Garrett & Sunny: Sometimes Love is Funny

by Peter Butler

  'That's a little unkind - Golddigger? Couldn't you just give me the finger extension?'

  I burst out laughing, 'If only you knew - I was doing that every time I called you and was sent straight through to your voice mail.'

  She laughed, but it was more polite than hearty and boisterous, as I had hoped. Maybe, I'd offended her. Women! Can't live with 'em - Can't shoot 'em. So the saying goes.

  'What's the name of your jogging buddy?' I asked, hoping to shift the balance of guilt back to her.

  She was quiet for a moment, obviously considering if she should open that door to such a rude, insensitive bastard. The jury must have come down in favor of me, because she eventually said, 'Alan.' Another pause. 'I met him a few days ago at the market. We were both looking for cucumbers. Potentially a bit embarrassing if he was someone like you. But he isn't, thank God, (there you go - payback,) and we kinda hit it off.'

  I ignored the gibe. 'I'm really happy for you, Soph. Hope he turns out to be a good guy. And thanks for the great character reference.'

  She chuckled. 'Sky mentioned that you've found someone you're interested in.'

  We continued talking and sharing wisecracks for a few more minutes, comparing the two new people who had just entered our lives, and how much things seem to change after that initial innocent meeting. Innocent for Sophie, who knows what for me. Then my phone started its now familiar beep, advising me it was running out of juice.

  It seemed as if everything was telling me the same thing - it's time for bed.

  ***

  I mentioned that the sun gets up early here, but 4:30... Really! - That's just wrong. It's hard to sleep with a bright light shining in your face not to mention the rise in temperature that accompanies the light. Who can I complain to? Then Little Gary reminded me that mornings came with a bonus in this town and I changed my mind. Thank you, sun.

  I jumped out of bed and unlocked the door. I even left it slightly ajar. If I had a neon sign saying Please Come In, I would have hung that on the door as well.

  While I waited for Bev to arrive I checked my overnight emails. Messages from Sky and Sophie were listed in my inbox.

  I opened Sky's first. She had done as I asked and kept it cryptic and vague.

  The guy still has the stuff available at his place. But he's not keen about giving them up and wants to talk to your sister and grandmother first.

  I made a call to your other friend and he seems keen to meet us for dinner, but he's expecting us to take him to a very expensive restaurant. He mentioned his favorite is called something like 125. He's available this week.

  BTW, don't be mad, but I ate your apple.

  So, Ling Mien will sell his holding for 25% above market price. Good luck with that. And she has dumped our Apple stock. Good girl.

  I composed a reply for Sky:

  I've been to that restaurant and it's overrated. My favorite restaurant will be a lot cheaper... keep him waiting for our invitation. You never know, he might change his mind.

  Let's see the NSA spooks in the USA make something out of that, not that they'd give a shit about what I'm doing, unless my eating habits have somehow become a threat to US security. It pisses me off that they take and store a copy of everyone's emails. That's just illegal and morally wrong. The sort of stuff that Hitler would be doing if he was around today.

  I made a quick call to Gran and asked her to call Gerald and cancel her gift - for the time being. She was keen to hear how I was doing, but had to be content with: things are coming along, but it's early days. I hope she understood I was in stealth mode and not just being a melodramatic dick. I was confident she would be cool with it, Gran's a fan and has rose-colored glasses on when she thinks of me, and also Megan, of course.

  It seems Australia has made me paranoid on just about every level. I worry about the killer animals, the attacking trees, the early sunrises and sunsets, the NSA, the eavesdroppers hiding behind the walls, the phone hackers who listen in, and now thanks to Truf's heroics last night, the German living down the hallway.

  I called Megs. She answered almost immediately.

  'Gary. Lovely to hear from you. It's really exciting news. I'm thrilled it's...'

  'Megs!' I cut her off, my tone was urgent. 'Shut the fuck up - Right now. Not another word.'

  I had a terrible feeling from what she had just said that Tim had told her about our gold discovery. In spite of both Truf and me drumming it into him that nobody, outside the three of us, could know.

  'I want you to answer my next questions with either yes, or no. Did Tim call you and suggest we had made a big breakthrough?'

  'Yes,' she answered cautiously.

  'Did he specify what the breakthrough actually was?'

  'Sort of..' She dragged the words out, like she didn't sound totally sure about the answer.

  'Have you told anyone what he told you?'

  'No.' She hesitated, then added, 'I was planning on letting Gran know.'

  'Don't! It's imperative that nobody else knows. There'll be plenty of time for that later. Promise me, Megs. Not a word to anyone.'

  'You're scaring me, Gary,' she said tentatively. 'But I promise I won't mention anything to anyone.'

  'Okay. I'm sorry I yelled. But it's a really sensitive situation and Tim had no business blabbing to you. Who knows who might have been listening?'

  'I understand. Bloody MI6 constantly have that van outside my house. One day I'm just going spill the beans and let them know which brand of detergent I use,' she laughed, mocking my OTT reaction. 'But, I am pleased things are going well for you in Australia, Garrett.'

  'Thanks,' I said, grateful we had moved on. 'Megs, I need you to call Gerald and tell him you are happy for him to tear up the papers you signed recently.'

  'Why would I want him to do that?'

  I sighed loudly down the phone and said very slowly, 'Because it will be helpful with my sensitive situation.'

  'Oh! I understand, now - I think. Sort of... Sorry. I'm a bit slow at the moment. I'm not used to my brother telling me to shut the fuck up.'

  'I'm sorry about that, Megs. I had to stop you saying anything inappropriate.'

  'Apology accepted, Gary. I'll give Gerald a call and do as you wish. But only if you promise not to take it out on Tim. He was just excited and wanted to share what he had.'

  'Okay. Deal,' I agreed. 'I have to go Megs. Got a lot to do. I'll talk as soon as I can.'

  'Bye..' she said, but before I'd had a chance to hang up, she added, 'Gary, are you still there?'

  'Yep,' I answered, hiding my annoyance.

  'You're very wound up at the moment,' she informed me. 'You need to do whatever it is that guys do to relieve that situation.'

  'Ha,' I half snorted, half laughed into the phone. 'You're a grudge holding cow, little sister.'

  She chuckled back. 'Big sister. And don't you forget it.'

  I was still as mad as hell with Tim. The useless bastard can't follow simple instructions and risked tearing the whole plan apart. Not that he knew even a small part of the plan.

  I'd promised Megs I wouldn't take it out on him. I assume she meant not beating the shit out of him, which was exactly what I had intended to do, up to that point in time. But, I could still yell at him and call him a stupid prick, which ironically was something I'd been dying to do ever since I met him. He'd managed to change my feelings about that during this trip. But in typical Tim style he'd been able to erase my warm, fuzzy feelings towards him with one simple conversation.

  I wanted to get this nasty business behind us, so we could move forward - all of us on the same page. I didn't want to accidentally run into Bev at this exact moment so I went to my window; my entry to the shared balcony and climbed out. As luck would have it, Tim's window was wide open, so I charged over to it and climbed straight in. I planned to start yelling as soon as I was inside. But I couldn't. My mouth refused to work because it was gapping open.

  I was greeted with the sight of two naked bodies lying bac
k on the bed. Two sets of eyes were drilling into me. From the way they were stretched out I concluded that any business they were involved in had already been dealt with.

  Bev recovered her composure first. 'Good morning, Gary,' she said cheerfully, as she slipped off the bed. 'I was just on my way out.' She picked up her towel, wrapped it around her body and walked out the door as if she had just come to deliver breakfast - or something. 'I'll see you boys for breakfast a little later on.'

  I glared at Tim and shook my head. He had taken Bev's exit as a good time to throw on some shorts and was standing beside the bed looking at me. His expression was more than a little worried.

  He should be. I charged at him, expecting he would run, but he just stood there and watched me come at him. It was almost as if he wanted to be punished. Have it your way, old son, I thought as my right fist plunged into his face. His head snapped back and his body crashed to the floor with a loud thud and skidded into the wall.

  I massaged my fist, which hurt like hell, which made me wonder what his eye must be feeling like.

  Tim shook his head in an attempt to clear any fogginess, then brought his hand up and felt around his eye socket.

  I guess he was checking if any bones had broken. It was a good hit, but not that good.

  'I'm sorry about what you just saw, Gary,' he said, eventually. 'You had every right to do what you did.'

  'Megs is too fucking good for you, Tim,' I said with as much venom as I could muster.

  'I know... I know... I know,' he almost wept to me. 'I'm so sorry. I didn't know what to do,' he said as he climbed up off the floor. 'I woke up to see Bev standing at the end of my bed. Naked. She was wiggling my toe to wake me. Before I knew it she was climbing on the bed and coming towards me.' While he told his story he moved back to the bed and sat on it, still massaging his swollen eye. He looked up and continued his explanation. 'I love Megan more than you can imagine, Gary. I hate the thought of hurting her.' He stared at me through his one functioning dopey eye, shook his head, and said, 'What would you have done, Gary? If it had been you? She practically raped me.'

  I was fast loosing this argument and I hadn't even uttered one word. I knew damn well what I'd have done. In fact I'd already done it. But I wasn't giving up my advantage. This was a time to score points.

  'I'm not married, Tim,' I answered, feeling thoroughly guilty for taking the pious, I'm better than you, approach. 'And I don't have two beautiful little girls that I'm responsible for.' I looked intently at him and shook my head. 'But I love Megan, too, and I can't see anybody gaining from her finding out what just happened. So we'll put this behind us and move on.'

  He nodded in agreement.

  I could see gratitude in his eye. I think the other one would have been showing resentment. Instead, it was turning a pretty shade of purple and swelling up nicely.

  'When we get back to Brisbane the first thing you're going to do is have some blood tests at a sexual health clinic.' Me too - but Ill be going to a different clinic. 'And you're not going near Megs until the all-clear is given. Agreed?'

  'Agreed.'

  There was an awkward pause between us after all the dirty linen had been aired. It seemed appropriate.

  'Megan is the reason I came barging into your room just now,' I said to him after a suitable period of reflection. 'I just spoke to her and she said you told her all about our big secret.'

  'What?' He sounded shocked at my accusation. 'I didn't tell her anything about that. All I said was we'd found something that we should be able to use to get something good happening. I kept it really general. She doesn't know anything, Gary. I'm not stupid. I know how important it is to keep a lid on it.'

  I left Tim's room the same way I entered. Well, not exactly. I was feeling angry and superior when I entered. On the way out I was feeling guilty and embarrassed.

  Megs was right... I was bound up tighter than a baby in a blizzard. I needed a shower. Urgently. But I restrained myself until Culgawinya's public access vagina had finished with the bathroom.

  Aunt Maude's theory was gaining credence.

  ***

  I felt better after my shower. There's nothing like a good scrub to freshen a fella up. I had been in the middle of checking my emails when the Tim distraction had occurred so I went back to my laptop and and re-read the stuff from Sky.

  Then I opened Sophie's email. It was in bullet points as I had requested.

  A holding greater than 20% triggers a requirement to make a takeover bid.

  But, under the Foreign Acquisitions Act, non-Australians may be required to bid if a holding exceeds 15%. Decisions are made for each individual case by the Takeovers Panel.

  Warehousing - parking shares with a friend - Banned.

  Working in concert with other shareholding parties constitutes an Associate arrangement. Will trigger the need for Takeover offer.

  Takeovers Panel is for resolving disputes. If nobody disputes, they stay out of it.

  I could see from that information that I was in for a tough time if anybody disputed the way I planned to go about this takeover. The definition of related parties was a key. I could argue that I had no influence over what Gran, and Megs did with their shares, and I would be correct. But a half decent lawyer can have people swearing that black is actually white, in no time at all. And I didn't want it to get to that. I needed to avoid having the Takeover Panel brought into the equation and that required some fancy footwork from me. I needed a nice clean kill - wham, bam, thank you ma'am, I'm the new boss of Plutarch, and have everybody okay with that, even the current bosses.

  A big ask, but I had a plan.

  My email inbox was getting clogged so I spent the next half an hour clearing it. When it had been reduced to a small number I noticed the emails from Sky and Sophie that I'd only glanced at last night were still there. I read them properly.

  The body of Sophie's email was about the financial status of the major shareholders of Plutarch, but her final paragraph had some interesting information about Warra's art.

  Warra's paintings are sold exclusively in six galleries around the world. In London. Paris, Rome, Los Angeles, Miami and New York. Each gallery has its own principal dealer. But I dug deep, Gary. Really deep - as this was never intended to be found out.. All the galleries are ultimately owned by one man, hiding behind numerous holding companies, scattered around various tax-haven countries with non-disclosure rules. Oscar Barrymore. He is based in Sydney, Australia. His business is called Barrymore Fine Art. Ironically he has galleries in Australia, but they don't sell Warra's paintings. (fishy??)

  Warra must be a rich man as his works sell between $10,000 - $50,000(US). How many do you want me to buy?

  The Bond Girl.

  Fishy, didn't begin to cover it. But... useful. I intended to do some more research myself, on Oscar Barrymore when I had emptied my inbox.

  I composed a quick email for Soph:

  Dear Goldfinger (NB - extension willingly added) Brilliant work. Need one more thing. Pls. send me a list of every Warra painting currently for sale in every location. ASAP. Incl. list price and total retail value of whole package.

  M

  After I had dispatched my reply to Sophie I opened Sky's email and read it. She had mainly given me the same information about Plutarch that I already knew, only in more detail. I found the money being spent on exploration and drilling rather large given what I had witnessed and I definitely intended to get Truf's opinion on that. The company was low in current assets, which means money for wages and rent and so on. It was going to need to raise some funds from its shareholders, soon. There was no way a bank would be willing to lend it money in the financial shape it was in. As a final note she had copy/pasted the remuneration packages of the Executives and Directors of Plutarch Resources. At the head of the list, with the title of Managing Director, was the name Felix Geyer. Annual income $350,000.

  ***

  Truf kept looking at Tim and then at me across the breakfast table. Th
e look on his face told me he had done the math and worked out that Tim's black eye was a present from me. The question he was dying to ask me, was why? Sorry, old boy, that one was on a need-to-know basis.

  He'd already probed Tim about it and been told, 'I slipped in the bloody shower.'

  He could hold back no longer and turned to me and said, 'You popped him, didn't you, Gary?'

  I looked at him like he was insane. 'He told you.. He did it in the shower.'

  'Yeah! Sure..'

  It wasn't like Truf to delve this deeply into other people's lives, to actually call someone a liar meant he wasn't going to let this go. I could see his point, if there was trouble between the three of us he should know. But the trouble was behind us, so I said, with an exasperated look on my face, 'Okay! You've got us Truf. Tim and I were in the shower... together,' I rolled my eyes for dramatic affect. 'And, well, things got a little overheated and he went down and banged his eye.' I grinned at him. 'Is that what you wanted to hear?'

  He looked at me with what was almost a glare and was going to take it further when our mad, orange haired waitress appeared at the table. She had her pad and pen ready and seemed to have little interest in flirtatious small-talk this morning.

  'Morning.. What can I get you, today?'

  Truf was the only one of us who responded to her greeting before giving her his breakfast order. Tim and I gave her our respective orders and then she turned to leave.

  'Bev, wait up a second, please,' I said.

  She turned back with a worried look on her face.

  I returned her look with a solemn face and said, 'I have one small question for you.'

  She bit at her bottom lip, and waited.

  'Could you tell me the name of your German guest?'

  She almost sighed out loud with relief, and said, 'Felix. Felix Geyer.'

  'Thank you.'

  After she had gone back to the kitchen and we had the room to ourselves I said to the other two, 'The Managing Director of Plutarch Resources is a fellow called - Felix Geyer.'