Page 49 of Chasing Blue
“He lives in Brighton, so that’s not likely,” I reply. More hopeful than confident that I’m speaking the truth.
“Who wants a drink,” Anthony asks from the other side of the bar.
“Me,” I call out, determined to get my buzz back and not let Matt Newcombe ruin it.
* * *
“So,when I stepped into the lift, this hot dude in a suit was wearing a huge smile, thinking it was for me, I smiled back, then turned and faced the door. About twenty seconds later, he said, ‘I love that dress, you look gorgeous in it’. With a big grin on my face, I turned around and said, ‘awww, thanks mate. You look pretty sharp yourself.’ That’s when he held up his phone, pointed to the earbuds in his ear, and said, ‘Bluetooth, I’m Face Timing my daughter.’ I about died, pressed every button, and just got out at the next floor it stopped at . . . which wasn’t mine.”
The party had officially ended an hour ago, but Span and Anthony had invited me, Jack, Shannon, and Zoe to stay back for late drinks with the staff. Zoe was now entertaining everyone with one of her funny stories, most of which I’d heard before.
Shannon and Jack were bent at the waist laughing while Span and Anthony were wiping tears from their eyes.
“I think it’s your accent that makes your stories funnier,” Shann tells her when he can finally breathe.
“I don’t have an accent, you’re the one who talks funny. Unless you’re indigenous, this is how all Aussies sounded after the first fleet landed,” Zoe responds. And she’s right, Shannon does have a strange accent.
“Where’s your accent from?” I ask, noting to myself how hard it was to string that sentence together.
“I lived in the States for ten years, so I picked up a bit of a twang there. Plus, my coach was English, and I spent a lot of time with him, so yeah, it is a bit of a mixed-up, hybrid kinda accent I suppose.”
Shannon was once a famous MMA fighter. I don’t know much about the sport, so I’m not sure to what level his success reached, but he was enough of a celebrity that when he went back to his old career as a panel beater or mechanic—something to do with cars anyway—one of the subscription channels had wanted to make a reality show about his shop and the staff. Hence the attention he’d been receiving tonight.
“Your wife’s American too, right?” Zoe questions and I feel Jack shift beside me. There was some kind of controversy surrounding Shannon and his wife, but I’m way too buzzed to recall what it was. I just remember seeing the headlines that he’d retired from fighting, got divorced, and moved back to Australia. I watch as Shannon’s jaw tenses before he gives a slight chin lift and answers.
“My ex-wife, yeah, she’s American.”
My drunk brain studies him for a moment. Being around eight or maybe even ten years older than me, I don’t really remember Shannon from school.
He’s tall like Jack, but much bigger built. I’ve noticed that he constantly watches the room taking in everything going on around him. His voice is low, almost calming, despite having a gravelly cadence to it.
When he looks at you, it’s always with a slight smile, and those brown eyes of his add a gentleness to him, but the man’s a trained fighter, so I’m pretty sure all of that is a front that’s hiding a whole other side to his persona.
He has an edge to him that I just can’t put my finger on. It’s like, we all know he’s dangerous and just waiting for something to trigger the fighter inside to make an appearance.
This, right along with his silver hair and beard, make the man as sexy as fuck.
“Tune!” Zoe shouts, interrupting my train of thought. Shoving an empty bottle into one of my hands, she grabs the other and pulls me out to the now empty space we’d been dancing in earlier.
We then proceed to deliver a loud and possibly out-of-tune rendition of ‘Sweet Caroline’ as we sing into our empty beer bottles. ‘Sweet Caroline’ ends, but not our amazing floor show. We accompany, and possibly drown out Kelly as we belt out ‘Since U Been Gone’ and just as we start with our version of ‘Torn’ someone turns the music off. Not to be defeated or wanting to leave our crowd disappointed, we continue to sing right up until the moment Jack appears. Distracting me with his swagger and sexy smile, he pulls me flush against him before pulling my bottle/mic out of my hand.
“It’s almost three, Blue. These poor blokes need to get to bed, and they need to do it without their ears bleeding.”
“But I was singing to you all.”
“Babe, that wasn’t singing, that was fucking torture.”
“You’re not nice,” I fold my arms across my chest and pout.
“I know, and I’m sorry, but it’s for the greater good. You’re wailing has set off both home and car alarms, and social media is reporting it sounds like someone is slaying cats on Main Street tonight. The police are investigating and likely to arrive soon, and I don’t want you getting arrested.”
“I was only singing. Why would they arrest me?”
“That wasn’t singing, Blue. That was a criminal offence.”
I push against his chest, but he wraps his arms around me and pulls me in closer again. Kissing the side of my head and my ear, he asks, “You had a good night?”
Too tired and drunk to focus, I aim my eyes in his general direction and smile because I have had a good night. Nights spent drinking, dancing, and singing with good friends, are amongst my favourites. Despite the wobbles of seeing Jack with Julia earlier, and the video of my drama with Matt going viral, it’s been exactly the kind of night I needed.
