Right now, though, the streets are alive with hundreds of people heading home after work on a Monday afternoon, some of them going to bars way earlier in the week than they should. I can relate to that. I feel like I could use another glass of wine about now.
We make our way up the Queen Street Mall, and Elijah stops at an ATM to get cash.
“You should get some too if you want to play,” he tells me.
“Uh, I’m good. I have a bit in my purse already,” I lie. I might have a twenty, but I probably won’t spend it. I’m not really the gambling type.
“No problem.” We continue through the mall and head up the stairs to the old treasury building, handing over our IDs for scanning.
Once inside, Elijah goes straight for the roulette tables. I look at the artificial palm trees dotted around the room and wonder how long we have to stay. Sure, you might win a few dollars here and there, but in the long run, the house always wins.
I stand behind Elijah, suddenly feeling like I’m here on my own. Within seconds, he’s throwing down wads of cash in exchange for a mountain of chips, seemingly forgetting he asked me to join him this evening.
I watch as he loses a few rounds before getting on a winning streak. I awkwardly adjust my handbag as the crowd closes in around me. This table is attracting a bit of attention. I don’t know much about roulette, but I can see that Elijah has a rapidly increasing pile of coloured tokens in front of him. There must be several thousand dollars’ worth there.
After another lucky run, something happens, and the pile halves. Elijah becomes more determined, playing with greater ferocity. It’s making me uneasy, so I tap him on the shoulder. “Do you mind if we go soon?” I ask.
“Just give me a few more minutes,” he says dismissively.
I stand there for a bit longer, but he doesn’t look like he ever plans to leave.
“I think I’m going to go home,” I try again.
He doesn’t even glance up. “Cool. See you tomorrow at the office.”
I laugh in disbelief. Seriously? He shows me all that interest down at the river, and now I’m dead to him? I head for the exit, muttering to myself. What a waste of time. And this is why I should have paid attention to office policy. I mean, it wasn’t exactly a romantic date, but there’s something weird about going to a casino with the boss you barely know.
Once outside, I debate whether to catch an Uber, or just grab one of the city’s electric scooters. I rummage around in my bag to find my phone.
And then panic.
My phone isn’t in there. I crouch down and empty everything onto the pavement. My wallet is gone too. How did I not notice that? I scanned my ID when I went inside, so I must have been pickpocketed in the casino.
I quickly put everything back in my bag and wonder what to do. I guess I should tell Elijah, and then we can work out a plan of action together.
I scramble back up the steps and attempt to head inside, but the security guard stops me.
“ID, please.”
“I was just in there,” I explain. “My phone and wallet were stolen, so I’m just going to tell my friend…”
“Sorry, I can’t let you in without ID.”
“But don’t you have it saved somewhere? You can look it up! I only entered a little while ago. Didn’t you see me coming out just now?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t watch people leave. I only see them as they enter. I can call the police if you’d like to report a theft? There’s also a station a few blocks up.”
“Can you tell my friend I’m out here?”
“I’m afraid I can’t leave the door unattended. Do you want me to call their mobile for you?”
“I don’t know his number off the top of my head! Who memorises phone numbers anymore?”
“I’m not sure what you want me to do, ma’am. I can phone the police on your behalf or someone else who might be able to assist you, but that’s the extent of my power.”
“I guess I should at least call the bank and have my cards cancelled.”
“Do you know the bank’s number?”
“Again, no. Thanks all the same.” I spin around and walk off. Ugh. How infuriating! I figure I should go to the police station and see if I can somehow look up the number for the bank, but when I get there, there’s a huge line-up to see the one obviously overworked staff member behind the counter.
I can’t even remember Charlie’s number these days. She’s probably halfway home to Wellington Point by now anyway.
A thought crosses my mind, and I almost dismiss it, but it does seem like the most rational thing to do in this current situation.
Kellan only lives a few blocks away. If I go to his place, he’ll hopefully let me use his phone and internet to sort myself out.
I head in the direction of the Meriton, feeling all jumpy. The personal violation of having stuff stolen, combined with Elijah abandoning me, and the prospect of asking Kellan for help has left me on edge.
I nervously press the buzzer at his apartment building and wait. I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s not home.
“Hello?”
“Uh, hi. It’s Beatrix. Can I come up?”
He buzzes without saying anything. I think that’s his MO. But at least he’s not leaving me out on the street.
My heart pounds, getting faster the higher the elevator ascends. By the time I reach his floor, I’m practically on the verge of a heart attack.
He’s leaning against the doorframe waiting for me and looking annoyingly good in a tight grey t-shirt and distressed denim jeans. His hair is a little more mussed than it was at work earlier, and it makes me think indecent thoughts.
What is wrong with me?
“So…you’ve come to apologise?” he asks smugly.
“I…yes. I guess so. I’m sorry.”
He furrows his brow. “What do you mean, you guess so? You came all the way here. Why else would you show up on my doorstep if that isn’t the reason?”
I feel my face getting hot. “Actually, I was out with Elijah and I got robbed. I don’t have a phone or wallet to get home.”
His face is a mixture of bemusement and shock. “You were robbed?”
“Yeah, Elijah made me go to the casino with him, and someone must have pickpocketed me while we were there, but by the time I realised, I was outside, and Elijah was still at the roulette tables and I…I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Right. Well, I suppose you should come in. Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure.” I look down at my hands, which are shaking.
Kellan notices and pulls me into the living room, sitting me down on the couch. “Let me get you a drink.” He hands me his phone. “Use this if you need to call anyone.”
I will myself not to cry. “Thank you.”
He pours me a glass of whisky on the rocks and hands it to me. I drink it in one mouthful. The combination of the heat and ice snaps me out of my post-robbery daze.
“I needed that.” I use the browser on Kellan’s phone to look up my bank and call their stolen card line. Kellan sits on another armchair, patiently waiting for me, looking out the window.
The bank helps me out quickly, as does the mobile phone company, who suspends my account until I can go into a shop to organise a new phone. I figure I can wait until tomorrow to report the theft to the police. I’ll be on Kellan’s phone all night otherwise.
I sneak a glance at him. He’s studying me in an unnerving way.
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t understand you.”
“In a bad way?” I say, feeling strangely vulnerable.
“Both in a good and bad way. Will you be as harsh on Elijah as you are on me since he abandoned you when you needed him?”
“To be fair, Elijah doesn’t know what happened. But I suppose he did ignore me when we were at the casino. I don’t know…he’s my boss, so I can’t really give him a piece of my mind, even if I wanted to.”
“Why do you detest me so much?”
His expression is totally open, and full of what I can only interpret as pain. My heart contracts.
“I don’t detest you. I just find it hard to accept what you do.”
“But why? You have an almost violent reaction to it. It’s part of who I am, and it makes me sad that you can’t accept that.”
I’m caught off guard. I hadn’t realised I had affected him so deeply.
I inhale. I suppose I owe him the truth. “Okay. Do you know why I get so frustrated by what you claim to be able to do? Because I’ve seen firsthand the damage a belief in soulmates causes. My parents were together for twenty years, and my mother was absolutely convinced Dad was her soulmate. But you know what? He didn’t feel the same way. He treated her like dirt and cheated on her dozens of times, until she was so broken that she killed herself.”
Kellan’s eyes widen, and he immediately abandons his seat, kneeling in front of me and wrapping his arms around me. I burst into tears, crying noisily into his shoulder. I would have thought after talking to Charlie the other night, it would be easier to repeat the story, but it feels much harder this time.
I’m not sure how long Kellan holds me, but I don’t want him to stop. His chest is warm and comforting, and I almost forget why I ever had any reservations about him.
Finally, I pull away, wiping his shoulder. “Sorry I got tears all over your shirt.”
He smiles softly. “My shirt is the least I can provide.”
“I’m sorry I was mean to you. You have been nothing but kind to me.”
“Hey, at least I finally understand why you’ve been this way.” He rubs my shoulder comfortingly. “Would you like me to drop you home now?”
I look at my watch. “Actually, I’m a little hungry. Do you mind if we order some pizza? I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”
“There’s no need to pay me back. Pizza it is.” He pours me another drink. “Sip this one. It’s eighteen-year-old whisky and should be respected.”
“Oh! I’m sorry. Did I just gulp down twenty dollars’ worth a moment ago?”
He nods, smiling. “It’s okay. You’re worth it.”
I feel butterflies in my belly. I don’t know what’s going on here.
But I think I was wrong about Kellan Gallo.
TWENTY-ONE
Kellan
Holy shit. Beatrix Mackenzie is going to be the death of me. Not only does she show up in distress, looking more gorgeous than I’ve ever seen her, but then she drops the bombshell that her dad was an absolute prick who caused her mother’s death.
What am I supposed to do with that?
I mean, normally, I have a special way of conducting a session for someone like her mother. Just because she thought Beatrix’s father was ‘the one’ doesn’t mean she was right. One of the sad parts of my job is when women in abusive relationships come to see me, hoping I’ll tell them their current partner is their soulmate. I can usually guess as soon as I meet them what’s going on, and I won’t charge those women, or ‘do my thing.’ I will instead sit with them and listen to them talk about their situation. Sometimes, my job is more counsellor than matchmaker. Then I tell them they need to see a psychologist before I’ll book them again. Most ignore me, and more often than not, they’ll leave angry. But occasionally, I feel like I get through to someone, and I hope their life takes a turn for the better as a result.
But I’m not sure Beatrix is up for that kind of conversation right now.
I really feel for her, and I finally understand why she’s been so suspicious of me. I will just have to make sure I limit talking about the soulmate matching stuff in front of her from now on.
After ordering pizza, where it turns out Beatrix’s favourite toppings are fire-roasted vegetables—the same as mine—I quiz her on her afternoon with Elijah. “How on earth did you end up at the casino with our boss?” I ask. “Was it just the two of you?”
She looks at the floor. “Yes, and I have no idea what his deal is. After what I’ve just experienced, I think he might be weirder than you.”
I laugh. “Weirder than me?”
“You know what I mean. Sorry, old habits die hard.” She sips her whisky. “I’ve never appreciated this stuff before, but I can see the appeal now.”
“My grandfather was Scottish, and he introduced me to it once I came of age.”
“He’s not around anymore?”
“Nope. He died about ten years ago.”
“And your grandmother?”
“She passed away when I was two. I don’t remember her.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. From what I gather, they were perfect together. Mum said you didn’t need a mind reader to see that.” He smiles wryly.
“What do your parents think of what you do?”
“They live in Melbourne, so they don’t know I still practice. They thought it was a silly phase I went through as a teenager. I soon learned it was easier to let them think that than try to convince them otherwise.”
Her face falls. “But…”
“Hey, please. Don’t feel bad. You’ve only known me for a couple of weeks. My parents basically created me. And they haven’t gone through what you have.”
She stands up. “I should go. I’m just making you uncomfortable by being here.”
“No, stay. What am I going to do with all that pizza we ordered?”
She hesitates. “Are you sure?”
“Yes! You know what? Maybe we need a distraction. What kind of movies do you like?”
“Actually, I haven’t watched a movie in a while. I usually just watch TV shows on Netflix.”
“Okay. Then how about some old-school Fresh Prince?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Have you been stalking me?”
“No, why?”
“You’re just suggesting that randomly?”
“Um, I’m suggesting it because it’s one of my all-time favourite TV shows. Why? Do you like it too?”
“You could say that.”
“Excellent. Then it’s decided. I’ll have you doing the Carlton before the night is finished.”
She laughs. “We’ll see about that.”
The pizza arrives and I pour some wine to go with it. We sit on the rug in front of the TV and watch Will Smith in his Bel Air mansion.
It appears that Beatrix may have watched every episode multiple times, judging by how often she quotes a line or yells out excitedly, “Oh, I love this bit!”
I find her somehow sitting closer and closer to me, until our thighs are touching. It takes all my self-control not to grab her face and kiss her.
But then, she’s probably traumatised from earlier tonight, and would not appreciate an advance from someone who earlier today she called a fraud.
I swear I’m not misunderstanding her signals, though. At one point, her head is actually leaning on my shoulder. Damn it.
I’m just about to change my mind and go for it when my phone buzzes. I glance down and see a message from Charlie. Have you spoken to Bea? I can’t reach her.
I show Beatrix the screen.
“Uh, can you tell her you spoke to me just before you left the office, and I mentioned my phone was going flat?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Okay.” I type the message and show it to her. “Is that acceptable?”
She looks apologetic. “Yes, thank you. I should probably go home now. Do you mind calling me an Uber, and I’ll pay you back tomorrow, along with money for the pizza and wine?”
“You’re not paying for the pizza or wine. And I have more than enough money to cover your Uber.”
“I’d feel better if you let me pay you back.”
“Whatever you like.”
She stiffly stands up and heads for the door.
“Do you still have your house key?” I ask.
She reaches into her bag and holds up a keychain. “Yes, thankfully. Along with the one for my car, so at least I can still drive. I’ll probably have to make a few stops at the DMV,
bank, and phone shop in the morning before I come in to work, but I should be able to email the office from my laptop to let them know I’ll be late.” She wrings her hands together. “Thanks for everything. I know I…”
“Shh. You don’t have to explain. Just concentrate on getting home safely, and we’ll talk another time.”
She gives me an uncertain smile as she enters the hall and presses the elevator button.
I glance at my phone. “The Uber should only be a few minutes away. I can wait downstairs with you until it arrives?”
“No, it’s okay. Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She lurches forward and gives me a quick hug.
I breathe in a trace of vanilla and coconut in her hair before she pulls away again. The elevator dings and she steps in, disappearing from view a few seconds later. Before the doors closed, I’m sure I saw a look of regret.
I just couldn’t tell if it was because she feels bad about the way she’s treated me, or if she wishes we’d kissed.
Who am I kidding? It would not have been the latter.
It was probably a good thing Charlie messaged and interrupted what was about to happen, because it stopped us both from doing something stupid.
I sit back down with some more wine and let my mind go to a place I don’t often let it wander.
My Scottish grandfather was from my mother’s side, and he was always my favourite family member. It hit me hard when he died. He’d been on his own for as long as I could remember, because he never remarried once Grandma passed away—so I felt like we were this secret duo that totally ‘got’ each other. Out of all my relatives, he seemed the most open-minded. My father’s parents were very religious, and they passed their beliefs onto Dad, who eventually convinced Mum to believe them too. Having a son who claimed to be able to see the future, even if it was for a positive reason, horrified them. They saw it as some sort of demonic possession and got the pastor at their church to do the whole laying-on-of-hands and speaking-in-tongues thing. I soon learned to pretend I’d been ‘cured.’ I don’t have any brothers or sisters, so I never had anyone to share my childhood with.
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