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“Phryne?”
“Yes Jack?”
“Could you pull the car over, please?”
“Jack?”
“Preferably, fairly soon?”
Phryne huffed. But Jack did look a little green around the gills, and he’d gone awfully quiet. But she really wasn’t even driving that fast. Practically at the speed limit. And they were almost back in St Kilda. Phryne pulled her Jag off the Princes Highway, pulling to a stop on the access road. She flicked the key in the ignition and sat back in her seat, folding her arms.
Jack groaned; a low, slow sound.
Concerned, Phryne leaned forward, placing her hand on Jack’s forearm.
“Garrrghhh,” he exclaimed, “how did you get so close?”
“What?” Phryne creased her brow in confusion.
“Aaahhhhhhhhhrrrr” Jack added. “Phryne, your cousin Guy?”
“Yes?”
“Is it possible, do you think, that the special ingredient in his fudge was not, in fact, figs, but actually pot?” Jack was feeling very, fuzzy, around the edges. And slightly queasy. And tired. And a little bit horny. Which was inappropriate, obviously. They’d ‘made out’ in her car before, during the early days of their relationship, when they had been trying to figure out how they felt and before they’d finally tumbled into his bed. And no matter how dazzlingly attractive Phryne looked right now, it was, probably, Jack thought, very late, and he was mostly very tired. He just wanted to curl up and sleep. For a very, very long time.
Phryne was not sure how to react. “Why would you think that Jack?”
“Because, Phryne. I am familiar with this feeling.”
“What feeling Jack?”
“God those street lights are bright.”
A thought occurred to Phryne. “Jack, did you eat any of Guy’s fudge?”
Jack opened the car door, taking big gulps of air. Perhaps he should stand up. He tried, levering himself half out of the passenger seat. No, bad idea. He sat back down again rapidly. Or as rapidly as he could, in the circumstances. Which were that he could not quite focus on the door frame. Or the pavement. Or in fact the car. “Oh god” he exclaimed.
“Jack. Did you eat any of Guy’s fudge?” Phryne decided to try again.
“I just…tried it.”
“How many pieces?”
“Four.” Jack held his fingers up to confirm the number. His fingers felt very far away.
Oh she was going to kill Guy. He was so juvenile sometimes. Really, who still made fudge that had pot in it in their mid-thirties? And then left it lying around in full view of a policeman at a Spring Barbecue? Oh god, Jack was a police officer. A police officer who was, now Phryne looked at him for longer than a few seconds, completely stoned.
“Wait a minute, how do you know this feeling?” She was curious now.
“There was a party, in Uni. And someone was passing round a spliff. And some biscuits. And the next thing I knew I woke up in a heap with Jess and some of the others in Fitzroy Gardens."
“Oh, my, god! Jack Robinson, how scandalous!”
Jack yawned. “Do you have any water?” he asked, as he very slowly turned his head towards Phryne.
“Wait there.” Phryne leapt from the car. She needed to get Jack home, and in bed, as soon as possible. But water would not hurt. She scrabbled in the boot of the Jag, retrieving a bottle of water from her gym bag. She wasn’t sure how long it had been there, but right now that was probably not important. Returning to the driver’s seat she noted that Jack had slumped slightly in the seat and was licking his lips. Carefully, she extended her arm towards Jack, trying not to spook him.
Jack took the plastic bottle carefully, holding it delicately as if it was made of china. Phryne rolled her eyes and removed the cap. Jack seemed shocked that the small plastic barrier had suddenly disappeared. He tipped the bottle to his lips carefully and drank, deeply.
He’d wanted water and water had appeared. Amazing! And Phryne! Lovely, lovely Phryne!
“Phryne!” he exclaimed, smiling broadly. How long had they been here in her car? Where were they? Why was he suddenly so hungry?
“Jack.” Phryne tried not to laugh. “How do you feel?”
“Hungry,” Jack said, with immense solemnity.
Phryne considered that. It was very late; a little after midnight. They were low on options. “Burger?” she asked, thinking that the grease would line his stomach.
“Yum,” said Jack, punctuating his word with another smile. Reaching his hand out he touched Phryne’s arm. “I could just eat you up…”
Phryne could not help but laugh at that. “I’m sure you could, but that wasn’t the sort of ‘Hungry Jack’ I was thinking about. Do your seat belt up.”
Jack did as he was bidden. Stern Phryne’s voice was strangely arousing. Gosh he was hungry. Ooh, water! He took another sip as Phryne fired up the car’s engine.
If she drove more slowly than was usual, Jack never noticed. And if he slept in much longer than was usual the next morning, he didn’t notice that either. And if, when he woke with a throbbing head, Phryne appeared not to notice, well that was fine. And if his memories of the previous night were somewhat hazy, but he noted that Phryne appeared not to be angry or upset with him, meaning, he supposed, that whatever had happened had not resulted in him behaving terribly, well, he decided that he wouldn’t notice the looks of concern she appeared to be giving him when she thought he wasn’t looking. And if, that evening, when he was in Phryne’s car, he looked perplexed at the empty burger wrappers as Phryne giggled, he decided that not noticing that was probably the wisest course of action of all.