Before
“Drinks tonight, guys?” Gavin said.
“For sure,” said Lisa.
Iris looked over. “Sure. Just a quick one.” She smiled in a way that meant it would not be a quick one.
“What about you, Jack?”
Jack stopped typing. “Why are you even asking me that, mate? You know the answer’s always yes.”
Denis looked up. “And my invite?”
“You don’t need one. You’d come along anyway, even if we didn’t invite you. You’re like one of those lost dogs that just follows people home.”
There was a small pause.
“Gavin,” said Denis. “That hurts, you bitch.”
Gavin smiled. “Yeah. Sorry. That was a bit mean, even for our banter.”
“It was.”
“You’re invited. Obviously you’re invited.”
“Obviously I am.” Denis went back to his screen. “I’ve been dressed for it since eight o’clock.”
“So, guys,” said Lisa, “I read on a social about this little place around the corner. It used to be a convent full of nuns, then it became a brothel...”
Denis smirked. “I hope nun of those nuns stayed on under the new management.”
“Denis, you’re one sick puppy,” said Lisa. “Have some respect for the sisters.”
“Amen,” said Gavin.
"Anyway,” said Lisa, “now it’s been converted into this cool little bar.”
“No way,” said Iris. “That is totally too made up to be real.”
“Sounds like a cool story to me,” said Jack. “It is South Yarra, after all.”
Everyone just laughed.
“Guess we’ll find out tonight,” said Jack.
“What’s the place called?” someone asked.
“Gingers. It’s just off Little Chapel,” said Lisa.
“OMG, I know that place,” said Iris. “It’s always busy on a Thursday and Friday night. I’ve been totally watching them renovate it on the way to work.”
“Thank God it’s only Tuesday, then,” said Gavin.
The girls just looked at him.
“You work too hard, bro,” said Lisa. “It’s Thursday arvo.”
“Holy fuck,” said Gavin.
“Time flies when you’re flat out every day and night,” Denis said.
“It does,” said Gavin, with a naughty grin.
Lisa looked up. “Who was last night’s victim, Gavin?”
“Victim. They’re only victims if they don’t know what they’re getting themselves into. And let me tell you, the way I make them feel before we get home, they know exactly how things are going to end up.”
“You’re such a man-whore,” said Denis. “Why don’t you just find yourself one guy and settle down?”
“One guy? Are you crazy? I’m not even thirty yet.”
Lisa and Iris exchanged a look they’d clearly exchanged before.
“You two are like, totally an old married couple,” said Iris.
“Don’t you even go there,” said Denis. “I’m too fabulous for Gavin. Look at me. I’m tall, I’m thin, and I have style. Gavin’s one of those jocks from the gym. All body and nothing upstairs.”
“Hey, bitch,” said Gavin. “Just remember who’s the boss here.”
“Mmm. The boss card.” Denis put a hand to his chest. “I must have hit a nerve.”
“Maybe a little.” Gavin turned to Iris. “Is he right? Is that how people see me?”
Iris looked at Gavin and touched his hand, looking into his sea-blue eyes.
“OMG, you have such pretty eyes,” she said.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Yeah, it’s true,” she said. Then, “Only kidding. You do have a killer bod, and those eyes, and, well. Some people might assume you’re a model or something. You know how they get categorised.” She shrugged. “But we all know you’re a great guy with a heart of gold.”
“Thanks, Iris. That’s really nice of you.”
“I’ve worked here four years,” said Jack, to nobody in particular, “and I still only understand about half of what you lot are saying.”
That night at Gingers the gang sat around over drinks, talking the usual dribble: TV scandals, who was dating who, movies.
“My shout, guys,” said Gavin. He took the orders and went off to the bar.
Lisa looked around. “Where’s Gavin? And where’s my drink?”
“Girl,” said Denis, “where do you think he is?” He pointed down the bar with a flick of his wrist. “Right over there, chatting up that hot bit of man meat.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. I’m never going to get my drink.”
She got off her seat, marched up to the man meat, and said, “Hi, I’m Lisa. Why don’t you come back to our table with Gavin so I can get my drink?”
The man meat looked at her. “Hi. I’m Sam Swan.”
“Nice to meet you.” She put her arm through his and dragged him back to the table. “Guys, this is Sam. Sam, meet Iris, Denis and Jack.”
Gavin finally turned up with a tray of drinks.
Denis, being the smart arse he was, asked, “So what’s on the menu?”
Gavin wasn’t put off. “Sorry, this place has class. We don’t serve your type. Try down the road at Hungry Jack’s.”
“Slam.” Denis raised a hand. “You win that round.”
Sam looked at Lisa. “Are they always like this?”
“Oh, mate,” said Lisa. “You’ve got them on a good night.”
“It’s kind of funny,” said Sam.
“Yes, it probably is,” said Iris, “if you don’t have to work with these two.”
“Your workmates are a blast, Gavin.”
Gavin just grinned back.
“So what do you do for work, Sam?” Denis asked.
“Oh. Two things. I’m a fitness trainer.”
“Oh, really,” said Denis. “And the other?”
Sam didn’t want to answer. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“Ewww, go on,” said the girls, stirring him. “It can’t be that bad.”
“I work part-time at the Ladies Lounge, behind the bar. Sometimes I do a show, if someone’s sick or away.”
“Really?” said Lisa. “I love that place. I thought I’d totally seen your face before. Now I know where.”
Sam smiled. “I hope that’s all you’ve seen.”
“What do you mean, Sam?” said Gavin.
“Ladies Lounge is a strip joint,” said Lisa. “For the ladies to come and watch men dance, and everything else. And the bar staff uniform is a jockstrap. Or, depending on the barman, less.”
“Well, that all depends on the tip,” said Sam.
"Lisa,” said Denis.
“Mumma’s got eyes,” Lisa said back. “I can look.”
“I don’t need to dream,” said Gavin. “He’s sitting right next to me.” He put his hand on Sam’s leg, and whispered something in his ear that only Sam heard.
Sam looked at Gavin and turned a little pink. “I’d love to.”
With that, the two of them finished their drinks.
“Sorry, guys,” said Gavin. “Sam and I are going to make a move.”
They headed back to Sam’s apartment, as it was only a few minutes’ walk from Gingers. Gavin took Sam’s hand.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You know, some guys aren’t into PDA.”
“Yeah, true. But that’s not me.”
They walked on, past the late shops and the taxi rank, hands still together, talking about nothing much. It was only when they turned the corner into Sam’s street, with his building already in sight, that Gavin stopped.
“Sorry, mate. I can’t wait till we get to your place.”
Gavin turned and made his move, kissing Sam right where they stood.
“Wow,” said Sam. “Didn’t see that coming.”
“Sorry. You’re just so hot.”
“Don’t be sorry. The kiss worked.”
“What do you mean?”
Sam took Gavin’s hand and placed it on the front of his jeans. Gavin smiled. “Seems the kiss had the same effect on both of us.”
The next morning Gavin’s alarm went off on quiet mode, the mode he used for nights away like this. He grabbed his clothes, which were scattered around the room, and left quietly, trying not to wake Sam. His latest conquest, in a long line of one-night stands.
Gavin got dressed in the hallway and left for work, where he had a stash of fresh clothes in a bag in his desk. Lucky for him, the building he worked in had a gym on the ground floor. Gavin had made a deal with one of the staff there: if he needed to use the shower, he’d slip her ten dollars and she’d let him in.
After his shower he got dressed for work and grabbed a coffee from the best coffee shop in Melbourne, called X. No one ever asked why it was called that. It was just known as X. Gavin guessed it was for X marks the spot, for the best coffee.
While waiting for the others to arrive at work, Gavin sat at his desk drinking his coffee and scrolling on his phone, reading socials and entering random competitions.
A few stood out. Win a trip to Japan. Win a new Porsche. And the most random of all, from a toy company, giving away one of five cyborgs.
Gavin had heard about this, but thought they were years and years away from being a real thing. Being in marketing and advertising, he reckoned he had the scoop on all the latest products.
He entered, and thought no more about it.
The gang turned up for work around half eight, and they had their Friday morning briefing. Then Gavin got grilled on last night’s conquest.
“Yeah, yeah, guys. You say the same thing every time I hook up with a guy.”
After the grilling was over, Gavin said, “Any of you heard anything about Brattel making a life-size doll slash cyborg?”
Lisa just looked at him. “What time was your last drink last night?”
“Not funny,” said Gavin. “And it was just before me and what’s-his-face left to go back to his.”
“The poor guy’s name was Sam,” said Denis. “You’re such a man-whore. And no, I have not heard about a life-size doll, but I want one. She would be fierce. I’d dress her like Cher. Can they sing too? OMG, imagine all the outfits you could buy them.”
“Someone get Denis a cold drink with ice and a straw,” said Iris. “He’s about to have a gayness freak-out.”
Jack looked up from his monitor. “Is this a real thing, or are you having me on?”
“Real thing,” said Gavin.
“Right.” Jack went back to his screen. “Terrifying. Anyway.”
Gavin just laughed and got on with his work. He forgot all about the competitions.
After all, Gavin had the life he’d always wanted. No strings, freedom, and he did what he wanted, as long as no one got hurt along the way. That was his motto.
Well. That was until he got a phone call out of the blue.
“Hello, is this Gavin McKains?”
“Yes,” he said. “Who’s calling?” He asked it very politely.
“This is Barbie Sinclair, owner of Brattel. I’m just calling to congratulate you on winning one of the five Ken cyborg real-life dolls.”
Gavin stopped typing.
Then he looked over the top of his monitor at Denis, who was on his own phone, visibly on hold with a printer company and radiating boredom. Not him, then.
“Righto,” said Gavin. “Very good. Which one of them put you up to this? Was it Lisa?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re not the owner of Brattel. The owner of a toy company doesn’t ring people. You’ve got a call centre for that, and it rings at dinner time.” He picked up his coffee. “Look, you’ve done well, the voice is very professional. But I’m in advertising, mate. I write this stuff. Whatever the next bit is, where you need my licence and a credit card to release the prize, I’d skip it.”
There was a short silence on the line. Then, unmistakably, a laugh.
“Mr McKains, in a few hours one of my people is going to ring you and book you in to collect a ninety-thousand-dollar cyborg, so I’m going to let all of that go through to the keeper. No licence. No credit card. You come to us, you sign, you take him home. You don’t pay a cent.” A pause, and he could hear the smile in it. “And for the record, I do ring the winners myself. There are five of you on the whole planet. It’s not a big job.”
Gavin put the coffee down.
“...Barbie Sinclair,” he said.
“Anyway, congratulations again, Gavin. One of my team will call you within a few hours to make an appointment for you to come in and collect your Ken. Bye-bye for now.”
“Okay. Bye,” said Gavin.
And with that, Barbie ended the call.
Gavin sat there in shock for a long time. Just thinking.
What do I do with this thing?
