by Bree Darcy
But it was too late. Curtis rounded the corner, quickening his pace as he spotted our group. “Get away from my son,” he bellowed.
Jeremy positioned himself next to Andy, ready to spring into action.
“You’re a loser.” Curtis prodded his finger at Andy’s chest. “So stay away from my family.”
“Loser huh? We’ll see who the loser is,” and with that Andy spun around and sprinted towards the finish line. Curtis and Jeremy took off after him, with me hot on their heels. “What the? …” said Gerry, who had stopped to sign autographs, his head swivelling as our mad formation dashed past.
As the finish came into view, Curtis pulled away, no doubt assisted by his superior running gear. He flung his hands into the air as he crossed the line, as if he’d won the event, not finished around the four-hundred-runner mark.
Andy collapsed over the line, his chest heaving as he tried to suck in oxygen.
“Well, the best man obviously won,” Curtis said, his bright red face unable to hide his smug expression.
“Who said I was talking about the race,” Andy replied, wiping the smile off his face.
Gerry came over to clap his best friend on the back. “Man, I haven’t seen you run so fast since that time you headbutted that meataxe at school.”
As another group hurtled over the finish line, a young skinny guy vomited right at Curtis’ feet. “Phew! That was close,” he said, stepping away to avoid the mess.
But then another runner came barrelling through, knocking Curtis into the spew puddle.
Andy and Gerry creased up with laughter.
Hope those expensive sneakers were vomit-resistant.
CHAPTER 8
“Of all the juice joints in all the world …” Andy grinned as he ambled into the cafe. “When I said you owed me a drink for beating you yesterday, I did mean of the alcoholic variety.”
I slurped up the dredges of my watermelon juice. “I can’t stay long. I have to be back at work in forty minutes.”
“All sorted. Zara’s lovely, isn’t she? Such an understanding boss, told me to tell you to take as much time as you need.”
He shot me a cheeky grin before grabbing a menu. “I’m starving. Think it was all that running I did yesterday. Ten Ks can really take it out of you.”
I rolled my eyes. “You rode in a taxi for most of it. How about a Vegemite sandwich?”
“Not bloody likely. Interesting menu though – beer-battered gummy shark, gourmet emu burger, crocodile curry with garlic and ginger. I might try the kangaroo teriyaki pie since there seems to be no koala on the menu.”
After much laughter about the sticky end to Curtis’ race and how Gerry was sulking back at the hotel because he had no one to go to the zoo with, after Dom was last seen riding off into the sunset in Sigvard’s jeep, Andy sliced open his pie and licked some of the steaming-hot kangaroo meat off his finger. “Mmmm, just like chicken. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“If you want a truly authentic experience, you need tomato sauce on that.” I grabbed a squirt bottle off an adjacent table and plopped a splodge on the top of his crust.
“You people have the weirdest habits. Now listen up because I really need to talk to you about something,” he said. “After yesterday I -.”
“You bastard!”
I turned at the sound of a shrill American voice to see Siena clattering her way across the dining room floorboards. “I spotted the boys outside and wanted to see if you’d come shopping with me. And what do I find – you’re with her again.” Siena raised her heavily bejewelled finger and jabbed it at me.
“Keep your voice down, honey,” Andy cajoled. “No need to create a scene. I’m just catching up with an old friend.”
“She may be old but she ain’t no friend, trying to convince you to divorce me.”
Jase and Jeremy hurriedly surrounded our table, blocking the other diners’ view of us and poised to possibly defend their boss to the death. For all we knew Siena could be toting a small handgun in that Gucci bag of hers.
“Sorry,” Andy mouthed at me, grabbing Siena by the wrist to lead her away.
“You hussy, you scheming, conniving, husband-stealing bitch!”
“Sweetheart, calm down. Come on, I’ll take you shopping now.”
Siena screamed what sounded like a battle cry and wrestled herself free. Before Andy or the two bodyguards could react, she’d armed herself. I felt a wetness spread across the front of my cream blouse. I put my hand to my chest, and when I took it away again my palm was covered in an oozing red liquid.
Her eyes darkened, glinting with murderous intent. Siena squirted the tomato sauce bottle again, this time aiming at my face. Sauce dripped down my nose on to the white tablecloth.
Jase and Jeremy grabbed Siena by her elbows and hustled her out of the cafe. Hopefully they had horse tranquillisers handy to bring her under control. All I got from Andy was a sheepish grin and a “I’ll call’ gesture before he too swept past the stunned onlookers and out the door.
“There’s a restroom at the back, madam,” the waiter glowered. “Then perhaps you’d like to settle the bill.”
By the time I’d mopped myself up and returned to work, the whole office was buzzing about the confrontation. I was pretty sure that little toad of a waiter had got straight on to Twitter. Luckily I wasn’t identified but Zara did give my washed-out shirt stain a knowing stare.
CHAPTER 9
I’d already saved a seat for Curtis in the school auditorium by the time he texted to say he was caught up prepping for a last-minute trip to Melbourne and was unlikely to make the concert. Surprise, surprise. He was still fuming about the fun run.
So with Delia and Thomas away on a New Zealand cruise, it was up to me and Ciara to fly the family flag as Ryan made his musical debut.
I peered through the audience, trying to spot my daughter sitting down the front with friends. According to the concert program, Ryan’s band was on straight after the interval, so we had performances from a magician, three dance troupes, a stand-up comedian, two singers and a trio of classical musicians to get through first.
As the lights dimmed, someone tapped me on the shoulder to ask if the seat next to me was free. I automatically replied yes before I recognised the voice.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as Andy shuffled around, trying to get comfortable on the plastic chair.
“Ryan invited me. I’m not stealing your husband’s spot, am I?”
“Nope, he’s stuck at work.”
“Whew, I didn’t really fancy seeing him again. But it’s a shame he’s gonna miss the show.”
At intermission, Andy disappeared to get a drink and still hadn’t returned when the lights dimmed again. I swung around in my seat, hoping to spot him making his way down the aisle. I certainly didn’t want him missing Ryan’s performance.
The principal tapped the microphone to check it was working. “I’m delighted to welcome to the stage Blast Off comprising guitarists Ryan Carmichael and Jack Linn and drummer Ethan Kerrigan. And with special surprise guest AJ Dangerfield from Grammy-award-winning rock band Danger Game.”
I got chills down my spine as Ryan walked out silently before striking up a guitar solo. It was the same track I’d heard him practising with his friend on Skype. Metallica’s Nothing Else Matters. Suddenly all the pieces fell into place – of course, it must have been Andy teaching him.
Andy and the other guitarist emerged from behind the drum kit to join Ryan at the front of the stage. The air was electric as their guitars melded into the melody and Andy sang the first few bars of the haunting lyrics.
Normally when Andy sang I couldn’t take my eyes off him but this time I couldn’t stop gazing at my son. My heart literally swelled with pride. The song ended in a blaze of glory, with a blistering guitar duet from Andy and Ryan, their dark heads bent next to one another. Andy raised my son’s arm in the air as they received a foot-stamping standing ovation. I’d never been prouder of ei
ther of them.
After the finale, in which Ryan joined the other performers on stage for a rendition of Pharrell Williams’ infectious Happy, I joined the throng of parents hanging around the stage waiting for their stars-in-the-making to emerge. I gave a thumbs-up to Andy, who was signing autographs, mostly for starstruck teenage boys and doey-eyed mothers.
“So what did you think?” Andy asked when he was finally able to break away.
“Absolutely amazing. Ryan was amazing. And you were … you know … alright, for an amateur.”
“For a kid who’s only been playing a year or so, Ryan’s got some real talent.”
The drummer’s mother, Ashleigh, rushed over, babbling excitedly about their performance.
“I think a lifetime of loud music has finally caught up to me,” Andy whispered into my ear as Ashleigh moved on. “I didn’t hear a word she said.”
It was tempting to mouth my next sentence so he would think he’d gone deaf. “I couldn’t hear what she said either,” I confessed. “She’s a low-talker.”
“Like the puffy shirt woman on Seinfeld?”
Exactly. I loved the fact Andy always got my cultural references. Curtis never did.
“Mrs Carmichael?” I turned as a man with floppy blond-streaked hair tapped me on the shoulder. He introduced himself as Paul Haskell, the music teacher.
“I’m catching up with all the parents tonight. We’re entering a school rock band challenge up on the Gold Coast in May. With your permission, I’d very much like to include Ryan. There’s a parents’ meeting next Wednesday night to go over everything – the rehearsal times, the cost, etc.” He looked at me expectedly.
“That sounds terrific and I know Ryan would have loved it but unfortunately he won’t be at the school then. My husband has been transferred to England.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. I’ll miss Ryan, he’s been a pleasure to teach. Still I’m sure he’ll be fine if this guy” – he gestured at Andy – “is around to give tips. I do wonder how I’ll top this concert next year. Everyone will be expecting a celebrity guest every time now.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in deep thought. “Right,” he said, suddenly. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it then.” He ducked back through the crowd.
“You’ll have to make sure he finds himself an ace band in England. Not some schmucks like Bad Disease,” Andy said. “So what do you reckon, as a reward for doing so well, if Ryan tags along with me tomorrow night for our appearance on the David Wallace show.”
“You must think I’m crazy? I know exactly what you get up to in a green room, remember,” I said.
“Give me some credit, I’m not going to smoke a joint with him. Go on, let him live a little.”
“What about Siena though? I don’t like the idea of him being there if she -”.
“She’s in Melbourne for the rest of the week. So they’ll be no jealous rages from her. That reminds you, I really have to tell you-”.
Ryan sauntered over with a definite swagger. Maybe hanging out with Danger Game at a chat show would lessen the blow of finding out he would miss the rock band challenge.
“How fantastic were you?” Andy said high-fiving him. “Keep playing like that and you might find yourself on stage with us one day. We haven’t had a proper lead guitarist since Heath.”
I shook my head rigorously. “Oh no son, before you dream up any grand plans of running off and joining Danger Game, you’re finishing school first.”
Ryan cocked him thumb at his mentor. “He didn’t and he became a millionaire.”
I couldn’t really argue with that.
“Multi-multi-millionaire,” Andy clarified. “But you need to listen to your ma, Ryan. She’s the smartest woman I know.”
A girl with tawny hair and honey-coloured limbs sidled up and laid a proprietary hand on my son’s arm. “Ry-ry, you coming?”
“Just asking. Mum, everyone’s heading to Jack’s. Can I go? And AJ, they wanted you to come along too. We’re going to jam and -”
“How come he’s invited and your darling mother isn’t?”
“Muuummm. It’s because he’s – well – he’s cool.”
“You know what they say, I was cool once before I had to pay your bills and do your laundry. He’s older than me too,” I said. “Nearly forty and decrepit.”
“Still cooler.” Andy pulled a face at me. “Ry-ry, I’d be delighted. I can get my driver to drop you back home too. Not too late, though, with school tomorrow. What time, ma?”
“No later than midnight.”
* * *
I worried all the way home how to prevent Ciara blabbing to her father about her brother rocking out with the Danger Game singer. Curtis would go ballistic. As luck would have it, he didn’t arrive home until Ciara was already upstairs in her room. But she immediately called down to him from the landing. “Dad, you should have seen Ryan tonight. He was amazeballs. All the kids were talking about how good he was. And now Mandy Gellar’s got the hots for him and -.”
“Ciara, it’s really late, it’s time to turn your light off now and go to sleep. Goodnight!” I waved her back to her room.
“Where’s Ryan?” Curtis asked.
“He’s gone out to celebrate.”
“On a school night?”
Andy’s words about letting him live a little echoed in my head. “You should have seen how fantastic he was. The music teacher wanted to sign him up for a band tour but unfortunately we won’t be around then.”
“Sidewell has an impressive music department and a highly regarded orchestra, which has performed at the Royal Albert Hall.” Curtis sounded like he was reciting the school’s brochure. “He can get involved with that.”
I don’t think there’s much call for an electric guitar player in an orchestra.
Curtis yawned and stood up. “Coming to bed? I’ve got to be up early for my six o’clock flight.”
“No, I’ll wait up for Ryan.”
“How’s he getting home?”
“A friend’s dropping him back.”
“Well tell him I’m sorry I missed his show. Maybe next time.” Curtis yawned again. “Christ, I’m knackered. Been a long, hard day.”
“You don’t think it’s weird you’re putting in such long hours for a company that’s letting you go?”
“That’s the price to pay for being kept on these extra months. I need a good reference too – I don’t want to go rocking the boat now.”
CHAPTER 10
The waiter rattled out of the room pushing a serving trolley with our lunch leftovers. This morning a radio station had disclosed where the band was staying, moments before playing Danger Game’s brand-new single Back Then. Now instead of only a handful of hard-core followers, a squadron of fans was camped out the front, recording every hint of movement on Instagram and Twitter.
Andy flung himself on to the curved couch, breathing out in relief as he slid off his black studded belt and popped the top button of his jeans. “I ate far too much.”
“I did warn you that seafood platter was for two,” I replied.
“You know I don’t like good food going to waste.”
Now we’d finished eating, it felt awkward being in his hotel room. Gerry had found a lovely German backpacker to accompany him around town, including the zoo at last; Dom and Sigvard were off in their own smitten world; and Siena was still in Melbourne. So Andy had been moaning about being left all on his lonesome until I took pity on him and, abandoning my plans to sort through our attic, had offered to keep him company for the day.
I hovered by the giant TV console, leafing through the guest guide and marvelling at the pillow menu, including hypo-allergenic, buckwheat, magnetic therapy, satin beauty and water-filled. I wanted to ask Andy which one he’d chosen but didn’t want to make any reference to the bedroom at all.
“Come here,” Andy said, patting the space next to his prone figure. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Instead I walked over to the wall of windows overlooki
ng the harbour. Andy’s eyes followed my every step. Finally he eased himself off the couch and joined me. “If you won’t come to me, then I’ll come to you.” He first stroked my cheek, then his lips caressed my neck. “I want you so bad,” he murmured. “All these years we’ve wasted, let’s not waste another second.”
I shuddered as he slid the thin strap of my dress down and trailed his finger under my strapless lace bra. As our kissing intensified, my body relaxed into the memory of all those times before. As his hand skimmed along my thigh, I felt the warmth of his palm and the cool metal of his wedding band.
What the hell was I doing!
I pulled away and yanked up my dress strap. “I’m sorry, Andy, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Just relax – it’s me.” Locking eyes with me, he stepped out of his jeans, and entwining his fingers with mine, gently pulled me towards the bed.
“Andy, no. It’s wrong.”
“Then why does it feel so right?” Andy dropped to his knees and pushing up my dress applied soft kisses across my stomach. My resolve almost buckled like my knees.
Almost.
Pushing Andy away, I hotfooted it back into the living room. My hands were shaking as I perched on the edge of the sofa to fasten my sandals. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come...”
Andy knelt in front of me. “Baby, don’t go. It’s okay, if you’re not ready, I’ll wait. Just please don’t leave me here by myself.”
“If being alone is what you’re worried about, I can always give your room number to those girls waiting outside,” I replied icily.
“Don’t be like that, Kell. I don’t want anyone else, I want you. Stay a little longer, please. We can talk or watch a movie.” He switched on the TV to view the program selection. “Look, Reality Bites is on. You love that film. Remember?” Andy broke into a chorus of My Sharona, bopping around the room.
“No, I’d better go,” I said, picking up my handbag.
Andy pretended to sulk. “Fine,” he said, crossing his arms. “Leave me all alone then, with only a bar full of Scotch and a catalogue of porn for company.”
