Chance nods in agreement, a sinister smile playing on his lips. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that. We need to initiate you. Let’s see… perhaps we should order you the kangaroo.”
Gabriella’s lips curl, her nose wrinkling as she shakes her head. “Kangaroo? You mean people eat kangaroo?”
“C’mon, Chance...” Aubrey exhales. “No one eats kangaroo. They’re cute and carry their baby joeys in their pouch.”
“Australians certainly do. It’s a culinary experience,” Chance informs her.
I bow my head, hiding the smirk plastered on my face.
“How about a shoey,” Chance exclaims, goading a reaction from Gabriella.
“A shoey?”
“You pour a can of beer into a shoe and drink from it.”
Chance is on a roll, the twinkle in his eye gesturing he’s enjoying riling the girls up.
“Right.” Aubrey places her drink down. “Now you’re just making things up.”
I quickly interject, “Preferably someone else’s shoe.”
Gabriella flinches beside me while shaking her head and muttering something beneath her breath which I’m unable to decipher.
“Okay, so you’re not quite the daredevil,” I state, matter-of-factly. “How about we just buy you a pair of stubbies and thongs?”
Chance bursts out into a fit of laughter while Aubrey sits beside him with a confused expression.
Gabriella immediately reaches out for her glass, downing the wine in one go. “I don’t know what a stubby is, but I... um… I have thongs.”
“Au contraire, Gabs,” I sneer, cocking my head to the side. “While I have no doubt you wear American thongs, Australian thongs are on your feet.”
“And stubbies are short shorts,” Chance adds.
“Okay, the two of you can stop now,” Aubrey warns, letting out a huff of annoyance. “Australian thongs are flip-flops. Why they call them thongs is beyond me.”
“Oh… flip-flops,” Gabriella roars. “Well, then, sign me up. I don’t know about the stubbies, but I’ll give it a try.”
In this fleeting moment, Gabriella looks happy. Her shoulders relax as she eagerly eats her grilled chicken. It could be influenced by the wine, but nevertheless, she’s just as beautiful as I remember her. Maybe even more so.
Aubrey switches topics and tells us about all the things they did during their trip here and her desire to return. Chance admits they have spent some time house hunting, nothing too big, but something they can stay in with the purpose of jetting back and forth when time permits.
“What about Pixy?” I ask with a chuckle.
“He’ll have to stay with Adele,” Aubrey says while Chance shakes his head with an annoyed expression. “Like a goat vacay.”
“The damn bugger is blind, princess. He ain’t got no clue where he’s at.”
Leaning my elbow on the edge of the table, I rest my mouth on my curled fist in an attempt to hide my laugh from Chance’s remark.
“Fine… listen, it’s late, and we need to pack for tomorrow.” Aubrey gathers CJ’s belongings as Chance offers to pay the bill which I downright refuse. We argue some more until the pretty waitress finally accepts the credit card out of my hand.
“Thanks for dinner, Olly,” Aubrey and Chance say in unison. “So, I guess we’ll leave you two?”
Gabriella shuffles awkwardly.
“Thank you for dinner, Oliver. I have somewhere I need to be, so I guess I’ll see you another time.”
That’s it?
After everything we’ve been through, I guess I’ll see you another time?
And where the fuck is she going?
It’s nine o’clock. Shouldn’t she be packing like Aubrey and Chance?
My pent-up anger distracts me from her leaving the table without a hug or even a kiss on the cheek.
Chance instantly notices my not-so-relaxed expression. “Let it go, mate.”
I can’t fucking let this go.
We say our goodbyes and promise to catch up when they’re back in Australia later in the year.
It only takes me fifteen minutes to walk to my apartment. Inside the confinement of my own space, I pace the polished tiled floors in short spirts, clenching my jaw with crazy thoughts derailing my rational thinking ability.
I stand on the balcony, staring out over Sydney Harbour for almost an hour. Somewhere in this city she is roaming around. Her plans may have involved her father, but if they did, why didn’t she just say that? Why did she have to go and put thoughts in my head?
Perhaps I am overreacting.
Deep fucking breaths, Olly.
My phone vibrates inside my pocket, I pull it out, and an unknown number texted me.
Unknown: You know what? I don’t need you Oliver. I have Byron. He is way less stuck up than your arrogant ass.
Gabriella. The anger ripped through me like a wild storm on the brink of a cyclone. My knuckles turn white from clenching my fists way too hard, combined with the grinding of my teeth unstoppable as I try to suppress the rage to no avail. I need to find her and now.
Me: Where are you?
Gabriella: What do you care? Me coming out here was a waste of time.
I call the number. No answer.
I call Chance who doesn’t pick up.
Fucking hell! I’ve mentally snapped, desperation fueling my unwanted jealousy.
Then I call Aubrey.
“Olly? What’s wrong?”
“Where is she?”
“Who?”
“Gabriella,” I grit.
“Oh… um… some bar, I think. Tang… Tink…”
“Tank?”
“Yeah!”
I hang up without a goodbye. Still dressed in the clothes I wore to dinner, I grab my wallet and run straight to the bar. Tank Stream Bar’s only a short walk from my apartment. It’s hidden in an alley away from the main streets through the cobblestones. It’s also known as a meat market.
The Aussie men will eat her up in there.
This Byron has it coming to him.
Thankfully, an old mate, Manuel, is working the door. He knows me from my clubbing days, letting me in even though I cut the small talk to a bare minimum.
Inside, it’s crowded but typical of a Saturday night. The crowd is of mixed age with couples together, some in groups, a bunch of girls giggling at the bar with their extremely short dresses and over-the-top heels. The single guys are easy to spot, they hover near the hot women.
Music plays loudly, drowning out the
