The Negotiator

by Chris Taylor

  “Well, let’s see. Cassie turned fifteen awhile ago, so I guess we’ve been married fourteen years.” He grinned, unabashed. “What can I say? Lily put up a fight to get to the altar.”

  Fourteen years. Andy whistled in awe. It sounded like a lifetime. His parents had barely made ten and every single one of those years were a long way from happy.

  “How did you know she was the one?” he asked, curious now.

  Tom shrugged and smiled at his memories. “I think I just did, you know. We got off to a rocky start but we managed to sort it out. Apart from the daily stresses of life and two young teenagers in the house, I’d say we’re closer than ever. It’s nice to find that with someone. I couldn’t imagine not having Lily to come home to.”

  Andy compressed his lips against a surge of emotion. His friend’s words echoed what the taxi driver had told him.

  A surge of longing for someone to love him, and to love…where they could care for one another like Tom and Lily, tightened his chest and his limbs were suddenly leaden. He dragged in a breath and did his best to force his thoughts into safer territory.

  Try as he might, images of Cally kept resurfacing. He imagined coming home to her for dinner and sharing his day over a drink; helping Jack with his homework or laughing over a joke. It was what families did together. At least, it was what he imagined families did together. It had never been that way in his family.

  With an impatient noise, he pushed the sad memories aside, refusing to spend any more time contemplating them. His childhood was what it was; there was nothing he could do to change it. What he could do was create his own memories; new memories with a family he could call his own. He hoped with quiet determination that it might include Cally and Jack.

  Only time would tell.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Jack, can you answer the phone, please? My hands are covered in flour.”

  It was only three o’clock, but Cally was already making rissoles in preparation for dinner. Rissoles, peas and mashed potato—Jack’s favorite meal. It was their usual fare on Saturday night—cheap and easy.

  Jack bounded into the kitchen a few moments later. His face was alight with excitement. “That was Andy. He’s on his way over. I gave him our address and told him to look out for the green mailbox. He said he’s about twenty minutes away.”

  Her heart leaped into her throat. She was acting like a girl waiting for her first date. It was ridiculous how she was getting so worked up. A man who looked like Andy would never be single for long.

  A sharp stab of longing took her by surprise. She immediately repressed it. He was moving in as a roommate, a friend. That’s what she’d wanted. That’s what she’d demanded. She wasn’t about to get all green-eyed with jealousy because of Nikki, and go and change the rules.

  Besides, she’d had enough of good-looking charmers. Her high school infatuation with Stewart had well and truly seen to that. Her life was fine the way it was. Now that the financial pressure had been relieved, she might even save enough money to have a little fun. She could take Jack on a cruise of the harbor. Or a trip to Taronga Zoo.

  She glanced at the clock on the wall. She still had nearly half a dozen rissoles to roll in flour. If she hurried, she’d be able to get them coated and ready for grilling and have just enough time to tidy up.

  Not that she cared what she looked like, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to find her with flour on her hands and a dirty apron tied around her waist.

  Fifteen minutes later, she finished with the last of the rissoles and rinsed and dried her hands. She covered the patties with plastic before putting them in the fridge. She’d only just untied the strings of her apron when there was a knock at the front door. Jack leaped off the couch and bolted for the door, flinging it open before she could utter a word. Andy grinned at him from the doorway, his hands loaded with several large bags.

  She ran a self-conscious hand through her hair, slipped off the apron and hid her sudden nervousness behind what she hoped was a welcoming smile.

  “Hi,” she murmured and ducked her head. She hadn’t seen him in casual clothes and the combination of the pale blue short-sleeved polo shirt stretched tautly across his broad chest and the knee-length denim shorts had her stomach turning somersaults. Tanned, muscular calves ended at a pair of feet shod in casual, brown leather loafers.

  She forced herself forward and held out her hand to relieve him of some of his bags. His heated gaze swept over her from head to toe and lingered on her bare feet. She scrunched up her toes as if that would help. Warmth stole up from her belly and spread slowly across her face.

  Get a grip, you silly girl! He’s just a man with flaws and frailties, like everyone else. Stop looking at him like he’s a god.

  Spinning on her heel, she headed back into the kitchen in an attempt to put some distance between them. Andy remained standing in the doorway. With an effort, she cleared her throat and finally found her voice.

  “Um, Andy, your room’s right through there.” She kept her gaze planted on the doorway that led to the sleepout. He walked into the kitchen with Jack closely behind him.

  “Jack, can you show Andy to his room, please?” she added.

  “Yep, follow me, Andy. It’s right through here.” Jack’s voice was high with excitement. He pushed open the old French doors that led onto the enclosed porch.

  She’d furnished it simply with mismatched pieces from local second-hand shops. At one end, a pale green sofa folded out into a double bed. A small wooden table stood next to it. A cupboard that had seen better days and a couple of old leather armchairs framed a low coffee table at the opposite end.

  The smell of fresh flowers wafted from the ceramic vase she’d sat on top of the table. She’d picked them from the garden that morning, telling herself she’d have done it for any guest. It was a little welcoming gesture, nothing more.

  Earlier, she’d opened the louvered windows along one side of the porch to allow the fresh air to blow in, but now the sun’s rays had replaced it, as it made its way westwards across the sky. She hurried forward to close them, hoping to keep the worst of the heat outside.

  Glancing up at Andy where he stood right inside the door, she caught the wry look on his face.

  “I take it there’s no air conditioning?”

  She flushed guiltily and looked away. “No, I’m sorry, there isn’t. But I have an old upright fan I can set up near the sofa. It should help a bit. And once the sun’s gone down, the heat won’t be so bad. It’s just that this side of the house faces west, so…”

  “Yeah, I get the picture.” He paused to wipe beads of perspiration off his lip with the back of his hand.

  “I bet Mom didn’t tell you how hot your room is?” Jack grinned up at him innocently.

  Andy pinned her with his gaze. “No, mate, she must have forgotten to mention that.”

  “Look, Andy, I’m sorry. I should have said something.” She met his gaze bravely, bracing herself for his anger. Instead, she found his eyes were sparkling with humor. He set his bags down on the polished wooden floor.

  The boards were old, like the rest of the house, and had definitely seen better days, but they were clean and their golden chestnut color still gleamed as they must have in the past.

  “I take it this is the bed?” Andy’s dry query broke into her thoughts. He indicated the sofa.

  “Yes. Like I told you, it’s a sofa bed.” Stepping forward, she showed him how it worked. “See, you pull off the cushions and then you grab this bar here and you pull it out and then you fold out these legs—and voila! You have yourself a bed!”

  She turned back to him, smiling. His only response was a raised eyebrow. She couldn’t tell whether it was amusement or disgust and she wasn’t game enough to find out.

  She rushed on. “I’m not sure if you’ve brought any linen with you, but I have plenty of sheets and pillowcases. You’re welcome to borrow them. I don’t think you’ll need a blanket…” Heat burned her cheeks again.<
br />
  “No.” This time, a smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t think I’ll need a blanket.”

  She turned away. Butterflies filled her stomach again, flipping it upside down each time he smiled at her. He touched her lightly on the arm, mistaking her consternation.

  “Don’t worry about it too much. It’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

  She forced herself back around, even as she tried to ignore the tingle of awareness at his touch.

  “Are you sure? Because, I mean, I’d understand if you didn’t want—”

  “The room’s fine. I have a few things outside that will make it a bit more comfortable.”

  “Of course.” She nodded, relieved. “It’s your room. Do as you please. After all, you’re paying good money to use it.”

  “I might bring my stuff in now, if you don’t mind? I’m going to have to duck down to the shops before they close. I’ll dump it all in here and sort it out when I get back.”

  “Of course. We’ll come and help you, if you like.”

  He flashed her another high-wattage smile. “That’d be great.”

  * * *

  Andy held the front door open, allowing Cally and Jack to walk ahead of him and out into the yard where he’d parked. At some stage during his nightshift with Tom, Andy had asked to borrow Tom’s pickup and trailer.

  “What for?” Tom had asked, eyeing him curiously.

  Andy tried not to squirm. “I’m moving some stuff to a friend’s house.”

  Tom raised a single eyebrow and stared at him. Andy held his gaze, but it was all he could do not to look away.

  “Stuff?”

  “Yeah, a bit of furniture and stuff. That’s why I need a trailer.”

  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain blond cleaner, would it?”

  Heat crept up Andy’s neck. He struggled for something to say. He swallowed a sigh in relief when Tom decided to let it go and merely offered him a wink.

  “Of course you can borrow them. The boss has me rostered on again tomorrow night, in anticipation of the parade so I won’t be doing much more than trying to get some sleep. I’m surprised he didn’t ask you to rearrange your days off.”

  “He did, but I explained to him I’d already made arrangements to…to move this stuff and my friend was expecting me. I think he called in Craig, instead.”

  “What time do you want them?”

  “I’ll come straight after work, if that’s all right? I’ll leave my car at your place. That way, it will be easy to swap them back over when I’ve finished. It probably won’t be until Sunday morning, though. Is that okay?”

  Tom nodded. “Yeah. As I said, I’ve pulled another nightshift. If I’m home by the time you return them, I’ll likely be asleep. Just park them on the street and leave the keys in the mailbox if there’s no one around.”

  Now as he approached Tom’s pickup with the trailer still attached and with Cally and Jack walking ahead of him, Andy took a quick mental inventory of the things he’d loaded into it. From the way Cally spoke about her modest lifestyle, he assumed she didn’t have a lot in the way of material possessions. Whilst he’d taken pride in furnishing his condo with the latest gadgets and gizmos, he was the first to admit most of them weren’t necessary and he’d taken care deciding on the things to bring.

  A flat screen television and a DVD player had been wrapped carefully in foam packaging. His iPad and a couple of weeks’ worth of clothes had also been included. A collection of DVDs filled another box. One of his favorite things was watching old movies. As a kid, he loved to get immersed in a television show or movie, often dreaming it was his life on the screen. He didn’t need a therapist to tell him what that was all about. Now, the thought of curling up on the couch in front of one with Cally held enormous appeal.

  A king-sized bed frame and mattress was also roped onto the trailer. He’d remembered Cally saying something about a sofa bed. With his six-foot-three-and-a-half frame, he and a sofa bed were never going to work. The size of his bed was extravagant, but it was the only one he had.

  Now he’d seen the room, he intended to head straight to the nearest electrical store and buy an air conditioner. It was summertime. There was no way he was sleeping on a porch where the only cooling was an old upright fan that had yet to materialize.

  “What do you have in there, Andy?”

  He looked to where Jack pointed and reached in and pulled two items out of the box. “It’s a dive mask and snorkel,” he explained and showed the boy how to use it.

  Jack’s eyes went wide. “That’s pretty cool, Andy. What do you do with it?”

  Andy flashed Cally a look of surprise. She shrugged and dropped her gaze. He realized she was embarrassed her son didn’t know what a snorkel was.

  He recalled his own childhood and remembered how limiting life could be when money was scarce. His father had never been a good provider. Whilst there had been violence and fear in the bucket loads, food and other material goods had been in short supply. He didn’t need a shrink to make the connection between his difficult early life and his need to surround himself with material things and he’d learned to accept that for what it was.

  He looked at Jack and his heart clenched at the thought of all the things the young boy hadn’t been able to experience simply because of a lack of funds. He vowed to do something to change that.

  Leaning down, he ruffled the blond head. “Tell you what, Jack. How about I take you somewhere tomorrow and I’ll show you how to use it?”

  “Really?” The boy’s eyes shone with excitement. He turned to his mother eagerly.

  “Can I, Mom? Can I go with Andy?”

  * * *

  As Cally watched her son interact with Andy, emotion welled up inside her and she pressed her lips together in an effort to contain it. Money woes aside, seeing the two of them together, it was clear how much Jack needed the influence of a man in his life. Already, a bond was developing between them.

  She recalled the ugly scene the night before between Andy and his ex-girlfriend and wondered again at the accusations she’d thrown at him. He’d told Cally his family had been killed, but he’d never divulged the circumstances. She frowned and wondered if she should investigate it a little further. Her instincts told her she could trust him, but she’d potentially put her safety and the safety of her son at risk by inviting him into her home. She had to be sure her trust wasn’t misplaced.

  “Hey, if you’d rather he didn’t, it’s fine with me,” Andy murmured, mistaking the cause of her frown.

  Cally pushed her sobering thoughts aside and offered him a strained smile. “No, it’s not that.”

  Andy closed the distance between them and lowered his voice. “Then what? For a moment or two, you looked scared.”

  Cally heaved a sigh. “You urged me to be cautious with this whole roommate thing.”

  Andy’s expression displayed a little uncertainty, as if he wasn’t sure where her thoughts were headed. “Yes, I did.”

  “Of course, I was never going to rush into it without being careful. I was even prepared to have the principal at my school run a working with children check on anyone who answered my ad.”

  Andy’s gaze was steady on hers. “Good for you. Did you run one on me?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t think there was a point. You wouldn’t be employed by the police service if you had a criminal record.”

  “You’re right. All you have to go on is your gut instinct, but feel free to speak with my friends and colleagues. You’ve already met some of them. Tom and Craig and Sandy were on duty last night. I saw you speaking with Tom.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I asked him to pass me the wastepaper basket.”

  Andy smiled. “See, you already know him. Ask him whatever you like.”

  Cally sighed. “I want to trust you, Andy, I really do. You’ve done nothing to make me think you’re not the best thing to have happened to both Jack and me, but I can’t help thinking of your ex-girlfri
end and the things she said.” She bit her lip and then blurted the rest of it out. “What did she mean about your family? What haven’t you told me?”

  Andy’s face turned to stone and Cally’s spirits sank. So, there was something. She should have known he was too good to be true. He stared at his feet for so long, she thought he was going to ignore her, but then, with a look of resignation, he threw a glance toward Jack and muttered, “You’re right. We need to talk, but not here. Is there somewhere else we can go?”

  * * *

  It was more than half an hour later, with Jack ensconced in the living room in front of Andy’s widescreen television, that he and Cally withdrew to the kitchen. She pulled a pair of French doors closed and effectively sealed them from where Jack watched a movie and then took a seat at the table. She looked as scared as he felt.

  He was filled with dread and his stomach churned at the thought of what he was about to reveal and how she might react. He drew in a deep breath and eased it out, knowing he had no choice but to tell her. If they were ever going to have a chance of making a life together, he needed to come clean. He positioned himself in a corner of the room and remained standing, his arms folded across his chest.

  “My father was a violent man. He was also an alcoholic. Not that he needed it to give him courage. He’d fight whether he was drunk or sober.” He risked a glance at Cally, but her face remained impassive.

  “We never knew when it would happen. One minute, he’d be having a perfectly normal conversation and the next he’d be pummeling my mother with his fists. I was a child. I never could work out what set him off. It never seemed to be the same thing.”

  He sucked in a ragged breath and continued, wanting to get it over with. “My mother once told me my father had been raised in a violent household. Apparently, my grandfather ruled with a heavy fist and dictated how things were to happen, right down to the television shows the family watched. If instructions weren’t followed to the letter, he became enraged, striking out at anyone and everyone, including his wife and my father.”