Forty One

I stood in Mike's living room. He was curled into a ball on the couch and I was thinking how I'm never satisfied. Mike and Lisa had broken up, she'd moved out, I had her address and she clearly still wanted me. The path was clear. What more could I want?

In a word, insurance. Nothing works out that cleanly. Not for me. Not ever.

I'm thinking all this as Mike wails all over the fake suede couch that Lisa had bought only three weeks earlier.

'You don't want to get that wet. It might mark.'

Mike didn't seem to hear me. I walked over to him and patted him on the shoulder. 'Dude. It'll be ok.'

I haven't called anyone dude for years, but the sight of Mike hugging his knees threw me back to a scene from an earlier era, when Mike had been beaten up by the library monitor. I tell you, no one messed with Agatha's dreds after that. I didn't feel bad for spit balling her, but I did feel remorse for pointing Mike out as the culprit. But it was too late to own up when she unleashed her kick boxing skills. I felt the same as I stooped over him now, offering awkwards pats of reassurance: remorseful, but knowing the damage had already been done.

'You'll move on, put all this behind you...' Even I doubted it as I spun my unoriginal platitudes. No way would Mike score a major hottie twice in his life.

'I don't want to move on,' he mumbled through his arms. He sniffed and wiped his face on his t-shirt sleeve. 'I want to get her back. I have to Des. And you're going to help me. Aren't you?'

I stopped my patting and took a step back. Apparently half an hour was enough time to review his better-off-without-the-slut theory.

'You just feel that way now,' I said. It'd be tough at first, but he'd have to accept it. Things must have been bad for a long time for him to get so bent out of shape that he'd hit her - not that there was any excuse. 'It'll be different in time,' I offered.

'Screw time. She's in trouble. Way out of her league. She thinks I'm stupid, that I don't see things. I've looked the other way too many times... I was so desperate to hold onto her, I pretended that it'd get better, if I just tried harder. She'd change...'

'Yeah,' I murmured. Sure I hated to see him so screwed up, but he was painting himself as something I knew he wasn't.

I tossed a blanket out of the way and brushed aside some stale chips that had spilt from an open bag to make room to sit down.

'Des, I 'm serious.' Mike grabbed my arm like I was his only salvation.

I resisted the urge to pull away. Mike's incongruent duality of self pity and concern for someone he had harmed started to annoy me. 'Maybe she's doing what's best for her,' I said.

'She thinks she is,' replied Mike vehemently.

'Maybe she's right.'

'Shit. When did you start giving Lisa any credit?'

'When she started earning it.'

Our eyes locked for a long moment. I'm not sure what Mike saw, but it was enough to furrow his brow in thought.

I got up and paced the room. I could feel Mike's gaze following me.

'You've seen her cheek,' he said quietly.

I stopped my pacing and stared out the window at the suburban blandness. I nodded, not wanting to look back. My heart hammered in my chest. I anticipated some sort of purile justification was coming.

'That's nothing compared to what could happen.'

'What? You're threatening her?' I turned back to Mike.

He was standing now, his fists pumped. 'What if I was?'

I was too stupefied to answer. How could he flaunt his abuse so blatantly?

Mike's eyes slid from my face to my hands. It was belatedly that I realised they were as balled as his.

'You think I did that to her, don't you?'

I opened my mouth to reply and suddenly realised that I had never really questioned Lisa's story. I guess I hadn't wanted to. It fitted in neatly with my conquest objectives. If Mike was a bastard he didn't deserve her.

Mike nodded, seeming to see the cogs of my mind whirring. 'You've got it all wrong. I thought you knew me better than that. I thought I knew you better. What have you been up to Des?'

Forty Two