Winner

by Belle Brooks

  What a kick in the fucking balls. Rose doesn’t play nice.

  There’s silence. I can’t stand it and find myself relieved when it’s broken by a small “oh” sound escaping her lips. Rose faces me, and her body betrays her previous statement, because she’s flushed, much to my pleasure. “They are quite big,” she whispers.

  “Muscles.”

  “Ink.”

  “Oh.”

  Her skin becomes an even deeper shade of red. Her colour now matches her name—Rose. “What?” She takes her lip between her teeth.

  “Nothing.” I think I’m intimidating her. “I had them done after I turned twenty.”

  “What done?” I hear her swallow.

  “Tattoos.” I choose a deeper tone in answering.

  “I see.” She’s trying hard not to look at me, but I can tell she wants to.

  “Dragon and a broken thorned rose.”

  “What, sorry?”

  “The tattoo on my chest. It’s what it is.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth makes the perfect O shape.

  “Well, are you going to play or stand there?”

  “Play.” She forces the word to come out.

  I’m loving this more than I should be. I like watching Rose squirm.

  The game is tight, and I’m so engrossed with winning that I pay no attention, at first, to the partygoers slowly filling the large space.

  Sailor is bent over the table with me as we size up the two balls I’ve left to sink. I need to pocket one of them on this shot or I fear Rose might even the score.

  “Tank, you need to look at the angle. You’ll need to bounce it about five centimetres from the side pocket on the left so it will slip behind the black and slide your ball in.” Sailor is coming in handy with his smarts, and it makes perfect sense to handle the shot in this way. I just wish I were as sober as he is right now.

  “I agree.” I pat his shoulder and stand upright, scanning the room.

  “Tank. Tank. Tank.” The crowd of more than twenty bodies begins cheering, and it’s enough to spur some confidence in me before taking this risky move. I’m playing to live here, so I’d say it’s important. This will be Rose’s only chance to have me move. If she wants it as bad as she makes out, she’ll win. If not, she’ll lose.

  Slowly, I draw back the cue, and with a held breath, I press the tip into the white ball and hope to hell it works.

  The eruption of noise when I sink my ball and the cue ball hitches on the edge of the pocket without following it in reflects the pure adrenaline pumping through my own veins.

  Sailor returns to offer his advice on how to handle my last ball. It’s a much easier shot than the previous, and we decide collectively I need to bounce the cue ball off the black to sink them both.

  Again, I line myself up and although tentative, I slide the cue with ease until I make connection with the cue ball.

  It’s a louder and more forceful cheer than the previous. The room fills with the noise I’d hoped to hear. I’m extremely relieved, because this time I’d closed my eyes and not witnessed the end of play taking place.

  “You fucking did it.” Blocker leaps at me the moment my eyes reopen and before I know it, I’m being stampeded by the gathered group. The thing is, I’m actually pretty horrible at pool. Turns out Rose is worse.

  Celebrations cease the moment I push myself through the many limbs and make my way towards Rose, who is backed into the corner.

  “It’s a date. Be here at three p.m. on Saturday,” I command.

  “I’m engaged, so it’s not a date—more like two people being in the same place at the same time.” Her disappointment is obvious, but she’s being a good sport about it.

  “Like friends catching up,” I counter, taking a step closer to her.

  “Ha. I wouldn’t put it in such a way. More like a bet won. I’m a lady of my word, which means I’ll arrive promptly at three p.m.” Rose wriggles forward off the wall.

  I have her cornered.

  “That works.” I grin. “A date with a real man should do you some good, Rose.”

  She huffs without pause.

  I take a step backwards.

  Rose takes a step forward, putting more distance between herself and the wall. “Really? A real man?” She laughs. “Hardly.”

  “I’ve met your choice of man … I’d say I’m pretty on point with my statement.”

  “Right? And you know all about being a good whole-hearted gentleman.” She squirms on the spot before she takes a large launch forwards and encroaches my personal space.

  “Yeah. I would.”

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree, Mr Crossley.” Her breath is warm against my skin, her eyes fierce.

  “Rose, I’m not the type to be stealin’ another man’s woman, but if you don’t take three steps backwards right now, I’m going to wrap my tongue to yours and show you how a woman is supposed to be kissed.”

  Her breath launches in her throat. I hear it as it catches in limbo. Her eyes are glued hard to mine, and the desperation with which she tries to compose herself has me wanting to tilt her chin and claim her mouth for myself.

  One step. Two steps. Three steps, has Rose’s back pressed firmly against the wall she’d worked so hard to escape from.

  “Good choice. I would have kissed you, Rose. Don’t think I wouldn’t have.” I smirk before turning my back to her. I leave Rose panting and breathless, and make my way out of the games room and into the main living area, wishing Rose hadn’t heeded my warning. If only she’d stayed frozen, then I would have taken her mouth to mine and made her forget about rich dicks with fancy cars.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rose

  My head is spinning. What just happened? A slight chill from the fresh air outside causes goosebumps to appear over my skin. Finlay is so intimidating, not to mention cocky, and he just completely overstepped every boundary I’ve ever set for myself. Why did I challenge him? Hell, who was I in that room? I most definitely wasn’t acting like myself.

  I can see red lace poking out from the bottom of a woman’s skirt. She’s tall with straightened blond hair hanging over her shoulders and ending at her hips. As I look downwards, I’m met by legs so long they don’t appear to end. Who is this lady? Why is she dressed in a skirt that doesn’t even cover her bottom?

  “Are you a lesbo or something?” she tuts.

  “Ummm ... no.” I don’t know what to do or where to look, so I stare at the outline of a butterfly drawn just above her ankle.

  “Well, my eyes are up here, you skank.”

  I swiftly make eye contact, but peer down as she bites her bottom lip. “Do you like what you see?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m Kitty, and you are?” Her eyes are almost the same tan colour as her skin, and they are surrounded by glitter. Who wears glitter eyeshadow? “Heeellllo?”

  “Roselette.” Why do I feel as if I’m choking on my own tongue?

  “Well, Roselette, it’s rude to stare at another woman’s arse so blatantly. However, I do bend both ways. It will cost you, though.” She pauses before scanning my entire body. “Two hundred.”

  “What? Sorry?” God, is she a prostitute?

  “Two hundred dollars and I’ll give you whatever you want, sugar. It might be free to look, but it’s not free to touch.” She bites down on her purple-stained lip once more.

  I know my mouth is hung wide-open, and no matter how hard I try to snap my jaws together, I can’t seem to.

  “It’s what you want, right? Me to fuck you.”

  “Whhhaaaat?” I’m not sure what is happening here, but I want no such thing.

  Without warning, Kitty moves the few steps between us and hooks her long-painted nail into the V of my dress. “Hi.” She smiles, shifting her head until she breathes heated air against my ear. “The things I will do to you are worth the money. I eat out often, and you look like you’d be a fine dining experience. I’ll make you come so many times …”

 
; “No.” I jump backwards. “No. No. No.” She’s definitely a prostitute. “I’m not gay. I do not want to pay for anything. Please, I need to leave now.”

  “Too bad.” She smiles before turning her back in my direction and swaying her hips towards a crowd of people farther down the well-lit grassed area.

  Laying my face in my palms, I’m overcome with dizziness and the need to get out of this place, and fast. I made a huge mistake coming here tonight.

  I don’t take a step before I sense someone standing close to me, and I jump.

  He laughs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  I twist on my heel, and I’m met by Finlay’s narrowed eyes before his bare chest becomes my view. “I’m going home,” I blurt out.

  “Okay, but first, here.” I watch as he slides his hand into his jeans pocket and then removes a mobile phone. “I’ll need your number in case something happens and I have to reschedule our date.”

  “It’s not a date.” I’m instantly cross.

  “You keep telling yourself that. Here, put your number in.” He holds the phone out for me to take.

  “Do you know what I think?”

  “You’re bailing out on the bet, aren’t you?”

  “No,” I lie. It’s true. I’m definitely bailing out.

  “Number.” It’s a forceful command.

  “Okay.” My hand trembles as my fingers brush his and I take his phone.

  Roselette. +61 0471 777 111. I hit save and release a long exhale. “Here you go.” I hand back the phone and plan to leave as fast as I punched my digits in, but I’m stopped by a yapping dog I didn’t see coming, dancing around my feet. “She’s cute,” I say bending at my knees so I can pat her.

  “Roxie, what’s wrong?” Finlay lowers to the ground and scoops her into his arms, holding her against his chest as we both stand upright.

  She doesn’t halt her barking. Instead, it intensifies.

  “Shit.” He looks panicked when he says, “Tessa.” He sprints.

  I’m not sure why, but I slip off my shoes I’d not long put back on and hook the straps around my index finger before running as fast as I can in this tight dress. I’m not getting anywhere with haste, that’s for sure. I can no longer see Finlay when I step back inside the house, and as I dart my eyes in every direction, flashes of faces zoom by. Where is he? Who’s Tessa?

  The music is lowered in volume, and I hear the barking of the dog who yapped at my heels again. I follow the direction of the sound. “Finlay,” I shout.

  There’s no reply.

  A door is half ajar to the right of the lounge area, and I hesitate before jogging the final steps to its opening. “Finlay.” I’m panicked, but why?

  “It’s okay, Tess. I’ve got you. You’re okay.” He’s sitting on a bed cradling a woman in his thick arms. “Breathe, Tess. Breathe, damn it.” It’s a frightful command, and I’m not sure whether to stay where I am or move farther into what I’ve now figured to be someone’s bedroom.

  “Move, Rose. Fucking move.” A man barges me from behind, and my shoulder meets the wall from the force of being pushed aside.

  Who is he?

  Staring at the bed, I feel a wash of sickness come over my body, and the need to vomit grows strong.

  “Fuck,” Finlay screams, so loudly I jump.

  “I’ve got it. Just hold her.” Rance is fiddling with a machine that is situated right beside a bedhead.

  “Has someone called for an ambulance?” Finlay is handling Tess so gently, yet his expression is fierce.

  “Al is.”

  “Good,” Finlay replies. “Come on, Tessa. Stop dicking around already.”

  “They’ve been dispatched, Tank. Five minutes.” A youthful face comes into view. A young man rushes to the door with the aid of crutches.

  He’s missing a leg.

  “You did good, kid,” Finlay replies.

  “You need to leave,” a man says as my arm is clasped, and I’m being pulled backwards.

  The door is closed. I’m turned and then guided deep into the living area.

  “Where is everyone?” Did I say this out loud or think it? I might be having an out-of-body experience, because nothing feels real.

  “The party has been cleared out. You need to go.” The man who made my drinks earlier appears out of nowhere.

  “Can you tell me what’s happening?” I know I’m being nosey but something tells me not to leave.

  “No. Go home, Rose.” He runs his fingers through his blond hair and puffs out his cheeks.

  “Sailor, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” He’s a million miles away in his head, his blank stare tells me so.

  “What’s happened?”

  “Rose. You need to go.”

  We stand. We say nothing. Both with our eyes fixed to the door. I’m pulled back into reality by paramedics rushing past. I stare back at the door, listening to the hard thuds of my own heart.

  “Finlay.” I rush towards him when he steps out into the living room.

  “Here.” He passes me his phone, and I snatch it from his hand. “Go through the directory and call a lady named Caterina. Tell her to come straight away.”

  “Okay.”

  He continues past me. I turn and watch Sailor wrap his arm around Finlay’s back, holding on to his shoulder.

  “It’s going to be okay, mate. Just breathe. Somebody get Tank a blanket. The big man’s trembling.”

  My hands shake whilst I locate the contact number in the address book and after I finish talking to her, the rest becomes a blur. I know I spoke to Caterina and I know she’s coming, but apart from this I can’t remember a damn thing.

  I’m not sure when I came to sit at a breakfast bar, but it’s where I’m perched. The surface is cold, so I press my heated cheek against it. I’m hot, agitated, and feel a lack of control over my own body as I stare into space. My mind is absent of a single thought when four men snap me out of it. They are in a single row and moving down across the lawn in the backyard. I watch as they stop in unison and then huddle in a tight circle, and I know I should lift my head, find my feet, and leave, but I don’t. They stay out there for what feels like forever, and I never turn away. I’m not even sure if I blink.

  The circle breaks and then parts, and through the middle, Finlay steps out. Together, they return to the house, and I can’t seem to shift my eyes away from this tattooed man who entered my life in a blazing inferno and left before returning as my neighbour.

  “Rose.” It’s the first thing I hear him say when he re-enters. Warmth travels down both my arms as his skin meets mine. He stops at my wrists and lifts me to my feet. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” It’s barely audible.

  Finlay appears depleted of all energy with an obvious sadness to his once bright eyes.

  “You need to go home now, okay?”

  “Okay.” I’m not sure there’s any sound.

  “Do you want me to walk with you?”

  “Yes.” I’m quick to answer.

  “Let me get a T-shirt and some shoes, and I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay.”

  We stand about a metre apart from each other’s side as we stride down the driveway. Finlay says nothing, and I don’t know what to say. As we meet the concrete barrier at the fence line he stops, puts both hands in his jean pockets, and proceeds to rock on his heels.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. It is. Tessa is okay.” He relaxes his shoulders and drops his chin downwards.

  “Tessa?” I’m curious.

  “She lives with me.”

  “Oh.”

  “She’s sick. There was a problem with the machine helping her breathe. They fixed it. She’s in good hands, and her nurse is with her now. They aren’t taking her to the hospital.”

  “I’m glad.” I reach out my hand and lay it against his bicep. “I didn’t realise other people were …”

  “Tessa and Alan. The kid without a leg. I’m not sure i
f you saw him.” He lifts his head until his eyes connect with mine. “Anyway. You better get home.”

  “Yes.” I remove my touch from his arm and swing the stilettos’ I’m holding in my other hand. “Should be a much smoother walk without these on.”

  He nods.

  “Goodnight.”

  He’s quick to turn away from me, and as his back moves off into the distance I begin my own trek—that is, until I remember I put his phone into my bra. “Finlay.” I call, jogging up his drive.

  He stops.

  “Hey, your phone. I have your phone.” When his eyes meet mine, I slow my pace until I’m walking. “I have your phone.” I wave it out in front of me.

  “Thanks,” he says when I reach him and outstretch my arm to return it.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Night then.”

  I bob my head.

  He’s quick to turn away once more.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tank

  “Hey, Tank, did you know someone is cleaning up out front?” Rance takes the pot from the coffee machine as I sit more upright on the stool at the breakfast bar.

  “No, I didn’t. Who is it?”

  “No idea. But your neighbour, Rose, and some guy are standing out by the mailbox.”

  “You’re kidding?” I take the last mouthful of my own coffee.

  “Nope. Kid ready for school yet?”

  “In his room,” I reply as Rance screws the cap back onto the canister he poured the coffee into.

  “All right. See you later then?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey, how’s Tessa?”

  “Good. She slept yesterday away, but she’s been up this morning and had some coffee.”

  “Good news.”

  “It is.”

  “All right, better get this kid to hurry up or he’ll be late.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Sliding off the stool, I decide it’s probably best to go find out what’s happening in front of the house. But first, I make my way upstairs and slip on a pair of rugby shorts and a white T-shirt. Better make myself somewhat decent.

  He’s wearing a baseball cap and long blue coveralls as he places empty beer bottles and other discarded garbage into a bin on wheels he pulls behind him. He looks at me but doesn’t come over, instead opting to carry on with the clean-up. The questions I have are who is he, and who instructed him to come complete this job in the first place?