Updated: ANOTHER Extract from chapter 15. A strong woman/his name was not david.

<Update: I decided to add to this section, to supply more context.> 


A short post today. Remember, one post per page, click older entries for other extracts, random thoughts, etcetera. 

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The rain had finally arrived. He handed over his jacket, concerned that she was cold. Girls’ wearing tiny dresses and stiletto heels prowled George Street. The scene of Sydney’s exclusive nightclubs, anyone who was anyone wanted to get in.

Two skinny men sat at a bus stop. One of the men wore an earring. The other fingered a purple wristband made out of glittering silk. The stripes on their French cut, close-fit shirts were of different colours. The men were blurry eyed and their postures were hunched. The man with an earring fiddled with a mobile phone.

When he realised she was no longer by his side, Sean spotted Rachel standing in front of the men. He stared at her and with her eyes she told him to wait.

She said something to one of the men. He looked up from his phone and his head lolled from her face to the scarf tied around her waist.

“Is that a belt?”

“It’s an alpaca wool belt.”

Sean made to move and she held out an outstretched hand. He stopped dead. She stepped closer to the man and admired his eyes. The man looked back at his phone. She sat on the bench and waved at Sean. Sean sucked in a deep breath and walked over. He sat down, next to Rachel, at the end of the seat .

She reached over and touched the man on the chin. He recoiled from her, staring in disbelief. She did not flinch or break eye contact.

Seemingly on cue, the two men stood up and staggered in the direction of the Ivy Bar. The other man stopped and stood in front of Rachel.

“Those are stupid pants,” he slurred.

“I like your pretty wristband.” Sean pointed at the man’s wrist. The man ignored him.

As Sean and Rachel continued on their walk home, the man with the phone stood on the street corner. He stared at Rachel and tried to comprehend what had just happened. A black, stretch Hummer pulled up to the curb. Impenetrable dark tint covered the windows. A strobe light hung from the ceiling and illuminated the silhouettes of the passengers inside. The man with the silk wristband pressed his face against the window glass. He motioned to the people inside. The side door opened and the men entered the vehicle. From his vantage point, Sean could see that there were four or five young girls inside. The Hummer pulled into traffic and sped away.

“Why are these stupid pants?”

“Forget it, he was drunk.”

“Why did he say that?”

“Beats me.”

“I think he really said that I am stupid.”

The rain beat down. His shirt was becoming wet and his hair started to curl from the aggravation of the water. Her bob, freshly died and all split ends, began to frizz as droplets of rain beaded on the shoulders of the rain jacket.

It was at Martin’s Place when her phone rang. The arcade’s paving bricks were wet and black and gleamed in the glow of the streetlight. Kids lined up outside the City bar, cowering underneath the cover afforded by the skinny gutters on the building roof high above. Bouncers checked IDs as commercial RnB blasted through the front door and above shoulders. She stopped and fossicked around in her handbag. When she found her mobile she scowled at the phone display before answering.

“What do you want?”

He stopped and waited, not knowing how to react. She listened to the voice on the other end of the call. There was no emotion in her face. She finally spoke.

“Where are you?”

One of the newsagency stalls was still open. The till had been cleared for the night and the magazines were stacked in the corner. An Asian man, sheltered by the stall’s awning, smoked a clove cigarette and contemplated the overcast night sky. He was very thin and his face was gaunt and without line or identifying marks. His eyes were ancient. Sean waited awkwardly as she listened and paced in small circles.

“Come to the Cross!” she snarled. “Come here right now… you have five minutes!” She disconnected the call.
He wasn’t too sure how to react. He had expected she was going to leave him again. She stomped up the incline of Martin’s Place. He followed after her, not sure where they were going.

He admired the inside of the Commonwealth bank building. Everything inside was brass and golden banister, marble pillars and dark stained oak counters. She stared at her feet.

“Hey, stop. I want to take your photo.”

She looked at him and posed.

“No, stand outside the window.”

He pointed his camera phone at her. She squatted, her right hand on her left knee, and stared him down. The camera flashed.

“No!” she exclaimed. “I’ll do a serious one. Take another.”

She stripped off the jacket and balled it up next to her discarded handbag on the ground. She stood spread legged with held her hands outstretched. Her eyes were shut. He smirked and snapped away. The rain fell down and pavement smelt both fresh and ripe, the grime of the preceding day slowly being washed away.

They were starting to look like drowned rats. She could not stop talking about her pink jeans.

“When he said they looked stupid was he saying I was stupid? No! I know what he was really saying… he was saying I –”

“Rachel, I need to tell you something.”

“What!”

They stood outside the old sandstone façade of the State Library. He stepped close to her. She anxiously stared into his eyes.

“Of every girl who I have seen tonight,” he rubbed her hip, his finger pulling at the belt loop of her jeans, “I think you are wearing the best looking pants out of all of them.”

He embraced her and she kissed him. Neither of them felt the cold wind blowing.