The Blood Source

  Chapter 6.

  Loneliness and Oceans

  On a barstool downing a whiskey and soda, in the luscious surroundings of the Marble Bar, under the Hilton, in the centre of Sydney, with a sexy blonde hanging onto his every word, sat Agent John Johnson. He was talking almost mindlessly, to the bottle blonde, Erica, who had honed in upon his authoritative, blue-eyed handsomeness, the moment that he strode through the door.

  Johnson had just finished with police business at the Central Court House in Liverpool Street, when he decided to have a quiet drink, before he headed home to his empty, Coogee flat. His ten year old, daughter, Carly, only stayed with him every second weekend; that was next week. Johnson looked forward to his daughter’s chattering voice and sweet face, which brought meaning and a heartbeat to his flat, and his life; especially, these days, when he was so much alone.

  Caroline, his wife, had left him over a year ago, for a bank manager: a man with a stable job, she had said. That had hurt, but losing his family had hurt more.

  Lately, though, Johnson had found himself thinking more and more about Agent Cleo Carras, but she was a wanted person now: by the Ndrangheta and the police. He had been thinking about her, and her beautiful, intelligent, dark eyes, and thoughtful conversation, as he sat at the bar and took his first sip of whiskey. Then, this blonde vision had appeared out of nowhere, and commenced stroking his ego with gusto.

  He knew he could take Erica, the blonde, home easily. But it didn’t feel right. His reasons were these: he preferred to sleep with a person that he cared about, and a person he could talk to, and have a connection with. Then, there was this aspect of his personality which he secretly called his ‘inner prude’. He didn’t fancy women who tried too hard to be sexy, like Erica, with her low-cut top, short skirt, and lofty, high heels. These things, he felt, put barriers between him and a woman, and he didn’t like it. Not that he would tell any of his mates about these thoughts; he didn’t want to be laughed out of town.

  Johnson drained his drink, thanked Erica for her company, and got up to go home. He’d stop by Coogee Beach and take a dip in the ocean. It was a beautiful night.