by C. J. Duggan
Bugger.
I pressed my ear to the window, but the voices were nothing more than inaudible mumbles, then I wondered if they could see my silhouette pressed up against the window and quickly backed away. Biting my lip, I began to worry. Glancing at the clock, I was surprised to see it was already one in the morning. So much for getting to bed early. The Wipe Out Bar was long closed and there really shouldn’t have been anyone loitering in the alleyway. Well, not anyone who shouldn’t be there, anyway. The voices elevated in pitch. Still unable to make out anything clearly, curiosity got the better of me and I grabbed the dressing gown Aunty Karen had bought me to match the lemon summer short PJs I had on. Slipping my feet into my Billabong thongs, I opened my door slowly, wincing at the painful squeak that sounded when I pulled it open.
Stupid, rickety building.
It was a miracle it was still standing it was so old.
I slid my feet along the carpet, pausing as I stood before Dean’s door. I turned left down the hall. The green exit sign was aglow above the back door, a beacon lighting my way, making my venture seem less frightening until I got to the heavy steel door, which, much to my horror, wasn’t even locked.
I shook my head. Mr Paranoia with all his security monitors and we could have all been murdered in our bloody beds! There was no delicate way of pushing this beast of a door open so I just had to stifle my moan as I put all my energy into shoving it ajar, the night breeze lapping at my cheeks as I left the stuffy dark hallway and stepped into the night at the top of the fire escape landing. Sure enough, a stale smell of rotten rubbish hit me, until the wind blew mercifully in the other direction. Phew. Leaving the door open slightly, I kept to the shadows, moving to the very corner of the balustrade. Leaning against the wall of the building, I waited, thinking myself crazy. Was I hearing things? Maybe the voices from the alley were gone now and just as I was ready to back away, I heard them, except this time very clearly and right below me. I froze, biting my lip as I edged forward, peering down to the ground below, and my breath hitched when I made out two figures. A man and a woman, except this time they were definitely not talking.
I knew I shouldn’t be looking but I just couldn’t tear my eyes from what I was seeing. Even in the darkness of the alley I could see them well enough to know I didn’t know them, which was probably the reason I gave myself permission to stare. It wasn’t personal. At least, that’s what I told myself as I pressed myself further into the shadows. I watched on, fascinated, as the brunette woman kneeled down and took the blond-haired man in her mouth, his hands in her long dark hair, urging her on with dirty words, guiding her rhythm as his hips bucked. It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen. Two people, out in the open, groaning into the night. His head tilted back against the wall in abandon before looking down and watching her devour him with expert rhythm. I was aware of nothing but the scene playing out before me, as I watched from the shadows, not even aware of myself enough to be ashamed or sorry for not walking away. It felt so wrong and yet there I was staring down, feeling strange things stir inside me, hardly believing how brazen they were being – no-one in Red Hill would dare do anything like this. I thought for sure the couple would soon finish. If I knew the opposite sex I knew the guy wouldn’t be able to endure that kind of torture forever, and just as the man gritted into the night air that he was about to come, he pushed her away, frantically yanking her by her wrists to stand, spinning her around to bend her over, her hands fixing to the edge of the skip bin as he hitched her skirt up over her hips. Oh my God, he was going to do her right in the alleyway – surely not.
But he did. It was hard, fast, hot and loud. If I hadn’t have left my room I would have definitely figured out what was going on by this point in time. I think it was safe to say the whole of Paradise would have heard what they were doing, and as much as it was hypnotic and so very wicked to watch him take her from behind, I had seen enough. As I quietly edged back on the landing I bumped into something unexpectedly hard, something that hadn’t been there before.
I spun around, ready to scream with fright, when a hand clasped over my mouth, smothering my voice. My nostrils flared and my eyes, wide with panic, locked onto a familiar set of green-brown eyes as Dean looked at me, lifting a finger to his lips, then his serious eyes moved from my face to over the balcony. His face was expressionless, unflinching as he took in the couple’s moans down below. My cheeks were aflame, mortified that I had been sprung and of all people, by Dean, my employer. I desperately wanted to explain that I’d heard voices and come out to investigate, but instead I blinked wildly, feeling as though we stood in the dark for the longest time, until I heard the merciful sounds of the two strangers below giggling and straightening their clothes then moving on from their temporary love nest. I swallowed deeply, as I felt Dean’s hand slide away from my mouth.
‘Show’s over,’ he said, his voice was low and smoky, a knowing smirk lining his lips. And, oh God, if hearing him say that wasn’t the hottest thing I had ever heard. I turned a deeper red, horrified that I could even be thinking like that. I blamed my rampant hormones, yeah, that had to be it.
I heard a low chuckle and glared up at him. This was most definitely not funny.
Dean shook his head. ‘Honestly Lexie, loitering in alleyways, and on a school night and all,’ he said, adjusting my collar as if worried I would catch a chill, when in reality I was more in danger of catching on fire. He was such a fucking smart-arse.
Dean moved to the back door, opening it up without effort as he swept his hand in front of him. ‘Ladies first,’ he said with a wry smile.
I eyed him sceptically as I moved forward, stopping before him, looking him straight in the eyes. ‘I don’t feel like a lady,’ I admitted, still feeling the flush to my cheeks.
Dean straightened, still holding the door ajar. ‘Would it make you feel any better if I told you I’m no gentleman?’
Against my better judgment I smirked, actually smirked. As if loitering in the shadows watching strangers do it in the back alleyway wasn’t bad enough. Oh yeah, my parents had left me with who they thought was a saint, when really I was standing before a devil, a devil who looked as sexy as sin itself standing under the muted night lights. What was happening to me? Maybe it was the erotic live show I had just witnessed that was playing with me, making things stir in all the right places and clouding my judgment. I looked up at Dean and admired the perfect line of his bone structure, his bow-shaped lips, the very ones I felt pressed against my ear. I imagined him whispering wicked things into my ear. I reckoned he would be the type, just like the couple down below. Dean would urge words of encouragement as he bent me over his desk and took me from behind. An image flashed in my mind of him doing exactly that to me in his office and I quickly broke my eyes away from his, my cheeks burning a deeper shade of red.
‘Goodnight,’ I said a little too loudly as I pushed past him, making my way quickly down the hall, cursing myself for thinking such ludicrous thoughts. I was clearly sleep deprived, I needed to go to bed – my bed.
Chapter Thirty-One
I had a dream.
I ended up painting the walls of the Wipe Out Bar hot pink, and decoupaging the bar with cut-out photos of flowers. I dreamed that instead of the giant surfboard at the entrance, I hung a picture of white horses – reminiscent of exactly how Mum had decorated my room back in Red Hill. And in my dream Dean loved it, absolutely raved about the changes, especially the bar with the flowers. He then shouted everyone at the bar a drink, which was definitely a sign that I was dreaming, because I could never imagine Dean ever doing something like that – there was more chance of him liking the colour pink.
I stirred awake, my eyes skimming the smoke-stained decorative cornice of my room, processing what was just a dream and what was very much a reality.
Dean was back.
I lifted the doona to my chin, like a small child warding off dark shadows in her bedroom. My worry was less about what Dean might think of my changes
to the bar than with how I was ever going to look him in the eyes again. My mind flashed back to last night, the way Dean’s eyes shifted from my face to over the fire escape railing, noticing the couple I had been spying on. When his gaze had settled back onto me, it didn’t take long for him to break into a devious little smile and come up with a smart-arsed comment.
I groaned, lifting the doona up over my head. I was never going to live this down. All I wanted was to hide away, to never cross Dean Saville’s path again. My alarm sounded, causing me to jump at the unexpectedness of its shrill ringing. I peeled the covers from my head, rolling awkwardly to pound my palm onto the clock radio that was screaming at me to get up, get up and face the day. There would be no hiding from anyone.
I sighed, pushing myself into a sitting position. My eyes locked onto my school uniform and, despite everything else, a smile slowly spread across my face.
I had done it.
Today I was going to start Year Twelve. The full weight of that soon eclipsed all other thoughts. The day had finally arrived, and this was definitely not a dream, it was very much real.
Holy shit, I had really bloody done it.
•
It was a fantasy in most teenage girls’ hearts that one day they would descend a grand staircase and make an even grander entrance into a room, where a boy, watching, would instantly fall in love with her. But I guess I had never been a lot like most teenage girls, and I certainly wasn’t enjoying this particular moment. Especially as I stood on the landing, slowly stepping down, my hand gliding along the glossed, smooth finish of the bannister, the very last person I wanted to see was glancing up at me from the bar, breaking off mid-sentence to the man delivering stock into the cool room.
Dean turned fully towards me descending the staircase, a big grin lining his face as his eyes drifted over me, from my blue-and-white-checked school dress, to my white knee-high socks and T-bars. I shifted my backpack, filled with heavy textbooks, on my shoulders. He was far too amused by this, or maybe he was still thinking about last night? Maybe that expression was him silently judging me, wondering how he hadn’t guessed I was such a deviant, or maybe that was just my paranoia. I tried to avoid making eye contact. The last thing I wanted was for him to say something smart to me; his expression was mocking enough. Instead, I walked a straight line towards the kitchen, trying my best not to do it too quickly, when all I wanted was to run out of view. I lifted my chin and walked on as if nothing was different. This was my first day of Year Twelve and I was off to conquer the world. I was aiming for this all along. This is why I had worked so hard to get back here, so I could finish my final year in a real school. Sure, things had turned out different from what I’d expected, but I was here.
Let’s do this, Lexie.
I breathed in steadily. ‘Morning,’ I chimed cheerfully at Dean and the delivery man as I passed them. Caring not for their reaction, I forged on towards the kitchen.
Raiding the fridge, I wrangled up some fruit salad to fill my stomach before I left for my big day. It could have been hunger pains, but I suspect it may have been first-day jitters. So much had changed in my world since I’d last been at Paradise High, it was almost like going into a complete unknown. Without the likes of Ballantine to stare at from across the schoolyard, to share stolen moments as he brushed past me in the hall, flashing me a cheeky, knowing grin, who knew whether anything would feel the same? I had prided myself on being Miss Independent by keeping myself busy and denying the hurt that lingered not too deep below the surface. I was afraid school would bring it all back, and I wasn’t quite ready to face those emotions. There was also a certain amount of humiliation that went with it. At the last school social it had become common knowledge that there was something between me and Ballantine. We were no longer hiding it from the world, it was a new beginning filled with so much promise, a promise that ended all too soon. And here I was sitting in a booth at the Wipe Out Bar (my new home), munching thoughtfully on fruit salad and dreading my first day. At least it was Wednesday, not long and I would have the weekend to recover.
Having been in a form of holiday mode I was rarely up and about at this time of day. Seeing the bar and restaurant completely empty, and noticing there was still plenty of foot traffic outside – hungry strolling tourists on the prowl for a feed – I wondered if Dean had ever considered opening for breakfast. I made a mental note to ask although I may very well have overstepped the mark with what I had done so far. My eyes warily lifted up to where the hideous netting and Hank had once been and I swallowed. Shit, I wondered if Dean had noticed yet? He got back in the early hours; he probably hadn’t.
I scooped the last mouthful of fruit into my gob and went to quickly scoot out of the booth. I really didn’t want to be here when he discovered it. Grabbing the empty bowl and spoon I moved to make a quick exit from the bistro, rounding the corner straight into the path of Nancy, the dear old cleaning lady. I stepped back with a yelp of surprise.
‘Oh sorry, Lexie, I didn’t mean to scare you.’ Nancy chuckled, probably because I was clutching my heart so dramatically.
‘You’re like creeping Jesus, Nancy,’ I breathed out, trying to still my heartbeat.
‘Sorry, dear.’ Her big magnified eyes behind her thick glasses shifted to my breakfast bowl. ‘Here, let me take that. You run along.’
‘Oh, thanks, Nancy.’
‘Ah, now, it’s you I should be thanking. The shelves in the bar look beautiful. I just hope Dean doesn’t like them so much I lose my job.’
‘Oh.’ I blanched. ‘I think your job is safe, Nancy, especially once Dean finds out about his beloved Hank.’
Nancy squinted into the bistro. You didn’t have to have twenty-twenty vision to notice that the hideous prop was gone. I had thought Nancy might have high-fived me, told me job well done. Instead, her tiny wrinkled face looked worried; deeply worried. ‘Has Dean seen this?’ she asked.
I suddenly felt very nervous. ‘Um, I’m not sure, but I kind of was planning on not being here when he found out,’ I admitted, thinking of an escape route from the building. Down the basement and out the back alley seemed like a sure bet.
‘Ah yes, well, probably a good idea,’ Nancy nodded. ‘Well, hopefully by the time he gets back he will have calmed down a bit.’
I paused. ‘Gets back? He’s going again?’
He just got back.
I didn’t much like the disappointment that my words were edged with. It was certainly not disappointment I felt. If anything, I was mostly incredulous. ‘How can he expect to run a business if he’s never here?’ I scoffed.
‘Quite easily,’ came a voice from behind.
Oh shit.
My head and Nancy’s snapped towards Dean, who was closing the distance between us. Nancy quickly shuffled into action, stepping away from me and heading into the bistro as if a tsunami was headed our way. And she wasn’t too far from the truth. I sensed a mass of doom rolling towards me. I decided to meet him part way, stop him from looking into the bistro.
‘Hey, Dean, have you got a minute?’ I began. The friendly tone of my voice sounded unsettling even to me, and especially to Dean who openly scowled at me as if I were a stranger.
My shoulders sagged. ‘You don’t have to look so pained, Dean, it’s only a question.’
‘That’s what worries me,’ he said as he moved past me, picking up a newspaper from the table before making his way back to the comfort of the bar – not the bistro, thank God. I followed after him, two of my small steps equal to one of his long, confident strides.
‘So, are you going again for the weekend?’ I tried for light, carefree conversation at first, but there was no buttering up Dean Saville. He didn’t do lighthearted, he only worked on two levels: scowling and smart-arse.
‘Why, will you miss me?’ He flicked me a knowing look.
Yep, there was the smart-arse.
‘Terribly. Now listen, I was just wondering –’
‘Son of a bitch,’ Dean swo
re.
My mouth gaped, confused by his outburst until I followed his line of sight. Dean shook his head. ‘Bloody revenue-raising pricks, the Shire’s putting in parking meters all along Kirkland Avenue.’
‘Oh, right, well, that’s no good, but the thing is, I was just thinking –’
‘The next thing you know they’ll be metering our shopping centre car parks to make a quick buck, the bloody –’
‘Dean!’ I said, perhaps a bit too loudly, because his eyes flicked up to me, his irritation deepening as I interrupted him mid-rant.
‘What? Shouldn’t you be going to school?’ He glanced at his watch, his already paper-thin patience wearing thinner.
‘Yeah, soon,’ I said, brushing away his words, ‘Anyway, I was just wondering –’
‘What happened to your knee?’
I frowned, glancing at the series of bandaids on my leg.
‘Oh, I fell off my bike, well, actually I totalled my bike, but I’m okay. Now, I was thinking –’ I moved on quickly before I got a lecture on road safety – ‘maybe I could work the bar Friday night. I mean, if you’re not going to be here, you could probably use an extra pair of hands, and I’ve studied the cocktail book and have been watching Cassie all week. I feel that I’m ready to give it a crack. What do you think?’
Silence.
Long, drawn-out silence filled the space between us as Dean’s cool gaze rested on me, ticking over my face as if testing if I were serious or not. I was deadly serious. I had studied, pulled my weight in other ways, I was itching to work the bar, and, sure, there was a certain allure of doing my first night shift with Dean not breathing down my neck.
