For a fleeting moment, Mia wondered who it could be to warrant that look of exhilaration. Her fingers went to the rose quartz that she wore on a chain around her neck, holding the cold rock, trying to find comfort.
“Tell Steve,” she heard Baz say to Frank. Then he turned to Steve. “Honestly, you won’t believe this one.”
“Why don’t you tell him?”
“You tell it better.”
“All right,” Frank said, and Mia leaned forward to listen. She’d heard them all laughing about something before, but hadn’t caught what it was.
“So we get a call out to the wildlife sanctuary out in Baskerton.”
“Yeah?”
“When we get there it’s bloody mayhem. Ambulances, Japanese tourists running around screaming. It’s nuts. So we find this kid.”
“That poor kid,” Buddy added.
“He’s got his uniform on, probably only fifteen, and he’s just standing there, walking real slow in the grass. We make him give us a statement. He tells us a group of Japanese businessmen had come in from the city, wanted to see some real deal fauna.
“So he’s showing them around. Telling them all about the mating practices of tiger snakes, or some such shit. But all they want to see is the kangaroos, you know?”
Steve nodded, already smiling, waiting for the punch line.
“So he brings these bloody idiots into the field where the roos are. They’ve got a red one there. Huge. Taller than Baz here. So the boss is trying to be the big man, you know. So he gives his camera to this poor kid and keeps going.” Frank put on a terrible Japanese accent. “Hoi take my photo, hoi!
“The kid is telling him not to get too close,” Frank continued. “But he wants his picture, you know?
“So he gets real close to the big red. Puts his fists up, posing, like he’s fighting it. The red’s not bothered, just chewing away, ignoring him. The kid’s telling him to keep his distance, but the guy keeps saying ‘Take my photo, take my photo,’ and all the other guys are laughing along. They’d probably been drinking.
“The guy gets even closer, fists in the air, and the roo, he doesn’t even look at him, just swipes. Just one swipe.”
“And?” said Steve.
“Pulled his eyeball out.”
The guys cracked up laughing.
“That’s what the kid was doing. The red had jumped off when everyone started screaming. He was looking for it in the grass. The eye.”
Frank banged on the table and took a swig of his beer, and all the men started snorting with laughter again.
“So did you find it?” Steve asked.
Mia went back to drying glasses; the image of a bloodied eyeball in the dry grass was enough. She didn’t want any more details to add to the visual.
Father came up to the bar, looking a bit white. He annoyed Mia, although she would never admit it. He was a really friendly man with the kindest eyes she’d ever seen, but he was just too damn nice. It made her feel guilty for everything unchristian she had ever done, or even thought. It was as if he could sense her jealousy and that was why he’d appeared. To remind her that it was a sin.
He put five empty beer glasses on the bar. He always did that, collected the glasses from the other guys so that she and Rose didn’t have to.
“Thanks,” Jean said, coming in from the office and picking the glasses up between her fingers and taking them to the dishwasher.
Mia began pouring him a soda, the spits of fizz hitting her fingers as it reached the top. The guy spent so much time in the tavern, yet he never drank alcohol.
“Are priests not allowed to drink?” she asked.
“Mia!” Jean turned around and looked at her sharply.
“I’ve been dying to ask!”
Father just smiled. “It’s not prohibited, but I prefer not to. Plus, one of the boys usually needs a lift home.”
She smiled at him as he took the soda and returned to his seat. He was so charitable; it was next level. Although part of her thought maybe he just got a bit lonely hanging out in the church by himself. She imagined it would be pretty creepy there alone at night.
Jean stood close to her, her bosom pushing warmly onto Mia’s arm.
“I’ve been dying to ask too,” she said quietly, in that scratchy voice of hers.
Mia suppressed a giggle as Jean went back into the office. She pulled the wet, fogged-up glasses from the washer, shutting the lid with her foot. Bazza caught her eye and smiled at her, warmly. Why had it taken her so long to notice what a great guy he was? Maybe it was because of the way Frank talked about him as if he was an idiot. Rose as well.
Mia used to have a crush on Jonesy. He was a cop too, on highway patrol. He was a tall, thin guy, his clothes always looking too short at the ankles but too wide at the waist. Somehow, he always gave Mia the impression that he was laughing at her. One drunken night, she’d given him a blow job around the back of the tavern. He’d gone out for a smoke and she’d pretended that she wanted one too. When she’d taken a puff she’d started coughing. He’d raised his eyebrow at her, told her she was cute and somehow they were kissing before she even knew it. The taste of tobacco in his mouth made her eyes water.
Desperately, she’d wanted to impress him. To show him that he had underestimated her. That was why she’d given him the blow job, just to see what he’d do. But as soon as his dick was in her mouth she wished she hadn’t started it. She didn’t feel as powerful as she’d thought she would. Afterward, he just zipped up his pants, went back inside and still talked to her in the exact same dismissive way he always had.
Bazza was different. She had never even noticed him until the night of the big fire. She remembered it vividly. The acrid stink of smoke, the windows of the courthouse exploding, one after another. She’d stood there, hands over her mouth, trying not to cry. Out of nowhere, Baz was beside her.
“You okay?” he’d said.
She had just looked at him, and then his big arm was around her. Immediately, everything had felt a little easier, just like when she was with Rose. Every time she thought about him, she could still feel that warm, heavy, protective arm across her shoulders.
Rose came back into the bar, her hand over her mouth.
“What?” Mia asked, but Rose didn’t reply. Instead, a small smile crept out from under Rose’s hand.
“Who was it?”
“Don’t laugh,” Rose said, and her eyes were all lit up in a way Mia hadn’t seen for a while. Not since she’d told her about being short-listed for the cadetship. Something cold gripped Mia’s stomach.
“Just tell me.”
“I sent an article in to the Star.”
“The Star?” Mia asked, both desperately wanting to know what Rose would say and also frantically trying to put off knowing. “Don’t you think they’re a joke?”
She wasn’t ready for Rose to go. Not yet, not quite yet.
“I do, but who cares? I’ve got to start somewhere. I sent them an article this morning. They’re going to publish it!”
“What article?” Mia asked. “You didn’t mention it.”
Rose looked at her, and Mia knew her reaction was all wrong. “Just something stupid about those dolls,” Rose said. “It doesn’t matter though—it’s my first byline.”
“That’s