“No, I’m saying gather intel and use what you learn. Choose what you’re going to go in as,” Pop pins me with his grey eyes. “Choose what will bring the most --”
“—collateral damage, Soldier.” Nat grins wolfishly at me.
“Viewers,” Pop ignores Nat. “Followers. Fans. Awareness. Money. Ways to infiltrate down the track.”
“Pressure,” I sigh. It usually doesn’t worry me, but this extra ‘stuff’ does. Hold on, his words become clearer in my hazy mind.
“Ways to infiltrate down the track?” I shake my head, lost.
“Nan didn’t call me MM for nothing, Av,” Pop waggles his eyebrow making me not want to ask.
“What does MM mean?” Nat leans forward and I almost feel like hitting him. All mind does is try to shy away and starts to focus on the mesmerizing image of that milk droplet trickling down Noah’s tanned abs.
“Master Mind,” Pop replies with a smug smile. Harry chuckles.
“I don’t want to know,” I give in and lift my hips into the air to pull out the wedgey dissipating that octopus encouraging vision.
“Good, because I’m not ready to elaborate yet. Just let me say this, your Nan and I worked as a team. This here,” he taps his head, “is my greatest weapon. One day you’ll see the big picture.” His grey eyes hold mine and a look passes over his face that I have never seen before. I’m lost on the deciphering of it too. “You’ll know when you decide to go all in. But until then, take my advice, go in as something else, something that they don’t fully estimate.” He holds my stare for a good second before turning around.
“Gee, that will be a change people underestimating me,” I smile.
Pop finds my gaze again like a heat seeking missile, “Even more so, so much so any thought of your involvement would seem absurd.”
My hands make a what the hell sign in pop’s direction, but I don’t ask because I know it will be a waste of my breath. Pop likes us to arrive at these types of destinations on our own. Apparently, it’s more meaningful.
“What are you gonna be, Soldier?” Nat grinning manically from the weird exchange. “A poor farm girl with some ill-fitting steak undies?”
“Too much of a stretch,” I arch again and rip at my wedgey.
“You should go into it as a Queen,” Harry muses from the front. I laugh but frown when I notice his eyes are serious in the mirror.
“Did you bring some pastel, floral curtains you’ve been hiding somewhere to whip into a three-piece ankle length dress suit, Haz?” Nathan jests in an English accent obviously not having caught Harry’s expression.
“I’ll give you pastel, floral curtains to walk home in, sonny,” Harry growls. “And I don’t mean a Queen like that.”
“Oh, the other type of Queen,” Nat laughs, then starts singing ‘I will survive’, but that would be more my cuppa tea.” He doesn’t mean he bats for the other side just the dancing part.
“And, you wouldn’t have to even act, just add lashes,” Pop intones dryly.
“Can’t help it if I have flair,” my brother replies with a shrug.
I gaze out the window and am surprised to see helicopters buzzing around in the sky. “What’s with the choppers?” I ask, peering up at one hovering ahead over the bridge structure, there seems to be a person hanging their head out the side with something.
“They’re for reporting traffic to news and radio stations and some app thing they rave on about,” Harry replies. We stop again. We are blasted by the horn again, long, hard blasts. Grrr. My teeth grind together. I’m close to boiling point.
My eyes flick toward the window again and study the car that pulls up to a standstill next to us. The guy is busy on his phone, his passenger as well. Both taking gulps of coffee between conversation or texting. Neither takes even a second to glance at the other. Harry and Nathan continue in their teasing banter about the Queen.
Dad thinks the Queen is useless, that she wouldn’t know a real problem if it attached to her butt, Nat says this not so succinctly. I’m not even sure what the hell a Queen is supposed to do, the only thing I’ve seen her do is go around shaking people’s hands or participating in parades. She likes horses though, which is a plus. Maybe the only one.
In books it’s way different to real life, Queen’s either seem to live it up in wealthy squalor or are dark and have questionable motives. There have been a few that have taken themselves into the fray and have fought for their people, maybe that’s what Harry means. Or, more likely the dark motive one.
I study other cars and passengers and watching all their busy faces consumed by their own lives, would they even care about anything that doesn’t affect them or their family? I start to ponder what it would take for them to care, to make one decision a day to help out farmers? Buy the Australian made product instead of the imported. What would it take for them to stop, think and bother to have a care? The car behind us blasts us yet again as we lumber up on to the bridge. Harry and Nat have stopped their banter as Harry concentrates on the traffic. If there is a gap of three millimetres between us and the car in front, another car will swerve into it making us jerk to a halt to avoid collision. Poor Frankie. I can feel him trying to keep his balance as the truck vibrates. I will have to buy him five books and a Voldemort to make up for this.
Nat once told me that for every one-hundred people only three at the most are farmers. So, everyone on this bridge except us, wouldn’t be. I can’t process it. I actually don’t know if that means farmers like us or hobby farmers too; I’d say the latter.
My thoughts stray back to Nan, even though she did all that, she was still fundamentally being herself, with or without the Master Mind’s help. I guess I don’t have to be anything but me. I imagine Nan now and what she would say to me. ‘You have the tools inside and out. Use them carefully but in the end be yourself. An oyster isn’t pretty on the outside, but people dig for it anyway, through sharp edges. It’s the inside that contains your real pearl. Let it free.’
The more I know about myself; I’d say people probably think I’m the opposite. From what people say my pearl is my outside and my sharp edges breathe on the inside.
Wouldn’t my perceived pearl mean that I don’t have to wink or smile or brush my hair to have an impact? I just need to go with my gut, no matter how sneaky or downright savage it may be. I replay the faces at the restaurant table, how dismissive they were about me doing this, how they didn’t believe I would, how they laughed off me making the news. Oh, challenges.
We jerk to a stop again and we can hear the insults fly as well as the horn from behind us. Frank bellows in frustration and I feel his weight shuddering through the cab as he struggles to probably stay on his feet. It’s hell unfair for him. My tempers flares hot against every cell in my body. I can not stand my animals tormented.
“Harry,” I say imitating Nat when he employed an English accent. I probably sound just as bad too. “Would you please sojourn our transport for a good moment and meet me and my loyal steed at the other end of this large construction once we alight.”
Pop swings around, grey eyes wary. “What are you doing?” His eyes instantly take in mine and narrow.
“I’m going to garner further interest for my steak address,” this time I do wink at him. He looks like he is going to say something but holds it in. I can practically see the cogs whirling in that head of his. He inhales deeply, which is odd for him, he’s normally very ‘yup, go for it. Do your worst.’ It’s unsettling but not enough to stop my rage momentum.
Or Nat’s, who is already out of the truck and by the time I’m out and have stalked around to the back he has the ramp down, his face alight with adventure, his eyes glinting with mischief. Thank the heavens, he’s still the same. The car that has been beeping us since kingdom come, starts up again with a vengeance. The guy’s bloody hand should be ready to fall off from carpal tunnel syndrome. Nat pushes up his sleeves, but the man just swears at him and lays on the horn again not even slightly perturbed by
the mountain glaring at him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ran Nat over without batting an eyelid.
“I’ll handle this,” I grin at my half-stunned mullet of a brother.
Funny thing with Frank is if he is unhaltered he thinks what he wants goes. When he is haltered he is really quiet, like he’s being judged on goodness and obedience as well as quality. I have, unfortunately for the car behind us, taught him many a trick while he has been haltered, mostly to terrorise my siblings, but hell, I’m happy to broaden my range in that area.
“Hello, my beautiful boy,” I stroke his face. He is rather annoyed from the tells his body is giving. I halter him and lead him out, his nostrils flaring at the unfamiliar scents and sounds. “I’m so sorry you have had a terrible drive, you’re so good to be doing this.” I smooch him on the nose. “You are just so, so beautiful and clever.”
“What the fuck!” booms the man from the little silver car behind us. “This a bridge not a milk cow promenade!” His face is red and blotchy, his collar looks already to have sucked up his weight in sweat. The ramp snaps back up and Nat pats the side of the truck for it to go. I notice the white and blue striped chopper sliding through the air our way to get a better look.
I point to the man, while I lead Frank to the passenger side of his car. I’ll use a Queen move on this one, he had his turn, it’s Frank and I’s show now.
“You’ve used your horn aplenty, now let me return the favour!” I raise one eyebrow and smile. Challenge won, if I say so myself, one mischievous glance done and dusted. The damn chopper camera better had captured it. On zoom.
My hand and free arm perform the movement Jordan knows and abhors. Frank springs forward and hooks his horns under the front tyre guard and flicks his head up, the car heaves and shakes and bounces up like it’s going to flip over. The man screams and hands grip on to the wheel and out the window. A lady screams from another car. Frank lets the car bounce about for a few then drops it, metal groans and screams as the under carriage takes the brunt of the fall. He swings his tail, clearly elated to be out and doing deeds that dissipate his built-up infuriation. We are spirit bonded for sure.
Nathan is cracking up. “One more time,” he begs filming.
“You better have caught my mischievous but obviously extremely sexy look,” I pin him with a stare.
He pulls an if that’s what you call it look but nods.
It’s not hard for me to acquiesce to his request. Totally in Queen mode now with that language. Okay, I’m definitely the dark motive one. Frank getting right into it adds more strength to it this time and I can see the whole underside of the car. A few more inches and it will be riding the edge of toppling right over. He lets it thud down with a bang and then roars with excitement. I can tell he wants to gore it now, drag his horns down the length. How I’d love to grant that too, but Dad bloody would kill me. Frank starts to kneel and rubs his head on the cement. Def-con level up. Oops.
“Blast us again, go on!” Nathan’s voice is fierce pleasure, I wonder what Dell would think of him now. His eyes are blazing blue as they find mine, his grin is one borne from something out of Nan’s hidden self.
I match it, feeling the thrill uncoil into my every vein, this is who I am. Not someone that smiles, winks or flicks to gain attention; I’m rather someone that lets that ferocious feeling permeate through my body until I do what I do. I rip off my jeans and top unveiling this damn monstrosity of a wedgey machine bikini, throwing my clothes to Nat, I stand tall and place the tiara of tomatoes on my head like a real crown and stiffen like I am the bloody Queen incarnate. I slowly scan and meet the eyes of every single person caught in their car around me. “Frank, shall we stroll over our promenade?”
With that, I vault on to a highly excited Frank to start the slow journey across the bridge, three helicopters trained on our every move and a jam of people in cars in our wake having to question who the hell is daring to stop them. And hopefully, starting to question why.
HOLY…
Noah
Tugging at the rusted exhaust pipe, I ignore the unwelcome presence of a customer that has wandered into the workshop. Just the sensation causes me to tense. Over the years this place has become a safety net for me, a place where I can focus on nothing but the car and its problems and forget everything else. Forget me.
I don’t turn or even give a hint I know they are there, most of my body wants to lash out with the spanner I’m clutching. My boss knows I hate people trying to talk to me with a passion, especially women that flirt with me in the attempt to get just that bit extra done for free.
I’m hoping since I’ve uttered a few words to the boss of late that he doesn’t now believe I’ll be open and friendly with everyone. I actually prefer to keep it how it was pre-Thornie here, although sometimes verbally communicating what I need saves a ton of time.
My boss’s rough and lined face when I first said just the words ‘oil leak’ to him was almost comical, he dropped the part he was holding with a clunk and rubbed at his ear like a bucket load of wax was sliding out of it. He stared at me for so long I wished I never opened my mouth. I concentrate on the lull of the music I now like to have playing in the workshop.
“Are you going to acknowledge me or what?” A voice sounds from behind me.
The familiarity and unexpectedness of Jarrod’s voice makes me smile as I turn. “Hey,’ I raise my greasy hands.
“Shit, you really are speaking!” He shakes his head and returns my smile. I notice the relief that is bleeding through his whole body. I’m not over the moon about how he’s been with Av, but I feel that the consequence of being at the end of Av’s knife is enough, she’s not someone I have to avenge at being called a name. And I know what level a misunderstanding can elevate to.
I nod, “About time, I guess.”
He stares at me, eyes wide.
“It feels weird, hearing your voice all grown up,” he muses, reminding how long he’s been in my life. The last vestiges of reserve I had been holding on to is swept away. “I half expected it to sound like you did as a kid.”
“It sounds better now than it did,” I remember the harshness and gravelly tint it had when I first spoke, the way my throat restricted, and I had to constantly wet it. I’m still surprised that Av understood me, I guess it’s lucky she’s hung out with Chops so much.
“I bet,” he smiles again and this time instead of relief I see sadness. Maybe he was hurt because he was always there and Av got me to speak only after being in my world a short time, I never thought about it that way before. Never would have bothered before Av. “I’ve missed hanging out,” he continues looking up at the car above us.
I have too. I love hanging out with Av, more than anything, but I realise I can appreciate the downtime I had with Jarrod, the acceptance and the ease of his company. I know what to expect from him, which is nice and somewhat comforting now. Or maybe that’s just a by-product thought after last night’s experience, or the Grim Reaper experience… or just plain meeting Nathan.
“Me too,” I concede aloud. His smile grows.
“You look tired, man,” he reaches up to hold the end of the exhaust I’m still fighting to separate from the car. I am tired. I slept but not well. Last night’s nightmare was a bad one. Too realistic for me to shake off even throughout the day.
Goosebumps peal over my skin. I close my eyes and try to force the image from my mind. It doesn’t work. I start to relive it. My father digging himself out his grave, fingernails breaking off and exposing the tips of his bones. Him tripping over my mother’s head stone with a curse as he advanced towards me and Av lying. His bloody, rotting hands trying to rip Avalon from me as we slept in the cemetery for some unknown reason. As he pulled at her, Avalon’s hands turned to tentacles. He then yanked out a leg bone from his own leg and snapped it in two to saw through Av’s grip on me. Her tentacles regrew doubly fast and with more and more appendages with each of his attempts. He kept snarling at me that he warned me, that I didn�
�t heed his words. That I was in too deep, captured and blinded. Dribble and spit spraying on to my face, stinking of death. Then suddenly, the dream switched to my childhood bed, covered with colourful dinosaurs riding bikes. He sat by me, the way he used to and placed a calloused hand on my forehead, his eyes soft in his rotting and skeletal face, “I love you, Noah. I only ever wanted what was best for you. To save you from all the heartache this world will heap on you. You must listen; females are masters at manipulation, they will have you believing they love you when all the while, she is planning ---” That’s when the alarm jerked me awake.
It took me a few groggy minutes to comprehend where I was and that Av was gone. I’d heaved in deep breaths and was glad for the opportunity to get my wits back, struggling through the remnants of the dream that still clings like spiderwebs to me, and the tearing and sinking molten lead in my stomach that I was doing the wrong thing and had failed my father. The lead that is still twisting and hissing in my stomach.
I hated that I can’t just settle into this with Av, taking the prospect of having her taken away from me to be able to deal with her touching me more and wanting her to. God, I wish I could be normal, want normal things and do normal things. It’s crazy an uncontrollable rollercoaster ride, one I don’t want to get flung off from but still sometimes it’s stomach dropping. I literally am worried to close my eyes for more than a few seconds. I’m terrified I might accidently hurt Av if I dream like that again but am also dreading the gut-wrenching feeling of the acid from failing my dad which still is annihilating my stomach lining. While I’m certain that the whole catalyst was being in the cemetery they were buried in, I feel like since I’ve let my walls down to my girl, things are able to infiltrate so much easier.
Av had sent me a text with a photo she had taken of us, me asleep and her with a permanent marker posed above my face, the wicked grin at odds on that angelic face of hers. I had almost tripped on my way to the bathroom I felt so lightheaded, only to find a stick figure in a steak bikini (I’m guessing) blowing a kiss on my neck. She had said she would see me later at the concert. I can’t wait.
Avalon Expandable Heart: The Wild Heart Series Page 42
