Paradise Road

by C. J. Duggan

  But I knew it was more than that; I was the one who had spent those nights with Ballantine, I knew the time we had together was more than that, but as I sat at the Wipe Out Bar I started to feel overwhelmed. I had to get out of here, it was too soon. I took a last sip of my drink and left it on the bar barely touched, getting up to leave with Peroxide Girl’s eyes flicking quizzically to my drink and then to me.

  ‘Sorry, I have some place I have to be, thanks,’ I stuttered, juggling my purse and papers as I exited the dim bar into the blinding brightness of the sun so quickly that I didn’t see the person I slammed into – hard, really hard.

  Reeling back, stammering apologies, I tried to gather my scattered papers from the floor. On my hands and knees, retrieving a piece of paper from beside a jean-clad leg, I stilled. ‘Oh God.’

  I slowly looked up, as it dawned on me whose leg this was. Lifting my eyes, the sun was blocked by the silhouette of a notorious Paradise figure.

  Dean Saville peeled off his shades, a wolfish grin lining his face. ‘Lexie Atkinson.’

  Chapter Six

  I stood slowly, straightening my spine and lifting my chin, trying to look calm and unflappable, desperately trying not to think about this morning’s sexy dream he happened to make a cameo appearance in.

  Dean was a good foot taller than me and a crooked little grin curved across his infuriatingly handsome face. ‘When did you get back?’ he asked.

  ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘And here you are, darkening my doorstep,’ he said, all smug.

  ‘I didn’t come to see you,’ I snapped, readjusting my bag.

  Dean’s green-brown eyes flicked from my face to my shoulders; I knew he was looking at my sunburn, judging me.

  Time to go, I thought, before he said something that would just piss me off more. ‘See ya,’ I announced, pushing past him and storming away.

  ‘Hey, you dropped something,’ Dean called after me.

  Oh crap.

  There in Dean’s hand was one of my résumés, and he was reading it with much interest. ‘Excellent communication skills, with the ability to work as part of a team or unsuper–’

  I snatched the paper from his hands.

  ‘Looking for a job?’

  ‘No, I mean, yes, but not here,’ I said quickly.

  Dean plunged his hands into his pockets. ‘That’s okay, I wouldn’t hire you anyway.’

  Wait, what?

  ‘Why not?’ I glowered. Against my better judgment I was offended.

  ‘Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day, what’s left of it,’ he said, turning and walking towards the Wipe Out Bar.

  ‘Why wouldn’t you hire me?’ I called after him.

  ‘Might want to be careful, the sun’s got a real bite in it,’ he yelled without so much as a backwards glance as he disappeared inside.

  Jerk.

  •

  The days melted into each other and instead of looking forward to my impending eighteenth, I was actually dreading it. With each day that passed with no success on the job or accommodation front, my mood darkened. Even with Aunty Karen and Uncle Peter chipping in to help me find a place, there was nothing. There wasn’t even an opportunity to indulge in the ‘roll up into a ball and hide away in the dark’ kind of despair, as Aunty Karen was continually vacuuming under my feet, or wiping fingerprints off every glossy surface (and there were a lot of glossy surfaces).

  After a week and a half of fruitless searching, I was sitting at the kitchen table glaring at the newspaper when Amanda walked in.

  ‘What is your problem?’ she asked, padding her way through the sliding glass door in her skimpy little shorts and bikini top.

  I gave her my best deadpan expression, which was just my normal look these days. ‘Do not ask me questions,’ I said, thinking I much preferred it when she ignored me.

  ‘Jesus, you’re bloody scary these days, Lexie. You need to lighten up a bit,’ Amanda laughed, snatching an apple from the fruit bowl. I swear to God she was becoming more and more like Lucy every day. All she needed was to dye her hair blonde and she would be her twin, but not necessarily the evil one.

  ‘You need to turn that frown upside down,’ Amanda singsonged.

  ‘And how about you fuck off?’ I muttered, turning the page of my Paradise City Sun.

  Amanda almost choked on her mouthful of apple, giving me a wide-eyed watery look. ‘Excuse me?’

  I didn’t tear my eyes from the classifieds. ‘You heard me,’ I said, with little enthusiasm.

  Amanda scoffed. ‘Lucy was right, you’re a bloody psycho,’ she said, padding her way out of the kitchen.

  Maybe I had lost it? The Lexie of old would have been freaking out at the fact that after ten days of looking, and several unsuccessful interviews for shit-kicker positions, I was still jobless and soon-to-be homeless. That was until my parents arrived to whisk me back to Red Hill.

  Even though I was failing in every aspect of my life there were some things I had to hold onto, my pride being one of them. I couldn’t give up yet. I tugged the cap of my red marker off with my teeth and began to circle some possibilities.

  Dog walker.

  Babysitter.

  Receptionist.

  Everything I circled seemed to be a bit far-fetched, but desperation does funny things to one’s mind. I knew this the second my pen hovered over the next ad.

  Bar Staff Needed – Phone Dean.

  Blunt and matter-of-fact, like the man himself, I thought, shaking my head.

  ‘No. Way,’ I said to myself. Desperate, perhaps, but not that desperate … although I had to wonder as I sat back in my chair, biting my lip and frowning at the paper. Why did I circle the ad?

  I glanced at the calendar on the wall. There was less than a week until my parents arrived, seven days to be precise. I sighed, looking from the calendar to the ad and back again.

  Fuck my life.

  Chapter Seven

  I had been interviewed enough over the last ten days to know what to do and what not to do. The practice had given me more experience and confidence each time. And yet I could have had a hundred interviews, but none of them would have prepared me for this one.

  Sure, I may have been a little misleading when I rang up and spoke to someone called Cassie. I assumed she was the peroxided bar girl. She’d wanted to organise a time for me to come in and meet with Dean, which was kind of obvious. I wasn’t that big an idiot to think I could avoid that one, but for some reason when she asked me for my name I blurted out Alex instead. Oops.

  Maybe I was providing a bit of a buffer to at least get my foot in the door. If Dean had seen the name Lexie there was no way he would make time to hear me out. He had already said he wouldn’t hire me.

  I dressed as I would for any interview: respectable, neat and smart with my black fitted pedal pushers and slim-fit black t-shirt. If nothing else it proved I had the black uniform nailed. I braided my long blonde hair in the style of Lara Croft Tomb Raider, ready for action to sling some drinks and gun down some enemies if needed. The braid fell over my shoulder, making the blonde stand out in stark contrast to the black. Mercifully my skin had gone from beetroot red to a deep golden brown. I’d moisturised it to within an inch of its life. Amanda complained it was like sleeping next to a giant coconut.

  I sat at the bar, willing myself not to fidget, to not look nervous, knowing that this place had eyes everywhere. Cassie, the girl behind the bar, smiled at me. She seemed friendlier than Sherry had ever been. It had me wondering what had happened to Sherry. Was hers the position I was applying for?

  My thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the bar phone, shrill enough to be heard over the music blaring from the speakers. It made me jump out of my skin – guess I was more on edge than I realised.

  ‘Wipe Out Bar, Cassie speaking.’ Cassie’s eyes shifted to me. ‘Only one,’ she said, giving me a knowing smirk. ‘Well, I told you to make it bigger. All right, all right, I’ll pass it on … See ya.’ Cassi
e hung up the phone.

  ‘Dean’s running a bit late but he said that you could wait in his office; there’s tea and coffee up there if you want some.’

  I scoffed. ‘How hospitable,’ I said, glancing up the staircase. My eyes shifted to where Cassie was staring at me, a look of surprise on her face.

  Oh shit, Lexie, tone down the sarcasm.

  I smiled brightly. ‘Thanks, that’ll be great. Um, where do I go?’

  ‘Follow me,’ she said, stepping away from behind the bar. I acted innocently, as if this was my first time being led up those steps, as if what lay behind that door was a complete mystery to me. Cassie opened the door and gestured to me to head inside. ‘Take a seat, tea and coffee’s over there.’

  She pointed to the corner near the sink, the same one I had washed my clothes in the night Lucy dumped a drink on me. Yep, I was pretty well acquainted with this room, it was the room in which Ballantine had come to see me, the night I’d reassured him that nothing was going on between Dean and me. I had seen the doubt etched on his face that night. I learned that they were more than work colleagues with bad blood. They were half-brothers and, even to this day, I couldn’t believe it. They were just so different.

  Ballantine was no angel, that was a certainty, but he was sweet. Dean, on the other hand, he was just a giant smart-arse who seemed to bring out the worst in everyone. Again, I had to ask myself: why was I here?

  I moved into the office, looking out through the one-way glass, peering over the bar.

  ‘He won’t be long, Alex,’ Cassie said before stepping out and closing the door behind her.

  I almost looked behind me wondering who she was talking to, until I remembered that I was Alex.

  Smiling to myself, I wondered if Dean would come walking up those steps thinking he was about to interview some bloke called Alex. Well, he was in for a bit of a shock, I thought as I walked around his desk, my hand skimming the glossed surface. I sat down in his huge chair, swivelling it from side to side before pushing myself back with a sigh, linking my hands behind my head and crossing my ankles on top of the desk like the boss man himself.

  Okay, I thought, I was seriously tempting fate here. I took down my legs and moved from his chair. Glancing at the kettle, I couldn’t think of anything worse than having a hot drink on a summer’s day.

  I sat in the chair on the other side of the desk, taking in my surrounds. A mounted Beatles picture, filing cabinet, lounge: everything was the same and yet something was different. I shifted around in my chair until I finally worked out what it was.

  The long line of monitors, just under the one-way glass – they were all turned off. Maybe he turned them off when he wasn’t here? Or maybe he turned them off when interviewing potential staff so as not to freak them out. Now that made sense. I couldn’t help but think maybe I should have just waited for the call back from Video Ezy to give me an interview time. Working for them, rewinding videos and calling up people with overdues seemed a lot less complicated than working here. Although I was getting ahead of myself. I didn’t have the job yet, nor was I likely to get it.

  •

  The waiting was intense.

  Maybe this was a test, to make anyone who had walked in relaxed start to fidget and second-guess themselves. Plant them up in a box with no chance of escape. Smart, real smart.

  Bloody hell, where the hell was he? I had been stuck in here for twenty minutes; there was running late and then there was bordering on being rude.

  I started pacing, making my way towards the one-way glass, thinking that at least I would be able to see him when he was coming up the stairs, not that I was sure what kind of benefit that would provide. There was no way of preparing for this, I thought, none whatsoever.

  Like a real Lara Croft badass I watched all the action of people coming and going below. I was just about calmed into a trance-like state when my phone rang, causing me to leap in surprise. ‘Bloody phone,’ I complained, walking across the room, unzipping my bag and delving into the abyss.

  It didn’t ring often but when it did it scared the crap out of me every time. I located it, taking a calming breath as MUM flashed up on the screen. I pressed the button. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Lexie, hello, can you hear me?’

  The reception was terrible, with us yelling back and forth at each other like a scene out of The Three Stooges. I went to stand next to the sink where the reception seemed to clear.

  ‘How’s that? Can you hear me now?’ I yelled, covering my other ear with my hand.

  ‘Oh, that’s better, I can hear you now.’

  Awesome. Glad that had been established.

  ‘Did I call at a bad time? I just wanted to wish you luck on your job interview,’ she said.

  It was something Mum did for each and every job I’d gone for over the past ten days. She’d rung to wish me luck even though she didn’t really mean it. Much to her credit, though, I did think she legitimately felt bad after I received the ‘better luck next time’ rejection letters. My parents weren’t completely heartless, they could sense the disappointment in my voice no matter how upbeat I tried to be.

  ‘Now remember, just be yourself.’

  I almost laughed.

  Yeah, don’t be Alex.

  ‘If you don’t get this one, well, there are plenty more fish in the sea,’ Mum said with great optimism. The thing was, she was wrong. If I didn’t land this job there really was nothing else. I wasn’t here for career advancement or pleasure, this was me hitting rock bottom. Forget homelessness; no job meant no money and no means to find somewhere to stay in a week’s time when Aunty Karen, Uncle Peter and Amanda handed over the keys to another family and I was on the street or, worse, buckled into the back seat of Mum and Dad’s Pajero. I desperately needed this job.

  ‘So the job you’re interviewing for, are the people nice? That’s just as important.’

  I winced. ‘Nice? No, this one’s more an act of desperation. Believe me, this is not my first choice,’ I said with a laugh, trying to keep it light and less depressing than the reality.

  ‘Oh, Lexie, that’s not funny.’

  ‘Believe me, I’m not joking,’ I scoffed, looking up to check my makeup, only to freeze. There, in the reflection of the mirror, stood Dean, casually leaning in the doorway, his eyes narrowed like a lion honing in on its prey.

  ‘Mum, I– I’ve gotta go,’ I said, pressing the end button before she had a chance to reply. It was then I felt how dry my mouth was, how my stomach twisted and my heart raced as I slowly turned.

  Dean peeled his arms from their crossed position over his chest; he stepped into the room, slamming the door closed behind him so loud I blinked, jumping a little, watching on as he pressed his back against the door, taking his time to speak. ‘Hello, Alex.’

  Chapter Eight

  I swallowed hard.

  Had he overheard the conversation with my mum? Oh God. My foggy mind tried to retrace my conversation. What had I even said? Whatever it was, I was sure it wasn’t flattering – something about desperation. Bloody hell. Rather than running out of the room with my tail between my legs, I decided on another angle, one that might have me dragged out by security and barred for life, but the way I saw it, I had nothing to lose.

  Straightening my back, trying for an air of confidence, I said, ‘You’re late.’

  Dean raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘You’re kidding,’ he snorted, as if I had some gall to pull him up on his punctuality.

  ‘I’m deadly serious,’ I said, moving towards my bag, trying to disguise the tremble in my hands as I unclipped it, quickly dumping my phone inside and pulling out my résumé. I handed it to him without missing a beat. ‘I have volunteered at the Rotary Club’s Eastern Christmas picnic every year since I was fourteen; I served sandwiches to the firefighters in the last two summers; I have cooked a barbecue for around two hundred locals at the Moorwall Rodeo. I have never worked in a bar before but I am a fast learner. I am punctual, smart and enjoy a cha
llenge. I have excellent communication skills and I work well as part of a team –’

  ‘Or unsupervised,’ Dean finished my sentence.

  I nodded my head. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Now why does the thought of you being unsupervised seem like such a bad idea?’

  ‘I have references,’ I said, ignoring him, still holding out the paper to him, giving it a bit of a wave to punctuate my point.

  Dean strode over to his desk, taking a seat. I dropped my arm, refusing to let the sinking feeling inside take over from my mission as I turned to face him. He wasn’t looking at me, he was shifting paperwork to the side of what was a relatively clean desk for a male.

  I was getting a bit jack of having to sell myself in such a way that made me want to cringe, but I really needed to get this job. I could continue pitching myself as the employee of the freakin’ year, or I could beg – pffft, no way. Maybe tears would work? No, that would almost be like begging and I still had my pride; pride that was slowly sinking as Dean looked set to torture me.

  ‘Do you think you’re a trustworthy person, Lexie?’ he asked.

  Oh crap, my past history didn’t exactly paint me as Mother Teresa and he knew it.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why are there scuff marks on top of my desk?’ he asked, his green-brown eyes eventually flicking up to me questioningly.

  What? Oh fuck.

  ‘Scuff marks?’ I echoed, tilting my head to see what he was talking about, as if I was genuinely curious about what he was saying. ‘Look, I don’t know what you do in your personal time, but don’t look at me.’ I held up my hands.

  A devious glint flashed in his eyes. ‘This desk cost $4000; the only feet that will be on here are mine and the only part of a woman that will ever be on here is her palms.’

  I swallowed. I could feel the heat creep up my neck and I blushed profusely, as an image flashed in my mind of exactly what he meant, a very hot image that made me shift uncomfortably. I really hoped Dean couldn’t sense how awkward I had become, as my eyes dipped to the shiny gloss of the mahogany top.