Garrett & Sunny: Sometimes Love is Funny

by Peter Butler

  I looked over at Megan and she was nodding agreement, even though no words had passed between us. Gran looked back and forth between us and smiled.

  'We had better head off, Gran,' I said as I stood and moved over to give her a hug goodbye. 'We have some thinking to do. We appreciate the gift you and Ed have given us.'

  I drove Megan home in silence. She was still in a state of shock in light of everything that had happened today. I was deep in thought, trying to get a grip on what I needed to do. As I pulled up at her house I said, 'I think the first thing I need to do is fly out to Australia and look at what Plutarch is actually doing.'

  Megan looked at me questioningly. 'That's a pretty big spur-of-the-moment decision, Gary.'

  'Maybe. But it's essential that we have some facts before we can decide what we can do to help Gran, and as I know almost nothing about the running of these small exploration companies, I'll see if Truf will come with me. I'll get Sky started on researching Plutarch and Sophie can begin digging into the Chinese guy and the owners of the other big shareholdings.'

  'Is there anything I can do to help?' Megan offered.

  'Can't think of anything at the moment. We'll talk when I've got a bit more information to offer.'

  She kissed me goodbye and I drove off.

  In my mind I was making a list of things that needed to happen and the all important thing seemed to be the timing. I realized that Truf was essential to the whole process, but he had his own business to run and it was a big ask to get him to drop everything and do me a favor. But, that's what friends are for. I pulled over to the side of the road and dialed his number.

  'So, you're alive.' The deep baritone voice announced into my ear. 'It was touch and go for a time there, last night.' He chuckled. 'I guess having Sunny there was enough for you to choose life. I'm damn sure I would have, in your position.'

  'Apparently I need to thank you for getting me inside the house.'

  'No need, I was just showing Sunny how strong I was. It backfired though, she decided to stay with the guy who had passed out.'

  'Yeah, she's smart... and beautiful, but I need you to tell me all about last night. Seriously Truf, I have zero memory, it's almost like I was drugged.'

  'Wow! Drugged? I hadn't thought about that, it's a possibility you know. Sunny's boss bought us a round of drinks towards the end of the night and there was some confusion about who was supposed to get what drink. Maybe he was trying to drug Sunny and you accidentally got her drink... Or, maybe he fancied you,' he laughed. 'Either way, you went all weird just after you had that drink.'

  This was all news to me. I had a lot of questions to ask Truf about the night and the answers would take a lot of time. Time that I no longer had. So I said, 'I want to hear everything you've got about last night, but before that I need to know how busy you're going to be over the next week.'

  'Next week? Let's see. I'm expecting the results of some trench samples to come in tomorrow or the next day and I'll need to write the report on that. At the end of the week I'm flying to Brussels for a conference. The rest of the time I'll be doing some catch-up office work.'

  'Any chance you can do me a favor and ditch all that, and come on a little trip with me? I wouldn't ask if it wasn't super urgent and really important to both Megan and me.'

  'Megan!'

  Something about the way he said her name registered in my brain. What the hell was going on there? My married sister and my best friend. Surely not.

  'Well if you need me then I can hardly refuse. What's it about? And where are we going?'

  I pulled my face into a grimace as I said, 'Australia.... mate.'

  'You weren't joking when you said, "favor".'

  'A place called Culgawinya in the middle of Queensland to check out a company called Plutarch Resources who have leases in the area,' I replied, relieved that he hadn't shot me down when he heard the destination. 'It seems that Megs and I are major shareholders in the company, thanks to Ed.' I shifted in my seat and changed ears with the phone and as I did the Call Waiting beep went off.

  Truf said, 'Wow. How many shares has he left you guys? I do know a little about Plutarch. A penny dreadful with a track record that is dismal and a management that seems more interested in lining their own pockets, than bringing resources online. Shares trade around ten cents... Not to sound demeaning.'

  The Call Waiting had stopped beeping and the call must have gone through to voice mail. Damn, I wonder if it was Sunny calling. I couldn't interrupt Truf anyway, having just asked him the biggest favor I ever had, and him agreeing to go along.

  He continued, 'They are looking for CSG at the moment, but I think they would happily announce they were looking for pearls in the middle of the desert, if they thought people would give them money to do it.'

  'You're saying they're shifty?

  'That is the word on the street. How many shares did Ed have?'

  I could almost hear his jaw hit the ground when I told him our shareholding. There was a pause in the conversation as Truf did the same arithmetic that both Megan and I had done. Eventually he said, 'I can see why you want to check them out. There are a few existing CSG wells out that way, but I don't think any are all that close to Plutarch's leases.'

  'That's the thing, the shares have been steadily dropping in value for the past year or so.'

  'You do realize that we don't have any legal right to be poking our noses into what's going on with the leasehold, even given that you're a shareholder. You can write and ask permission to see what they are doing, but that would take some time for the reply. So, we are going to need to sneak in, under the radar, so to speak.' Truf laughed out loud at the thought of being a law breaking renegade.

  I explained the rest of the situation to him. The more he heard about how Gran had hoped to help the aboriginals, the more he became committed to the task. Truf was a lover of the mining industry, and he hated the rogue entrepreneurs and scam artists who gave his industry a bad name. Mining was a messy, dangerous business at the best of times, but the idea of wantonly destroying the ground and the water table, just to extract a commodity that invariably ended up going overseas to enrich a foreign country, was against every principal he held. There were safer, more sustainable ways to do it. I knew this because Truf had given me the lecture on more than one occasion.

  He said, 'Okay, Gary. It's about 22 hours flying time, plus whatever time we loose with stopovers. We should try and leave tomorrow or early the day after. I need to be able to analyze any data that we collect. I want to get back by next weekend. You okay with that?'

  'Sure, but we both need to use the morning to get whatever we are going to need. So, I'll come to your place around ten o'clock. And Truf, thanks mate, I know it's a big ask. I owe you. Just tell me one more thing. How did I meet Sunny? Please don't tell me I used some cheesy pickup line.'

  'You really don't remember?' he asked. 'She was the one with the cheesy line. We were sitting at a table when she came over, tapped you on the shoulder and said, "Are you stalking me? Cos, if you are, you're being very obvious." I don't think either of us had even seen her up to that point and you said something along those lines back to her. Then you took a proper look at her and saw she was drop-dead gorgeous, and you said something like, "You do look an awful lot like my mother, so if I was looking at you, I was most likely just wondering what my old mom was doing in a place like this".'

  I found myself pulling a face as Truf repeated my words.

  'She looked at you like you had just slapped her in the face. Then she walked away. You mumbled something like; you'd just royally fucked that up, and that you thought she was the best looking woman you'd ever seen. I didn't argue with you on either point.'

  I had to agree; it didn't sound like my finest work.

  'You looked over at her a few times and every time you did, a different guy was hitting on her. Then out of the blue, she tapped you on the shoulder again, and asked for your name. You asked why she wanted to know it. She
said something like she needed it for the police report she was making on the stalking situation. So you said it was, Bruce Wayne and you asked her name. She asked why you wanted it, and you said it was standard procedure in the "Service". She said it was "Jo Kerr".'

  That sounded more like it; seems I lifted my game, a little.

  Truf continued his recollection. 'It went on like that for quite some time until you eventually offered to buy her a drink. Then one of her friends came and joined us and the night got interesting for me, too. We all had a great time, lots of laughs until her boss appeared out of nowhere. He was a total tool, talking about himself all the time, a bit like your brother-in-law, Tim.'

  Something about the way he said Tim's name caused another red flag in my mind.

  'Anyway, he went to the bar and got us a round of drinks. We were doing Tequila shots at that stage and when he got back Sunny just grabbed one off the tray and slammed it down. It was quite strange then, her boss looked like he was really pissed at her for doing that. Eventually, he said he'd just had a call and had to go. He put the tray of drinks on the table and left. We all had our drink and....

  My phone started a low continuously beep in my ear. I looked at the display and it was flashing, "Battery Empty"

  'Shit... my battery's about to die.' I butted in urgently to Truf's commentary.

  Truf didn't reply so I took the phone from my ear and checked the display again. It was completely blank.

  I didn't have a charger in the car, so I was screwed.

  I threw the car into gear and accelerated hard down the road. By now it was dark outside and I knew the phone would need a good couple of hours to recharge and I still had half an hours driving to get home.

  Chapter 3

  I made it home in record time, unbelievably my driver's license was still a valid legal document. I raced into my office and plugged the phone into the charger.

  As I had come through the front door I noticed a note on the table in the hallway so I went back to read it and give the charger a chance to work its magic. The note was in Harry's scrawl, which looks like a combination of abbreviated shorthand letters and unrecognizable squiggles, and could easily be mistaken for the work of a monkey, let loose with a pen.

  Harry Buxton is my landlord and he comes and goes as he pleases in my home. To say we have a loose arrangement would be accurate. I have rented from this ancient Englishman for the past eight years and despite the difference in our ages, we get along famously. Harry is a smart guy. Not in the classical sense as he has no degrees or letters after his name. His years of life experience and his down-to-earth wisdom are what I enjoy having access to. He has a view of life that few people can hope to compete with. It's all a perspective thing with my mentor, Harry.

  I see it like this: The rest of us are standing on the ground, observing and dealing with everything that is happening in our own little worlds, but the bigger objects around us stop us seeing very far ahead. Harry's viewpoint is different. It's like he is floating above us and looking down. His perspective might miss a lot of the day-to-day stuff that we are all involved in, but when it comes to knowing the "big picture" and seeing what is coming up around a metaphorical corner, then Harry has the unique advantage of years of experience. He has a special ability to sum things up and simplify the complicated, but without the cynical bitterness that can often be part of conversations with old people. Having said that, I have to say that Harry is losing his edge as the days go by; his hearing is poor and his eyesight very questionable.

  Between Ed, who was well educated and worldly, and Harry, with his abundant life experience, I have been privy to an exceptional education over the years.

  That's not to say that Harry's not an opinionated old fart. He is. He just has a happy knack of being able to laugh at all of the world's problems. He claims to know the answer to each and every one of them, but accepts that the world could care less about his opinions. Mind you, he uses his less than perfect hearing as an excuse to avoid having to defend some points of view.

  Sadly, I think Harry has the beginnings of dementia. He delights in telling me nearly every chance he has: 'You should employ a teenager, Gary... While they still know everything!'

  I laugh politely every time he tells me this. Not because it's funny, but because Harry is almost doubled up with laughter at his joke. Every time. One day I'll have to tell him he's told me the joke before, but that probably wouldn't help, because I think he'd forget that, too.

  Harry's big thing is doing repairs around the house. He's still reasonably agile and doesn’t carry any excess weight, so he can still do quite a bit. Coming from an age where self-sufficiency was a normal expectation, Harry will tackle just about any household problem, in spite of having eyes that send blurred pictures to his brain and hearing that, quite frankly, doesn't even know it's supposed to be sending information to his brain. For him, a ladder up to the roof to fix a broken tile or replacing a washer on a tap is no problem. Either is sliding under the house amongst the cobwebs and spiders to clear a drain or check a heating duct. The problem is, with Harry a ten minute job lasts at least an hour and a half and even then I need to help him find the bits and pieces he drops and can't find.

  Occasionally he accepts his short comings and hires a qualified tradesman, but not until he has had a go at it himself. Because of this, I now have any electrical repairs done without Harry's knowledge. I couldn't live with myself if the old guy fried himself on a live wire. Besides, the rent I pay is woefully less than the place is worth. I suspect Harry is aware of this but is happy with the situation. I doubt that he's saving his money to buy a fancy car or take a girlfriend to Monte Carlo. I suspect old Harry is quietly loaded, but having been born just after a depression and schooled in frugality by strict parents, he never learned to accept the excesses that people today seem to take as normal.

  Harry is one of the good guys in my world.

  I think his note read, "Gary. I have decided to paint the black horse... H" Or it might have read, "Gary. I have decided to paint the back of the house... H"

  I scribbled on his note. "Fine by me, Harry. I'll be away for a few days. Try not to get kicked. See ya... G"

  As I finished my note to Harry the home phone rang. Hoping it was Sunny, I ran to pick-up.

  'Hello.'

  'Gary there's something wrong with your other phone. It's dead.'

  It was Megan.

  'Yeah, I know. The battery's flat, I'm charging it now. What's up?'

  'I told Tim about what went down today and needless to say he's in favor of selling all the stock and living the good life. I told him to "get stuffed" and he's a bit pissed at me at the moment. The bottom line is, he insists on going with you to see what is happening in the mining leases.'

  'Oh shit! That's a problem; I've already organized to go with Truf. What does Tim think he can achieve?'

  'He wants to have a say in what happens. I've told him it's more a case of respecting Gran's wishes than a bequest of money, but he doesn’t get it. I'm sorry to do this to you Gary. Think of the bright side, he might fall down a mine-shaft or get bitten by a snake.'

  'Aw sis, don't you just know how to cheer me up. But truth be told, he's more likely to meet his end with Truf's hands around his throat.'

  'We wouldn't want that,' she replied, with more intensity than was required. 'Again, I'm sorry, Gary. But he insists on going with you.'

  'Tell him I still need to book flights. I'll text him the details. He needs to pack tonight as I plan on getting the first flight I can. One minute late and we leave without him.'

  'I'm dying to hear about what you have planned with Sunny. How did it go?'

  'Funny thing, that. You know that flat battery I mentioned? Well I haven't been able to talk to her, yet, because her number is only on that phone.'

  'You can get the number off it while it's on charge.'

  'I realize that, but I'm on my home phone, tied-up at the moment with a call from my sister who seems i
ntent on destroying my day.'

  She said, 'Oops...!' and the phone went dead.

  The other phone still had a long way to go to fill the battery, but with the charger supplying the power I was able to flick through the "Contacts" list until it gave up the number for "Heidi". I wrote it on a sticky note and took it to my desk. I loved the game she had initiated and decided that she would always be listed as "Heidi" on the phone. Changing anything might be enough to upset the Gods that had brought us together and alter my instincts that had screamed at me the moment I first laid eyes on her. Well, I couldn't vouch for the first time, but definitely the second time I laid eyes on her.

  Truf seemed pretty confident that we had some chemistry happening last night... and she did come home with me. These were all good things. Or were they? What sort of girl comes home with a strange guy after only a few hours together? I hesitated to go down that road, as I was aware of the double standard that males can get away with and even be labeled as heroes and studs, where women tended to be judged in the totally opposite way. I was not prepared to even let my mind imagine that Sunny might just be looking for a happy ending.

  I knew the way I was thinking about this whole situation appeared more like the emotions that a teenager feels: That first time you encounter the dysfunctional emotional turmoil that females are capable of creating in a perfectly sound male brain. Megan had spotted it, immediately.

  But she was wrong to infer that it was something that happened to me frequently. Maybe when I was fourteen it did, but it didn't feel exactly like this. Back then it was all new, every single thing that I did with a girl was a first. Holding hands, the first clumsy kiss, the over-eager fingers delving into areas that had long been dreamed of, only to discover that there were rules and protocols to be followed. That things that worked to stimulate a boy, sometimes had the opposite effect on a girl.

  Those days were long gone. I'd had a lot of experience with women since then and not all of it had been good. But I had gained knowledge from every single encounter, both the good and the bad, and the more knowledge I accumulated, the more I'd come to the conclusion that I would never find that one woman who just stopped me in my tracks.