Chapter 10
Colin
She was deep in conversation with Wil when I walked into the dining room the next morning. I didn’t know if I would actually have sat with her, but not having the option turned me into a grumpy little boy again and then Dad saw me and I was in for it.
I swerved for the buffet, taking my time to work out my portions with the nutritionist and clap the chef on the shoulder for making the banana waffles that he knew were my favourite.
But Dad was cool as a cucumber – a sure sign that something was up – and I wasn’t surprised when he waved me over as soon as my plate was ready.
As I shuffled to his table, I glanced longingly in the direction of Derek and Nelson, who were watching stupid videos – probably of cats, knowing Nellie – and guffawing.
Actually, these days they could have been videos of Nellie’s newborn son Rupert.
He’d made me watch a few and I didn’t get the appeal.
Rupert was this little wrinkly thing that jerked his limbs around and looked so much like an alien I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear he’d burst out of his mother’s stomach from the front.
Except I wouldn’t wish that on Nellie’s wife.
Urgh, thinking about birth made me shudder. I knew my mum had had two terrible pregnancies with Lori and me and I didn’t like to ask for details. Plus, it would have been better for everyone if Nellie had watched his swimmers a little better and had the baby in the off-season.
‘Did I miss something between you and Leesa when she was on the team?’
I dropped my fork with a clatter. Dad had barely stopped chewing his muesli to drop that bomb.
‘I’m not running a farking dating agency,’ he muttered with his mouth full.
‘You seemed pretty happy when Lori got together with Seb last year.’ Not that Leesa and I were anything like my sister and Seb. Lori might have been ready to move in with someone when she’d been 26, but I was 25 going on 19 – coincidentally, the age I’d been when I’d first met Leesa.
‘I wasn’t happy. I was worried – until Seb proved he only wanted what was best for her,’ Dad continued gruffly.
‘You mean for her to win races.’
‘Of course!’ More chewing. ‘So, are you together? Or is it just casual?’
‘Neither, actually,’ I grated out. ‘Not that you’ll believe me.’
‘You’ve got enough cheek for a second arse! Given the way you’re behaving, there’s good reason why I won’t believe you.’
The heat in my face was betraying me. ‘I’m not sleeping with her and I never have.’ And given everything that had happened in September, I was fairly certain I never would.
Dad took a long look at me, even putting his spoon down for a moment.
Then he released a deep sigh. ‘You’d better keep it that way.
PowerFuel is shaping up to be one of our major sponsors next year and you getting involved with anyone on their payroll is…
Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I don’t want to think about it. ’
As he rubbed a hand over his weathered face, I wondered when he’d started to actually look a little older.
‘The Irish Bullet’ Tony Gallagher was ageless.
He’d been a grizzled, wrinkled 30-year-old when he’d married Mum and 28 years later he was only slightly more grizzled – except when the haggard expression crossed his features as it was doing now.
It was the expression that meant he was thinking about the money hustle again.
‘You don’t have anything to worry about, Dad.’ She was way too classy – intelligent, sensitive, thoughtful, soft.
‘Good, ’cos you should only have one thing on your mind: winning. And that’s a nice girl – not the kind you toy with.’
Gee, thanks, Dad. He was waiting for me to reply, expecting me to assure him my head was in the game and I was like him: no life outside the sport. Instead, I met his gaze and drawled, ‘She’s safe. I like big tits, you know.’
Dad cleared his throat. ‘Ah, hmm.’ He was looking over my shoulder and, with a zap of misgiving, I turned to see what had grabbed his attention.
Well, shit.
Leesa stood behind me, a tablet tucked against her chest – obscuring those tiny breasts that were unfortunately – for me – every bit as beautiful as a big set.
Her hair was in a loose ponytail today, twirls everywhere.
I couldn’t tell what she thought of what she must have overheard.
Her chin was up and all I could think of was that maybe she wasn’t safe with me when her throat looked so smooth.
‘May I join you?’ she asked Dad, not looking at me.
‘O’ course, child.’ Forty years Dad had been out of Ireland and usually he sounded more Australian than Crocodile Dundee, but he was still Irish enough to call a grown woman ‘child’ – and get away with it.
‘I can show you our ideas now, if you have time?’
Taking the seat side-on to both of us, she tapped a few times on the tablet and a branded visual appeared. I was distracted with the hint of something sweet from her shampoo – raspberries? There was a herbal note I couldn’t identify and the combination suited her: sweet and complex.
‘Our research indicated the most successful social-media content from last year’s Tour was humorous. You know, funny statements about daily life with pictures of cyclists or unrelated film footage cut together with an amusing moment with fans – stuff like that.’
‘Finally, something Colin might be perfect for!’
I gave Dad a doubtful glance. He was a little too enthusiastic.
‘My thoughts exactly,’ Leesa beamed. ‘And given the placement of the branding and Colin’s, uh, assets, the specific focus of our campaign will be…’
She swiped to the next slide and I inhaled a piece of waffle on my gasp.
Even when I proceeded to hack up bits of fluffy batter with my hand over my mouth, she pointedly ignored me, turning the tablet in Dad’s direction so I had to stretch to see it – to see the action shot of me on the bike wearing only my shorts.
‘Bike bro memes,’ she announced, her voice smooth.
Zooming casually with two fingers, right over my butt, she enlarged the photo of me on the screen.
I was out of the saddle and peering over my shoulder, which placed my arse up and fully visible, from cheek to crack, glutes covered in shiny blue Lycra, the padding of my shorts with its awkward genital seams clearly visible and no pantyline because we freeball under those fuckers.
But it was the words at the top that had made me choke. In playful white lettering it said, All guys like the same thing: b_ _ _s.
‘Are you…?’
‘Very serious. Why, is there a problem?’ she answered me with a smile, swiping to the next picture, where the word was filled in as ‘bikes’.
She zoomed in again, a smile playing on her lips. ‘Here, where the PowerFuel logo is,’ she began, brushing her fingertip just above my arse – in the picture! Although I swore I could almost feel it. ‘This grabs attention and then the joke reels them in. I’ve mocked up a few more.’
When she said ‘grabs’, I was sure she knew it made firecrackers go off in my head.
‘What’s this, then?’
I hadn’t noticed Derek approaching. He leaned over Leesa’s shoulder – far too close, in my opinion – and peered at the screen, swiping back and forth.
‘I can think of a few more options – especially for Colin!’
‘Oh, I did more,’ Leesa said, gifting Derek a bright smile.
She swiped through ‘balls’, ‘butts’ and ‘beans’ to the inevitable ‘boobs’, at which point she coolly met my gaze with a lift of her brow.
‘You know him so well,’ Derek complimented with overdone admiration.
‘He’s teasing you,’ I grumbled.
‘I am usually aware when someone’s teasing me.’ She bit her lip over a laugh, her face contorting. It shouldn’t have been cute when she was calmly suggesting using me in memes for promotional purposes.
While I was distracted, she lifted her phone and snapped a picture. ‘More resources for my Colin memes. I’ve got a lot of material for social-media ass-ets.’
Dad clutched his stomach, cackling along with the boys and the tingling at my hairline was the first clue I had about what was really going on.
Zeroing my gaze on Leesa, I studied her expression critically.
The longer I stared, the wobblier it got.
Dad gave up the ruse entirely, hooting with laughter.
I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. ‘Ass-ets? I suppose I should be thankful you didn’t make a joke about how much I like time trials.’
Nelson howled with laughter, slapping his knee. ‘Colin rides big TTs!’
‘The Australian TT champion!’ Derek added.
‘Big TTs, huh?’ she repeated, shooting me a provoking look.
I was provoked – and enjoying it, although I wished the others weren’t here so I could tell her I’d been lying and her tits were the sweetest ones I’d ever seen and I’d imagined in some detail what they might look like if she took off that floaty dress and let me see.
‘How were your TTs, when you were racing?’ I asked her instead. ‘I’m really, really interested in your TTs.’
‘My TTs were never impressive enough for you,’ she retorted.
Leaning over the table and tipping my face up to hers, I said, ‘Well played, Magda. Well played. For a second, I thought you might actually post this on the client accounts.’ I snagged the tablet from under her nose.
‘I’m going to need a copy of these works of art.
I’ll give this back to you later.’ Along with a few other photos I was going to enjoy taking.