Free The Candidate by Juliet Francis

stared. ‘Trees?’ she said lamely.
    Mac gave her a big grin. ‘Sure, Ginn — trees.’
    ‘Stop taking the piss, Mac.’
    ‘I’m not,’ he laughed. ‘You know that’s what I do.’
    She shook her head, not enjoying being laughed at.
    ‘Oh, come on,’ Mac said. ‘Don’t be like that, Ginn.’ Then he bent down right up against her ear. ‘You want me to tell you what I really do?’
    She nodded, very aware of his hand against her neck, thumb and forefinger touching her face. His breath was warm on her neck, and tickled right down her spine. She got a powerful hit of male.
    ‘Lickety-split, Ginn. Go in, get out. Blow shit up. That’s what I do.’
    She stared as he stepped back. It was hard to reconcile — what he’d said with the person she thought she knew. Maybe she didn’t really know him anymore. It was time to go. Before she could make their excuses Mac spoke again.
    ‘Ginny. I’ve been meaning to ask you for bloody ages — what the hell is that perfume you wear?’
    Ginny eyed him warily. ‘My perfume?’
    ‘Yeah, your perfume. What is it?’
    ‘Um … Amarige. Don’t you like it?’
    ‘Ama-what?’
    ‘—rige. Amarige.’
    ‘Right.’ He nodded to himself.
    ‘Don’t you like it?’ she asked again.
    ‘What? Like it?’ He bent down, breathed in. ‘I fucking love it. Gets me here, every time.’ He pounded a fist into his stomach.
    He looked at Stephen. ‘What do you reckon, mate? Does it get you in the guts, too?’ And before Nick could stop him, Mac’s arm shot out and whacked Stephen square in the stomach. Stephen doubled over.
    Ginny squealed and reached for him as he crumbled. ‘Mac! What was that for?’
    ‘Oh shit, sorry, mate.’ Mac wobbled down to Stephen, put out an arm and pulled him up. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry. Come on, let me buy you a drink.’
    ‘Sure,’ Stephen wheezed. ‘That would be very kind.’
    ‘Ginny?’ Nick offered his arm.
    She couldn’t very well say no, with Stephen — the injured party — already led away by Mac. She took Nick’s arm.
    Stephen quickly embraced the new setting. Mac had discovered his penchant for gin and was buying him doubles. It was an eye-opener to see Stephen finally loosen up, and the impromptu party meant she didn’t have to endure dinner conversation with him.
    Mac was on form, too, and it was good to get this glimpse of him: having a laugh, celebrating with his friends, his colleagues, Ginny had worked out. She sipped her drink, watching Mac across the table. He looked up and caught her eye. He started to make his way over when one of the women Ginny had noticed earlier, who by now had ingratiated themselves into the group, intercepted. She said something and Mac had to lean down to hear. Nodding, he took out his wallet, fished out a bill and handed it over. He took a long pull on his beer as he watched her walk towards the bar.
    Ha, Ginny thought. Men. They’re so bloody predictable. She focused back on Stephen, who was grilling Nick about the arborist trade. Nick, to his credit, seemed incredibly well informed. Or he was well practised at making things up, Ginny laughed to herself. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Mac standing there.
    ‘Hi. What’s the joke?’
    ‘Just clueing up on life as an arborist.’
    Mac grinned. ‘Nick is very good at spinning shit. You should have heard him when we were out for my thirtieth — he pinned us as orthodontists.’
    She laughed. ‘Having a good night?’
    ‘I am indeed — very good in fact. It’s always great seeing you.’
    ‘It’s good to see you, too. And to see that you’re keeping such good company.’
    ‘Hell yeah, great group of guys. Specially Nick; he’s a real mate. My best mate.’ Mac looked at her quickly. ‘I mean, so are you, Ginn, it’s just, you know …’
    She laughed. ‘No worries, Mac. You haven’t offended me. I understand I’m not as much fun. I don’t know how to blow shit up.’
    He reached around and gave her ponytail a