when she squatted to search the lower cupboards, that was when his eyes burned. Her calves were exceptionally well defined. Her thighs; real runner’s legs. The washboard effect on her abdomen was truly impressive.

  ‘Quinlan Fitzpatrick, if you don’t stop ogling, I won’t be making you any dinner.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Quin!’ That penetrated his skull. So loud. So sharp. He blinked rapidly. She was brandishing a knife at him.

  He gulped. Focused. ‘Watercress, what’s up?’

  ‘Have you heard a word I’ve said in the last ten minutes?’ He glanced from her face to the clock and back again. ‘No, Watercress, not a word,’ she mimicked, ‘because I was too busy ogling your spectacular arse.’