Chapter Nine
DAN
‘So, first of all, I want to ask, how are you finding everything so far?’ Christian asks me as we walk into Achilles, a whisky bar in Fish Lane that’s so dimly lit I kind of have to squint to see our candlelit table.
The whole place is giving seance ceremony, including the bartender who looks like he could be the ringleader of said ceremony.
I fumble my words when I respond, ‘Like the job, or Brisbane?’
Christian lets out a half-condescending laugh. ‘The job, mate.’ He then lifts his hands, palm-up.
‘Right. Yeah, I’m finding it good. It’s not too much of a transition from my last job.’
‘That’s what we want,’ Christian says. ‘Training from scratch would’ve been a waste of our time, frankly. Good thing in the media world, we all use similar systems. And then we compete against each other using those systems.’
Our cocktails arrive and I can already smell the smoky aroma wafting from my rocks glass. Christian lifts up his old-fashioned and says, ‘To your future at Untold.’
‘Cheers,’ I say, a grin forming on my face as we take our first sips. Smoked cinnamon from the whisky dances on my tongue.
‘Your first week’s been impressive,’ Christian notes. ‘Your page views are at the top amongst the team, as is the engagement on your posts. I’m glad I made a good decision hiring you. It can be a hit or miss hiring someone new, even from their first week. So I’m glad we’ve got no dramas there.’
When it comes to compliments, I tend to shut down, as if my body rejects them like a morsel of spoiled food. Although instead of food coming back up, it’s excavated in the form of a stutter, but even worse than my regular stutter.
‘Thanks, I, uh, m-might be a lucky streak or something,’ I say, downplaying like my future depends on it.
‘Lucky streak or not, as long as you keep it up, I’m happy,’ Christian says. ‘Untold Media is growing at a healthy but rapid rate, and we need another leader who’s got their finger on the pulse. Who can eventually pick both the high-hanging fruit and its lower counterparts with ease.’
One thing I haven’t missed about working in media: the corporate jargon.
Comparing tasks to fruit, breaking down silos, moving forward, and circling back, again and again and again.
All the way to a fake smile and a, ‘Sounds good,’ which is convincing on my behalf, because Christian simply lifts his glass and says, ‘Good man,’ before his phone starts vibrating on the table.
‘Ooooh, sorry, mate, I’ve gotta take this,’ he says, as though this same occurrence has happened five times today already .
Before I can tell him no worries, he’s already jumped out of the booth, phone to his ear, heading out to the balcony area of the bar, leaving me to sit and look around.
I admire the strategically placed candles and industrial brickwork before peering at my phone.
To the message from bartender Harry: I had fun with you last night ;) again tonight?
Scenes from last night come stampeding into my brain like a herd of unwelcome cane toads.
And while Harry is much more attractive than a cane toad, something about last night didn’t seem like the right fit.
Harry, from what I gathered in the two hours we spent in his share house, is more sexual than me.
It was hard to keep up with all the position changes and rolling around.
You can tell he likes rough play, which is the opposite of me.
Sex – well, sexual intercourse – is something I have to warm up to.
Right person, right time kind of thing. Even then, it isn’t something I gravitate toward at first, especially when there’s kissing, oral, and hand jobs involved.
Sure, I do like intercourse from time to time, but it isn’t something I need to be satisfied.
Though, from experience, it’s come with its own set of barriers.
In most of my relationships, actually, except for my last. I was just dealt the ‘I’m not in love with you anymore’ card with that one.
But maybe this part of my life isn’t about a relationship.
Maybe I’m meant to spend more time setting up a stable foundation in Brisbane.
It feels to me that I might’ve found a space in the friend group with Ruby, Chloe, and Jake.
Seeing them at the Botanic Gardens today when we were on a media shoot made me feel wanted there.
I just had to stop them from mentioning anything about Kallen since he and the work crew were sitting so close to us.
And I was right: sleeping with Harry did result in a reduction of the jealousy that’s been poking at my tender spots since hearing about Kallen’s upcoming date.
Christian continues to chat about a business partnership over the phone while I ponder whether I should go over to Harry’s place again tonight.
The Instagram algorithm then feeds me a suggested post that makes up my mind.
It’s a video of a man grieving his cat’s passing, the cat who’s been his best friend for sixteen years.
Seeing their photos together over time brings tears to my eyes, and now all I want to do is get cosy at home with Salem and read a book on the couch.
So I type to Harry, Hey I had fun too. Sorry, I’m busy tonight. Another time maybe ??. I then wait for Christian to get off the phone, already knowing that once he does, I’m going to head straight home.