by K T Bowes
“Dad did what?”
“I thought you knew.” Jack’s crossed the distance in two strides and his arms wrapped around me, tightening into a powerful hold. He kissed my forehead and dragged his lips down the side of my face in a hail of kisses. “It was always you; I didn’t want anyone else.”
“But Lacey! You married Lacey!”
“I know.” Jack leaned back and watched the horror in my expression. “I’m sorry.”
“You broke my heart!” I slammed my fist into his chest and he grunted. Tears of fury pricked behind my eyes and I hit him again. “I loved you and didn’t know how to say it. One minute you’re everything to me and the next, you’re marrying Lacey!”
Jack gripped both my wrists with his left one to stop me pounding on his chest. My angry shrieks turned to miserable wails as he held me and rocked me against his body. “I’m sorry, Ula,” he breathed, “I’m so sorry. I thought you knew and didn’t care.”
“Didn’t care?” My chest heaved. “That afternoon when you kissed me, I thought I’d never been happier.” I freed my left hand and hit him again. “Then you asked Lacey to the ball and two seconds later you were married.”
Jack’s lips against mine felt like an answer to prayer and I wished I could send us both back in time to our teens and start again. Maybe we could’ve saved ourselves a whole heap of trouble. He pushed his hands into my hair and ran me up against the pantry door, the handle digging into my spine. His cast felt heavy on my shoulder as he stroked my cheek, his other smoothing the skin over my hips and pushing at my pajama shorts. I leaned in to his kiss, sharing the frantic wave of emotion and surfing the crest like a frightened novice.
He lifted me with a hiss of pain at his broken wrist and sat me on the counter, fitting his hips between my legs. His good hand roved over my body, making me feel stripped and vulnerable and despite the excitement and craving, I remembered Teina’s gentle, energetic lovemaking. The memory jarred me and I pressed my mouth against Jack’s collar bone, abdicating from his kiss and experiencing a stab of regret which began in my gut and moved through my chest. The realisation bit me with force and I knew it wouldn’t work. Fifteen years made a world of difference in my perception and even though I loved Jack no less than I did during our only teenage fumble, I couldn’t see us together.
“Stop, Jack. Stop.”
I felt his rapid heartbeat through my own chest and his ragged puffs of breath made his body tremble. His dark eyes channelled betrayal as he glared at me with thwarted desire. I fixed my arms around his neck and held him, pulling him into a tight embrace and leaving no room for lust or sex. “It’s too late,” I whispered into his ear. “We’re not kids anymore.”
I expected anger, not brokenness and his reaction destroyed me. He shook in my arms and soaked my hair with his tears, clinging on to my waist as though he’d be snatched away if he let go. “What should I do?” he sniffed, keeping his face averted and his arms clamped around me as he struggled to find his equilibrium. “I feel so lost.”
“I don’t know, Jack,” I whispered, rubbing his back. “You need to speak to Lacey, not me.”
“I loved you so much,” he breathed, stroking my cheek with shaking fingers. His eyelashes looked glossy and damp from his tears and his bedhead accentuated his fragility.
“I wish I’d known,” I said, sadness enveloping me in a shroud of lost opportunities and a life lived on the dreadful stage of Plan B. “Everything would’ve been so different.” I smiled through the pain and searched for the elusive rainbow. “I wouldn’t have become a fat chick.”
Jack wrinkled his nose. “I never noticed.” He looked down at my slender waist and neat breasts and gave me a wink filled with fake bravado. “You’re pretty hot now though. Sure you don’t fancy a quick one for old time’s sake?”
My mouth opened in horror and Jack covered it with his lips. When he stepped back and let go of me, regret coursed through my veins at the shift in our combined universe. I rested my hands on his shoulders and slipped off the counter, bracing myself against his body as my feet found the floor. “Did you love Pete?” he asked, stroking my cheek with tender fingers.
I shook my head and admitted my life’s worst secret. “No. I married him because my father made me and he left me with more debt than I knew how to solve. He didn’t love me, nor I him. We were thrown together for the Saint’s convenience; the fat spinster and the one man who would bring the Saint’s into disrepute for his whoring.” I felt a stab of guilt at the pain in Jack’s face and as he opened his mouth, I placed my index finger over his lips. “And no, he didn’t stop whoring and no, he didn’t get it from me either.”
I glanced at the clock and saw the hands move past the half hour. “I’ve got work,” I said, dashing from the kitchen. “Grab some breakfast while I have a shower.”
Chapter 19
Thursday turned to custard from the moment the children entered the building. A windy day always guaranteed drama but the tiny tornadoes whipping up leaves and debris in a sheltered corner of the playground wound them up into a frenzy of emotion. Helen dealt with two spats in the line on the way in and I ended up with a sobbing child on my knee during registration, hemorrhaging tears and snot onto my blouse until it soaked through to my skin. “Come on, Lawrie,” I said, keeping my voice light. “Help me take the register.” I shifted so I could see the names written on the left of the floppy book. “I’ll call them out and you point to them.”
The child spent a happy five minutes pointing to random parts of the page while I called out names and received a polite, “Good morning Mrs Saint,” from those present. To my surprise Lawrie fixed on his own name before I got to it, turning with a beatific smile on his face.
“A mornin’ a Saint,” he said, his face eager as I nodded and shook his hand as Helen had done the other children. A formal acknowledgement of their existence seemed to set them up for the day as they greeted me and her with good eye contact and a smile. If I taught them nothing else, it would be social skills and a damn good handshake; firm but not finger crushing. We were getting there. I needed to remember they were only five-years-old as I kept my expectations high and drove them on to better things than the sad lives some of them endured.
Jack texted me and I read it at lunchtime. ‘Can I stay with you for a while?’ he asked and I chewed my lip and wondered about the wisdom of it. I bought a sandwich from the dairy next to the school and wandered around the playground during my duty, answering after a colleague relieved me.
‘Depends,’ I said, hoping he understood my reservations.
‘Yeah, I get it. Hands off,’ came his reply.
‘Ok then. Spare keys are on the hook in the kitchen.’
He didn’t reply but once I finished work I travelled to the BMW garage where I’d been five months before, forced to sell my lovely car at a loss and bussing home with a bag full of cash and a wounded heart. Hemi greeted me at the front gate, almost bowling me over in his enthusiasm. “Hey, Mrs Saint!” he trilled from twenty metres away. “I’ve got a treat for you.”
Relief coursed through my veins as I’d spent the whole bus ride anticipating difficulty and running through a conversation which began with him knowing nothing about Terry’s promise. “I spoke to Mr Saint,” he said, allaying my fears. “We’ve picked out just the thing.”
I tried not to cringe and prepared my face to mask disappointment when presented with a barely roadworthy heap of metal. So fixed on looking for something disguised as a skip on wheels, I missed the direction he took me until I stood next to a cornflower blue SUV, complete with alloys and a leather interior. The motif on the front claimed it was a German built BMW but I didn’t dare hope. “Are you sure?” I asked. “I thought it would be less...”
“Less colourful, I know,” Hemi gushed. “But Mr Saint said you’d love it. It’s taxed and the warrant of fitness starts from today. It’s only four years old so it’ll do you for a while. I like to think of it as eye catching and only someone as
classy as you could pull it off.” He waxed lyrical for a further ten minutes, despite not having to sell it to me. Uncle Terry was right. I loved it.
“It looks expensive.” I chewed my lip. “Is it legal?”
Hemi Brown paused in his diatribe and fixed warm dark eyes on my face. His lips quirked upwards as he feigned offence. “I don’t sell knock off shit!” he squawked, his voice reaching girly heights at the end of the sentence. “It’s all legit, bro’, I promise. It’s got an AA report and everything.”
In his forties but still wearing his trousers so low I could see his shorts underneath, he did a peculiar skippy dance that made me snort. “I suppose if it was nicked, someone would notice it fairly fast.” I imagined myself driving it and my heart gave a leap of pleasure. My old car was black and this would be part of my new start. I felt like a sex maniac when I thought of Teina in a near naked state and perhaps the car best fitted the sinful woman I’d become. The vicar had his work cut out to bring me back on the straight and narrow. “Let me see the AA certificate and have a test drive,” I said. “Then I’ll sort out insurance.”
“It’s all done, missus,” Hemi said, hoiking his trousers up as he increased gear to cover the forecourt. “I just gotta give yous da keys.”
“How?” I ran to catch up with him. “You need my driver history to insure me.”
“I had it remember?” He winked at me and eyed me up and down with slow precision. “From your last purchase with Hemi and Bros Vehicle Services.”
It all sounded dodgy to me, but when he handed me the insurance cover note for my old company with the stamp saying PAID over the invoice number, I had to believe him. “So, no test drive then?” I asked as he handed me two sets of keys.
“Na,” he said. “We’re closing now. Me and the boys is goin’ fishing. You’ll be right.”
He explained the rudiments of the vehicle and waved me off as I slid into the traffic like a cupcake in a feast of brownies. I stuck out in my expensive cornflower blue BMW, but the feeling verged on exhilaration as I cruised home in a quarter of the time it took on the bus. I’d always owned a parking space in the underground garage and slid into it, just as the father from downstairs crept around the corner in his beige station wagon. “Oh,” he called through his passenger window as I emerged and activated the central locking. “I park.” His broken English made me cock my head to aid understanding and the man pointed at my space. He hovered in place as though expecting me to jump back in my SUV and move it for him.
I glanced at the wall where the big number 12 corresponding with my apartment number, was spray painted in white at least half a metre high. “It’s my space,” I said. “I’ve got a car again now so I’ll be using it.”
“What? What?” he said, his face pale in the dim lighting of the garage. He stared at me as though his current misfortunes were my fault.
“You can’t park there,” I replied and sauntered past. His wheels screeched as he took off at speed in a temper, rounding the pillars at the end fast enough to spin the back tyres. He met me back on the small crossing in front of the lifts, squealing to a halt as though having contemplated killing me for my space. My euphoria melted from my heart and trickled into my feet and I hated him for ruining my lovely afternoon and the shininess of my gift. His window was still open and he glared at me through it. Anger bubbled to the surface and I crossed to his driver’s window and heard my own voice emerge from between my lips, strong and true. “You really don’t want to mess with me,” I said through gritted teeth. I heard my father in the veiled threat and it surprised me, but not enough to dispense with the power it offered. I put my hand on his windowsill and watched him flinch. “I can see your brain working,” I said, my voice cold. “You’ll try to beat me home tomorrow to get my space and assume I’ll just call the apartment supervisor. He’ll do nothing and you’ll have reclaimed something that wasn’t yours to begin with.” I leaned down, temper heating up my eyes until it felt as though they blazed in my face. “I don’t recommend you engaging in a game like that.” I held up my fingers and counted his options off for him. “Rent another space, park outside or get rid of a vehicle. And while we’re at it, I might like a donation towards the six months of parking you’ve had because I forgot to cancel my rental agreement.” My eyes glared and I watched him shrink at my vehemence. I felt angry enough to rip his head from his shoulders and he knew it. “Don’t. Mess. With. Me.” I said, enunciating each word before stepping away. I jerked my head to the right, wanting him to move first, so I didn’t present him with the opportunity to accidentally slip his clutch and mow me down. He sped off and up the ramp, waiting for the roll gate to rise before speeding off onto the street.
My heart pounded in my chest and my breath came in snatches. It occurred to me I didn’t know who I was anymore. And I hadn’t forgotten to cancel the rental. The tiny portion of my apartment fee covering the garage parking space had been my way of holding onto the past. I could pretend I would one day fill the space with a vehicle; that my life wasn’t entirely a failure. Today was the day.
“Hey, Ula. How was your day?” Jack asked, rising from the couch and rubbing his eyes. “You’re very late. I forgot to ask if you had a staff meeting.”
“Not tonight.” I twirled the car keys in my pocket, clinking them and enjoying the sound. “I picked up my new car.”
In the process of opening the fridge, Jack whirled around with an excited look on his face. “Truly?” He bit his lip and reminded me of the tousle haired boy who delighted in anything new amongst the cousins. Jack always had to press and poke and try things, pushing them to their limit while the new owner watched in horror.
“No way!” I answered the unasked question and jerked my head towards the cast on his arm and he shrugged. “If it’s an automatic, I’ll be fine. I’m still driving mine.”
“I bet you’re not supposed to!” I scoffed. “Your insurance might have something to say about it.”
“I bought a cooked chicken and salad for dinner,” he said, running a hand along his bristly jaw. “But I wanna see your car now.”
Pride flared in my heart and then faded as I thought about how to explain its sudden appearance. “It’s nothing special. I’ve finished paying Pete’s debts so treated myself. I’m sick of the bus.”
“Pete had debts?” Jack looked around and I saw the pennies drop into the slot in his brain as he considered my reduced circumstances in a different light. “I didn’t know. Why didn’t you ask for help?”
I shrugged and busied myself with the kettle, pressing buttons to make it boil and slapping a bag of green tea into a mug. “Nobody else’s business.”
Jack ran his hand up my back and his fingers fondled the curls in my ponytail. “It’s my business, Ula.”
“I don’t think your wife would’ve felt the same way.” I turned and leaned my bum against the pantry cupboard, detaching myself from Jack’s touch and the look of longing in his eyes. He swallowed and I broke the moment, jangling the keys. “Do you wanna see it?” A look of mischief in my face made him laugh.
“Hell yeah!”
Chapter 20
He raved with enthusiasm as only Jack Saint could, walking around the entire vehicle and admiring the colour, the shape and the smart leather interior. “This is radical!” he gushed, fingering the BMW logo on the rear. He opened the boot and closed it again. “Must’ve cost you a fortune!”
I swallowed and smiled. “I fell in love with it.”
“Where’d you get it?” Jack’s words filled me with misgiving and I whispered Hemi’s name in a muffled squeak which the cavernous parking garage picked up and echoed around my head.
“Ah yeah.” Jack didn’t sound surprised. “He supplies lots of the cars for All Saints and their minivan for games. You need to be a bit careful but he generally flies on the right side of the law.”
“Generally?” The foreboding in my voice alerted him to my discomfort and he closed the rear passenger door and put a comforting
arm around my shoulder.
“Want me to check it out?”
He responded to my nod by reaching for his cell phone one-handed and making a hushed call, leaning against the wall staring at my front bumper. His low voice echoed as a steady rumble and my heart clenched, not wanting the vehicle to prove stolen or written off in some hideous fatal accident and glued together in a dodgy chop shop. I opened the boot and busied myself making checks I should have done in Hemi’s presence, sighing with relief at the brand new spare tyre, nestled under the rear rug. I poked around and found a crow bar, jack and tool bag in a panel over the rear wheel arch.
“All good.” Jack made me jump as he appeared behind me, his face smiling with approval. “I asked a mate at Mangere to check it out and it’s fine. Nothing wrong at all. Congratulations.” He pressed his lips to my forehead and lingered over the kiss, disappointed when I pulled away.
“I’ll drive,” I said, dodging past him and closing the boot. “You can buy me dinner.”
Jack griped about having already bought dinner and I slapped his leg and laughed at him as we left the parking garage. My downstairs neighbour waited for me to exit and headed off down the ramp as I watched him in my rear-view mirror. “I bet he nicks my space.” I hovered in the small roadway and Jack screwed his head round to watch the tail lights disappear into the dim car park and the latticed roll door close with a series of metallic clicks and clunks.
“Don’t you rent it?” Jack asked, watching my face flush with dread. I nodded and he watched me for a second. “Trouble?”
