Lie to Me

by Verdenius, Angela

  The kids all giggled.

  Hiding her grin, Dee pointed sternly at the girl. “Back up, sister. You’re at least two centimetres ahead of the boys, you know how much they bawl if they lose.”

  Immediately a howl of protest went up from the boys.

  Dee stuck one finger in the air and immediate silence fell.

  “I should take you home,” Bill drawled. “Janet would love for you to be there at meal times, not to mention bath time.”

  “Not in this lifetime. Right, you mob. On your mark…get set… Hang on, I need another sip.”

  There was a chorus of disappointment.

  Grinning, she took several mouthfuls of orange juice before returning to the veranda edge. “Okay. Ready?”

  “Aunt Dee!” Harry shouted, bouncing on his toes. “Throw it! Throw it!”

  “Pleeeeease, Aunt Dee!” yelled a boy who wasn’t related in any way.

  Balancing the basket ball in one palm, she drew back her arm, squinted one eye, and straightened. “Where did you want me to throw it again?”

  The kids started pointing and shouting directions. Unfortunately, most of them pointed in all different directions.

  Dee moved sudden and fast, sending the ball sailing over their heads to thump against the shed, veer off and disappear down the back towards the fence.

  Turning around, she stretched and dropped back down in the chair. Hearing the kids squealing and laughing, she smiled.

  “So,” Vic began. “I hear Ryder’s wanger is about to fall off.”

  “Rotting,” Bill added.

  “Really?” Her eyes widened.

  “You ought to know.”

  “How would I know?”

  “Because that sounds like something you’d say.”

  “Why do people keep saying that?”

  “Who, exactly?” Martha’s eyes danced in amusement.

  “Just, you know…people.”

  “It wouldn’t be a certain hunky paramedic I saw jogging towards your place this morning, would it?”

  “A hunky paramedic was jogging towards my place? Fancy that.” Picking up her glass, Dee looked sideways at her mother.

  Yep, there was disapproval on her mother’s sweetly-lined face.

  “Have you been tormenting that poor boy again, Deidre?” Mrs Miller asked.

  “Dumb arse is fine.”

  “I’m not so sure he is.”

  “Why? Did he come crying to you?”

  Bill snorted a laugh.

  “Don’t be smart.” Mrs Miller’s voice was still soft, but there was the ‘mother discipline’ tone in it. “I hope you apologised to that poor boy for spreading such a malicious rumour.”

  “Hang on.” Dee put the glass down. “I didn’t spread the rumour.”

  “Sounds like your kind of words,” Vic said helpfully.

  “I might have said it but-”

  “Might?” Bill jumped on that with ruthless delight. “No one ‘might’ have said something. You did or you didn’t, and I know you did.”

  “You don’t know any such thing, you drongo.”

  “Deidre.”

  At her mother’s tone, Dee rolled her eyes at her smirking brother before returning her attention to Mrs Miller. “Sorry, Mum. I merely mentioned to Del that someone might possibly have dry rot in his morning wood-”

  Vic, Martha and Bill snickered.

  “What are you all, twelve?” Dee demanded, hoping to divert her mother’s attention.

  Mrs Miller, having raised four children, had learned to focus. “Dee.”

  “Okay. Fine.” She took a prim sip of orange juice. “Apparently Yvonne heard us, rang Jaci who was dating Ryder - right when they were almost about to do the dirty, I might add - and told her Ryder had dry rot. STD,” she added helpfully.

  “I know what you mean. What did you do about it?”

  “Do about it?”

  “I hope, young lady, that you sorted this all out.” Mrs Miller gave the gathering children one glance and they scattered, throwing the ball amongst themselves.

  “I did.” Crossing her legs, Dee leaned back in the chair with an air of superiority. “I was onto it first thing this morning.”

  “Funny,” Martha mused. “Was that before or after Ryder-”

  “Nothing to do with Ryder.” Dee pointed at her. “You’re my sister-in-law, I’m fond of you, but I can take you down.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “Not forever. I can wait.”

  “She can,” Vic agreed. “I remember she waited all summer to get Bill back for something he’d done to her. He was going out on a date and she swapped the shampoo for hair dye right before he showered.”

  “Are you telling me you didn’t notice a different bottle?” Martha looked at Bill.

  Lazily, he waved a hand in the air. “She emptied the shampoo out and poured the dye into the bottle. Such a bi-” Catching his mother’s eye, he coughed. “Witch.”

  “Ah, good memories.” Dee grinned.

  “They must’ve been a handful,” Martha commented.

  “They were.” Mrs Miller nodded. “Vic, Bill, Sally and Dee. If I’d known then what I know now, I might have used birth control a lot sooner.”

  Vic grinned at Martha. “Aren’t you glad Mum had no idea?”

  Martha snuggled up to him. “Now that you mention it…”

  “Don’t get too cocky,” Bill warned. “Remember a lot of kids run in the family.” He pointed out to the shrieking kids in the yard.

  She followed his gaze. “We’re only having two.”

  “That’s what Janet said,” Dee replied. “Now she and Bill have four.”

  “Vic’s getting the snip after two.”

  He looked down at her. “I am?”

  “You are now.”

  “We might have to discuss that.”

  “Sure. No snip, no sex. End of discussion.”

  Vic looked pained.

  Dee saluted her.

  By the time her father returned with her sister and brother-in-law, it was going on for lunchtime. As much as she loved her family, it was a bit of a relief to pushbike away after lunch, the quiet of the early afternoon shifting over her as the shrieks of the kids and laughter of the adults faded behind her.

  Heading for home at a fast pedal on the quiet road, she was startled when a car horn hooted angrily behind her, the car shooting past before she had a chance to do more than glance back and recognise Yvonne’s car. It passed so close that she instinctively veered onto the side of the road, her wheels skidding in the gravel.

  Thrown off balance, Dee and the bike parted company.

  The gravel bit into her, ripping along her unprotected forearm and side as her blouse was caught by the ground and jerked upward as she skidded along it. Coming to a stop, she lay for several seconds, cursing and swearing, before she sat up slowly to assess the damage.

  Blood oozed from the scratches on her arm, the dirt clogging it. Her side hadn’t fared much better, a deeper laceration skimming the bottom of her rib cage. Pushing upward, she winced at the throb on her ankle bone, a quick glance down revealing a nasty gouge that bled profusely, soaking into her tennis shoe.

  “Damn it.” Limping a little, she crossed to where her bike lay on its side, the front wheel turning slowly.

  Lifting it up, she studied it. Crap on a stick, the chain was snapped. Next time she saw that bitch, she was going to rip her a new one. The least Yvonne could have done was stop to check that Dee wasn’t hurt. Cripes, they weren’t friends, true, but it wasn’t as though they were throwing grenades at each other.

  Mind you, if she had one now that fake blonde would be eating it from the arse-end up.

  Becoming aware of the sound of a powerful engine drawing steadily closer, she looked over her shoulder, wondering which of the four men was out riding, the identity a little hard to tell as they all rode similar black and chrome motorbikes like the one nearing.

  The tall, broad-shouldered rider was dressed in je
ans, a leather jacket and work boots, the black helmet with the shatter-proof visor covering his eyes. Yet somehow she just knew who it was even as the motorbike slowed down, the indicator flicked on and the big bike eased up beside her. The rider stretched out his legs, booted feet bracing on the gravel as one hand flipped up the visor.

  ~*~

  “I’m telling you, that woman is seriously twisted.” Ryder took a sip of Coke. “I mean dry rot? Really?”

  Lying back on the hammock, Simon peered at him from under the brim of his hat. “Have to admit it kind of has a catchy ring to it.”

  “You wouldn’t be saying that if it was your donger she was talking about.”

  “Dee has no reason to de-man my donger.”

  Holding the can by the rim, Ryder twirled it around. “That woman has a viper’s tongue.”

  “She’s entertaining.”

  “She’s dangerous.”

  From where he sprawled on the camping chair, long legs stuck out in front of him, Scott murmured, “Only to you.”

  “And isn’t that the kicker?” Ryder grunted. “What’d I ever do to her?”

  Scott and Simon exchanged glances.

  “What?” Ryder demanded.

  “Poor dumb bastard,” Simon replied.

  “What?”

  “Maybe you just aggravate her, have you ever thought of that?”

  “Aggravate her? That should be the other way around.”

  “So why remain friends with her?”

  Scott looked sharply at Simon, but his red-headed fellow fire-fighter just kept swinging lazily in the hammock.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Ryder replied, confused. “She’s Dee.”

  “But she aggravates you.”

  “But that’s just Dee.”

  “So you’d rather she aggravate you than not be friends?”

  Frowning, Scott straightened in the chair.

  Ryder took a mouthful of Coke, swallowed. “Dee and I grew up together. Man, we know each other in and out. I can handle her.”

  “But she aggravates you.”

  “So?”

  Simon grinned crookedly. “Maybe you like it.”

  “Like it?” Ryder snorted. “I put up with it.”

  “I don’t see you putting up with it from anyone else.”

  “I put up with shit from you two all the time.”

  “Okay. I don’t see you putting up with it from any other woman.”

  “But it’s not from any other woman. It’s from Dee.” Ryder took another mouthful of Coke. “She’s different.”

  Simon closed his eyes. “And there you have it.”

  “Have what?”

  “She’s different.”

  ‘Trust me, there’s no one else like Dee. That sheila is one-of-a-kind.”

  “That she is.” Scott relaxed back in his chair.

  Sitting on the veranda step, his back against the post, Ryder looked out at the back yard. Scott’s fiancée, Ash, had the vegetable patch filled with veggies, fruit trees planted, and the rose bushes blooming. The back yard looked a whole lot better than when Scott had lived by himself. Scott’s fat tabby, Tilly, was lying on her back in front of Scott’s chair having her tummy rubbed by his big foot. Scott was the picture of contented domesticity.

  Ryder didn’t think he’d ever really understand that kind of longing. Tying himself to one woman? He doubted that would ever happen. Find that one special woman? It’d be a special woman, all right, if not a downright miracle. Besides, as his Mum always said, it would take a miracle for any woman to take on her randy son and keep him on the monogamous track.

  Dee was kind of like him. It would take a special man to take on that sharp-tongued shrew. A brave man. A man who could take control and show her who was boss.

  She’d probably rip any man fool enough to try, feed him his donger for breakfast.

  Grinning a little, Ryder shook his head as he watched a mud lark sitting on the fence eyeing off Tilly. Golden-eyes slitted in pleasure, Tilly kneaded the air with her front paws, happily oblivious.

  “How long are you going to indulge that fat little fart?” Ryder asked.

  “For as long as she wants,” Scott returned. “And she’s not fat, numb nuts. She’s cuddly.”

  Grinning, Ryder took a mouthful of Coke. Truthfully, he liked Tilly. She amused him no end, but it also amused him to tease Scott about his beloved cat and Tilly provided plenty of fodder. Scott leaped to her defence every time without fail.

  “Maybe you should put Tilly on a diet.”

  “Maybe you better shut your gob,” Scott returned.

  “I’m just saying.”

  “I’ll say something with my fist in a minute.”

  “My my. You are a little sensitive today.”

  “Not as sensitive as having dry rot.”

  Okay, that was a low blow. “Bastard.”

  Scott grinned crookedly. “I’m just saying.”

  Ryder flipped him the bird as he drained the last of the Coke and stood, stretching leisurely.

  “Going somewhere?” Simon placed his hands behind his head.

  “Some of us have things to do.”

  “Such as apply antibiotic ointment on delicate spots?”

  “Such as work.” Tossing the empty can into the bin, Ryder shrugged into the leather jacket. “Hey, listen. I’ve got Wednesday off, was thinking of going for a trip on the bike to Ellor’s Loop. Who’s in?”

  “Me,” Simon said.

  “Can’t.” Scott sighed. “I’m working.”

  “Bummer. What about Kirk?”

  “Not sure.”

  “No worries, I’ll see him later.” Ryder picked up the helmet. “Please, don’t get up on my account.”

  “We won’t,” Simon assured him.

  “Don’t feel that you have to walk me to the bike or anything.”

  “We don’t.”

  “Glad we got that straight.”

  Eyes still closed, Simon gave a half flap of his hand. “See you later. Drive safely. Call me when you get home. Don’t pick up any hitchhikers.”

  “Sure, Mum.”

  “There’s a good boy.” Opening one eye, Simon puckered his lips. “Come and give your old Mum a kiss goodbye.”

  “Give you a kiss with my foot up your arse.” Ryder threw his friends a salute. “Catch you later.”

  “I’d get up and be the good host,” Scott said, “but Tilly needs me right now.”

  “And the cat comes first.”

  “Glad you understand.”

  Laughing, Ryder strode along the back of the house and around the side, past the front veranda to where his heavy motorbike, Esmeralda, parked in the driveway.

  Standing beside it, he pulled his helmet on, fastening the strap as he looked at his pride and joy. Man, he loved his bike, loved the colour, the power, the freedom. Nothing beat riding a motorbike on an open highway.

  Of course, having a cute babe on the back, her thighs nestling behind his, arms around his waist and firm breasts pressed against his back was pretty good, too, but getting on the open road with good mates and just riding, enjoying the freedom and mateship, man, nothing beat that.

  Men were uncomplicated. Women were bloody complicated. Didn’t mean he didn’t like cuddling up to a sweet woman, though.

  Swinging his leg over the seat, he settled, kicking up the stand and starting the engine. It throbbed powerfully, and he opened the throttle when he was out on the open road, still mindful of the speed limit.

  The road flashed past beneath him as he eased into the ride, enjoying it. Maybe he’d keep going, go out to the creek for a ride. It was a beautiful afternoon and he only had a floor to sweep and mop and a load of laundry to do, all of which could be done later.

  A car shot past him and he recognised the rear of it. The fact that it was cherry red, small and sporty, and had a private number plate with ‘SEXY Y’ stamped on it made it easy to recognise. Yvonne, and she was mad by the look of it. Normally she’d hoot her horn at h
im, follow behind for awhile in hopes he’d pull over and talk to her, invite her out on a date and then a night of lusty lovemaking.

  However, he’d already dated her for awhile and spent quite a few lusty hours exploring in her panties, but it was over awhile ago and he never came back for round two with ex-girlfriends. Sure fire way to get into trouble and raise false hopes for her. For him? No way. No woman had ever made him want anything more than a few dates and some hot lovemaking. He doubted any woman would ever make him want anything more permanent, and he wasn’t sorry about it, either. Unlike Scott and Kirk, he wasn’t looking for happily-ever-afters.

  Rounding the bend, he spotted something on the side of the road. Drawing closer, he saw someone sit up and realised that a pushbike rider had taken a spill on the side of the road. Gravel was a bitch when you hit it fast and hard, and the rider had obviously lost control.

  Unless they’d been startled by Yvonne and her mad driving.

  The person stood up gingerly, and at the sight of that voluptuous figure dressed in the same clothes he’d seen just that morning, Ryder knew who it was instantly. He didn’t know any other woman with such an hour-glass figure, the top half a whole lot bigger than the already generous bottom half.

  The only woman he knew with that figure was Dee.

  Concern bit at him immediately. How bad was she hurt? Shit, she was limping, not to mention there was definite red starting to pool through her blouse.

  Goddamn, she was hurt.

  Slowing down, he indicated, pulling onto the gravel carefully, controlling the big bike easily.

  Dee watched as he pulled up beside her, relief washing through him when he saw that her face was undamaged. She hadn’t been hit by Yvonne, so that was something, the bike and she would both be a whole lot worse off.

  Flipping up his visor, he studied her. “You all right, babe?”

  “'Course.” Dee smiled. “Just took a spinner.”

  Yeah, he could see that. His gaze dropped to her arm, seeing the blood trickling down the smooth skin. Leaning out, he grabbed her blouse and hitched it up.

  Rather than slap his hand away, she just looked calmly down to where the gravel had abraded and lacerated her side. “Nice look, huh?”

  “Shit.” Turning off the bike, Ryder kicked on the stand and swung off, yanking his helmet off as he did so to place it on the seat.