Page 30 of Not My Fantasy

Conversation picked up, but Tess was still flicking me wary glances as if she wasn’t sure what to make of this. She didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to, I’d find an excuse for her if she needed it; I always did. Tess, being the quieter one, didn’t always have the wherewithal to resist the perfumed steamroller of our mother, so often I acted as a decoy, drawing her attention away, so Tess could get on with whatever she wanted to do. I usually had that many skeletons in my closet, there was usually one for a strategic reveal.

“So, how about you, Tess? How’s that boyfriend of yours going?” Mum asked.

“Ken?” I asked with a snort. Ken had been history a long time ago, but we’d kept Mum in the dark, especially about the time Tess found him jerking off while wearing her Sailor Moon cosplay costume.

“Ah, we split up,” Tess said.

“Really? He seemed very nice and his mother. . . . She had impeccable taste. Remember the Chihuly she had in her dining room, Bill?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“He wasn’t ready to settle down, so . . .,” Tess said. This was a total lie. Kenny-boy knew he was onto a g

ood thing, with a hot, geek, cosplaying girlfriend with all the costumes he could possibly get it on with when she wasn’t around. Mum’s mouth thinned down to a straight line, commitment-phobic guys were her trigger.

“Well, if he thought he could do any better than my Therese, he was not worth your time. Would you like me to put some feelers out? This new woman at work has a simply adorable son, a stockbroker no less! She’s always saying he needs to settle down.”

I took a sip of my Coke to smother my snicker. A type-A personality with my mild-mannered sister? “No, it’s OK. I think I’ve met someone through work.” What? I nearly choked on my drink, turning to look at Tess, which Mum caught.

“Oh? Who is this mystery man?”

“Hello, everyone,” We all turned around to see Pa had arrived at the back door with perfect timing. He stepped out onto the deck. “I found this gentleman at the front of the house. Says he was looking for you, Ash.” I sucked in my breath, hoping, praying it wasn’t who I thought it was. I watched my mother’s eyes widen as Gabe followed my grandfather onto the deck.

There he stood, in neat, grey dress pants and a white long-sleeve business shirt, though the sleeves were partially rolled up over his forearms to reveal a couple of his tattoos. He looked neat as a pin except for his hair. He'd pulled it back into a loose ponytail, but it refused to lie neatly. And in his arm, he held a huge bouquet of pink and red roses.

“Gabriel Browning,” Gabe said, holding out a big, scrupulously clean, hand to my mother. "These are for you," he passed her what appeared to be a small bunch of pink roses that was laying on top of the bigger red bunch.

Tess had better wash my car and get me coffee all week, I thought as everyone’s eyes were back on me. Seriously, hadn’t we had enough of ‘Ash in the spotlight’ for today? We hadn’t even started eating yet. Mum recovered quickly. “Lovely to meet you, Gabriel. This is my husband, Bill. It was so sweet to bring flowers! I love roses and these smell divine. I'll just put them in some water."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Gabe said, taking Dad's hand.

"So, you're here for Ash? She didn't mention anyone was coming," Dad said.

"Well, I–" I started.

"I'm sorry when she invited me, I didn't think I could make it," he said smoothly, taking the seat next to me that Tess had vacated. "These are for you, love," he said, passing the massive bunch of roses to me. Instantly, I was surrounded in a cloud of rose perfume. I forced myself to smile gratefully as his arm was laid along the back of my chair, tangling his fingers in my hair. "I had a business meeting, but it wrapped up earlier than I thought, so I headed over."

"Business meeting?" Mum reappeared with two of Dad's imported beers, passing one to Pa and one to Gabe. Dad looked at his own almost empty bottle pointedly, but right now, he was off her radar. Her potential husband sonar had been activated. “What kind of business are you in, Gabriel?”

"I build custom motorcycles." So, that's what he did! If I could just find out where he lived and what his family was like, I might actually start getting to know the guy.

"Like those fellas on Orange County Choppers?" Pa asked. Gabe nodded. "Hell, I'd like to see your work. You gotta bike here?"

"No," Gabe's eyes darted over to Mum, "I took a hire car. Mothers sometimes get nervous at the thought of their daughters and bikes and I didn't want to create a bad impression."

"Any pictures?" Dad asked. Gabe nodded and pulled out his phone, bringing up a slick website full of pictures of gleaming bikes. Dad whistled as he flicked through the photo gallery. "Those are some damn fine-looking machines there. You a spray painter?"

“By trade, yeah, but I taught myself all parts of the business. Right now, the boys and I could build you a fully customised bike in less than a week.”

"And how much would that set a customer back?" Mum asked.

"Starting around $40,000," he said, "for something simple. Easily $60,000 or more for some of the more complex ones."

"$60,000 for a motorcycle? Are there many people with that kind of budget?" Mum said.

"Plenty of cashed-up idiots from the mining boom, Cecile," Dad said.

“Yeah, that, and we do a lot of jobs for models and actors, though older, middle-class guys are often the largest part of our clientele,” Gabe replied.


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