Monkey Business Read Free

have time for that —’
    â€˜It’s fine. I can fit it in.’
    â€˜We can go another time —’
    â€˜No, let’s go today.’
    â€˜Next week maybe —’
    â€˜I want to go to the goddamn zoo!’
    He chuckled. ‘I’ll pick you up.’
    â€˜What should I bring? I need to go shopping.’
    â€˜I’ve got it all. Joe’s re-stocked the cupboards.’
    â€˜So . . . Joe’s back too? From wherever you guys went.’
    â€˜He is.’
    â€˜Don’t suppose you could survive long without Joe.’
    Jack tried to sound annoyed but I could tell he was smiling. ‘I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, Erica. I’m a big boy. And military-trained, remember.’
    â€˜Soldiers don’t have to cook for themselves. Unless they’re in the jungle, but even then I suppose you just eat worms and poison berries.’
    â€˜I’ll pick you up at twelve,’ he said, the only possible response he could have to the rubbish I was talking.
    â€˜See you then.’ I hung up and danced around on the spot.

    It took me ages to find something to wear that didn’t look like I’d spent any time on it. I finally settled on my old jeans because my bum looked nice in them, a T-shirt that clung in all the right spots and was just the right length even though it was old and worn, and my comfy old sneakers because I thought we’d be doing a bit of walking. And no make-up. I checked myself out in the full-length mirror. I looked like a homeless person. It took me two minutes to change into something nice.
    Jack knocked on the door at quarter to twelve. Fifteen minutes early, but I was expecting it because he’s always early. Usually half an hour. I suspected this annoying habit developed after he was late for breakfast with his parents and wife in New York on September 11, 2001. They were waiting for him at the top of the World Trade Centre. Personally, I was glad he wasn’t on time for that particular appointment.
    â€˜You look nice,’ he said.
    â€˜This old thing?’
    He stepped inside and kissed my cheek.
    I said, ‘Do you want coffee before we go?’
    â€˜You make horrible instant coffee.’
    â€˜Well, I’ve got an expensive coffee machine some guy gave me for Christmas.’
    â€˜Some guy?’
    â€˜A pretty cute one. But I don’t know how to use it, the machine.’
    â€˜I showed you how to use it the day I gave it to you. And several times since.’
    Axle galloped up the passageway from the living room. ‘Shit,’ said Jack and stepped back. Axle loves Jack, but in a weird kind of way. He launched himself at Jack’s leg and hung off his thigh like a koala. ‘Jesus, that hurts. His claws are getting sharper. And longer.’
    â€˜You need to catch him before he attaches.’ I pulled gently at Axle’s little paws and cooed, coaxing him.
    â€˜You make him sound like a leech.’
    Axle released and darted under my bed, chasing some imaginary mouse. Well, I hoped it was imaginary.
    I said, ‘Maybe we should just get going.’
    â€˜Good idea,’ Jack said, rubbing his leg.
    We drove in Jack’s lovely old convertible Mustang. A 1967 model, he’d told me, the only other time we’d driven in it, last Christmas Day. My car’s almost as old, but not a classic. I don’t think Mazda makes classics. And Jack’s doesn’t have rust. He’s got a garage full of cars and motorbikes but I like the Mustang best.
    As we skirted the city, he said loudly, so I could hear him over the wind, road noise and radio, ‘Are you still thinking about an investment property?’
    Before Jack had left on his mission, I’d asked him to advise me on buying another property, but now I wasn’t so sure.
    â€˜I think I’ll renovate instead,’ I said. ‘Good idea?’
    He nodded. ‘Can’t go