Page 12 of One Weekend in Sydney

Irun a hand over my slick hair, feeling its stiffness from the gel I’d liberally applied. The hairdo goes with the look I’m going for, and it sure as hell helped keep my true identity from Tara.

And thank God that Jerry didn’t say anything about me suddenly speaking in a lower tone. He probably thought it was part of my authoritative act towards the drunken bastard.

I don’t know if Tara would still remember my normal voice, but I certainly haven’t forgotten what she sounds like. I’d have to be mindful of my voice around her.

I casually patrol the boat, casting glances at the goings-on among the passengers in mighty good spirits. I expect my job to be easier tonight compared to last year, but I’m still rattled.

I still can’t believe that Tara Davies is onthisboat. And I swear she flirted with me.

Romeo and Juliet. How synchronistic that she’s using her middle name here, where I’m known by a different name.

I only learned that my legal first name was Romeo after I moved to Sydney. Mum said that when they were choosing a name for me as a baby, my dad insisted that even though my birth certificate could show Romeo, no one could call me that for as long as he was alive. That was the compromise they made for a name my mother loved so much, but disliked by my father with a passion.

So, they never told anyone, including me, that my first name was Romeo, apart from relevant school personnel who saw my birth certificate. They were all requested by my parents to call me Mason, and that was the name I grew up with.

Then Mum told me about my true first name on the day I arrived here in Sydney. My father had already left us for one of his mistresses, so she said I was free to use Romeo if I wanted to.

And I did want to. New life, new name, I thought. Plus, not being called Mason by new friends put an extra distance between the new me and my past life in my hometown. No one there wanted to know me after what I’d done to Tara. And I don’t blame them.

A woman’s hand on my chest stops me in my tracks. “Hello, loverboy.” She purrs. Literally. The tight-fitting cat costume she’s wearing suits her well.

“Hi,” I answer.

“I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink with me.”

“I’d love to, sweetheart. But it’s a no for now.”

She pouts. “Later, then?”

“Yeah, maybe,” I say to cushion the rejection.

“My name’s Cathy. What’s yours?”

“Romeo.”

“Oh!” She places both palms against her heart. “Romeo, Romeo! Fill me up before the night ends, Romeo.”

I have to chuckle at that.

“Remember what I look like and find me later, okay?” She blows me a kiss.

I pretend to catch it and resume my discreet patrolling. She won’t be the last person to try to chat me up tonight, but I know how to handle them. I’ve been doing events such as this for over three years now. Besides, not to toot my own horn, but I get asked out by women all the time. I don’t need to jeopardise my business reputation to get dates.

Speaking of dates…

Is Tara being propositioned right now? I won’t be surprised. Her gown highlights all her gorgeous curves. Even though her outfit is nowhere near as revealing as the dresses of most of the women on this boat, she’s way too sexy not to be noticed.

I was bowled over when I saw her at Wharf 8 earlier. If Odette hadn’t pulled me away, I would have continued gaping at her, drooling. The Tara I fell for in high school was a very pretty girl. This older Tara? She’s a twenty out of ten. Too bad she still hates me.

I find myself making my way back to where I last saw her. Maybe I shouldn’t have left her alone. She’s probably not prepared for the forwardness of some people in this group, a behaviour expected—and welcomed—by most of the members. I’m sure she can take care of herself, but I noticed how shocked she was when I told her this was the Masks On boat.

I see her in a corner, shaking her head and smiling apologetically at a man dressed in a white tuxedo and wearing a white mask. He seems to be cajoling her, rubbing her arm, but she shakes her head more emphatically.

I’m ready to butt in, but the man decides to leave. Good.

Guilt nags me that I’d left her to her own devices. She has to be uncomfortable in this environment. But I don’t think she’d want me to “rescue” her. Tara has always been capable and confident.

Besides, I shouldn’t be around her too much. What if she recognises me? She’ll hate me even more, knowing I deceived her again by not revealing who I am. I just didn’t want her to leave the boat and find another way to get to the Dome.

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