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don’t open,’ Fox confirmed.
    ‘My buildings conform to all the standard fire safety regulations. In fact, as far as tall buildings go, they’re among the safest in the world.’
    ‘As far as tall buildings go,’ Fox scoffed.
    ‘Ooh! Guys! Look at this!’ Liz, who’d been trying to remember without success the ‘Three Easy Steps to Avoid an Argument!’ clapped her hands with relief at the approach of a food waiter. He was holding a tray on which there was a pile of crusty bread, a flat dish of olive oil with a splash of balsamic vinegar, and another plate of mixed seeds.
    Fox looked like a Hollywood cowboy who’d been spinning his pistols on the main street whenthe director yelled, ‘Cut!’ He stared at the tray suspiciously. ‘What’s this—birdfood?’
    ‘Delicioso!’
Johnny enthused, taking a piece of bread, soaking it in oil and then rolling it in seeds. ‘It’s a kind of tapas. I ate it all the time when I was in Barcelona.’ He pronounced it ‘Barthalona’.
    ‘You’ve been to Spain!’ Liz gushed. ‘How romantic.’
    ‘Barthalona?’ Fox asked. ‘Ith that in Thpain?’
    Nicola, embarrassed, turned her attention back to Johnny. Sometimes, she thought with a flash of annoyance, Fox seemed determined not to fit into her new and glamorous world.
    ‘It
was
quite romantic,’ Johnny was saying.
    Nicola observed Liz visibly wilt. ‘I’m sure,’ Johnny added, ‘it would have been even more romantic if I’d had a beautiful travelling companion like yourself, of course.’
    Liz perked up, though his eyes had darted in Nicola’s direction—a move not unnoticed by either Nicola or Fox.
    The sun was going down. Like champagne that had been poured too early, the party beganto lose its fizz. Their group, together with Zane and some other colleagues and acquaintances, moved on to a bar in the wharf. One by one by two, the others peeled off until it was down again to Johnny, Liz, Fox and Nicola.
    ‘All right, kiddies.’ Johnny fixed them each in turn with his bright gaze. ‘What d’ya say? Want to paint the town red? I’ve got a party we could all go to.’ He slung one arm around Fox’s shoulder, who stiffened, and the other around Liz, who collapsed onto his side with such enthusiasm that she nearly fell over. Johnny winked at Nicola. ‘It’s a very special party.’
    ‘Oh, I dunno,’ Fox said, shrugging off Johnny’s arm. ‘I think Nic and I might just call it a night. What d’you say, Nic?’
    ‘But it’s early!’ Nicola exclaimed.
    ‘It’s eleven,’ Fox pointed out. He was eager to get away from Johnny, with whom he’d forged a tenuous truce for Nicola’s sake.
    ‘C’mon, Nic! Fox?’ Liz pleaded tipsily. Lurching now in Fox’s direction, she grabbed at and fiddled with Fox’s shirt as though she were trying to unbutton it. ‘You
gotta
come.’ She let outa champagne burp, covered her mouth with her hand and giggled, ‘Pardon me!’
    Politely but firmly, Fox extricated himself from Liz’s clutches. He pulled Nicola aside. ‘Sweetheart,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘I don’t mind going out somewhere if you want. Liz can come too if you like. But not that tosser.’
    ‘Well, I don’t think he’s a tosser at all,’ Nicola asserted. ‘And I want to go. Let’s be adventurous for once in our lives.’ She had no idea how adventurous they were going to be.
    Fox didn’t like to be difficult. And, as someone who regularly ran into burning buildings, he resented the implication that he was the timid one.
    Johnny told the taxi driver to drop them off at Mary Street, in Surry Hills, just east of Central Station. He led the group through a narrow alley until they came to a graffiti-covered doorway. He was about to knock on the door when he remembered something. Drawing a large red handkerchief from his pocket, like a magician, he handed it to Fox. ‘Fox, my man. Take this.’
    ‘What for?’ Fox stared suspiciously at the clothas though at any moment pigeons might fly