Part 10
Our last week in Sydney was spent as a couple, not once parting from each-other's company. The house i'd lived in before was sold to a friend of mine, and the money from the sale in addition to leftover Allstars earnings ensured that we'd be able to find a more-than-decent home upon our arrival in London. Paul gave up his gig at The Frolic and threw himself into his art, beginning new works and continuing old, planning to sell a selection of them in London. I almost objected to him putting them up for sale, because the works that he'd produced after we resumed our relationship were incredible, and in my opinion, should've been kept to frame and display on the walls of our new home. But then I figured that whatever he decided to do with his artwork was entirely his call, and I could only support whatever decisions he made, so I said nothing.
Watching him paint was a beautiful thing in itself. We often found ourselves sitting in his bedroom at irregular hours of the day. He would sit in front of a canvas, his brushes moving briskly along the surface, his eyes glowing with inspiration. I would sit beside or behind him in silent observation, saying very little for fear of disturbing his muses. The only time I would do this was when he was fatigued and clearly needed his rest and renewal. The moment his head hit the pillow he would drift off to a peaceful, content sleep, with my arms enfolding tenderly around him.
On the morning of our departure, I awoke to find his side of the bed bare. As I sat up and stretched, I found him sitting on the windowsill, staring out into the city with a cigarette dangling between his fingers. He acknowledged me with a smile and wiggled his finger to summon me over.
"What are you doing?" I asked, looking out in the direction that he was staring. The city was waking up in the distance, preparing to begin its bustled day. The sun was peeping over the horizon, giving Paul a warm glow. Birds chirped merrily in the trees surrounding our apartment block.
With one leg stretched out on the windowsill and one foot on the ground for balance, he placed his palm on the small of my back and drew deeply on his cigarette. A soft breeze blew into the room, making Paul's shoulder-length brown hair float behind and around his head gently.
"Watching the sun rise over Sydney for the last time," he finally replied, smiling. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"Yeah," I said softly. I looked down at him. "Are you sure you want to leave?"
Tapping his cigarette on the windowsill, letting the ash fall freely to the ground a few stories below us, he turned to me and placed an affectionate hand on my cheek. "I want to go anywhere that you're doing, Rich. I don't ever wants us to be apart again."
I said nothing more after this. I rested my head against his, closing my eyes, and placed my arms around him as the sun rose higher in the sky.
-----
To our pleasant surprise, getting through the Sydney International Airport and boarding the flight to London was quick and easy. When we first arrived at the airport, we were worried that people may recognise us and we would possibly be arousing suspicion. But we got through Check-In and Customs without any bother. The flight itself went by speedily - when we weren't sleeping, eating meals, watching movies or clinging to the armrests during turbulence, we passed the time talking, about anything and everything that sprung to mind. Mostly our plans in London. The fellow passengers around us were probably having their patience put to the test, but to tell you the truth, we really didn't care. It was exhilarating heading to a new place to begin a new life together.
We had to wait a little longer than we expected at Heathrow Airport, but eventually we were released. We hailed a cab and gave the driver directions to the nearest five-star hotel. Walking into our hotel room for the first time was a great rush - after sleeping in El Cheapo hotels during our Allstars days, lying awake at night listening to the tap dripping and watching a bug's 120 000 eyes blinking at you, living in luxury was a wonderful feeling.
After walking around our room, ooh-ing and aah-ing at everything that had been provided for us, our porters placed our bags near the doorway and left us in peace. We were both jetlagged but instead of catching up on some sleep, we locked the door, crawled into bed and made love.
Afterwards, while Paul set about unpacking our luggage, I leant over to the bedside table, picked up the phone and dialed the number of my new employer. I wasn't due to start for three days, but I wanted to make sure that I had the details correct, keen to make a good impression on those whom i'd be working with.
"Hi, this is Richard Fidler," I introduced myself once my call was answered. "I was recently employed by your company and i'm due to start work in three days, and I was wondering if I could confirm a few details."
There was a pause. At this point I didn't think about what it meant.
"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"
I did so. The woman on the other end of the line cleared her throat and said, "Um, i'm sorry, Mr Fidler, but we're not expecting anyone to begin work here any time soon."
My body froze. I tried not to let my panic come through in my voice. "There's got to be a mistake. I was told that i'd be commencing employment with your company a week ago. Could you check or something?"
"Hold on a moment, please."
As she put me on hold and Mozart music began playing, I shook my head and rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Oh, God, this isn't happening."
Paul paused in his unpacking and turned to me. "What isn't happening?"
"This bird at the company i'm working at reckons they're not expecting anyone to start work there anytime soon."
"You're kidding. Could it be a glitch in their files or something?"
"I don't know. She's got me on hold right now while she checks for me."
Paul dropped a small pile of jeans he was holding and joined me on the edge of the bed, trying to help me relax by gently massaging my shoulders. With every second that ticked by, my worry grew and grew.
Finally the woman returned to the phone.
"Mr Fidler, are you still there?"
"Yes, i'm here!" I heaved a sigh of relief. "What did you find?"
"Well, i'm afraid I have some bad news. You were due to start work here in three days, but the manager has decided to hire someone else."
A cold shiver shot down my spine. "But that can't be right, he said he wanted me to join your company right away. He said I was the best he could find."
"I can't tell you why he chose someone else, but he did, and this person he chose has already started work. You'll either have to call the manager or wait until we advertise for a new position in the local newspaper."
"Yes, yes, give me the manager's phone number, please. This is just insane."
Paul pulled out the drawer on the bedside table and rummaged around for a pen and paper, not quite knowing what was going on. A headache was coming on strong and steady. Of all the things that I imagined happening in London, this was not one of them. The manager had guaranteed me a job - he'd already done the paperwork. What on earth could have happened to make him change his mind?
Paul tossed a pen and paper on the table. After jotting down the manager's phone number, I thanked the woman and hung up. Paul sat beside me on the bed again and placed a hand on my shoulder, asking, "Rich, what happened?"
Feeling frustrated and fatigued, I fell back onto Paul's body, nestling my head in the crook of his neck. I told him about the conversation with the woman, feeling more and more disappointed with each word. All the while Paul cradled me comfortingly and patiently, and I could almost hear him thinking what I was thinking: What the fuck was going on? I'd met my employer Jonathan previously, when the Allstars were on tour. Back then i'd already developed a keen interest in CD-ROMs, and had asked a friend who was accompanying us who would be the best person to talk to about gaining employment in the industry. He led me to Jonathan, who gave me invaluable advice and offered to show me around his company headquarters. By the time he'd done that, he told me that if he ever had an opening in his company, he'd give me a call. Two months after the Allstars split, I received a phone call from him, asking if I would accept a position on his staff, a considerably high position at that. I couldn't refuse. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.
When i'd met him, and when we'd spoken on the phone, he seemed to keen to have me join his company, almost as keen as I was. So what could've gone wrong to make him change his mind and hire someone else?
With all these thoughts tumbling through my mind, I fell into a restless sleep in Paul's arms. I didn't know at that stage whether Paul was thinking the same thing, but I had a faint, almost irrational inkling that Tim had some involvement.
Part 11