‘I don’t know about that,’ Rose said. ‘How about we go somewhere we can both get in?’
‘Fair enough,’ Alistair said. ‘It’s a shame, though – that’s the coolest bar in town. They know me in there. I guess it must be crazy busy tonight. Where else did you have in mind? Bar Exclusif? Club Money? The Vault?’
‘How about we start with a drink?’ She pointed down the laneway. ‘I see the Smuggler’s Dog is still open.’
‘A pub,’ Alistair said, horrified.
‘C’mon,’ she said, ‘it’s good to try new things.’
Half an hour later they were both throwing glances at the pub’s exit. Rose wasn’t feeling a spark with Alistair and was thinking of heading home; Alistair clearly wanted to kick on somewhere else. He had taken offence at the pub from the moment they’d stepped inside, dropping minor digs into a conversation that he was increasingly making into a running monologue. He wasn’t happy that he’d had to order a tap beer when they hadn’t known how to make the cocktail he’d wanted; he was the only man there in a suit and clearly looked out of place; his nose wrinkled every time one of the pokies in the next room paid out.
‘Maybe we should get going,’ Alistair said.
‘Yeah, sounds good,’ Rose said. ‘I’ve got an early start in the morning.’
Alistair took out his phone. ‘Cool, cool. I’ll book us an Uber to Semi-Automatic.’
‘Is that a club? I don’t really feel like a big night …’
‘We could go somewhere else? Club Thuggery?’ He saw the look on her face. ‘Or maybe we could stay here? One more drink?’
Rose nodded. ‘I’ll get them this time.’
‘No way, babe – tonight is on me. A gentleman never lets a lady pay for her own drinks.’
Rose was already on her feet. ‘Same again?’ she said.
He hesitated. ‘Sure,’ he said flatly.
Rose was back with the beers in a minute; it had taken Alistair ten just to get the barman’s attention. ‘There you go, mate,’ she said, putting his beer down in front of him. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers,’ he said, taking the smallest possible sip; Rose downed half her beer in one gulp.
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Rose was now very familiar with pretty much everything there was to know about Alistair, and there wasn’t really that much to know. He worked in finance and acted like it was the centre of the universe, even though all he seemed to do was manage a team that ripped off little old ladies. He lived in a brand-new McMansion out in the suburbs, which had briefly interested Rose, but Alistair saw it entirely as a status symbol, proudly reeling off the prices of every feature and fixture. He’d overpaid for it all. His hobbies seemed confined to yachting and polo. Not participating; just watching from the sidelines with people as boring and status-obsessed as he was.
Eventually, Alistair ventured a new line of conversation. ‘Nicola tells me you’re helping out your parents.’
‘That’s right,’ Rose said. ‘Well, I contribute financially. Physically, they’re fine.’
He shook his head and took another fastidious little sip. ‘Bad move, babe – some people need to sink before they can swim.’
‘That’s a pretty ruthless way to think. Family’s worth investing in.’
Alistair considered this. ‘Maybe. Do they have extensive real estate holdings?’
Rose shook her head.
‘I just think you have to be a little ruthless to get what you want in this life. I know what I want.’ He leant over the table in an attempt to grab her wrists. She pulled them away just in time.
‘A hot babe like you shouldn’t be embarrassed about having scars, calluses and … whatnot,’ he said. ‘It’s not your fault you have to work with your hands.’
She looked down at his hands. They were soft and pink, like a baby’s. A creepy, sexist baby.
Alistair was still talking. ‘A woman’s hands should be doing more … delicate work.’
‘Like what?’ she said, then instantly regretted it.
He smirked and winked. ‘Seriously, though, being a tradie, babe … it’s not a good look. You should be hiring tradies, not … being one.’
Astounded, Rose stared at his face. The redness there was clearly just his natural colouring; it couldn’t be shame, because the man in front of her was shameless.
‘I like being a tradie,’ Rose said. ‘I like that I work with my hands.’
‘But babe, don’t you ever want to do something less … dirty? Something less menial?’
‘There’s nothing menial about creating things,’ Rose said. ‘Helping people’s dreams come true.’
Alistair wrinkled his nose. ‘Don’t you want to live your dream?’
Rose drained the last of her beer. ‘What do you know about my dreams? You haven’t asked me a question about myself all night.’
‘Not true, babe. I asked about your family.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Only to insult them.’
He took another sip of his beer. ‘I’m just trying to look out for you. I know I haven’t known you for long, but I know you can do better than being a tradie.’
‘Aw, that’s sweet,’ Rose said, standing up. ‘I haven’t known you for long, either,’ she paused, ‘but I know I can do better than you.’
‘You didn’t!’ Nicola said.
‘I did,’ Rose said, giggling as she kicked off the boots she’d worn on the failed date. On the computer monitor Nicola clapped.
‘I never come up with good one-liners,’ Rose said, carrying the laptop over to her bed. ‘I reckon if I’d looked back he would have been crying.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Nicola said, ‘he seemed like a nice guy at the polo.’
‘That’s his natural environment,’ Rose said. ‘He didn’t even know how to order a beer at the pub. Did I tell you he said that fluoro yellow wasn’t my colour?’
‘Wow,’ Nicola said, ‘you’ve really had a bad run of it. First Marco, now … Polo?’
They both laughed.
‘I promise I’ll find someone better for you next time.’
‘Can we put a hold on “next time”?’ Rose said. ‘I really just want to focus on my new job for a while.’
‘And what new job is that?’ Nicola said. ‘Fantasising about Dave?’
‘Hardly,’ Rose said. ‘I’ve only met him once.’
‘I’d believe that excuse more if you’d only mentioned him once,’ Nicola said.
‘Hey! You’re the one who brought him up,’ Rose said, almost believing it.
‘Fair enough,’ Nicola said. ‘No more Dave talk. But a new man would be good for you. Don’t you ever just wish for some strong arms to hold you?’
‘I’ve got my own strong arms,’ Rose said, hugging herself theatrically.
‘Yes, well, I’m sure your strong