‘Just piss off!’
Outside the apartment, Luca didn’t bother waiting for the lift, running down the stairs as if he was being chased.
Where the fuck had that come from? Aisling was the last person he would have expected to turn clingy and demanding. Quite apart from the fact that she was a notorious player, she had this ongoing thing with Philip, and they always ended up back together, no matter who else she amused herself with in the meantime. In fact, their friends often said she was using Luca to make Philip jealous – which was fine by him. He was happy to help.
And now she’d suddenly decided to glom onto him. He’d obviously made a mistake, taking her at her word that she wasn’t interested in anything serious. But what the fuck was she thinking? They didn’t even like each other – not really. He was always clear about what he wanted – and didn’t want – right from the start. So why did it inevitably end up with him being told what a shit he was, some girl shouting and throwing stuff at him, or acting hurt and accusing him of having misled her?
They always thought they’d be the one to transform him into their idea of the perfect boyfriend if they could just fuck him enough times. Well, screw that!
The gallery that represented him was giving him his first solo show in September, and even though it was now only the beginning of May, he didn’t feel he had a lot of time. So he spent the rest of the day working furiously on a couple of pieces, swapping between them so that he could get on with one while he left the other to dry. Thefrustrating thing about working in oils was how long it took the paint to dry between layers, so he usually had two or more canvases on the go simultaneously. He quickly became engrossed, completely absorbed in what he was creating, and regretted wasting so much time with Aisling. Still, it wouldn’t be happening again anytime soon – he’d burnt his bridges there. That had been happening a lot lately. If he kept it up, he’d run out of girls to sleep with in Dublin, he thought wryly. He’d have to become celibate or move somewhere else. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to give that a rest for a while anyway. If nothing else, he’d have more time to focus on his painting.
At six, he downed tools, cleaned up and got ready to go out. He had arranged to meet his father at an Indian restaurant close to the private hospital where he worked. It was a favourite haunt of Jonathan’s for their occasional father-son get-togethers because it gave him a rare opportunity to eat Indian food, which his wife didn’t like.
Luca walked the short distance from the bus stop to the restaurant, which was on a quiet, tree-lined road, with a little courtyard in front. He automatically scanned the parking space to the side, checking for Jonathan’s BMW. He was alarmed to recognise his mother’s Mercedes there instead, unmistakable with the stuffed dolphin in the back window ? it had been a permanent fixture for almost as long as he could remember.
Fuck!He stopped in his tracks. Was this some sort of ambush? He really wasn’t in the mood for a showdown with Jacqueline. He’d had enough aggro for one day. He hesitated outside, contemplating turning around and leaving. He could ring Jonathan and make some excuse, say something had come up unexpectedly. But he’d feel like a shit if he did that. He knew Jonathan meant well and just wanted everyone to get along. He might as well get it overwith. Squaring his shoulders, he opened the door and went inside.
He was about to give his name to the maître d’ when Jonathan spotted him, waving at him from a table across the room. Luca was surprised to see that he was alone and seated at a table for two. He still approached the table warily.
‘Hi, Luca.’ Jonathan greeted him with a smile and stood to give him a quick hug.
‘Hi,’ Luca said, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Where’s Jacqueline?’ he asked, as he pulled out the chair and sat opposite.
‘Jacqueline?’ Jonathan frowned. ‘I think she’s at her book club tonight,’ he said vaguely.
‘Oh. I saw her car outside…’
‘Ah, right. Mine’s in the garage, so I’ve been driving hers this week.’
Luca relaxed, relieved that his mother wasn’t going to be joining them.
‘I would have told you if she was coming,’ Jonathan said, a little sadly.
‘I know. Sorry.’ He should have known his father wouldn’t spring something on him like that. It wasn’t his style.
A waiter came to take their drinks order – Cobra for Luca and non-alcoholic beer for Jonathan. They studied their menus in silence.
Luca’s eyes were drawn to Jonathan’s hands where they rested on the table in front of him. They were surgeon’s hands – cared for, immaculately manicured, skilful. They looked safe, assured, capable. Luca suddenly thought he would like to paint them.
‘Have you decided what you’re having?’ Jonathan asked him.
‘Oh!’ Luca snapped out of his reverie. ‘Sorry, I was just looking at your hands.’
Jonathan raised his eyebrows quizzically.
‘I was thinking I’d like to paint them.’
‘These?’ Jonathan held up his hands in front of him as if he’d never noticed them before. ‘Really?’ he said, with a little self-deprecating laugh. But he looked flattered.
Luca smiled back, glad to have pleased him, even in such an insignificant way. It felt good to make someone else happy. He wished he could do it more often, but he didn’t seem to have the knack. ‘Could I?’
‘Of course. I’d be delighted.’
The waiter returned with their drinks and took their food order.
‘Cheers!’ Jonathan said, raising his glass to Luca’s when the waiter had gone. ‘It’s good to see you, Luca. We don’t do this often enough.’
‘Cheers!’ Luca clinked his glass against Jonathan’s. ‘How’s the butchery business?’
