Page 18 of Sing it, Sam

“Yeah it is,” I reply, looking around at the different versions of Spiderman and the Hulk. I take a sip of punch, the fruitiness rolling around my mouth.This is gonna be way too easy to drink.I chew on a strawberry, but my mouth stalls when I spy him across the room.

Mr Fantastic Forearms.

He’s slowly sipping a bottle of beer, scanning the room. Although I’m sure he would look fantastic in a Superman or Batman costume, the plain white shirt rolled up to his elbows and the black slacks are just as impressive. An old-fashioned black and brown camera dangles from the strap around his neck.

“Excuse me, girls. I have to go say hi to someone.”

The girls twist in their seats, following the direction of my gaze. “Ooh, nice,” Leonie says and nods. “He’s a bit of alright. Good bit of writing inspiration right there if you ask me.”

“Shush,” I say and play-punch her in the shoulder. “I know him through work.”

Drink in hand, I make my way across the room, trying to calm the rising blush prickling at my cheeks. I sidle up next to Ben and bump my elbow against his. He swings his head around looking slightly shocked, as if I’ve dragged him out of deep thought.

“Let me guess. Clark Kent with a dye job?” I ask.

He pushes the fake dark glasses further up his nose and regards me. “Ha, yeah, I drew the line at putting boot polish in my hair,” he says with a smirk.

I swish the fake dark brown locks over my shoulder.

“Oh,” he says, pointing a finger at me as realisation must set in. “It’s Jane, right?”

“Usually, yes. Wonder Woman tonight though. What brings you here tonight, Clark?”

He shifts from foot to foot and looks around. Who for, I have no idea. He leans in. “Your boss, Mrs Peters, twisted my arm. When I told her I was planning on visiting Sam this weekend, she insisted I be here. I guess I do owe her a favour or two.”

Suddenly I wish I worked weekends.

He takes a swig of his beer, his Adam’s apple rolling up and down as he swallows.Don’t stare.

“Where did you travel from?” I ask.

“Western suburbs of Sydney.”

“Hmm. That’s a fair drive.”

His broad shoulders bounce up and down as he shrugs. “I don’t mind the road. It’s only a few hours.”

“What do you do there? Are you a police officer?”

He takes another swig from the brown bottle. “Nah, I operate cranes. The sheriff is a nickname.”

Huh. I would have picked him more for a farmer or something. He certainly dresses like a country boy.

If he’s working cranes, he must work on some big building sites. When I think about Sydney and the more developed areas, one thing that stands out to me is the shape of a crane protruding into the sky every few blocks. “Do you like your job?”

“It pays the bills,” he says, and gives me a fleeting smile.Doesn’t sound like he loves his job.

I take a sip of my drink. “So, did you see Sam today?”

“Nah, I’ve not long arrived in town. I’ll see him in the morning about some stuff and then head back home.”

What kind of ‘stuff’ is he referring to? I’d love to ask, but I guess I should keep out of it.

“Anyway, how’s he doing? Do you two have much contact in your role?”

“I guess he’s okay. He doesn’t venture out of his room much.”

Ben shakes his head. “Bloody hell. He probably stays in there to spite me.”

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