by C. J. Duggan
I swallowed. ‘Well?’
Dean’s fingers teased the corner folds of his newspaper as he studied me, as if he was weighing up a puzzle, a puzzle he finally had the answer to as he sighed.
‘No.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
Dean turned back to his paper and smoothed out the lines seemingly without a care in the world.
‘What do you mean, “no”?’
‘I said, no.’
I stood beside him at the bar, taking in his bored, calm features as he read the paper. My hands balled at my sides as I could feel the anger lifting to an explosive level inside me. ‘Why? Because you don’t trust me?’
Dean chuckled. ‘Now what makes you say something like that?’ He looked up at me with interest, leaning his elbows casually on the bar top, waiting for my reply.
‘Well, because obviously you don’t.’
Dean’s humour shuttered over into anger. ‘Trust is earned, not granted, Lexie.’
‘Well, what do I have to bloody do to earn it?’
‘Oh, I think you have done quite enough.’
My cockiness slipped a little. I wasn’t keen for a Dean argument first thing in the morning.
‘Tell me,’ he folded his arms across his chest as he leant back in his chair, ‘did you use a knife or scissors to cut the netting? Because nothing thrills me more than the thought of you climbing a ladder in thongs carrying a sharp object. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?’
I wanted to explain that Cassie had actually passed me the knife, but thought better of it. The last thing I wanted was to implicate Cassie.
‘And maybe the reason there were no light bulbs in the bar display is because they keep shorting out and are potentially not a great thing to replace near a shelf full of highly flammable liquids, but of course you know that too, right?’
I couldn’t bite my tongue a minute longer. ‘Well, maybe you should get that looked at, with a fair few other things that need to be brought into the twenty-first century around here.’
A smile formed across Dean’s handsome face, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘You’re not working the bar until I get back.’
‘Yeah, and when will that be? You bang on about running a tight ship and yet you up and leave without so much as a word about where you’re going or when you’ll be back.’
Dean raised his brows. ‘Wow,’ he mused.
‘Wow, what?’ I snapped, shouldering my school bag, readying myself to leave him and his stupid bar.
‘You really did miss me.’
I scoffed. ‘Not bloody likely.’
Dean smirked. It was crooked and sexy and extremely infuriating, as was the fact he moved to stand from his chair, towering over me and looking down on me with a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. ‘I won’t be here by the time you get back from school, but I’ll be back Sunday. Before I went away for business, this is for pleasure, is that okay with you?’ His question was laced with sarcasm, and it only served to build my frustration against him.
‘I don’t care what you do,’ I yelled, angry at his insinuation that I did, but more pissed at the fact that maybe, in some sick way, I did, because the way he said pleasure made something instantly twang inside me. I didn’t know what that involved or with who but it did pique my interest in the worst way, so much so I desperately wanted to ask, but didn’t dare.
As if he had some form of telepathic ability, Dean smiled more broadly, revelling in my anger. He rolled the newspaper up in his hands without taking his eyes from me.
‘Don’t stress, Lex, I am chartering a fishing boat with some mates for the weekend, not shoving twenties down a pole dancer’s G-string.’
I blinked, once, twice. ‘Why should I care?’ I said, probably a bit too loudly and a bit too quickly, and then I decided suddenly it was time to go. ‘Do what you like,’ I said with a shrug, moving past him towards the front entrance.
Dean chuckled, rubbing his unshaven jawline. He was such a Jekyll and Hyde. One minute he was all broody and businesslike, the next, teasing and smirky. He was impossible to gauge.
‘Do you need a lift?’ he called out as I neared the door.
I stilled at the doorway, turning to see him waiting expectantly. ‘No, thanks, I’m going to hitchhike my way to school. It’s what I like to do in the times I am not climbing ladders with sharp things and dabbling with electrical faults.’
Dean simply shook his head, I could tell he was trying to be serious but wasn’t quite pulling it off. ‘Nobody likes a smart-arse, Lexie.’
I breathed out an incredulous laugh. ‘No, no they don’t.’
•
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Despite my rage I found myself smiling as I walked down Arcadia Lane, my thumbs hooked in the straps of my backpack. Here I was thinking Dean had a split personality, and yet I was going from rage to lightheartedness and then on to uncertainty. I pinpointed the change. Despite my adamant stance that I didn’t care what he did, the admission that he was going away for a mates’ weekend relieved me in the most unsettling way. I don’t know what was going on in my head lately, but I quickly turned the relief into something else. It was obviously relief that he was going away, so I could clear my head from such absurd thoughts. Seriously, get your shit together, Lexie.
I wiped all thoughts of rage, and disturbing, unexpected twangs, and focused solely on watching and waiting for my ride, and just as if summoning them in my thoughts, a familiar powder blue vintage Holden emerged in the distance. I would have recognised Boon’s car anywhere, even more so with Laura’s arm flapping out the side, waving like a mad thing. The thumping VB motor purred like a big jungle cat as it pulled into the kerb.
Laura’s arm rested casually on the open passenger window. ‘Holy shit, you really are living at the Wipe Out Bar.’ Laura laughed, shaking her head as if scarcely believing the reality. ‘I thought you were shitting me when you said you were.’
‘Of course I am. Why would I lie about that?’ I frowned at her, moving to open the back door, shrugging off my backpack and sliding in the back.
‘True, if you were going to make up a story, you wouldn’t choose the Wipe Out Bar.’ Laura laughed again, pulling down the sun visor and pouting her lips in the mirror. I glowered at the back of Laura’s head, annoyed that she was bagging out the bar – it wasn’t that bad.
I turned my attention to Boon, sitting sombrely behind the wheel with his dark shades on, pulling the car into gear with a sigh.
‘Hey, Boon,’ I said gently, thinking how hard this was for him. If I felt nervous about my first day of Year Twelve, I couldn’t imagine what the first day of repeating Year Twelve would be like. It certainly wasn’t a conversational piece. ‘Oh, before I forget …’ I said, unzipping the side pocket of my school bag. I delved in, pulling out a crinkled envelope with Boon’s name on it and tapped it on his shoulder. He took it wearily.
‘Don’t get too excited, it’s just the money I owe you.’
Boon nodded in the rearview mirror at me as a way of thanks before he pocketed the envelope and readied himself to pull out onto the main road. ‘So you working for the big boss man now. How’s that working out for you?’ he asked.
Speaking of a non-conversational piece.
‘It’s fine,’ I lied. I was flawless in my delivery as if there hadn’t been no heated argument only moments earlier.
Boon breathed out a laugh. ‘Give it time,’ he said.
I sunk back against my seat, tearing my eyes from the rearview mirror to look out the window, thinking if I was still in the honeymoon stage of my working life, then what the hell would happen in time? I didn’t want to know.
•
Anxiety was replaced by a new feeling as the three of us walked through the ornate arch of Paradise High. I was flooded with nostalgia. Boon peeled away in the opposite direction, lost quickly in the crowd. I’m sure he didn’t feel as nostalgic as I did, but there was also another very obvious change as we walked around the grounds. We w
ere the seniors now, the top dogs, leaders of the school. No longer would I have to worry about the clusters of Amanda and her friends, or wonder where the Kirkland Boy surfers were. Nope, it was almost like a new power floated over us as Laura and I made our way up the concrete steps to the main building. I knew Laura felt it too, as we glanced at each other, smiling like goofballs as the electric first-day-back-at-school excitement reverberated everywhere. Reunions of friends dotted in the halls and in the yard, holidays and summer were nearing the end and the excitement of the morning would soon ebb into the usual humdrum routine for everyone but me. I always had the distinct feeling that I enjoyed school perhaps a little too much, that having been starved of normal schooling for most of my life made me a bit of an outsider. Even looking back at my stint last year – the disastrous start, the detentions – I wouldn’t have traded any of it. It had given me the life experience I had craved and, more importantly, it had led me to Ballantine. I didn’t have to work too deeply to shift my focus from him as the bell sounded, and the announcement rang out for assembly. I smiled to myself, thinking, yes, how different it would all be this time around. No entering late into school assembly this time. Nope, I was simply going with the flow, and that’s what I planned to do, quite literally as I shuffled into the hall, following the masses. It was what I would do to survive all this: day and night I would just go with the flow, because things were different now, and if I could survive my final year of school I could survive anything.
•
Go with the flow, go with the flow.
I repeated the mantra in my head.
And I had been doing pretty well until I found myself paused in the doorway of the Year Twelve common room. Laura entered, turning to me, wondering why I wasn’t following.
‘I know it’s probably not that big a deal to you, Lex, but I have been waiting five long years for this right.’
I smiled, cautiously entering the room. How wrong she was, this room was a big deal to me, but for all the wrong reasons. My attention flicked to the bright red door at the opposite side of the room, the very one Ballantine had led me through, the very room we had done things in. I hoped my complexion didn’t match the deep red of the door. I quickly turned to study the hideous rainforest wallpaper.
‘Isn’t this cool?’ Laura plonked herself on one of the couches, her eyes alight with excitement, matching the expressions of the other Year Twelves now piling into the room, looking like they had just walked into Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.
I sat beside Laura on the couch. Space was limited and it would be a fight every recess and lunch to claim a piece of furniture to relax on. Still, the boys had short attention spans and they were soon bored and heading to the cricket nets, leaving the girls to bitch and whisper all the more.
‘So, are you working this weekend?’ Laura nudged my foot, causing me to blink towards her. I was having difficulty staying in the present.
‘Oh, umm, no.’
‘Cool, we should do something then, I’m not working either. I’ll come over and check out your new digs,’ she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
‘Don’t get too excited, it’s not much of a room,’ I said.
‘Room? I thought you had this flash apartment?’
My brows lowered. ‘But I never said –’
‘Boon overheard Lucy telling people at the beach.’
Ugh, of course.
I laughed. ‘Well, at least it’s a good rumour. What else did she have to say?’
Laura fell silent. Her big eyes were hopeless at disguising her inner turmoil. She cleared her throat, edging forward on the couch, cautious not to let anyone else overhear what she wanted to say.
‘Is it true?’ she asked quietly, leaning over.
‘Is what true?’
Laura looked at me like I was crazy, like I should know what she was talking about. ‘You know, that you’re fucking Dean Saville, like, for real this time.’
Oh my God!
I rolled my eyes. ‘Here we go again. No, no, I’m not, and honestly, have you not learned a thing from last time all this happened? No, I am not fucking Dean Saville,’ I said a little too loudly as heads swivelled towards us, the room falling silent.
Laura smiled weakly, behaving like an embarrassed parent whose child was wreaking havoc in a shopping centre. Silence morphed into speculative whispers and judgmental looks, but what did I care, I knew the truth.
‘Seriously, people in Paradise need to get a life,’ I said, again a little too loudly but this time I wanted them to hear.
‘Well, if you shack up under a hot barman’s roof, people are going to naturally romanticise it.’
I laughed, genuinely laughed. Which only resulted in more death stares.
‘I tell you what. Come over on the weekend and you’ll see how romantic my life is.’
Laura straightened with interest. ‘Well, maybe I will.’
‘Do you want some words of advice though?’
‘What’s that?’ asked Laura.
‘Don’t get your hopes up.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
I went from thinking starting back at school on a Wednesday was a stupid idea to thinking it was perhaps singlehandedly the best idea ever!
It had taken the edge off the first week back and before long I had the weekend before me. With my mind at ease and nothing better to do, I spent the weekend loitering around the Wipe Out Bar, itching to get in on the action.
Dean might have been mad about me tampering with his bar without permission but he had to admit how much cleaner and fresher the place looked. There was a glimmer that this was the case as I came down on Saturday morning to see an electrician working on the lighting panels above the spirit shelf. I stood there, grinning like a fool, until the electrician tore his gaze away from his job and looked at the creeper standing before him, smiling like the cat that got the cream. I nodded my approval and gave him a thumbs up.
‘Good job.’
‘Right. Thanks?’ he said to the crazy girl.
As much as tampering with Dean’s precious bar was deemed, in no uncertain terms, professional suicide, I couldn’t shake the new day’s determination: I was going to move some furniture around. Not much, just a little tweaking that would improve the flow of the room. Before her lunchtime shift began I enlisted Cassie to help, and although she was very accommodating in lending a hand, she was again very adamant that I not publicly acknowledge her involvement.
‘So what are we doing today then?’ Cassie asked, her hands on her hips, surveying the table and chairs I paced in front of.
I grinned at her. ‘Well, I thought we could turn the chairs out like this,’ I said, rearranging one chair, then the next before twisting the small square table so they were facing out to the streetscape. ‘See, like this. This is how they have them in Paris. People can sit and watch all the street traffic go by.’
I knew from Cassie’s smile she approved. ‘I love it. Let’s get cracking on the rest,’ she said. ‘You know what would also look good? Some tablecloths.’
‘Do we have any?’ I asked, excited.
‘I don’t think so, but it would really brighten the space up, don’t you think?’
I looked at the tables. Now I couldn’t envision them without tablecloths and that was just going to annoy me.
‘Where do you suppose we could get some? Even if we just got them for the outside tables to begin with?’
Cassie’s brows knitted together in deep thought for a long moment, and just as I thought we were both at a loss, she snapped her fingers. ‘Nancy’ll know.’
‘Nancy?’
‘She volunteers at the local charity shop, she’ll know for sure.’
It was as if everything was falling into place. And how could anyone go crook over a tablecloth? Not possible.
‘Okay, let’s put that on the to-do list,’ I said, moving to shift all the chairs out front into place.
Within the hour, Nancy had hooked us up with enough tablec
loths to be able to rotate them when they needed to be washed. With a few minor adjustments and help from her expert hand the three of us were standing out the front, our hands on our hips, admiring how much more welcoming the entrance looked with the new display.
‘I swear more people have come in today already,’ said Cassie.
‘See, it doesn’t take much. A tiny change can make a world of difference,’ I said, smiling from ear to ear.
‘It looks lovely,’ said Nancy, with a little tear in her eye. ‘I’m sure Dean will be most pleased when he comes back.’
I wasn’t so certain but all I knew was the Wipe Out Bar was coming to life, not only because it was literally shinier and cleaner than ever before, but also the bistro seemed to be slightly more occupied during the daytime.
Ha! You got this, Lexie Atkinson. This is how you should be all the time. Confident and capable.
‘A job well done, ladies,’ I said, turning to head back inside before I stilled, squinting and framing my eyes against the sun as I saw an unmistakeable figure coming – no, make that sprinting – up the arcade, dodging and weaving through the crowd. A small smile spread across my lips as I saw Laura gunning it towards us.
‘Hello, stranger!’ I laughed as she pulled up just before us, her hands on her knees as she regained her breath.
‘Are you late?’ I asked, glancing at my watch.
Laura shook her head, taking deep breaths so she could speak. Finally swallowing, she said, ‘He’s coming.’
My heart stopped. And I could tell that the same thing had happened to Cassie and Nancy too: the exact same feeling of fear swept over us.
‘Dean? Where?’ I asked, looking past her, my eyes searching the crowd, expecting to see the swarm of tourists part like the Red Sea as he stormed our way.
Laura looked at me, confused. ‘Not Dean,’ she said. ‘Ballantine. Ballantine is coming to the Wipe Out Bar.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘W– what?’ I blinked, twice. What did she just say?
I stared at Laura, expecting her to start laughing, or tell me it was a joke, some kind of sick joke. But when her expression didn’t change, it was like I could feel the earth fall away from me, heat creeping up my neck as the realisation sunk in.
