Paradise Road

by C. J. Duggan

  Just a dream.

  I dived out of bed, scurrying towards the couch to wake Dean, but it was empty, cushions aligned and the throw rug perfectly folded. I spun around, expecting him to be watching my rather rude awakening with amusement, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Lexie, come on! Karen and Peter will be waiting to say goodbye,’ Dad’s voice rang out.

  I blinked, sweeping wisps of hair from my eyes. Had I dreamed that Dean was here last night?

  ‘Coming,’ I called.

  Unlocking the door, I prepared myself for the onslaught of nervous mania that was always present with any farewell, and today would be twice as bad, because it was going to be a double farewell. Goodbye to Aunty Karen and Uncle Peter, and goodbye to Mum and Dad. Double the tears, double the emotion. Was it wrong that I simply wanted to guide them quickly to their cars and wave them bon voyage? Only then did I feel like I could take a breather, start my life working and settling into where I was supposed to be. I could feel my gut twist every time I thought about it.

  Dean was nowhere in sight; I hadn’t even heard him leave this morning, and he had made himself deliberately scarce, much to my mum’s dismay.

  ‘Oh, we wanted to thank him for his hospitality, he seems like such a nice young man.’

  ‘He has his moments,’ I mumbled under my breath as we descended the stairs. I was ever watchful in case he appeared from somewhere, but he didn’t and I was quite relieved, and I escorted my parents from the Wipe Out Bar towards awkward, sobbing farewells.

  •

  Ugh! Of course Lucy would be here. Why did I ever doubt that she would? Considering she was about to lose her BFF, she didn’t seem too upset about it. In fact, she looked almost giddy, whispering and giggling with Amanda on the kerb as Aunty Karen and Uncle Peter packed the car. I tore my murderous gaze from them.

  Freaks.

  ‘So, Lexie, we have some pretty exciting news for you.’ Aunty Karen’s heels clicked against the concrete. ‘Or has Amanda told you?’

  ‘Told me what?’

  Maybe she was back with Boon?

  ‘Well, she had to do some convincing,’ Aunty Karen glanced at Uncle Peter who was too busy poring over a road map with Dad, trying to work out the best route to take, ‘but Amanda is going to stay in Paradise for a while.’

  ‘WHAT?’

  ‘Oh, that’s wonderful!’ chimed Mum. ‘I can’t tell you how much of a relief that is to me, knowing you girls will be there for each other.’

  ‘Sorry, what?’ I turned to Mum, bemused by what was going on. ‘What about the family that’s renting your house?’ I asked Aunty Karen.

  ‘Oh, that will still happen, but Amanda is going to stay with Lucy. I’m no fool; I mean, I was young once too. And they might as well get all their partying out of their systems before uni starts, right?’ Aunty Karen winked at Lucy like she was one of the gang. It made me want to be sick.

  ‘We’ll look out for each other, Mrs Atkinson. We can hang out and have movie nights at your apartment, Lexie,’ smiled Lucy sweetly.

  This was bad news. Paradise was just not big enough for the three of us. The one thing I had been looking forward to the most was waving Amanda goodbye and never having to put up with Lucy again. Although how hard could it be to avoid them? I’d be at school and they wouldn’t. And it was not like we had to be under the same roof now.

  ‘Can we go now?’ I asked impatiently, thinking never in my right mind did I ever assume I would look forward to heading back to the Wipe Out Bar, that it would become my place of refuge.

  How quickly things could change.

  •

  After watching my parents’ Pajero become a speck in the distance, swallowed up by the city traffic, my fake smile slowly evaporated as I spun on my heel and stormed my way through Arcadia Lane. No longer did I feel like a timid farm girl excusing herself through the mass of sunburnt, pudgy tourists with knee-high socks, bum bags and Canon cameras hanging around their necks, I simply pushed past the hordes, ignoring the screaming, misbehaving kids who were chucking tantrums over wanting an ice-cream. None of it made me even blink, because I was afraid if I took my focus off the very direction I was headed that I would lose it. I was actually relieved to see the Wipe Out Bar up ahead, the imposing double-storeyed faded structure on the corner was now something I strode towards instead of fought against.

  Home sweet home.

  •

  My finger traced the dripping line of condensation against my glass. I sat at the bar, my chin resting on my palm. I had tried to ring Laura to tell her my good news – that I was still very much here and ready to take Paradise by storm, but in typical Laura style she never answered. Never had I felt more alone, more disenchanted. I thought once I got my independence I’d feel better, but I didn’t. I just felt alone. And just as the misery was ready to consume me, a pink little carton was placed on the bar in front of me. My eyes flicked up to see Dean standing behind the bar.

  I took in the handsome line of his jaw, those eyes that were always looking at you like he was ready to devour you. A girl would have to be blind not to appreciate his appeal. I didn’t even want to know how many notches he had on his bed post. My gaze shifted warily from his boyish smirk to the little pink box.

  ‘What’s this?’ I asked, straightening on my bar stool and looking rather sceptically at the frosted pink box tied with a silky white ribbon. I studied it as if it were about to explode.

  ‘Open it,’ he said.

  I tentatively unlaced the white ribbon that was holding the box closed. I was thankful for the distraction as my mind flashed back to my dream the night before. I quickly shook the images from my head and concentrated on the task at hand.

  ‘Diamonds?’ I suggested, raising a small smile.

  ‘Better,’ he said.

  I opened the box to look inside. ‘What is this?’

  Dean rolled his eyes. ‘A puppy. What do you think it is?’

  I reached in, carefully picking up the most beautiful, delicious-looking cupcake, a smile spreading wide across my face, my mouth instantly salivating as I admired sugar-laden perfection.

  ‘White buttermilk cupcake with pineapple filling and cream cheese frosting,’ Dean said as I peered at it from all angles.

  ‘Definitely better than diamonds,’ I said, grinning from ear to ear. It was then I noticed a circular sticker on the side of the carton that read Paradise Cakes.

  ‘Where is this magical place and why have I never been there?’

  Dean looked at me like I was crazy. ‘Paradise Cakes? It’s a national treasure down on the boardwalk.’

  I winced as I licked the frosting from my fingers, not from the taste of the creamy, sugary treat but from a rather embarrassing admission. ‘I’ve never been down to the boardwalk,’ I said, shrugging.

  Dean paused, still smirking as his eyes studied me, waiting for me to say, ‘Just kidding.’ But I was deadly serious and now he really knew I was. Dean frowned, disbelief lighting his face. ‘You have never been down the boardwalk?’ he repeated.

  ‘Nurvurh,’ I managed through a mouthful of cupcake.

  ‘Oh, hell, no,’ he said, scooping up the empty carton and turfing it in the bin.

  ‘Hey!’ I protested, ‘I wanted to keep that.’

  Dean walked a long, sweeping line around the bar to stand directly next to me.

  I swallowed my mouthful. ‘What?’

  ‘Eat up.’

  ‘W– why?’

  ‘I can’t have you not knowing what makes this city tick. We’re going down to the boardwalk.’

  I almost choked on my cupcake. ‘What, now?’

  ‘Got anything better to do?’

  I thought about it. I thought about the feeling I had had a moment before and now all of a sudden I had a purpose. I’d always wanted to go down to the boardwalk, but only ever ventured as far as the beach where the surfers were. It was also my chance to get Dean away from the Wipe Out Bar and get some answers. He seemed to be
in a rather jovial mood and I wanted to take advantage of it.

  ‘What are we waiting for?’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was a strange thing walking in the sun; the boardwalk was awash with colour, life and laughter and here I was beside Dean, dressed in his usual black jeans and black t-shirt, looking nothing like sunshine and happiness. He was completely not suited for this, and by the pained look on his face he certainly didn’t enjoy it. I wasn’t exactly feeling it either, after last night, but it was definitely better than sitting in the gloomy Wipe Out Bar with too much time on my hands. There was hope that at least I would start work soon and that would help, and until then, this was perfect.

  I laughed, actually laughed.

  ‘What?’

  I shook my head. ‘Cakes, impromptu visit to the boardwalk. It’s true. Your black heart does have a gooey, soft centre, Dean Saville.’

  Dean scoffed. ‘Bullshit.’

  I spun around to walk backwards so as to watch him squirm. ‘Putting a roof over my head, giving me a job, helping convince my parents they could leave me in Paradise. Admit it, Dean, you are a nice person.’

  ‘I wouldn’t get too carried away, you haven’t started work yet,’ he said.

  ‘How bad could it be?’ I asked, turning around so I could see the crowd become thicker as we neared the main attraction. The boarded walkway for pedestrians overlooking the beach was swarming with people. If Dean had replied, I hadn’t heard him. Instead, I was too focused on my surrounds – the distant screams from the amusement park, vendors with delicious-smelling treats from their carts, artists drawing cartoons of tourists and face painters for the kids. I licked my lips, remembering the juicy chunk of pineapple when I had taken a bite of the fluffy, light cupcake.

  ‘Where’s Paradise Cakes?’

  Dean laughed. ‘So I’m guessing you liked it?’

  It was then it occurred to me that I hadn’t even said thanks.

  I smiled, squinting against the sun and looking up at Dean who was a good foot taller than me.

  ‘Liked? I loved it! What’s the occasion? Happy first day on the job? Does every employee get one when they start?’

  ‘No. It was more along the lines of a belated birthday cake you never got for your eighteenth.’

  It was a thoughtful gesture based simply on my rather sooky admission that no-one had thought to provide a cake for my eighteenth. I felt like such a diva now. As always, things seemed to revolve around me and now I just felt embarrassed I had mentioned anything at all, although it did score me the most amazing cake I had ever tasted in my life, so there was that to be thankful for.

  ‘It was worth the wait,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Yeah, well, we will definitely go with that. If the other staff find out they’ll all want one,’ he said, walking on, plunging his hands in his pockets as he glanced out over the beach.

  Silence fell between us, but it wasn’t awkward. It only became awkward when he asked the next question.

  ‘So, are you homesick already or are you pining for my baby brother?’

  We walked up to lean on the railing overlooking the pristine, silken sand of the beach speckled with sun-tanners, a family playing cricket and young teenage girls in bikinis flirting with the edge of the waves, squealing as the water lapped up too high and they ran away, then back again. We rested our elbows on the top barrier, Dean flicking his Ray Bans on as he looked out over the beach. I wished he hadn’t. I really wanted to see his expression when I told him what I was about to. I gripped the railing, taking in a lungful of salty sea air as I turned to him.

  ‘Well, I’m definitely not homesick.’ I selected my words carefully, churning them around in my head before voicing them, something I didn’t tend to do much.

  Dean didn’t say a word, he simply waited, and watched, his silence urging me to continue.

  ‘And as for Ballantine … well, that didn’t end so well.’

  Dean turned, pressing his back onto the railing and resting his elbows as he took in the view of the boardwalk. ‘Yeah, Ballantine’s always been sensitive.’

  ‘Were you two ever close?’ I asked. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I watched the wind shift his thick hair in the breeze. Depending on the direction of the wind, I would get a hint of his aftershave. I looked at Dean, trying to figure him out.

  Are you bad or good? A sinner or a saint?

  I really wanted to believe that he was good, that above all, inside he really was about being good. I mean, he was giving out cupcakes, come on.

  Dean sighed. ‘Why do I feel like you want me to lie on a leather couch and confess my fucked-up childhood?’

  ‘Was it fucked up?’

  Dean flicked back his sunnies, his eyes flashing. ‘I love it when you talk dirty.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Answer the question,’ I said. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach. I had never seen Dean so unguarded before, so open. Maybe it was the feel of the sun streaming across us, or the fresh salty wind against our faces, but I thought that if I kept him talking, I would have an insight into why Ballantine had done what he’d done, and why he’d left.

  Dean smiled lightly. ‘We had different childhoods,’ he began. ‘Mum had me when she was really young: seventeen? She fell in love with a handsome bar owner who had a passion for women and the horses, and all the things in between.’

  ‘Your dad.’

  ‘Mick Saville, by all accounts, a terrible husband, but he was a great father.’ Dean looked at me when he spoke, as if it was important for me to believe it. ‘He was no angel, but he tried, and he raised me when my mum couldn’t. Dad took care of me, brought in nannies while Mum went and finished her Ph.D, even though they weren’t together he still did it, he took care of what belonged to him.’

  ‘So you grew up at the Wipe Out Bar?’

  ‘Yep, I’d walk down Arcadia Lane with my school bag, hop on the bus and off to school I would go. I soon got jack of that, dropped out in Year Ten and started running the business fulltime.’

  The plot thickened; this was how he had acquired the bar at such a young age. He was born into it.

  ‘Did you always want to be a businessman?’

  Dean laughed. ‘Never. I was always dreaming of being someplace else, to travel, with the least amount of responsibility as possible.’ Dean looked far away, as if he was still dreaming of being someplace else.

  ‘So your mum remarried?’

  Dean snapped out of his daydream, shaking his head. ‘She did. Carl Ballantine is a nice man, a sensible, straight-laced businessman with a good head on his shoulders. He’s everything my dad was not. Good with money, monogamous, a family man. I lived with them for a little while, but suburbia is not for me. There’s no substance, it’s all glitz and glamour. Arcadia may not be glamorous, but it has substance.’

  ‘So where’s your dad? Did he give you the business?’

  Dean fell silent, a darkness overshadowing him as he clenched his jaw. ‘He died when I was seventeen.’

  ‘Dean, I’m really sorry …’

  ‘It’s fine. He always said he was here for a good time, not a long time.’

  My heart ached for Dean, for the rawness in his face when he spoke of his dad.

  ‘So I inherited a rundown bar and a lot of debt. Dad had put all his assets in my name long before he died to ward off the bank taking it from him, and thanks to Carl and Mum, they helped straighten out my finances. I got my flat refurbed and I’ve finally saved up enough to start renovations on the building.’ He smirked, a lightness returning to him.

  ‘So you and Ballantine are just from different worlds.’

  ‘Maybe it’s mostly my fault, but when I see Ballantine skipping school, bumming around, taking for granted how good he has it, what Mum sacrificed for him to be able to live the life he has, it pisses me off.’

  ‘Jealousy?’ I pressed.

  ‘Maybe. I don’t want his life, but I want him to appreciate it, and I don’t think he does
.’

  The wind blew my hair in my eyes. I brushed it away, because it was important that when I asked him the next question I could see his reaction. I stepped forward, reaching up and taking the glasses away from his eyes. He stilled, his eyes looking down on me, curiously flicking over my face.

  ‘I’m going to ask you something,’ I said.

  ‘Well, that’s a shock.’

  ‘The trouble Ballantine has with you feels like more than sibling rivalry. When he left,’ I swallowed, having not thought back to that day in a while, it still conjured up the same raw emotions, ‘he left thinking there was something happening between you and me, and it never seemed to matter how much I told him that there was nothing happening, he still didn’t believe it.’

  Dean gave me his undivided attention.

  What I didn’t dare ask was, was Dean like his father? Was he a product of his childhood?

  Dean broke into a wolfish smile. ‘I told you my little brother, Ballantine, is a sensitive soul.’

  ‘Has he reason to be?’ I raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I think the one thing he believes I have taken from him is the only thing he has ever truly wanted.’

  ‘Oh, and what was that?’

  Dean shrugged one lazy shoulder as he looked down on me with his serious eyes. ‘You.’

  ‘Me? B– but you don’t have me, you’ve never had me,’ I stumbled, getting all flustered.

  ‘Yet,’ he winked, making me all the more flustered.

  ‘Oh be serious, just for a minute.’

  Dean chuckled, ‘Why do you care so much?’ He sobered, looking at me for a long moment. ‘If he doesn’t believe you, trust you, then you have nothing. I can’t help it if I’m the thorn in his side. It’s not my life’s mission to involve myself in Ballantine’s affairs.’

  My mind flashed back to Boon and his cagey response that Dean and Ballantine had a shit history, alluding to it being more than stealing his Tonka Truck. There was a burning jealousy that had existed long before I came along and considering Ballantine had a charmed life compared to Dean, there had to be something more to it. I had to know what girl had been entangled with these brothers before me and whose heart got broken and why.