Chapter 5

It was several days later and Sharmila had not called Jake. He was determined he wasn't going to call first. It would be an act of submission, he believed. Where he found the strength, he didn't know, because he felt absolutely terrible.

Eventually, he had to call Mary and unburden. She was only too happy to give him an appointment after work.

She was alone, as usual, and dressed in her normal way, snappy, well-pressed business suit.

"I take it you had a fight?" she asked, straight away.

"How do you know? Sharmila called you?" he asked.

"Left a message on my answerphone."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"Why are you sorry for speaking your mind? She needed someone to stand up to her. You didn't slap her?"

"No, of course not. Did she say I had?"

"She implied you were violent, without being specific. I'm sure if you'd hit her she would have laid a complaint. The fact she hasn't suggests there was nothing in it."

"There wasn't. I just pointed her to the door."

"I thought as much. So how does it feel?"

"Terrible. I've gone over it again and again wondering how I could have done something different... I guess she must have tore into you..."

"Nothing I can't handle. Don't reproach yourself."

"But I've destroyed her relationship with you?"

"My role is not to protect her from the truth, or play her games. I'll support, but I'm not buying into her shit. She know's my number... or maybe she'll call someone else... doesn't matter, her choice."

"That sounds a little callous?"

"Not really. It's about keeping my distance. If I was to buy into everyone's shit I'd never be able to do my job. So what do you want to do now? You have taken back some of your power, how are you going to use it?"

"I... I don't know. It's hard... I wish I could just pick up the phone and call her..."

"Why can't you?"

"It'd be like submitting."

"You don't have to submit. Do you think she's likely to call you?"

"I had hoped... ah... no."

"I agree. Your choice is about changing the script or walking out of the relationship. What do you want to do? You still love her?"

"Yes."

"Well you need to re-negotiate the relationship. If she is unwilling to change then you must think about ending it."

"How do I do that?"

"What do you need from her? Is she likely to meet those needs? These are questions only you can answer. Love is not just about what you can do for her..."

"I know."

"You've shown strength of character. Use that to support her. Most of all you need to protect yourself."

"Sure, sure. So you suggest I call her?"

"If that's what you want to do, why not?"

"Mary, I was wondering. Have you heard from her husband after he flew the coop?"

"Just a postcard from India. He said he was sorry for all the trouble he caused."

"Are they likely to extradite him?"

"No chance. He's from an upper caste with family spread all over State and Indian Federal Governments. There's not snowball's the police here are likely to fetch him back. The Indians will tangle everything in red tape. Our police know this and wouldn't even bother."

"I see."

"Which is why he fled there, no doubt. He knew he'd be protected."

"How do you feel about that?" Jake asked.

"How should I feel? It doesn't please me that a man gets away with what he did. But I'm more interested in seeing that Sharmila doesn't create another offender."

"You think she will?"

"I think she's quite capable. She's lucky she met you. If she'd met a guy who wasn't quite as patient, who knows? It's not that it's all right to attack her. Her husband had the choice of walking away... or showing her the door, such as you did. But Sharmila has to accept some of the responsibility for creating the scene, of pushing him until he cracked. She knew how much to push, I'm sure of it."

"Yes, I'm pretty sure she does."

"So you really want to put your neck in the noose? Is she worth it?" she asked, smiling.

"I'll give it another try," he shrugged. "If not, well, there's always that invitation for a drink?"

"Ha, ha, yes, I guess there will. But you'd have to get yourself another counsellor?"

"Hopefully, I won't need one."

"Y'sure? You've no idea what you'd be getting into!" she laughed.

As Jake walked back down the narrow staircase, he thought to himself, 'was Mary flirting? Damned, if she was!' That revelation sent a smile to his face.

He called Sharmila as soon as he got home. In any case, they had unfinished business around the sale of his property. He didn't think she'd pass up on the 150 grand over mere personal problems.

"Jake?" she answered. She appeared surprised from the tone in her voice. "What do you want?" The question was more suspicious.

"Just called to see how you were? And, of course, we have a meeting this afternoon."

"Oh, about that. Perhaps you'd like to get someone else as your agent? I can make some recommendations?"

"I don't want anyone else, I trust you." There was a deafening silence. At the end, Jake called her name believing she'd walked away from the phone.

"I'm here, Jake," she answered, "why are you calling me... after the things I said to you?"

"I guess I thought we could fix things... between us, that is."

"I don't know, Jake, is this Mary's idea?"

"No, it's mine. Mary just advised me that it'd be all right."

"Oh, did she? You needed her permission?"

"Advice, Sharmila. Look, I didn't call you to pick a fight."

"Oh yes, 'to fix things.' What do you want to fix, Jake, me?"

"No... I... I want to talk about our relationship."

"So! Talk?"

"It'd be better if I could see you face to face."

"Would it? For who?"

"Me."

"Okay, then," she replied, after a long pause, "where do you want to meet?"

Jake suggested a small café not far from where he worked. She agreed, providing he shout her lunch.

Sharmila seemed distant and reticent. Again she insisted he find someone else to be his agent and told him she'd send a bill for the time she'd already spent. There was no fun, no sparkle. She appeared to be locked into one of her moods where she wanted little to do with the outside world. She made an excuse and cut short the meeting. Jake never had the chance to discuss what he really wanted. Any attempt was shut down immediately.

He wondered whether it was worth it and better to try to get on with life without her. It was appearing to him a lost cause, another disappointment, there'd been so many.

On impulse he called Mary and told her what he'd decided to do. She seemed relieved. Perhaps she knew all along what the result would be and hoped Jake could extract himself without further trouble?

"I think you've made the right decision," she told him.

"What about Sharmila?" he asked.

"As I explained, you need to protect yourself, first. She knows what steps she needs to take. She's not your responsibility."

"Ok. So, we can have that drink, then?" He thought he was joking, not expecting Mary to take him up on it.

"Are you looking to rebound, Jake?" she laughed.

"Yes, of course!" he laughed back.

"Well, I don't want to be hauled before the Professional Ethics Board. You'll need to discharge yourself as my client, then wait two years."

"I do?"

"Usually, but we're just doing a little socialising, aren't we? You wouldn't be suggesting a sexual relationship?"

"Of course not! Wouldn't dream of it!"

"Liar! In any case, I'm not in the hunt at the moment, certainly not for someone's cast off wanting to prove his manliness."

"That's harsh!"

"Calm down, I'm just pulling your chain. Meet for lunch tomorrow? I'll tidy up your paperwork and get you to sign yourself off."

"Sure!"

They agreed on a downtown café and rung off.

That afternoon, Jake did some serious mental stocktaking. He decided he'd been drifting too long, had allowed others to dominate his life. First there'd been his mother, then he'd sought other women to come in and take over. He thought it a fatal weakness, a pattern he had to change if he was to move forward.

Did he really want to be a millionaire and abandon his limited, but cosy lifestyle? What would he do with all that money? It was easy to dream about holidays in the South of France and flash cars. But was that really what he wanted?

He thought about those dreams he'd had once: of touring ancient Roman and Neolithic ruins in Europe. He'd quite like that, he decided, even though they'd been colonised by tourists long ago. Then there was adventure tourism. That appealed, also, even if things were made so safe it was practically pointless.

None of these ideas sparked his enthusiasm, he realised, because he had no-one to share the experience with. Apprez ski lost its appeal when all he could do was get drunk while watching others pair off to bed after a day on the Piste.

He just wasn't that good at picking up women, he thought. He wanted to cut the bullshit and get straight to the point. At least Mary was a straight talker. 'A little socialising?' Yes, he could live with that for the time being.

Was she hot for him, though? Did he care? Would he even recognise the signs unless she draped her legs over him and fiddled with his dick? In the past he'd often misinterpreted signals and that had led to embarrassment and a prospect fleeing from the restaurant.

The sultry, dark and infinitely sexy Sharmila kept intruding into his dreams. Try as he might, she just wouldn't go away. Everything about her was compelling, alluring. Even when she was in a dark mood, she spoke of promise, of balmy nights, of nakedness or bodies draped in silk. She was exotic and mysterious and didn't so much as seduce him, but kick his whole foundation out from under him. Sharmila was a drug that left the user craving more.

Mary was straight up and down with no frills. She drew the lines in the sand and made it plain what she expected. Where Sharmila always tempted him to believe there was something more around the corner, Mary left him in no doubt what she wanted.

Mary couldn't compete with Sharmila on looks. She was tall and straight where Sharmila was curved. Her hair was cut short and dyed bright red in some statement of radicalist ideology. She'd been a militant feminist in her youth, he decided, claiming all men rape and extolling the virtues of sisterhood. No-doubt she'd regained some sense of proportion as she got older and re-engaged with the male gender.

Mary didn't dress to impress the men, nor go out of her way to use her sexual power. But she could be fun, he decided, and was intrigued to meet her outside of a professional setting. Could they be friends, he wondered? Or lovers? How much of what Sharmila told him about her sexual preferences was true? Was she just putting him on? One of the games she was playing?

The next day Jake arrived promptly at the café. Mary was late, bustling in like she was on a time clock and had forty things to do. She sat down and called over a waitress without preliminaries. Only when she'd ordered, did she seem to notice him.

"I haven't got that much time," she told him, breathless, "I was held up by a difficult client and I have a 1 o'clock."

"If you'd prefer," Jake said, "perhaps we can make it another day?"

"It's all right," she told him, "I'm hungry. Do you fancy a glass of chardonais? Or maybe beer? I'll shout you a drink."

"Wine would be fine," he replied, "and you don't have to..."

"Bullshit! Here, I have something for you to sign." Mary took out a sheet of paper from her bag and spread it on the table. "I should go over this carefully with you, but it's pretty straight forward. It just says that you have discharged yourself as my client... that you take full responsibility, etc. And if you go nuts and smash up a police car I don't want to know."

"Ok," he laughed, and signed below her finger.

"Right! You want a copy of your records? I have to keep them for seven years by law..."

"No, no. Do what you like with them."

"Ok. So... what's been happening?"

"I met with Sharmila and..."

"And?"

"Nothing!"

"I'm not surprised. Now, I'm not comfortable discussing her. Would you change the subject?"

The meals and drinks came and they tried to make small talk. It was difficult not coming back to Sharmila. It was, after all, what they most had in common.

As 1 o'clock came around, Mary hastened to go. It had been an unsatisfactory meeting. Mary was preoccupied and it was difficult finding a subject that didn't mention Sharmila. Jake, however, had to have one last chance at striking up some friendship.

"What are you doing after work?" he blurted out.

Mary looked surprised and amused. She took a while to answer, as if running her appointments diary through her mind. "I'm busy at the refuge for the next two days. Maybe, um, Friday? What are you after, Jake?"

"I like you. I was hoping we could be friends."

She seemed to take a while to consider that. "Jake," she seemed to be struggling to say what she wanted. "Jake? I want you to be careful. I'm not sure I'm the best option you have. You're a nice guy and, in other circumstances, I'd be happy to date you. But I'm not going to be used to massage your bruised ego."

"It's not about that."

"Y'sure, Jake? Isn't it natural to want to get back in the saddle after being rejected? Isn't this all about proving something to yourself?"

"I guess, in part. But I've been thinking about what I want to do with my life."

"And, what have you decided?"

"I want to get out more, to socialise."

"You want a sexual partner?"

"Of course!" he grinned, sheepishly.

"Don't be shy about it, it's natural. You'll do fine, just be careful whose bed you decide to hop into."

"I will." And then she bustled out.

Jake didn't hear from Sharmila except for her account, posted soon after their meeting, demanding $80,000 as a fee. A covering note in her beautiful, cultured handwriting, explained it was conditional on the conclusion of the deal. If he decided against selling the property, she explained, then he would need to get back to her. She left a post office box number as contact. She, apparently, had moved addresses without telling him, and owing two weeks rent.

But Sharmila knew how to milk the system and would make sure the State ended up settling her bills.

There was a finality about the letter that convinced Jake she wanted nothing more to do with him. At least, he thought, he now had the opportunity to close the door. But could he? It remained to be seen.

Meanwhile, he forced himself to focus on the next project in his life, Mary. He decided he'd just let things take their course, not force the issue, and see where the journey takes him. To find a firm friend and confidante wasn't too bad an outcome, he thought, and if things moved on from there, well, he wasn't averse to that either.

Something told him that Sharmila's description of Mary's desires weren't all lies. Maybe she had teased some details out of Mary, using her very real persuasive powers?

Friday came and he sped downtown to the restaurant Mary had suggested. He waited in the lobby for half an hour. She was late, and didn't augur well for the evening. Eventually she arrived, appologetically, claiming she'd had another of 'those difficult days.'