Bailey tapped his foot against the floorboards, his boot beating a tattoo he only became aware of when Tom gently touched his arm. “Hey. Are you okay?” Tom asked, his voice full of concern.
Bailey immediately stopped the movement and turned to him, forcing a smile and brightness into his words. “Sure. I’m fine. I’m really looking forward to the night.”
“Good.” Tom didn’t look too convinced, but thankfully didn’t push. “I’ve been looking forward to you meeting the guys too. Want to give me a hand moving the tables?”
“Absolutely.” It would be good to have something to do instead of worrying about how the night would actually go.
Bailey followed Tom across the coffee shop, helping him pull some chairs away from a couple of the square tables so they could move and join them together. In unison they each grabbed a side of one of the tables and placed it against the other.
“They’ll be here any moment, so I’m going to grab the food. Are you right to finish here?”
Bailey nodded. “No problem.”
He moved the chairs, placing them around the expanded table, thinking about the upcoming evening. Now he knew how Tom must have felt when he met Ryan and Bailey’s other workmates. He was a mess of jitters.
What if they don’t like me? What if I don’t like them?
He studied the table before shuffling one of the chairs along so it was perfectly lined up with the one opposite, then circled the table and did the same to a chair on the other side, moving it along an inch.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect, you know,” Tom called.
Bailey turned at Tom’s chuckle and grinned. “Must be my OCD kicking in.”
Tom placed a slow cooker on the counter before looking up at Bailey. “Are you nervous? You know there’s no need to be. They’re pretty normal guys and they’re going to love you.”
“I hope so.” And God, he really did. The scent of spices filled the air. “If not, at least they’ll love your cooking. What is that? I didn’t notice it before.”
“Chilli. It’s been simmering for hours and I just brought it downstairs.”
“Well, it smells amazing.”
Tom stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Bailey, nuzzling his neck. “You smell amazing.”
Bailey shivered at Tom’s breath against his throat as he relaxed into his hold, absorbing his warmth and strength. For a moment, he closed his eyes and focused on Tom’s hold, wishing they could stay that way forever. It had been so long since he had someone to hold, to lean on.
Bailey often felt it was him against the world. Just like the kids who’d been tossed out on the street to fend for themselves, thrown away like garbage. No! He wasn’t like those kids. He had been thrown out, but he had a mother who loved him and a little sister, whom he admittedly didn’t see very often, but he knew loved him totally. And now he had Tom. He wasn’t alone. He pressed himself closer, wanting more.
The jingle of the bell above the front door signalled the end of the quiet, alone time Bailey was relishing. After one last squeeze he reluctantly stepped back, missing Tom’s touch the moment they parted. Or maybe it was the sudden draught of frigid air that blew in with the newcomers that made him feel cold.
“Tommy!”
“Hey, mate.”
“Hope you’ve got the beers ready.”
“Hey guys, great to see you.”
The men all spoke over each other as the four of them greeted each other with broad smiles, hugs, and firm claps to the back.
Bailey stood to the side and watched the group, partly nervous that the moment had finally arrived, but with a touch of jealousy too. They were good friends, as evidenced by the relaxed touches and bright smiles. Finally the enthusiastic greetings died down and they broke apart.
And as a unit, they turned his way.
“Well, who do we have here?” asked the blond guy, giving Bailey a not-so-subtle once-over, reminding him of the way Cassie had studied Tom when she’d first seen him. From the way he played up the question, Bailey had no doubt the guy knew who he was or had at least heard of him.
“Guys, this is Bailey. Bailey, I’d like you to meet my closest friends. This is Elliot, John, and Phil.” Tom nudged the blond guy in the ribs. “And don’t you scare him off, Elliot,” Tom warned, the humour obvious in his tone.
“Me?” Elliot’s eyes widened and Bailey couldn’t help but smile at his butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth expression.
“Nice to meet you.” Bailey shook Elliot’s hand before turning and doing the same with John and Phil.
All three men were open and friendly, immediately making Bailey feel welcome. He relaxed slightly but couldn’t wipe away that niggle of being an outsider.
“How about something to drink?” Tom offered.
Phil nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Talking of sounding good, what’s that I smell?” John sniffed the air and followed his nose to the counter, lifting the lid on the slow cooker and inhaling. “Damn, Tommy, you’ve outdone yourself.”
They all started talking and laughing, passing around bottles of beer. Elliot opened a bottle of wine. They carried plates and cutlery, the huge dish of chilli, and various accompaniments to the table in a well-coordinated parade, like they’d done this thing multiple times before, each knowing what had to be done and where everything was.
They no doubt have.
Bailey pushed away the thought. Of course they had a history, just like the history he had with Ryan, only these guys had known each other longer. He had no idea why his insecurities were rearing their heads. No, that was a lie. He knew. Tom had become important to him and Bailey wanted to be part of his life.
He pulled out a chair and found himself seated next to John, who was ladling huge helpings of chilli into bowls and passing them around the table. Tom gave him a wink from where he was seated opposite before joining in a conversation with Phil and Elliot.
“Here you go.”
Bailey automatically reached for the bowl John passed over. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
John grinned and lifted a spoonful of the chilli to his mouth. Bailey bit the corner off a piece of bread, chewing the crust as he listened to the discussion.
“The project is going well,” Elliot said in response to a question from Tom. “Too well.”
Tom frowned. “What do you mean too well? How’s that even a thing?”
“It means it’s going so well in terms of budget and time that they’ve offered me a different gig. The next project is a twenty-storey apartment complex with a retail precinct underneath, the biggest I’ve worked on yet.”
“And this is a bad thing how?”
“Okay, I’ll admit the money’s good and it’s good to be recognised with a promotion. But it’s pretty high profile and it’ll be a lot of hard work. So much to go wrong.”
Tom laughed. “You live for that kind of stuff. And you’re bloody good at it.”
Elliot shrugged. “I am, aren’t I?” He blew on his knuckles and buffed them on his chest.
“Here’s to Elliot’s promotion. I’m so proud of you, mate.” Tom raised his bottle of beer.
The others lifted their drinks in a toast, offering words of congratulations. From what Bailey could gather, Elliot was a stellar project manager, a rising star in the construction field, in charge of multimillion-dollar projects.
Jesus. Bailey couldn’t even imagine having that kind of job—all that responsibility—and Elliot seemed to revel in it. And Tom was obviously impressed with Elliot’s capability too, judging from the compliments.
They continued to eat and drink. The conversation bounced around like wildfire; banter and jokes and regaling of tales of the shared past as evidenced by a story John told of when all the guys had been boys at a private school and away to school camp.
“John is one of my oldest friends. We go way back. But don’t listen to a word he says,” Tom said when the story turned to Schoolies week.
“Hey, fuck you! Not so much of the old.” Bailey could tell he was going to like John. He was a little like a jolly giant—smiling as he ribbed Tom, his tone taking the heat from the cursing. “All right, I’ll hold my tongue this time, but everything is fair game.”
“I’d love to hear how you boys celebrated the end of high school,” Bailey said, knowing full well that Schoolies would have involved lots of drinking and shenanigans—boys being boys and letting their hair down after the rigours of the Higher School Certificate exams. He looked across the table at Tom. “But maybe another time when Tom isn’t shooting daggers at us.”
John chuckled. “Good thinking.”
“What do you do, John?” Bailey asked.
“I’m a lawyer,” John said.
“Wow, that sounds exciting.”
John snorted. “Not really. I specialise in corporate law. It’s pretty dry stuff. And what about you, Bailey?”
Bailey hated this type of question but it was bound to come up. He felt like an idiot admitting to these university graduates with proper careers that he worked in a call centre. “I work at Wonder Energy—”
“I’ve seen their ads on telly. They’re really trying to give the big boys a run for their money now the industry is deregulated. It’ll be interesting to see the long-term impact on energy prices, particularly with growing energy shortages affecting manufacturing and big business, and the focus on reducing emissions.”
John really seems to know his stuff.
“Yeah. I work in customer service.”
John nodded. “That’s cool.”
John didn’t look too disappointed that Bailey hadn’t responded with corporate speak about the industry, and Bailey let out a sign of relief. Bailey hardly knew anything about the topics John had raised and he worked at the company, for God’s sake.
“So you reckon I should change my electricity provider?” John asked.
Relief was short lived. Bailey hated these conversations. “I… um….”
“For God’s sake, John, leave the poor guy alone,” Tom interrupted. “He’s not at work now.”
John laughed. “Sorry. It’s not often I have a captive audience instead of having to wait half a lifetime on one of those frigging phone queues.”
“And when they finally answer you’re talking to someone in another country who doesn’t even know where Glebe is,” Phil interjected.
“Don’t get me started.” John nodded, then he and Phil launched into a conversation about the horrors of call centres and trying to get their issues resolved.
Bailey sank into his chair, frowning as the conversation went on around him. He’d heard the same discussion multiple times—as soon as anyone mentioned the words “call centre,” everyone in ear’s reach offered up an opinion or shared their worst ever customer service experience. Bailey tried not be irritated but his tension must have shown. Tom looked his way and mouthed sorry. Bailey gave Tom what he hoped was a reassuring smile in return. It wasn’t as if it was a situation he wasn’t used to. He focused on finishing his meal until the story swapping died down.
“Has everyone had enough to eat?” Bailey asked as he stood to clear the table.
After a chorus of agreement he began moving around the table and put a hand on Tom’s shoulder to keep him in his seat.
“You sit and catch up with your friends. I’ll do the washing up. It’s the least I can do after a meal like that.” He picked up Tom’s plate and added it to his own.
“I don’t mind—” Tom started to protest.
“I know you don’t, but I want to do it. It won’t take long.” Bailey collected the rest of the plates and carried the stack behind the cafe counter to the food prep area. He started to scrape and rinse the plates and cutlery in the large stainless steel sink. Tom’s laughter as he chatted to his mates carried across the room and over the sound of the running water. But instead of lightness filling his chest, Bailey was weighed down by thoughts of inadequacy, a feeling that he didn’t fit in with this particular group of people no matter how nice they seemed—
“Let me give you a hand.”
The clatter was loud as Bailey dropped a handful of cutlery at the unexpected voice.
“Sorry.” Phil reached for the knives and forks in the bottom of the sink. “Thought I’d help.”
“Thanks.”
Phil put the cutlery in the dishwasher as he chatted easily, keeping the conversation flowing as he told Bailey about his last holiday. Phil had spent a week skiing at the family’s lodge in Perisher. Of course, he had. Bailey mentally shook his head at his own sarcastic thought. It was hard to hold any animosity despite his own feelings of inadequacy. Phil couldn’t help who his family was any more than Bailey had control over his own. And from what Tom had said, his mates were all decent guys. Still….
“Thank, mate.” He nodded at Phil as he dried his hands.
“No worries.”
They headed back to the table. Bailey stopped by Tom’s chair. “I might leave you guys to it,” Bailey said, addressing the group but really talking to Tom.
Tom looked up. “Really? We’re going to play a couple of hands.”
“Yeah, you should join in. We could use some fresh blood,” Elliot said, his voice full of humour.
“Thanks anyway, but I’ve got an early shift tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Tom pushed back his chair.
Together they walked to the front door. “You sure you don’t want to stay,” Tom whispered. “I could tell them to go. We don’t need to play poker.”
“No, you go ahead. You’re having fun. I really liked meeting the guys though.”
“I’m glad you came. I’ll see you this week though, right?”
Bailey nodded. “Of course. I’ll be here tomorrow night. It’s book night.”
“I’ll see you after the library then.”
“Yeah.”
Tom’s hand on his cheek was warm as he leaned in for a kiss. “Have a good shift tomorrow.”
“You too.” He reluctantly pulled away, the loss of Tom’s touch tempting him for a moment. I could stay, I have a change of clothes in the van.
A burst of laughter carried across the room drawing his attention to the three men sitting around the table.
“Hurry up, lovebirds,” Elliot called. “A fast game’s a good game.”
He looked back to Tom. “I’d better go.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Bailey offered a small smile as he took his coat from the coat rack, shrugging it on and slipping out the door. The cold was immediate, the frigid wind whipping his face. He turned towards the side alley where the van was parked, and only allowed himself one quick glance as he passed the large cafe window. The room glowed warm with light. Tom stood in the centre of the room, his friends at the table behind him, but Tom’s eyes were fixed on Bailey through the glass. Bailey’s heart gave a little jump but he focused back on the path, pulled up his collar and braced for the cold—a cold that followed him all the way home and didn’t leave even when he slipped between the sheets of his bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.