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“You’re not asking for her full medical history.”
“I’ve hardly had a dozen conversations with her outside work stuff.”
Dan went to object again, but Mitch got in. “Why’s it Ant’s problem?”
“Thank you, Mitch.”
Dan scowled at Mitch then grabbed his board and stowed it in the Kombi. “Explain to me how you’re going to make this someone else’s problem and it’ll be the right thing to do.”
Ant handed his board over. All their boards lived in the Kombi during summer. “I can’t be the only person to have noticed.”
Dan took Fluke’s board, but instead of busying himself stacking it inside the Kombi, he focused his baby blues on Ant. The kind of sharp eyed focus that helped Dan change his life. “What? You think there’s a first-in, first-response thing. You think there’s a pecking order for something like this, or a limit on the amount of concern that can be shown?”
Ant held Dan’s stare. Dan wasn’t the only one who’d had a tough childhood. Ant’s wasn’t near as bad—not one tenth as bad, but he’d had to grow up fast, had to leave school early, get a crap job and study at night. He was still catching up. He was the only one in the Petersen’s team without a blue chip, right university, right degree pedigree. The only one who’d got there sideways from sheer persistence. Oh sure, he looked the part, acted it so well it was who he was now, but scratch the Italian wool surface of his life and you got a scrapper like Dan, which meant he knew exactly what he had to do.
“Ah shit. I have to ask her about it.”
·
Bree was at her desk, head down and busy when Ant arrived in the office at his usual post surf time for the first time in a good while. She didn’t acknowledge him. She’d not done more than nod at him when she was leaving last night either. And yet they’d shared a laugh yesterday and an actual shared understanding moment. At least that’s what he’d thought. Must’ve gotten that wrong.
Lately he’d been skipping the morning surf more often than he was making it to the beach to get a jump on the work day, and even though the air con wasn’t firing, the reception from Bree was usually frosty enough to keep him cool.
Without doing more than giving him a weak smile and a bland good morning, with a side of ‘you’re early’, that was
more, ‘officer he did it’, Bree made it known he was spoiling her peace. So he hoped she was happy this morning because sometime today he’d be invading more than her sense of early morning office ownership. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t seen those bruises on her arms and he had to ask, even if he wasn’t the first. Even if it upped her frost quotient towards him.
And that’s what made this so much harder. Bree already gave off intense dislike. Not that she was overly friendly with anyone on the team, except Christine and that was a girl’s club thing, and the competitive nature of the office ensured they were all rivals before they were friends, but still, if there was anyone she avoided more, it was him. And if her reaction to him coming in early wasn’t enough of a tip-off then there was the never sitting beside him at team meetings, going so far as standing instead of taking the last seat near him, never accepting his group invitations to lunch or Friday night drinks, and rarely if ever making eye contact. No wonder he’d figured her for a snob and a bitch and stopped trying to engage her. As far as he was aware, the only thing he’d done to make her eyes shoot icicles of hatred at him was exist.
Ordinarily he couldn’t care less about something like that, but since his epiphany in the shape of a girl who likes girls, he did care. Because post the fiasco with Toni, he wasn’t sure he hadn’t missed something important about Bree and how she reacted to him, and that made him even less sure how to approach this.
For all of five seconds, he thought about going around the problem and talking to Christine. It was likely she’d know, and if she did, and it turned out Bree was the worlds most clumsy person, then this whole thing was done with. He could stop worrying about it. But if Chris didn’t know, and he raised it with her, and it turned out Bree dressed the way she did, trousers and long sleeves on days when all the other women wore lighter summer clothes, because she was hiding something terrible, then he was making things worse for her by dragging more people into it.
He had to think like Bree was a monster wave, face her, take it to her, paddle like mad and then get the friggin’ hell out of there if things got too hairy before he got pummelled to pieces.
It took him all day to get his approach right. And even then the water was choppy. Bree was in one of the client meeting rooms using the table to compile a report that must’ve got screwed up by the photocopier. He watched her go in. He knew that room only had one glass wall facing a little used corridor and a door that closed. It was perfect for a private conversation. He went in and shut the door behind him and it was only then he realised it was also perfect for making someone feel cornered.
Bree’s, “What do you want?” was so sharp it could snap a leg rope.
“I, ah. Wanted a moment with you.”
“A moment?” Ant could almost believe it was possible to catch frostbite from words alone.
“Yeah, I wanted to ask you something.”
“I’m sure the door could be open while we have the moment.”
“Yeah, but it’d be better if it wasn’t.”
“Open the door, Anthony, you’re making me uncomfortable.”
“Why do you call me Anthony? Not even my Nonna calls me that.”
“Is that what you came in here for? I’m happy to call you Santa Claus if you’ll go.”
He sat and she said, “Don’t,” so he stood, but he towered over her, she was only a little thing, so he sat again and she said, “What’s going on?”
“Why do you hate me so much?” That wasn’t the question he’d planned on asking but since he was already in the water, he might as well get wet.
