"Hey! What are you…oh my God! Lara?"
"Hey there, little Townsend, my how you've grown," I said sarcastically, looking her up and down and noting grimly that that was what I must have looked like when I was her age and dressing like she was. I was embarrassed for my past self as I saw that there was officially nothing sexy about a barely pubescent body in club clothes, despite their obvious quality and good cut. "You were 12 when I saw you three years ago so you've aged, what? Six years in that time? Impressive."
Saskia's smile was sly and she shrugged, unbothered. "I guess so. And it's Sass now."
"Excuse me?" I asked, putting her confiscated drink down, firmly out of her reach, on my other side.
"My name," she explained with a hint of 'God, old people are so slow' impatience. "I go by Sass now."
I managed to stop myself rolling my eyes, but it was a close run thing.
"I bet you do. So," I cast my eyes over the crowd, my heart sinking as I spotted a group of no-hoper guys looking over at us, "is your boyfriend the one who looks like a meth addict or the guy with the I-just-got-out-of-prison gleam in his eye?"
Saskia's mouth pinched momentarily at my commentary, but she was wily enough not to rise to the bait, choosing instead to reply coolly, "Neither, he's the heaps hot one massively in love with me."
I couldn't see anyone who matched that description, but following her gaze, I determined she meant the one with the smarmy smile and disturbing neck tattoo that looked like a lizard slithering up towards his jaw. He, in turn, saw me looking and smirked back defiantly before twisting his body slightly to try and hide the movement as he slid something into his pocket.
I didn't need to see what the 'something' was, it was pretty obvious. Saskia obviously saw it as well and, as I turned back to look at her, I saw a momentary flash of unease cross her painted features before she saw me looking and hardened her face into her chosen devil-may-care version.
I seriously contemplated slamming my head down on the bar. I didn't need this. I really, really didn't want to get involved with Fletch's precocious little sister, but it didn't really look like I had much choice.
"Right, you, come with me." I grabbed her arm, annoyed to find that even that felt young and underdeveloped, the bones under her skin almost bird-like.
"What? Where?"
I ignored her indignant sputters, dragging her round and down to the queue for the toilets where the music was muted by the heavy panelling covering the walls.
"Do you have any change?" I demanded, holding out my hand. She quirked an eyebrow at me, but then rummaged inside her silver clutch and presented me with a few dollars.
I could see she wanted to make some sort of smart-arse remark, but I cut her off before she could get going, instructing her to stay put and then muscling my way through the line into the bathroom. Once in, I headed for the dispensers near the sinks and was rewarded by the sight of one geared to spit out mints.
Inserting Saskia's money I retrieved the bounty, tipping a couple of the white tablets into my palm. I passed the rest of the packet off to a girl who had just staggered out of a cubicle, after what had sounded like a monumental chuck up, and returned to the corridor.
I was glad to see that Saskia had done as she was told and was still waiting for me, albeit with crossed arms and a fed up expression.
"Here." I grabbed her hand and dropped the mints into her palm. "If Lizard Boy tries to give you anything you take these instead."
"What'll they do to me?" She stared down at my offering, her cocky confidence momentarily replaced with what I could only describe as fascinated dread. I snorted, folding her fingers over the tablets.
"Oh, it's totally hardcore," I said with sardonic flair, "your mouth will be, like, totally fresh for hours."
When she looked at me blankly I sighed. "They're mints," I explained. As she opened her mouth to protest, I added, "And I don't care how much you're in love with that guy, don't let him feed you rat poison or toilet cleaner which, ten to one, is what that stuff in his pocket is cut with."
It wasn't a perfect solution, but as long as Saskia was as crafty as I'd given her credit for, she should be able to do a quick switch without anyone noticing what she was swallowing.
"There's nothing in his pocket!" Her response came a couple of seconds too late and I didn't bother replying. It turned out to be just as well as the pocket in question came mooching over at that point attached to one of the most unimpressive specimens of man I'd ever seen.
"Hey, baby." He crooked an arm around Saskia's neck and dragged her to him, planting a territorial kiss on the top of her head. "And who are you?" He slid cold eyes over me, making sure to take his time and cover every inch of me before meeting my, equally icy, gaze.
If he thought he was going to intimidate me by glaring me out, however, he needed to think again. He was about 18 or 19 and looked like a stiff wind could blow his stove-pipe jean clad figure right over. Pathetic.
I allowed myself a delicate grimace at the ridiculousness of twig-like boys trying to be hard and then replied breezily, "Your local mouth-care professional, just advising your girl here on how to keep those pearly whites of hers shining. I hope you'll take my advice," I added, looking down at Saskia even as she pointedly avoided my eye.
Perhaps sensing he was missing something and, therefore, not the centre of the bloody universe, the boyfriend shot me a scathing look and pulled Saskia away, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'psycho'.
I watched them go and tried to ignore the hard knot that had formed in my stomach. I knew Saskia wasn't stupid; the limited interaction I'd had with her when she was younger convinced me of that. She was enjoying the attention of an older guy and being a badass, but she wouldn't get in over her head. Or, at least, I really hoped not.
I continued trying not to consider Fletch's sister my responsibility as I headed to the bar to finally get the water I'd started out for. I was apparently destined for dehydration, however, as I'd barely taken a couple of steps before I was suddenly cornered back against the wall between the toilets and the bar by somebody stepping in my way.
Somebody tall.
Somebody angry.
Somebody in a truly hideous orange shirt.
"What'd you give her?" A low voice demanded and I blinked away the glare of my waylayer's fashion choice, looking up to see to see Merry's not-so-merry boyfriend looming over me.
Bloody typical! Of all the people to see me with Saskia…
Inwardly, I gave myself a serious kicking for not being more careful about who was around when I’d passed the mints over; outwardly, I turned on the sex kitten act, drawing myself up taller and ensuring my loose tank was gaping open just so.
"Hi there, Daz, sweetie-pie," I let my voice lower slightly and trailed a flirty finger down one of the biceps thrown into relief by his crossed arms. "You should've told me you were coming out tonight, I would've made it my mission to seek you out and," my voice dipped down a fraction lower, "make sure you had a good one."
"Don't screw with me, Lara." As expected, Daz was unimpressed, grabbing at my finger and throwing it off him crossly. "I saw you slip Saskia something, what was it?"
No distracting him then. And I was wearing my best bra too; I'd have to get Merry to congratulate him later.
"Why're you asking, hot stuff?" I tossed my hair, more for my own amusement at that stage rather than any real belief he'd find it alluring. "You want some?"
Even in the crowded club, with the beat thumping hard against the soles of our feet and echoed in our chests, the look he sent me then seemed to command silence, drawing it around us until I felt like I was suffocating in his disapproval.
"What did you fucking give her?"
Although he didn't do it physically, his words made it seem like he'd reached out and shaken me until my teeth rattled.
In reaction, my shoulders slammed back and my chin snapped up, my mouth opening to let him know just what kind of an idiot he
was. He was spared this, however, as a jumble of boys suddenly roly-poly-ed themselves onto the scene, looking between Daz and me blearily.
Oh great, just what a stupid situation with a drunk guy needed, more stupid drunk guys.
"Hey, Lara, you got a problem here?"
I allowed my body to de-tense and turned to see the boys I'd given a lift to peering at me with a concentration that seemed to be taking a lot out of their booze-addled brains.
"No," I sighed, "it's all good."
"Yes," another voice interrupted, "because doofus here is going to take five big steps back and explain what's going on to his lovely, understanding girlfriend." Merry appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and insinuated herself into the narrow gap between Daz and me. "Right, sweetie?"
Daz's scowl was truly a sight to behold, but it was a foolish man who didn't heed the warning in Merry's tone, and he retreated obediently, Merry turning to send me a questioning look as they went.
Well, that wouldn't be the last I'd hear of that then.
"Full on." Craig and his buddies gathered round, their pupils wide and their limbs loose with the libations they'd consumed and the fight they'd been itching to have.
I knew this body language well enough to know it was time to get out while the going was good…or before I was accused of being a drug pusher by someone else.
"Yes, but it's all done now," I said briskly, taking two of them by the arm, and hoping the third would follow along. "So, homeward, yes?"
~*~
I was awoken way too early the following (same?) morning by a furious knocking on my door. This wasn't unusual. Some people's good deeds were more pressing than others.
I stayed where I was, tangled in the sheets, for a moment, though, suppressing a groan. First thing in the morning requests suggested an involvement with a drama from the previous night; requests that usually began 'I was drunk, right, and…’ These were my least favourite kind. Still, I tried not to say no to people unless what they were asking for began with one of the infamous 'i's (illegal, immoral or incredibly idiotic), so I obligingly swung my legs down to the floor and went to answer the summons.
As it turned out, however, it wasn't somebody else's drama from last night I was being called forth to fix. It was mine.
"You selling my little sister drugs now?"
Ambushed.
Fletch's anger filled up my doorway then pushed past me until it was filling my small room and leaving no unaffected air for me to breathe.
He looked tired and unkempt and utterly, depressingly, magnificent.
With great force of will, I stopped myself crossing my arms over my chest as I became almost painfully aware of the lack of a shield my skimpy pyjamas provided against his hot gaze. I refused to cover myself up, though, mainly because I had a feeling I could cover myself in a Kevlar tent and still feel exposed to him. As was my wont, I took the offensive instead.
"Morning, Fletch." Curling myself against the doorframe I sent him a sleepy smile. "Sell, huh? Well, that's a step-up from getting Saskia drug-fucked for my own entertainment, I suppose."
His scowl deepened and he rested a hand against the doorframe with a care that suggested he was preventing himself from slamming it instead.
"Really? You want to joke about this?"
Not at all keen with this response, I faked a big stretch to push my tits out, but my tone cooled as I replied, "Well, it is a joke, so it seems the appropriate response."
I could see his teeth grind together by the movement of his jaw before he forced out, "Daz told me-"
"Oh yes," I interrupted, "Daz, my number one fan. By all means take anything he has to say about me as gospel."
Fletch went to step forward, but I stopped him by jamming my foot down on his toes, regretting it as I realised that, of course, he was wearing thongs and we were now skin to skin.
Where my arching and posturing hadn't had any effect, I saw him swallow at this touch. He persevered, however, as he responded coldly, "He wouldn't lie about this."
"Maybe," I agreed, "but he sure as hell wouldn't go out of his way to find out the truth either."
At this, Fletch withdrew his foot from under mine and I tried to subtly cover up how his removal left a strangely powerful emptiness by pressing my foot against the back of my other calf. The warmth of my skin, however, felt nothing like his had.
"So, go on then, what is the truth?" He demanded.
"Relative," I replied bluntly.
He rubbed at his neck in frustration and my eyes unwillingly catalogued the small details this threw into sharp relief; the tan line where his watch usually sat and the soft hairs along his arm bleached white by the sun. It wasn't just these little inconsequential things I saw, however. When he was so close in front of me I wasn't able to stop myself seeing all of him, down to what felt like his last skin cell. And oh how I wished I didn't.
"Lara-" he started and I couldn't stand the tired way he said my name.
"Oh, cut it out, Fletch," I snapped. "You don't get to turn up first thing in the morning, accuse me of being a drug dealer and then get all world-weary when I don't jump to make your life easier."
"So give me a straight answer!"
"No, you know what?" I straightened up off the doorframe and jabbed a finger towards his chest. "If you want to know what's going on with your sister, you take the time to find out, don't put it on me."
His expression closed up, like clouds covering the sun, and unable to stand it, I slammed the door in his face.
----------
He stayed standing outside her door for longer than he was proud of.
He wanted to slam his hand against the wood again and again until she came out and gave him a God-damn answer without anymore of her cryptic crap. Equally, however, he wanted to admit to himself that two seconds thought about what Daz had told him might have been warranted before he'd stormed over. He'd only ended up with a few hours sleep after pulling an all-nighter on his assignment and had understood very little about Daz's call other then 'Saskia, Lara, drugs.' Had he given himself a moment to catch to what was going on, he probably could've saved himself the door being slammed in his face.
His mouth twisted in a grimace remembering what he'd said to her a few days ago and the look in her eyes when he'd brought up Donny. OK, so maybe the door in his face was inevitable, but getting a few facts about what had gone on at the club would maybe not have left him looking like such a dick.
Truth was, he had no clue what had gone on last night, but he didn't really think Lara had been pushing drugs on Saskia. If his sister's weirdness over the past year was anything to go by, he wouldn't have been surprised if it had been Saskia turning her hand at dealing, not Lara.
With that in mind, he was finally able to force himself away from her door, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he did so. With a few presses on the screen, he'd brought up Saskia's number and, after the briefest pause, her voice filled his ear.
"Hi, you've reached Sass's phone; she's off doing something more interesting than talking to you right now. Leave a message and, if you're lucky, she'll call you back."
He rolled his eyes as he always did listening to her stupid message. Referring to herself in the third person? What an idiot.
He waited until the beep told him to start recording and then filled his tone with iron as he barked down the phone, "Saskia, I don't care where you are or what you're doing, get home now. I need to talk to you."
Chapter 4 – Family Night
I dreaded Thursday night. It was, without exception, the worst night of my week, every week. Thursday night was family night.
This had been significantly more relevant when I'd had a proper family; a unit consisting of four of us, my mum, dad, Donny and me. Back then it'd been the night we'd all begrudgingly promised Mum we'd give her a good couple of hours of our undivided attention. Phones went off and we sat round and had tea together followed by the richest, most ridiculous desserts we could think of. I'd whinged a
nd bitched my way through these dinners from about 11 years old, but really, they'd been alright. Dad worked a lot and Donny was part of the 'boy' realm that I didn't inhabit, so Thursday nights came to be the one time we all came together and allowed ourselves to at least acknowledge each other's existence.
Now, however, we were down to two, and the experience was unerringly excruciating.
I always parked my car a little way down the street from the house, so as not to rub my mum's nose in the fancy stuff my dad bought me, and so didn't see the other car in the driveway at first. I was busy juggling the double chocolate cheesecake I'd bought at the bakery down the road, my bag and my keys, and didn't look up until I'd practically walked into the rusty station wagon.
I froze; staring down at the familiar jumble of faded surf shop stickers plastered across the back windscreen, and then lifted horrified eyes up towards what had used to be my family home. What the hell was Fletcher doing here?
My hands holding the cheesecake felt suddenly numb, but it had nothing to do with the recently refrigerated box I was holding. For a split second it occurred to me to just go back to my car and drive away in order to avoid the whole damn thing, but that was quickly dismissed. There was no way I wasn't going to demand an explanation. Ambush me at uni? Fine. Wake me up first thing in the morning and accuse me of being a drug dealer? Bring it on. But come to my mum's house? Not OK.
Storming up the tessellated path, I wrenched open the screen door, bouncing it against my hip as I twisted my key into the lock on the pale wooden door. Back in the day this door was never locked and Donny and I, and his rag-tag group of friends barrelled in and out to our heart's content. Now, though, Mum lived alone and seemed to feel safer with the door locked. This was a good idea in theory, but it didn't seem to have kept Fletch out.
The Do-Gooder Page 4
