Chapter 9
NINE
Zachary
I come out of Undertow with four beers and four waters, and the eternal optimism that I can carry them all, and maybe even more, in one trip.
Steph's following behind me, carrying the giant bag of corn chips I pilfered from the kitchen's pantry, despite Mick, our chef, yelling at me to "put them in a damn bowl, do you want your patrons to think we're all a bunch of heathens?
!" I lay the bottles on the folding picnic table the guys have set up outside to free up a table for the guests.
"You want me to grab napkins too?" Steph asks, angling herself so she's in my eyeline instead of beside me.
I give her a tight smile. "Nah, just ask Priya to bring some when she comes out here pretending to bring appetisers, but she's really flirting with Marcus."
She laughs and squeezes my arm. "You're so funny. We should have you up there on open mic night instead of behind the bar." Over her shoulder, Marcus makes a gagging face as Alexia is doing a good job of looking anywhere but at us.
I take a step back, letting Steph’s hand fall from my arm. "Nah, wouldn't want to show up the customers. Speaking of which..." I tilt my head back towards the bar.
Her face falls, almost imperceptibly. Two years working together, and I can read her pretty well.
"Let me know if I can get you anything else, guys." She glances at Alexia. "And guys'...friend?"
"Her name's Alexia. She's our new roommate," Rhys says, without looking her way, just grabbing his water and taking a long sip. “And Leon’s sister. So she’ll be treated no differently than if she were one of us. Make sure everyone knows it when you go back inside.”
If Steph is affected by his response, she doesn't show it as she gives Alexia a smile and then leaves.
"Be nice," I hiss, once she's out of earshot. "She's one of our best employees. She works the customers like nobody's business. It's not a coincidence our intake is up like twenty-five percent on nights she's working the bar."
Marcus cocks an eyebrow. “Yeah? Well, let's see how well she's going to work once she realises you're not ever going to be interested in her."
I scrunch up my face, trying not to turn to Alexia to see what her reaction is to that. "She knows, okay? We've talked about it. She's only being playful."
Marcus reaches over and pinches my cheek. "I mean, who can blame her. He's such a cutie, right, Lexi?"
Alexia almost chokes on her beer, standing up to brush the errant drop off her shirt before sitting back down.
"Wow. That's...one way of saying no, Lex, but you didn't have to choke," I kid once I'm sure she's okay. I know I should leave it alone, but I can't help provoking her a little.
She glares at me, but then her eyes sparkle and she grabs a chip, munching on it thoughtfully as she says, "Well, it just surprises me that you're the one she's clearly flirting with when Marcus the Panty-Melting Manwhore is sitting right here."
A twinge of jealousy that she brought him into the conversation rises in me, but before I can say something stupid—
"Whoa!" Marcus shouts, his beer half to his mouth. "What did I do? Why am I out here catching strays?"
She throws her half-eaten chip at him. "You scared those poor landlords half to death! I think some of them are going to sleep tonight thinking building inspectors are going to be knocking down their doors tomorrow morning."
A growl from the depths of his building code living soul escapes out of him. "Half of them will be getting a visit! And what about Rhys?"
Rhys slides him a look over the rim of his beer.
"What about him? He barely said anything," I say, pettily siding with the housemate that Alexia isn't calling Panty Melting.
"I'm not talking about the inspections. I'm talking about how he's all quiet, but he's really playing the broody intellectual.
The women all love it. They're always asking, 'Who's the mystery man?
'" Marcus scoffs. "Mystery my ass. He just doesn't talk because he can't carry an interesting conversation.
No woman at a bar wants to hear about workplace grievance procedures. "
I expect her to laugh again, but this time she surprises us all by saying, "Hey, some women like a guy who can talk about more than how much horsepower their work truck has, or where you can get the best IPA."
Even Rhys stops drinking, but he doesn't look at her.
And now I’m pissed at both of them.
A weird tension falls on the table, and for a moment, we're all silent.
A door slams, and a guest comes out of one of the five portaloos set up right outside the back door, the fallout from Sunday's plumbing catastrophe. Overnight Marcus and Hunter had somehow managed to have five state of the art portable toilets set up, with a whole hand washing station, complete with sanitisers, dryers and paper towel dispensers. We have round the clock security patrolling the area and it’s well lit.
No one is going to use our temporary toilet situation as a reason not to come back.
Leon's only input from afar had been, "Make sure it's something I'd rate at least a 4. 5 flushes!"
"So, are we going to tal—" Alexia starts.
"Hang on a sec, Lex," I cut her off as I hand her a water. She takes it, confused as to why I've interrupted her mid-sentence for hydration purposes.
But then Priya comes out carrying a platter of appetisers and Marcus is leaning forward before she's even reached us.
"You," he tells her, "are a vision."
She lays the food down and hands me the stack of napkins. "You say that to everyone who brings you food."
“That is a lie!” Marcus protests, and then his mouth slides into a grin. “I only say it to everyone who brings me good food. There's a difference."
Priya rolls her eyes at Alexia on the way past. "Be careful around that one." She hooks her thumb at Marcus. "You don't want to let your guard down and accidentally believe the shit he says."
Alexia shakes her head. "Not a chance. I have more than two working brain cells."
Priya laughs and bumps her shoulder against her. "I like you. You can stay. Get rid of the other three and come play a round of darts with me."
Alexia gives her a sultry smile. "Will you let me win?"
"Well, of course, darling. Not that I'd need to. You look like you'd be good at it."
"I think you're the one I need to be careful around."
Priya lets out another throaty laugh and swaggers back to the bar.
I lean over. "Just so you know, you're much more her type than Marcus."
She thinks about it for a moment, and then her cheeks blaze red. "Er...Oh! Me? Why?"
Before I can make the mistake of saying something I'll regret, Rhys clears his throat and we all turn to him. "You wanted to talk about staying at the house. So...talk," he says.
She looks like she might stammer a response, but instead wipes her hands on her jeans and stands. Eight inches shorter than the shortest of us, she's not exactly an imposing figure. Still, we all listen.
"I don't think me staying there for three months is a good idea,” she starts, her voice firm. “And I will absolutely not let you move out so I can stay there. I wasn't okay with it when it was one week. What the hell makes you think I'd be okay with it for three months?"
Marcus slides to the edge of his seat. "Why? Give us one good reason."
Her face scrunches up. She's obviously thinking. I take the chance to add my two cents.
"Leon's room's going unused for three months regardless," I say. "He's going to be on the road until Port Lincoln site's sorted, maybe longer if the next place lands. Your placement's three months. It's just, like, perfectnmaths."
She cocks an eyebrow. "Really? That's your argument? Maths?"
"It's really good maths," Marcus agrees, nodding emphatically. "It's the mathiest maths I've ever heard."
She groans. "Oh my god. It's not math—“
"Also," Marcus barrels on, counting off on his fingers, "you wouldn’t have to worry about scraping together bond and rent.
You'd be ten minutes from uni. You'd get delicious home-cooked breakfasts every morning from Masterchef Marcus.
You'd get free drinks at the best bars in Adelaide, which, statistically, is more free drinks than most people get in a lifetime—"
"That's not an actual statistic," she argues.
"Prove it," he shoots back, and then when she doens’t say anything immediately, says, “see? And you get invigorating intellectual conversation. Discussing world events and whatnot."
I watch her fight it, the corners of her mouth twitching, before she buries it in another mouthful of beer.
Rhys hasn't said a word. In front of him there’s a row of methodically lined up torn pita bread pieces.
I’ve seen him do that before — once when he told us he was moving to Melbourne, another when he said we should all move in together.
Both times, he'd been trying to make sense of his own feelings.
It makes me wonder exactly what he's thinking now.
Something pushes me to say the one thing I know I shouldn't. "Has one of us done something that makes you not want to stay with us? You might as well tell us who it was. The other two will kick his ass."
Her eyes cut to me first. The words are on her lips.
‘You know exactly why this is a bad idea.’ But before I can convey that that's all in the past, she slides her eyes to Marcus.
He doesn't hold her gaze for even a second before he clears his throat, and then her eyes creep over to Rhys, who isn't even looking at her.
Did something happened with one of the other guys too? I shake my head. No. I'd know. Wouldn't I?
I mean, they don’t know about what happened between us…so maybe they’ve been hiding something from me all this time as well.
Alexia looks between the three of us again, and I can see her building a case.
"It's not—" she starts. Stops. Tries again. "Look. It's not going to work. I keep insane hours. Between the job and the thesis, I'm up till three or more most nights, and that's not fair on you gu—"