The Boys of Summer

by C. J. Duggan

  Oh please, don’t laugh.

  He smirked. “You think that’s funny?”

  I shook my head violently, biting my lips, trying not to lose it.

  “On the contrary, Star War’s references are hot. Gives you street cred.”

  “Yeah, not quite.”

  “I thought you were going to say Tobias.”

  “That, and they used to call me Toblerone.”

  “Hey, I wouldn’t object to being named after that.”

  Toby shook his head in disbelief. “Chicks. Always with the chocolate.”

  “Always!”

  We stared at each other in silence, neither one of us looking away.

  “Thanks for telling me your nickname.” I smiled. “It’s not quite the same, but I can appreciate it.”

  Toby’s gaze never wavered from mine. “People will always make fun of what’s different, Tess.”

  An uncomfortable shiver ran down my spine. Even Toby knew I was different. That I was awkward, clumsy and clueless.

  I broke eye contact, untucked my leg and sat up straight. “Yeah, I’ll definitely look out for that circus when it comes to town next,” I said, focusing intently on the twinkling stream of car lights below.

  That was Toby’s cue to insist that he didn’t mean it that way. I was not a freak, and he was welcome to gush about how wonderful I am.

  Instead he laughed, which had me frowning his way again.

  “What?”

  “Well, if they set you in the kissing booth, let me know, I am always willing to donate for a worthy cause.”

  Was he flirting or being friendly?

  Toby collected himself and shifted in his seat, his arm brushing against mine, causing my skin to prickle with the sensation of his skin on mine. “Sorry I dragged you up here, I sort of didn’t even ask if you wanted to?”

  “No! No, I wanted to. I mean you really didn’t have to give me a lift home, I didn’t expect you to.”

  Moon rays filtered through the windshield, giving the cabin an otherworldly glow.

  Toby’s perfect teeth were illuminated when he smiled. “You know, you are the worst winner!” He shook his head. “Ever since you won the bet, you’ve been apologising. Just go with it, enjoy it, because I assure you, next time …” - he leaned closer - “… you will not be the winner.” He pulled back, smug.

  I curved a brow. “Next time?”

  He nodded. “I fully intend to redeem myself.”

  “Want a chance to rebuild your shattered ego, do you? I bet you’re itching to fix my bike so you can be rid of me once and for all.” I shouldered him gently, teasing him as I would Adam. And then I realised what I had done; I had treated him like my friends. He looked down at his shoulder, then up at me. His eyes shadowed with untold meanings that I couldn’t read.

  “What if I didn’t want to fix your bike?” he said in all seriousness.

  “Why, is my company so stimulating that you can’t bear the thought of being without me?” I teased nervously.

  I was aiming for light and airy, but something must have gone wrong with my delivery because Toby’s face went blank. He looked out into the lights of Onslow, ran his tongue over his bottom lip and sighed.

  “Bring the bike in on Monday, and I’ll have a look at it.”

  “Oh, okay, sure.” My heart sank. That was rather anticlimactic.

  He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. A silent awkwardness had swept over us.

  “We better get you home. The last thing you need is for rumours to circulate tomorrow that you went parking up the Point with Toby Morrison.”

  A thrill shot through me at the thought of such a thing. A girl could get used to that idea.

  “I can see it now, love triangle splashed across the local news,” I said, again attempting with the lame nervous humour.

  Toby frowned as he started up the car. “Yeah, Ang would love that.”

  And there it was, how to kill a conversation. All good humour died a sudden death. We picked up Sean who was socialising with the masses and edged our way down the winding ghostly roads of the ranges. I was now definitely ready to go home.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was 2 am when I tiptoed into my house.

  I was unaccustomed to such big days and heavy nights that had me traipsing across the countryside and emotionally dragging myself backwards through a hedge. I was exhausted and managed to crash fully clothed into bed. Judging by my numb arm the next morning, I’m pretty certain I never moved, not once.

  When you lie to your olds there comes a certain responsibility to follow through the next day. A shadow of paranoia followed my every move. I had some scrambled eggs and a side of guilt for breakfast, trying not to make eye contact with my chatty mum. They grilled me with a myriad of questions, like, “What did you have for tea?”, “What movies did you watch?” and “What time did you get home?” I had to think on my feet with my best ‘I’m not guilty’ responses. My inner monologue was screaming liar! I tried not to choke on my breakfast juice as my conscience laid into me with steel-capped boots. My next point of call was to word up Ellie, and fast. That’s if she wasn’t too sleep-deprived from last night’s escapades.

  Ellie’s phone rang out, and I was quietly pleased. I wasn’t in the mood to chase her down and listen as she retold what an amazing night she’d had. I placed the receiver back on the hook and sighed with relief. Oh well, I’d see her at work. Work, ugh. Still suffering from my own sleep deprivation, I had to really psyche myself up for my afternoon shift. The only thing that kept pushing me through was that Sean and Toby said they would come in and annoy us for some lunch. Every time the front door of the main bar screeched open with its hundred-year-old unoiled hinges, my heart rate spiked with anticipation. Mostly it then plunged just as quickly as my searching eyes saw crusty locals, or nameless tourists, pour through the door.

  I had suspected an unbearable afternoon with Ellie’s voice ringing in my ears as it usually did the day after her conquests, so when I was met by her with silence that stretched on for an uncharacteristic age, well, I admit, it got the better of me.

  “So how was your night last night?” I asked as she fumbled in the linen cupboard with some tablecloths.

  Ellie shrugged and offered a weak smile. “It was alright.”

  “Just alright?” I tipped my head, trying to see her eyes.

  She nodded lightly but I saw her chin quiver, and with that, friend mode kicked into gear. Lunch had not officially begun yet, so I ushered Ellie into the ladies’ room. I guided her into a cane chair that was wedged in the corner next to the sink and hand dryer. This place was so handy for meltdowns and emergencies.

  I sat her down, making sure she didn’t bump her head on the hand dryer. “Ellie, what’s the matter? Did someone hurt you?” I crouched in front of her.

  Her eyes widened. “No, nothing like that, it’s just …” Her voice broke away.

  I grabbed her hand to urge her to talk. “Well, what then?”

  Her big, blue eyes welled with tears as she looked down at me.

  “Why am I always so stupid? It’s like I’m floating above my body, and I can see the things I’m doing and hear what I’m saying and I go to scream but nothing comes out.”

  Had Ellie had a breakthrough during the night? Guilt usually didn’t follow Ellie’s escapades. “What brought this on?”

  The tears began to flow now, and my heart broke for her. Ellie was the rock in our relationship, so seeing her crumble … well, it really rocked me, no pun intended.

  Struggling as to what to do, I grabbed her some toilet paper.

  “I saw Stan on the way to work.” She took it from me and blew her nose.

  I cringed at the thought; this town was far too small. Maybe Ellie wasn’t as immune to his presence as she pretended.

  “Was he mean to you?”

  I imagined Stan giving her the cold shoulder, a death stare, even maybe calling her on a few home truths. After last night, any of th
ose reactions would have been warranted. I felt awful for thinking it.

  “That’s the thing,” she sobbed, “he was really nice to me, lovely in fact. The same Stan, he treated me like nothing had happened. If anything, he stumbled over his words and apologised to me and said that he didn’t mean what he said.”

  Well, yeah, I could have told her that. Oh Stan! Will you ever find out that your maturity in the matter had made such a breakthrough? I wondered.

  “So, this Wes guy?” I pressed.

  “I don’t want to talk about him, I don’t even want to think about him, I just want to pretend none of it even happened. Then I don’t have to think about what a horrible person I am.”

  “You’re not horrible; you’re hard work, I’ll admit, but you are the sweetest person I know.” I shrugged. “I love you.”

  “You’re the only one.” She blew her nose again.

  I knew this was coming from deeper wounds, from a family in which she felt like a third wheel to her parents’ independent lifestyle.

  “And Adam, and we’re awesome.”

  She laughed through her tears. “Yeah, I guess you are pretty awesome.”

  “Are you sure that Wes guy didn’t do anything?”

  “No, he was fine. I’ve had worse. And after seeing Stan this morning, it just made it hit home all the more.”

  It was right there and then that I, Tess McGee, decided to step up to a challenge, for once. A cunning plan stirred within my brain. It was called Operation Mend Stan. I wouldn’t voice my genius; Ellie was still pretty raw and needed some time. I had also seen the hurt and anger in Stan’s eyes last night; he could poker face his feelings all he liked, but I knew he would still be angry inside. I would have to proceed with caution, but I knew it was the way to go.

  After pacifying Ellie and managing to sneak back into the restaurant away from Melba’s scrutiny, I grabbed a heap of serviettes to take into the main bar. What met me there had me grinning from ear to ear. Sean, Ringer, Stan and Toby were all lined up along the bar, throwing beer nuts into each other’s mouths.

  “You do realise that unwashed, dirty old man hands have been in those nut bowls,” I said.

  Just as Stan caught the last flying nut he broke out into a coughing fit, spluttering as my words resonated. All eyes swung around to me. But it was Toby’s broad boyish smile that really caught my attention. It soon fell into a cringe as the four of them picked up their drinks and washed the beer nuts down, with repulsed shudders. Sean pushed his beer nut bowl away with distaste.

  I giggled and plonked down beside them for a spell.

  “Heard any good gossip lately?”

  Sean straightened. “Apparently some hot footy player is dating some pretty little waitress from the Onslow Hotel. It’s quite the scandal.” He winked.

  My eyes widened, my blood running cold. “Really?”

  Sean laughed. “Actually, I have no idea. I’ve been working all morning.” He shrugged. “I didn’t get sledged for anything.”

  “Give it time,” Ringer said. “Good gossip needs time to grow and mature, like a fine wine.”

  “Or a jumper that warms with age,” added Toby dryly.

  I heard the cool room door fly open, and I quickly hopped off my stool and got back to something that resembled work.

  I headed back to the restaurant and brushed past Chris who was carrying a slab in from out back. I paused, then slipped through the partition and turned to the boys, offering some last-minute, friendly advice.

  “Remember, boys, hands off your nuts.”

  Chris almost lost his grip on his cargo. As I slid through and stood behind the partition I could hear the uproarious laughter; Stan had nearly choked on his beer, and I could hear someone pummeling him on the back as he coughed and fought for air. I peeked through the partition, seeing Toby’s shoulders vibrating from laughter.

  Shaking his head, he turned to Stan. “She is something else.”

  ***

  Chris pushed through the swinging kitchen door, spiking a lunch order docket for the Onslow Boys, something I silently resented; it was, after all, my job. Maybe he didn’t like the nut comment?

  Geez, what a square.

  Even though it killed me, I decided to let Ellie take the meals out to them, so she could reacquaint herself with Stan. After how she behaved last night, I didn’t know how the others would respond to her. They seemed pretty loyal guys. I could only hope that if Stan was alright with her, then they’d respect his wishes and take their cue from him.

  And that’s exactly what they did. Ellie picked up and was back to her normal self by the end of the shift. I bet guys our age wouldn’t have been as mature about it.

  We were on the homeward stretch when we heard the creaking of the staircase that led down to the main reception area of the restaurant. A rather seedy, sorry-looking Adam shuffled down the stairs, hair all messy, sleep still in his eyes.

  “Where am I?” he croaked.

  “You’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto, that’s for sure.” Ellie looked him over with a bemused frown.

  He clasped his head in his hands. “Why are you shouting?”

  “What on earth did you do last night after I left?” I asked.

  “Lock-in,” Adam groaned.

  Ellie and I looked at each other in surprise. “You mean Chris let you stay?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” he snapped at me.

  But I was surprised. Chris wouldn’t let me and Ellie in a lock-in and Adam was Chris’s younger, grounded, naughtier brother. He was always extra hard on him. The whole thing made no sense.

  “He got me to take over the bar for a bit.” Adam gingerly pulled out a chair and pressed his forehead to the tabletop.

  Now this made even less sense.

  “He left you in charge?” I asked, my disbelief pouring off me.

  “Yes! God, is there an echo in here, or something?”

  “Why would he do that?” Ellie asked.

  He looked up at us as if we were deluded, and then it was like a light bulb went off in his mind – a low, painful, groggy light bulb.

  “Oh, that’s right, you weren’t there.” He buried his face in his hands and attempted to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

  “Weren’t there for what?” I pressed.

  He lifted his head out of his hands and a huge, cheeky smile broadened across his face.

  “When Angela Vickers puked all over the bar.”

  Whaaaaaaat?

  Gold! The stuff to tell your grandchildren. Adam relayed how Angela Vickers had been dancing drunk on top of the bar. Chris had been yelling at her to get down but she just ignored him, so when he yanked her down to kick her out, she spewed all over the bar, the floor and herself.

  Awesome!

  Chris ended up taking her home because everyone else had been drinking. And that’s when Adam stepped up to the plate. A win-win situation for all, apart from Angela. So sad!

  The boys finished their counter meals and waited around until Ellie and I knocked off. Even though I was surviving on little-to-no sleep, I had never felt so alive. I washed dishes with great enthusiasm, polished silverware like a thing possessed. I noticed the same eagerness in Ellie. We both had a core focus: get the work done and start living again (between the hours of two and six).

  The only person who didn’t seem to be so in love with the world was Adam. He glared at us from across the room every time we made so much as a clinking noise with the cutlery.

  Every time the kitchen door was pushed open, and we brought food out, he turned a deeper shade of green until he couldn’t take it anymore and quickly disappeared, clawing his way pitifully back up the stairs. We didn’t see him for the rest of the shift. Some catch up.

  At shift’s end, Ellie and I darted behind the door where we kept our bags in the restaurant section of the bar. We didn’t need to talk; there was a humming undercurrent of excitement running through each of us at hearing the jukebox in the poolroom and that familiar lau
ghter. We took turns in fixing our hair in front of the small mirror, crudely nailed to the wall. We sprayed some Illusion Impulse body spray to mask the eau de Windex and sweaty kitchen hands that we currently smelled like. We topped up our lips with strawberry Lip Smacker. I could tell Ellie was a bit apprehensive. Stan and the boys were being pleasant enough to her, which helped, but she was still embarrassed. This made me strangely happy. It was like this new Ellie, with a conscience. I liked it. Maybe Stan was rubbing off on her.

  “Okay, I’m going in.” Ellie breathed deeply. “Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need any luck.” My words came out funny through my stretched lips as I applied the sweet lip balm.

  I spun around but she was gone.

  I had a sudden thought and delved my hands frantically into the pocket of my soiled apron, which I had hung behind the door. I sighed with relief as some small objects made chinking sounds as my fingers brushed them. My rings. I had almost forgotten to put them back on after dish duty. As I placed the gold circles back onto my fingers I heard the unmistakable blast and hiss of the steam from the coffee machine, followed by a crude coughing fit. I peeked around the door to see Uncle Eric brewing probably his ninth cup of coffee for the day.

  “Ah, young Tess, just the person I was looking for!” He poured the frothy milk into his mug. “Would you like one?”

  Had he just coughed all over the mugs and coffee machine? I decided to pass, and made a mental note to Spray and Wipe the coffee machine tonight.

  “No thanks,” I said.

  “Well, come join me in the beer garden for a bit, I want to have a quick chat.”

  Uh oh.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  My mind was reeling as I tried to think of all the possible reasons I needed to be pulled aside.

  Was he unhappy with my work? Was it about hanging out in the bar after hours? Was I fired? I felt sick.

  The beer garden was a grapevine-infested Amazonian jungle, dotted with tiki torches and picnic tables. A rather exotic refuge if I didn’t readily associate it with Uncle Eric’s passive chain smoking. It was his own kind of sanctuary; where he sat with his coffee, paper and cigarettes when the day allowed him to get away from the bar. A place where he and his poker buddies sat in the evening, gambling and smoking cigars.