by C. J. Duggan
She would squeal and insist that I tell her everything, and she’d ask the most obvious question. “So what did you talk about?”
Umm, guns and dirty sheets?
It would probably be better to go all cryptic and tell her: ‘stuff’.
We pulled into my driveway; Toby killed the engine and jumped out, rounding the back of the ute to untie my bike. While I climbed slowly from the cab, I watched as he lifted my bike like it weighed nothing, his flexed, bronzed biceps the only proof of any strain.
“Where do you want it?”
In my bedroom.
I mentally slapped myself and fought not to blush.
He waited for me to answer.
“Umm, I just keep it in the garage.”
He nodded and walked it over, leaning it against the far wall.
“Just there’s fine,” I said, “thanks, Toby.” His name sounded so strange, so intimate on my tongue. I wanted to say it again.
He looked at the bike, in deep thought.
“You’ll be out of action until you get a new chain.”
“Yeah, I’ll go and buy one tomorrow.”
Because I was now a responsible working woman who could buy things like that. I would forgo the cute little skirt from Carters and buy a bike chain.
So depressing.
“Well, if you need someone to fit it …”
“Oh, that’s okay, my dad will do it.”
And as soon as the words came out, I wanted to kick myself, preferably with steel-capped boots. Had he just offered to fix my bike? And I had blurted out that no, my daddy would do it?
IDIOT!!
“Cool, well, they’re not that dear so you should pick one up down at Mac’s store.”
I started to walk him to the car, but he paused, head tilted as he looked at my leg.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, just had an up-close-and-personal encounter with the bitumen,” I said. “It doesn’t hurt.”
Like hell it doesn’t!
His brows creased with concern and he crouched to examine it closer. My breath hitched in my throat as he lightly touched the skin around my knee. I fought to keep my breathing steady with the intimacy of it. He straightened, his look still serious.
“I have a first aid kit in my glove box; come on, let’s clean you up.”
We had a first aid kit in the house, but I wasn’t blowing it a second time. I followed him to his ute.
“Jump up on the tray,” he called over his shoulder as he headed to flip open the glove box and retrieve a small, blue zip-up case. I had planned to follow his advice when I noticed, due to my five-foot-nothing stature and the height of the tray, there was no way I could master it gracefully. Before I could even voice the issue, Toby had read the troubled look on my face. Without a word, he was by my side. With a small smile, he placed the first aid kit and a bottle of water on the tray.
“Here.” Before I had time to think, his hands were on my waist and, as if I weighed nothing more than a feather, he boosted me up to perch on the tray. I fought not to squeal in surprise and my hands grabbed onto his shoulders for leverage.
“You okay?” he asked, his hands still on my sides, as if securing me in place.
I nodded all too quickly. He smiled at the affirmation and let me go. I could still feel the pressure of his hands, the feel and flex of his muscles as I was suddenly airborne. I could tell I was blushing profusely and hoped it might pass as sunburn.
I straightened my leg for his attention, as he rummaged through the first aid kit.
I arched a brow. “Rescue many damsels in distress?”
A crooked grin formed on his lips, but he didn’t meet my eyes. “Every day! It’s a tireless job.”
My skin tingled from his touch as his hand clasped under my knee to hold my leg steady.
“Looks like you’re the Superman then? Coming to the rescue and all.”
He grabbed a bottle of water, popping the top with his teeth.
“This might sting a bit, okay, Tess? But I need to clean it.”
My heart fluttered every time he said my name, I liked the sound of him saying it. I had never, in all my life of pining over Toby Morrison, heard it from his mouth before today. It had stopped me in my tracks when I had heard it through the open window earlier; I had suspected, but couldn’t quite believe it to be true.
“It’s okay.” I smiled down at him and then he tipped a slow stream of water on my grazed knee.
SON-OF-A-BITCH!!
My entire frame locked up with the flash of pain; Toby’s eyes darted upwards to watch my face.
“Sorry.” He grimaced.
I tried my hardest to maintain my dignity as I clenched my jaw and forced a smile.
“It’s okay.”
Toby worked methodically, gently dabbing at the cut with cotton wool and Bettadine. I came to believe this was how Toby approached all things in life. Not to say just because he was ludicrously handsome that he must be a perfectionist in everyday life. It doesn’t work like that. But everything he did was carefully thought out. Planned. Whether it be choosing a song on the jukebox, taking a shot at pool, or cleaning a clumsy girl’s scraped knee, everything he did, it seemed, everything he touched, he did with great care.
The sting ebbed as I concentrated on the pressure of his fingers placed intimately under my knee, his butterfly touches of dabbing on the ointment. Once satisfied, he tore the package for the plaster and with intense concentration slowly placed it on my knee. Oh, he was a perfectionist alright. And he was damn good with his hands.
“Done.” He stood back to eye his handiwork.
“Thanks, Doc!” I said. “Will I dance again?”
“You will dance, ride and serve meals better than ever before.”
I arched my brow and examined my knee.
“Bionic leg ointment?” I teased.
I loved to make his face change, his smile was so transforming, it was the thing I loved about him the most.
I held my breath when he reached to help me down from the bed of the ute. He placed me gently onto the ground.
“Thanks,” I managed to breathe. We stood there a moment. I realised I was still gripping his upper arms and quickly let go, trying not to blush deeper in the process.
‘You good?” he asked.
“Yeah, thanks!”
I pushed my hands into my back pockets. Toby lifted the back tray with a thud, locking it in place, and moved towards the driver’s door.
Say something, Tess, say something funny, bring back that smile, give him something to take away and make him remember you.
Instead, I said, “Thanks again.”
Brilliant.
He grinned, exposing all of those perfect teeth.
“You’re welcome.” He fired his ute to life, leaning his arm on the open window as he checked the view behind him. He looked at me.
“When are you working next?”
I was startled by the question. I must have sported an idiotic expression because he just stared with an amused look on his face.
“Oh! Uh … Saturday! I work again on Saturday, 12 till 2 and then 6 till 9, depending on how busy we are, and then again on Sunday, same hours.”
Was that too much information? It was. Shut up, Tess. It was a simple question, you babbling idiot.
He nodded thoughtfully as if trying to take it all in. I’d overloaded him, I knew it.
“Well, might see ya there?” He began to slowly edge back out of the drive.
“Unless there’s a giant K shining in the sky,” I threw back.
He let out that wonderful laugh again and looked at me, really looked at me, and smiled that smile.
“Well, then I’ll know.”
As I stood for what felt like the longest time, staring out into the distance where his car had disappeared, there were some things I knew for certain.
I really wanted to hear that laugh again, and I couldn’t wait for Saturday.
C
hapter Eleven
“SHUT UP!”
This was Ellie’s usual reply to things that she was dumbfounded by, and my afternoon (okay, so it wasn’t an entire afternoon) spent in Toby Morrison’s ute was something to be dumbfounded about.
“You total slut!” Another term of endearment from Ellie.
I just smiled and stirred my iced chocolate.
“So what did you talk about?”
Milk spilt over the rim of the tall glass as I faltered at the inevitable question.
“Umm …”
Superheroes, guns and dirty sheets! Superheroes, guns and dirty sheets, my head screamed.
I shrugged. “You know … stuff.”
Ellie slumped back in her seat and folded her arms. “You lucky biatch!”
Yes I was. I straightened, trying not to smile like the Cheshire Cat.
“And the girlfriend?”
And there went my smile.
I knew about the girlfriend alright, painstakingly so. Last night was my first actual exchange with her other than brushing by her in the halls of Onslow High.
I sighed. “Yeah, he’s still with perfect Angela.”
“We totally hate her, right?” Ellie said.
The worst thing was I didn’t hate her so much as I envied her. The way she walked in and captivated a room, how she completely owned it. She ordered a glass of house wine with grace. Stood and chatted, even flirted with ease with Sean as her designer sunnies held back her sun-bleached fringe. In fitted jeans and killer heels she presented a cool, casual style all of her own. What little did it matter if she had snake eyes and a matching reptilian personality. Everybody loved her. Toby loved her.
Sensing the change in my mood, Ellie set down her own iced chocolate after a long draw.
“Spill. I want every single detail.”
Ellie half choked on her drink when I mentioned the first aid incident. As I waited for her to catch her breath, she sipped more, with a frantic wave of her hand for me to continue, hanging on every word. I could see her mind ticking over frantically and knowing Ellie as well as I did, it was unnerving.
I tried not to even let myself feel giddy as I thought back on every look, every smile, every touch. He had a girlfriend. It had meant nothing more than Toby being a nice person. He’d only done what anyone else would have done, which kind of took the buzz out of the moment.
“This is huge!” Ellie said, nodding.
Oh no, no, no … just as I had come to the conclusion that it was nothing, she was going to read all sorts of stuff into it. I watched Ellie, her mind whirring as she plotted and schemed in front of me.
I needed an exit strategy. “So did you get a chance to speak to Stan on Sunday night?”
I relayed his effort of sticking up for me when Angela called me ‘bar-keep’. Her scheming eyes clouded over with a dreamy, swoon-like quality as she melted in her chair before my eyes.
“He’s so sweet.”
Too easy.
“He is really nice, I think Operation Stan is a goer,” I said, adding fuel to the fire. “So the fact that Stan is older doesn’t bother you?”
Ellie straightened. “Pfft, no! Think of all the idiots I have dated that were the ‘appropriate age’. They sucked.”
She was right; Ellie didn’t have any problems landing boys, but finding a nice, respectful one was a whole other story. Maybe she did need someone older; someone that would treat her with respect and tame her wild ways. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about sitting on bonnets of cars with her latest conquest’s grotesque best friend. It would be a win-win situation.
“Why? Does it worry you?” Ellie asked.
“Age difference?”
I thought of Scott, his clumsy fondling hand under my shirt, greedily grabbing at me. I never enjoyed any of his touches. I usually steered them away so as not to go too far. I wonder what he would have done if I had ever needed him, like today? I couldn’t even imagine him being anything other than grouchy and put out, like he had been whenever I had my period and wouldn’t let him put his hands down my pants. He was too dense to figure it out, but I had my period a lot when we were together.
I thought back to Toby; he was a boys’ boy, sure, he could rough house and swear like the rest of them, but I could never imagine him being cruel. He never even seemed to get loud or obnoxious, not even with a few beers around his mates. Instead, he was always quiet and understated. And the guys seemed to respect him for that. But he was twenty-two. Five years my senior. That had worried me as recently as yesterday. But now … although he was older and his mere presence turned my mind to mush, I didn’t feel anything other than really safe with him. How could that be bad?
“No,” I decided, “no, it doesn’t bother me.”
The gurgling slurps of Ellie’s iced chocolate were loud in the café (and embarrassing) as she finished.
“That’s settled then. Operation Stan for me, and Operation …”
“No!” I cut her off.
“What?” she tilted her head innocently.
“Don’t even think about it.”
She blinked at me, like she didn’t have a clue what I was talking about.
“What I was going to say, before I was so rudely interrupted, was Operation Summer Fun!”
I didn’t believe a word of it. I folded my arms and curved my brow in disbelief.
“Fine! Have it your way … Operation Dull and Boring.” She slumped back in her seat.
“Why do we need to be Operation anything?”
Ellie gasped in mock horror. “What are you saying? You mean just … go with the flow?”
I shrugged “Why not?”
She smiled sardonically. “Could be fun?”
“With you in tow, I have no doubt.”
Operation “Go with Flow” had us pick up our pays from Uncle Eric at the hotel, followed by stalking the clothes racks at Carters. I held up a pale green summery halter that I had had my eye on for weeks. I pressed it against me, tilting my head in the mirror and admiring the sheer fabric. I shouldn’t buy it. I needed the new bike chain. But it was so pretty … surely I could have both? I checked the price tag and gulped. No, no I couldn’t have both. My heart plummeted as I placed the halter back onto its rack.
“What are you doing?” Ellie asked. “You have been mooning over that for weeks!” She passed me on her way to the changing room, her arms piled high with clothes.
“I don’t have to have it. I can get more for my money with other things.” Other less expensive things, less beautiful things.
We shopped in mind for the next weekend’s shift, knowing that we didn’t have to wear our Guinness tops anymore. Instead of the gorgeous halter, I bought a boat neck style top that was a bit clingy for my taste, but Ellie squealed and insisted that I had to wear it Saturday night. I also wanted to buy a new Lip Smacker lip balm, and some Impulse body spray. Our afternoon of blowing our wages actually perked me up for the weekend to come, and I was even surprised at the disappointment of realising it was only Monday.
I had ten bucks left over, allocated to Operation Bike Chain, though I didn’t know if it was even nearly enough. What do I know about bike chains? And once my parents found out it had, in fact, taken me a mere three hours to blow my first pay, there would be no sympathy for my cause. My bike would be garage bound for another week until the next pay day. So I would be pounding the pavement as I didn’t think it would be a good look to have Ellie dink me on her handlebars. We weren’t thirteen anymore.
When I got home I lay all my purchases out on my bed, planning for a fashion parade. I had a thought that had me going into the lounge room and rummaging through dad’s tape deck, all segmented in order. I shook my head at some of his rather disturbing choices in music but then I found what I was looking for. I padded barefoot back to my room, popping the cassette into my tape deck.
Don Henley started to blare out of the small speaker and I smiled to myself. I hung out in my room for the rest of the day, trying on differ
ent outfits, adjusting hairstyles, experimenting with make-up, all whilst dreaming the day away. I allowed myself this small luxury in the privacy of my own heart, because I knew that as soon as I stepped out into the real world, all my wants didn’t count.
To: tessmcgee
Are you ready for your mind to be fully blown?
Something so big, so EPIC it will change your life forever?
Sender: Adam I can jump puddles Henderson
To: Adam I can jump puddles Henderson
You’re coming Home???? :)
Sender: tessmcgee
To: tessmcgee
What if I am?
Have you fainted? Do you need to sit down??
I know how your life has been barren and lonely without me.
Sender: Adam I can jump puddles Henderson
To: Adam I can jump puddles Henderson
I cry myself to sleep every night.
WHEN?????????
Sender: tessmcgee
To: tessmcgee
Soon my pretty. Soon!
Don’t know the full details yet, but I think they might be releasing me for a weekend for good behaviour. It’s a small mercy. But I will take whatever I can get.
Excited much?
Sender: Adam I can jump puddles Henderson
To: Adam I can jump puddles Henderson
I wait with bated breath.
Let me know! xox
Sender: tessmcgee
***
A strip of light streaked through the darkness of my closed eyes. I would not let the pesky sun disturb my slumber, so I rolled over, away from the offending beam. I had managed to kick off my blanket during the night and the oscillation of the fan still didn’t threaten to chill me. I remembered that the irritatingly bubbly weatherman had promised a scorcher, and I had fist pumped my way to the fridge to grab a Coke, thinking ‘do your worst weather dude’. But as the sun lifted and the breeze stilled, humidity was at its sticky worst and I changed my mind and cursed the summer and all who gloried in it.
