by C. J. Duggan
As time ticked on towards the dinner shift, Ellie and I packed up our towels we had stretched out on for an afternoon sunbaking session and headed for the hotel. We walked past the mechanics, where I knew Toby worked. Naturally, it was closed on Sunday, but I did have the slightest hope that Toby might have been in there, anyway. He could be doing a bit of weekend catch-up. Being a sweltering summer afternoon and all, if he was in there, he’d most likely be shirtless. Hey, it was my fantasy.
My gaze skimmed the exterior of the closed building. Faded block lettering read ‘Matthew & Son’ on the tangerine and blue workshop. Toby’s dad, Matthew Morrison, had been the local mechanic for as long as I could remember. It was where everyone went. Since he was the only mechanic in town he could have named his price, but he was a real decent bloke and always charged reasonably. Or so my dad said. I squinted at the sign; it should have really read ‘Matthew & Sons’ seeing as Toby and his older brother, Michael, both worked there. That in itself was a real testament to their dad. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, but I could never work for them. And believe me, they had tried. One of the upsides of working at the Onslow was my parents stopped pestering me. They seemed pleased enough that I had stepped out of my comfort zone and was trying, at least. One look at my lacklustre waitressing skills, and they would probably thank their lucky stars I’d never agreed to work for them.
“Well, look at you.”
Ellie gave me a side-on look.
“What?”
“Checking out Toby Morrison’s workshop. It’s Sunday, Tess, he’ll be long gone.”
I should never have told her about liking Toby. She was like a dog with a bone. Even more frightening was the scheming matchmaking side to Ellie that I knew she’d lose control of sooner or later. Probably sooner. Ugh, why had I told her?
She frowned at me. “What’s stopping you? Tell me one good reason why you won’t go there, Tess.”
We crossed the main street, leaving Matthew & Son behind.
I half laughed at her. “One? Ha! I’ll give you five!”
“Go on, then!”
I held up my thumb to begin the count.
“One! Before two days ago, I am pretty sure he didn’t even know that I existed.”
Although he did know my last name.
“Two! And this is a pretty big one: he’s what? Twenty-two? And I’m seventeen. You do the maths.”
Ellie shrugged. “Maths isn’t my strong point.”
It was five years too many.
“Three! He is Toby Morrison. Popular, gorgeous, charming … and I am TIC TAC TESS.”
Ellie sighed. “You’re struggling.”
“Four! He works, I’m still at school. I doubt he would be interested in coming to Deb practice.”
Ellie rolled her eyes stubbornly. “I must say, I’m still unconvinced.”
“And number five,” I breathed out. I had a horrible suspicion. Although I hoped it might not have been true, I seriously doubted it. “Number five,” I said again, “Toby has a girlfriend.”
And her name was Angela Vickers.
You would have had to live on another planet to not know Angela Vickers. 5’10”, blonde, hard to miss. She was School Captain when I was in Year Ten, and, oh, how all the boys mooned over her, with her perky blonde hair and perfect perky breasts. None of which would have mattered, only that even the likes of Toby Morrison was obviously not immune to her or her assets. It bewildered me that Toby was like all the other predictable males when he seemed so different from them. I had been in love with Toby ever since the first time I saw him.
At the end of Grade Six, all students from Perry Primary were taken for a one-day orientation at Onslow High School. We all gathered around like sheep staring in wonder at the ‘big league’ we were about to enter after our summer holidays. I was drawn to the burst of laugher that had me turning to see a boy, a boy with the most brilliant smile I had ever seen. I decided I simply had to know his name, and then, like a gift, one of the boys he was laughing with said it.
Toby Morrison.
I found out that his dad owned the mechanic shop in town, so any chance I had, I would deliberately walk past it hoping for just a glimpse or to cross paths with him. My heart was all aflutter with the sight of him, and merely the thought of him was what had me anxious to start high school, to the point I started marking down the days on my calendar.
Of course, I learned the hard way that he was in Year Twelve and had graduated by the time I started high school. So that was that. My crush on Toby faded away and life went on, even if I did always think of that smile every time I walked past his dad’s shop.
For the next few years, I saw him only every now and then at the Sunday markets or more fleetingly down lakeside with his mates. It was by pure chance one time, when I was fourteen, that I walked past Matthew & Son and saw him out the front in grease-stained overalls, talking to a customer about their car. He looked older, his hair longer, hands covered in greasy remnants of a hard day’s work.
He was working for his dad! And I nearly ran into a pole.
My heart had pounded just as it had that first time at orientation. My secret crush was just that, an utter secret. I told no one; I didn’t even confide in Ellie or Adam. Especially not Ellie. I was always terrified about confiding in her over my secret crushes as I’d learned from experience that it usually resulted in her marching up to the boy I liked and blatantly grilling them with the most obvious question of all: “So what do you think of Tess McGee?”
So Toby had become a non-negotiable secret, for the years that followed I would obsess about him only to myself. Until one infamous day in Year Ten woodwork when the latest rumour had circulated to my table. The big news that Angela Vickers was going out with the mechanic’s hot son. My heart withered at the thought, and, just for the record, bad news during woodwork is not ideal; I nearly lost a finger that day. I had to accept it: the Angela Vickers of this world would always get the boy, and I would always be Tic Tac Tess.
But then, at the Onslow Hotel I wasn’t Tic Tac Tess anymore, I was just Tess or McGee. I was like anyone else. The horrors of high school would soon become nothing more than a distant memory, even if that was little comfort to me now.
“Toby has a girlfriend?” Ellie asked. “No, he doesn’t. Who?”
I sighed. “Yeah, perfect Angela.”
“Oh yeah, we hate her,” Ellie said.
For the smallest of moments, I had forgotten. Like when he stepped out of the darkness at the party, or the way he looked at me when I brought the meals into the bar, or the feel of his hand touching mine. No doubt I had over-analysed his every movement, his every facial expression, but I’m allowed to. That’s what girls do. For those fleeting moments, however, I had managed to forget all about Angela Vickers.
“So they’re still together?” Ellie asked.
“I see her car parked at his place all the time,” I said.
Ellie gasped. “What are you doing outside his house? You total stalker!”
“Shut up!” I said, blushing. I could feel the familiar burn in my legs as we started our climb up towards the Onslow. “It’s not like that. His place just happens to be on the main road to Perry. It’s kind of hard to miss.”
You had to crane your neck and look really hard, of course, but I would leave that little fact out. I knew Toby had his own place, though I didn’t know how I knew. It was like knowing Sean’s name or Stan’s name. You don’t know how you know, you just know. It’s what’s part and parcel of living in a town with a population of less than 3000; you knew all kinds of irrelevant stuff about each and every one of them. Toby’s place was a mission brown shack, set back off the main road with a long sweeping driveway hidden amongst immense bushland. Even though it was set back and private, you could always tell if he was home. His navy Ford ute parked in the drive or, worst case scenario, Angela’s red Lancer parked behind it. He had lived there since he was in Year Twelve, and I thought it was so grown up
that he moved out of home, unlike most eighteen-year-olds in town.
I tried to imagine what the inside of his house was like, or if he could cook and use the washing machine. I would imagine that he would be pretty good with his hands, seeing as he fixed cars for a living. All of the little quirks I had been obsessing about since I was thirteen were now back in the forefront of my mind. And admittedly, I had never felt so unhappy about it.
Chapter Eight
I walked towards the Onslow Hotel kitchen, ready to assume my station at the sink.
I thought I would save Chris the trouble of banishing me to the kitchen, and instead I used some initiative and went on my merry way. If you could call it that. But I was merry; I had taken off the remnants of last night’s battered French nail polish, I was working my Guinness shirt with a non-offensive skirt instead of leggings, and I had even managed a bit of colour from the afternoon spent at McLean’s Beach with Ellie. There was nothing like a healthy dose of vitamin D and the beginnings of a tan to boost your spirits. As I pushed through the swinging kitchen door, ready to greet cranky Melba and crazy Rosanna, I was met instead with a set of glaring blue eyes.
Eyes that were attached to Amy, Uncle Eric’s fifteen-year-old only daughter. She was elbow deep in dishwater and stared me down with dagger eyes.
“Oh, hey,” I said, “Amy, isn’t it?” I smiled politely and wondered why she was there until Chris stuck his head into the kitchen.
“Tess, you’re on the floor tonight.”
Bewildered, I looked from Chris to Amy and back again, my surprise evident.
“Really?”
“Really,” he said. “Unless you think you might suffer from separation anxiety from Melba and Rosanna?”
“NO!” I shouted, probably a bit too readily.
Chris smiled. “I didn’t think so. Come on, Amy’s gonna take your place.”
I looked back at Amy, ready to offer her a smile, but her glare deepened and I side-stepped away. Wow. I was on the floor again. Guess I didn’t do as badly last night as I thought. And this time I was determined not to stuff it up.
***
“What is this?” A long, immaculately manicured fingernail pointed to their plate.
I tilted my head and leaned down a little to have a closer inspection.
“Uh … a piece of capsicum?”
“And what was it that I specifically asked not to be served?” She gave me a hard stare, as I fumbled through the backlog of dockets in my booklet.
“Oh, uh …” There it was, clear as day, scrawled in block letters.
NO CAPSICUM! I fought not to cringe.
“I’m sorry, did you want me to change it for you?”
The lady rolled her eyes at her friends.
“No, I think you have done quite enough.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. I skulked away. Wow, it was amazing how a rather upbeat day can be torn down within a blink of an eye.
Ellie met me at the cutlery drawer.
“Don’t worry, Tess, I have something that will make you forget all about Cruella de Vil over there.”
“Capsicum spray?” I asked in hope.
Ellie frowned, confused momentarily, but she shook out of it and plastered on a big grin as she handed me a docket.
“Take care of this, would ya, babe?”
She sauntered off to wait on the next table. In my hand sat a crinkled piece of paper. A dinner order for the Onslow Boys decorated with love hearts. It was then I realised the distant pulse of the jukebox through the wall; it was nothing compared to the beat of my heart.
There was a lull in dinner service, which had me anxiously awaiting the sound of the bell to tell me the order was up. I paced within earshot; twenty minutes went by before I heard that magical ding. I slid sideways as I overshot the kitchen door in my haste. Elegance and grace, as always.
I was there before Rosanna spiked the order as done. She wiped the perspiration from her brow and curved the other at me.
“I see the Onslow Boys have made quite an impression on you girls.”
I tried not to smile; even Rosanna was calling them the Onslow Boys. I plastered on my best poker face, attempting to appear cool and casual even though I had never been so eager to deliver two Chicken Parmagianas in my life.
“Just be careful, hon,” Rosanna said.
“Oh, are the plates hot?” I flinched back just before my hands made contact.
Rosanna laughed. “No, but hot boys can burn you just as easily.”
Oh no! Love advice from Rosanna. Now was not the time for a deep and meaningful; in fact, with Rosanna, never would be the time. To avoid the next cliché, I quickly grabbed the plates and legged it. I was about two seconds into my commute when I realised maybe Rosanna’s words did have a double meaning; the plates were bloody hot! I bit my lip as I quickstepped through the bar, scurrying as fast as I could to the poolroom. I breathed deeply and grimaced at the pain, and when I entered the poolroom, I managed to voice the fact.
“Ahh-eee-aaah,” I said, “hot stuff coming through.”
I dumped the plates on the bar, shaking and blowing on my now free hands.
Oh God, did I really just announce that to the room?
“McGEE!” Sean shouted as he looked up from his pool shot that he’d just pocketed with ease. He straightened and swaggered towards me, brushing passed me as he reached for his beer on the bar. He saluted ‘cheers’ towards me before taking a sip.
“Murphy!” I tipped my head.
“Ah, so you’ve done your research? You know my name.”
“I think everyone knows your name.”
“Really? Why?” he mused.
I gave him an incredulous look. “’Cos of footy, of course; star ruck-man, why else?”
Stan slapped Sean on the back as he took his seat to get stuck into his meal.
“It’s that, or the fact that he’s such a ladies’ man,” Stan teased.
Sean cast Stan a hard look as he watched his friend eat. “Don’t choke on that, will you?”
My eyes locked with Toby’s who was across the bar, about to swig on his own beer. He was smiling at his mates’ banter, and his eyes never left me as he took a long, deep drink. My burning hands were long forgotten as I felt other areas of my flesh burn up, with those eyes on me. Toby swallowed his beer and opened his mouth to speak when he was cut off by two hands covering his eyes from behind.
“Guess who?”
He smiled broadly and grabbed at the hands.
“Vanessa?”
It was then that Angela Vickers swung around to his side, hitting him with her clutch purse.
“Real funny, and who is this Vanessa, huh?” She mocked anger, but it was quickly defused as she melted with Toby’s blinding, beautiful smile. She closed the distance between them, claiming his lips passionately as if it were a long-lost reunion.
Ringer groaned. “Get a room you two!”
I quickly looked away. The thought of her running her hands through his hair, pressed up against him in an embrace was just too much to bear.
I made a quick exit back to the kitchen to grab the two remaining plates that had mercifully cooled to the touch by now. I had hoped to spot Ellie en route, in the hopes that maybe she’d switch with me, but she was nowhere to be seen. At the risk of the food getting cold, I had no choice but to grin and bear it.
“Tess, can you do a glass run while you deliver those?” called Chris from the restaurant side of the bar.
Oh great, what timing. A glass run when I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I set the meals down with no witty banter from Sean; he was too busy talking to Angela who had decided to perch herself on Toby’s lap.
I slowly, methodically made my way around the edge of the poolroom, picking up empty beer glasses from the windowsills and barrels. I spotted an empty glass near Toby and Angela.
Oh great.
I shyly excused myself as I leant passed them to grab the glass. Angela, who seemed to not even be aware of my existenc
e until then looked me over and gave me a cool, calculating assessment. She didn’t like what she saw.
“Hey, bar-keep!” she shouted with a smirk.
“Her name’s Tess, Ang,” said Stan. For that I was totally in love with him and wanted to tell him thanks, but I didn’t, as Angela had me in her sights. As she stared at me, all I could think of was please don’t call me Tic Tac, please don’t call me that.
I could see the nickname register in her cold eyes. She smiled slowly.
“Tess, would you be able to get me a glass of your house white?”
I was at first surprised by the simple question, and then I realised I would have to give her my standard answer.
“Oh … um, sorry, I’m not allowed to serve alcohol, I’m only seventeen.” I blanched. Her brows rose in fake surprise. She damn well knew I couldn’t serve her alcohol. She just laughed and waved me off as if to run along.
“Oh, never mind. Chriiiiissssss,” she shouted down the bar.
Her attempt to make me feel two feet tall had worked. I became embarrassed and flustered. I went to add the last glass to my stack, but it slipped through my fingers and fell. Everything happened in slow motion until it hit the floor and shattered in a loud, almighty smash.
“Taxi!” several people called out and laughed. All eyes were on me.
The entire stack wobbled in my arms but Sean jumped up and steadied them for me.
“Whoa, careful!”
I pressed my free hand to my forehead as I surveyed the damage. After carefully placing the glasses back on the bar, I bent quickly to pick up the shards, averting my eyes from all their gazes. An extra pair of hands appeared in front of me and carefully picked up some of the larger pieces. Silently, Toby had crouched beside me and my heart swelled at his kindness. His hand then grabbed my wrist as I went to lift a smaller piece.
