Kiss and Cry. Narrelle M Harris

***

FRANK	MILO
	Where r u? Thought we were having dinner 2gether?
Sorry. Cody is disagreeing with me about the backing vocalists and I’m stuck at the studio. Won’t be home till late.
	Fine. I’ll grab pizza. Again.
***
FRANK	MILO
I’m going to be late again. Trying to get this track down and it’s being a bitch.
	Third night running.
It’s the job, babe, you know that. If I can nail this maybe there’ll be another Aria nomination!
	Yes. Because you need another one of those. The shelf is so uneven.
	Enjoy Cody Fletcher’s company.
Meaning?
	Nothing. A producer’s work is never done, eh? I’ve got Foundation work anyway. I’ll have dinner w Tess. Be home when I’m home.
***
FRANK	MILO
You’re at the fucking airport? What the hell?
	Told you, Foundation business. Back in a few days.
That’s what you said last time and it was a week.
	Not like you missed me, Mr Work-all-hours
That’s not fair.
	Sorry, Bear. I know. We both 2 busy. It’ll settle.
That’s what we keep saying.
	We’ll make it happen.
We will. Love you.
	♥ U! I’ll be back in time for your birthday. Promise.

      *

      Channel 8: G’Day New Day Breakfast Show

      Monday, 10 January 2014

      8:30 am

      ‘Have you heard the latest bad luck to hit Kites ruckman, Josh Baker, Leo?’ asks Nordic Blonde morning show presenter Kelly of her G’day New Day co-presenter.

      ‘He certainly seems cursed, doesn’t he?’ replies the older white man in the blue suit, laughing ruefully. ‘What’s the latest Josh-made disaster, Becca?’

      Becca Goldstein, sports reporter, dark-haired and olive-skinned, wags a finger at him. ‘It’s no laughing matter, Leo.’

      ‘He was doing a good deed, wasn’t he?’

      On-screen beside Becca appears a photograph of a roguishly handsome, muscular young Anglo man with golden stubble on his jaw and mud streaked across his forehead. Post-match, he looks exhausted yet jubilant, sandy hair a spikey mess, his shoulder strapped in tape. He’s wearing the green, yellow and maroon colours of his Australian Football League team, the Hobart Kites, with the black silhouette of the bird of prey spread across the chest.

      ‘Poor Josh has gone and fallen off a ladder while cleaning the gutters of his parents’ house in Melbourne, and broken his leg. Kites coach, Mick Sampson, says they don’t know yet if he’ll be match-ready when the season starts in late March.’

      ‘That’s a blow to the Kites fans,’ says Leo. ‘Baker’s been cleaning up his bad boy act and, after last season’s improvements, you were saying he finally had a chance to fulfil that early potential.’

      ‘He may yet,’ Becca says. ‘His 2013 performance helped take his team to the semi-finals before a groin injury took him and them out of contention.’

      ‘He has been injury-prone, hasn’t he Becca?’ Kelly says.

      ‘He has, but this is the first time he’s suffered a serious injury off the field.’

      ‘If you don’t count the drink-driving charges and nightclub antics.’

      ‘Are we sure Josh wasn’t just trying to get out of competing with you on Icing It!, Becca?’ Leo smirks.

      ‘Are you suggesting I nobbled the competition, Leo?’ Becca laughs.

      ‘I thought you were looking forward to meeting him.’ Leo’s smirk is knowing.

      ‘Not as much as I’m looking forward to meeting Milo Bertolone.’

      ‘You’re not his type, are you?’ Kelly teases. ‘He’s the muso who famously outed himself on national television ten years ago, with his boyfriend and band mate, Frank Capriano.’

      Becca, laughing good-naturedly, waves her hands at her co-presenters, dismissing the accusation of a crush. ‘I’m a big fan of their music, Kelly, and they’ve both got a list of music awards as long as your arm.’

      ‘I’m not sure that’ll help him stay on his feet in the rink,’ Leo says.

      ‘Yes, it’ll be interesting to see how well a middle-aged band boy can move out there,’ Kelly says.

      ‘Not half as funny as it would have been watching a solid ruckman like Baker try it,’ Leo says.

      ‘You can’t judge an ice dancer by their cover,’ protests Becca, who is short and, for taxing TV tastes, “plump”.

      ‘My money’s on Hugo Flynn,’ Kelly says. ‘I loved him in Dance or Die.’

      ‘Who else could outdance a robot?’ Leo says.

      ‘Isn’t anyone backing me?’ Becca asks.

      Her colleagues pretend to be hedging their bets and Becca pretends to be offended.

      The segment fades out to an ad for their station’s new show: Icing It! 2014!

      Chapter Two

      Frank kept glancing towards the door to the bistro, but the frame remained stubbornly empty. Party guests stopped to wish him well, and they’d hug and exchange a few words, but always, he had one eye on that door.

      ‘Isn’t he coming?’ asked Frank’s sister Angela, lips pursed.

      Frank wished his sister would stop asking. ‘His flight was delayed. He texted.’

      Milo had booked the whole upstairs of Basilico, one of Carlton’s cosiest modern Italian bistros. A chalkboard menu and vintage Pates Baroni and Campari posters hung from the cream coloured walls. Simple square tables were placed in a line. Dishes of arancini, bruschetta, mini calzones, prosciutto and melon, and little snack-sized bowls of gnocchi and pasta were ranged around an elaborate birthday cake, the candles unlit. It had almost everything Frank could ask for.

      Milo