by C. J. Duggan
Then my mind wandered to a very unsettling admission. Now that Ballantine was back and potentially mine, why was it that there was only one person that dominated my thoughts? All the things he had done for me, the way he pushed me and baited me, angered me, the way a simple curve of his infuriating mouth could be so bloody sexy.
Dean.
I was seriously fucked up.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
As I towel dried my long, damp tendrils I wiped the steam free from the mirror, revealing a very different reflection from last night. I had gone from a confident femme fatale with a twinkle in her eye, a girl full of hope and determination, to a washed-out, red-eyed mess. It was in that moment that I made up my mind. I was going to go back to my room, ring my parents and head back to Red Hill where I belonged, to hang with my parents and be entertained by Uncle Eddie at family gatherings and with the constant torture of seeing Amanda’s MySpace updates as Ballantine and Lucy lived happily ever after. I wanted to vomit.
No-one answered on the first, second or third call home. I took this as a sign and wondered if I should really worry my parents with yet another Lexie meltdown? It had taken me so long to gain any semblance of independence. Maybe I could simply get the bus back to Red Hill, sneak out of Paradise and rock up back at home … surprise! That seemed far more plausible. Hopefully by then I would have calmed down a bit, although I seriously doubted it. I knew that once I saw my parents’ questioning eyes, I would lose my shit. It’s kind of what I did.
I methodically packed my bags, rolling up my clothes and placing them into my suitcase. I found the task quite therapeutic. Maybe I would dump them out again when I finished and start all over again. I needed the distraction.
I didn’t want to leave with any fanfare, and I really didn’t know how I was going to manage to escape this bloody building with my bag in tow and not raise any suspicions, until it dawned on me.
The fire escape.
Perfect.
Aside from my anti-climactic departure there was one thing I did aim to do, and it did involve doing a sort of right thing. Leaving my bag on the end of my bed, I made my way out of my room and down the hall, opening Dean’s office door and stepping in, where the monitors were still alight from last night, after I’d run out without even thinking or caring to turn them off. I couldn’t even bring myself to look in their direction. Knowing that Ballantine would be long gone by now I still couldn’t bring myself to look. Besides, I had a very clear mission to achieve before I left. I sat down behind Dean’s desk, which was far too clean to be practical when you wanted to leave a note. Luckily, he wasn’t overly paranoid about people stealing stationery I thought as I picked a pen from his holder and, finding that the only available surface to write on was the back of a Wipe Out Bar coaster, I flipped it over to the blank side. I stared at it for a long moment, thinking about what I wanted to say, and then a disturbing truth came to mind.
Dean,
I’m sorry I can’t do this.
Lexie
It was the truth, it was simple, it was all I needed to say, but then why did my pen still hover above the note?
And before I could question, my hand started to move of its own accord again.
Want to hear something scary?
Of all the people in Paradise you have been the most real. Thank you.
I slid the coaster into the middle of Dean’s desk so there was no way he couldn’t see it. I placed the pen back into the holder and pushed myself to stand, walking from behind the desk, only to be stopped dead in my tracks as my gaze lifted to the figure in the doorway, Ray Bans framing his face, his army green duffle bag slung over his shoulder, a wolfish grin spreading across Dean’s handsome, stubbled face.
‘Honey, I’m home.’
Fuck!
Of all the times he had to catch me out. There, standing in front of me, his smile fading slowly as he lifted his glasses onto his head to reveal those damn hypnotic eyes that seemed to change colour depending on the light in the room. But if there was something that was always clearly reflected in Dean’s eyes, it’s that they saw straight through me, every time. It didn’t matter how well I thought I was faking it, he had an excellent built-in bullshit detector and … he was seriously onto me.
‘What now?’ he asked, looking at me warily. He probably assumed that I would have been settled in by now, left the dramatics behind … Ha! Far from it.
And on top of everything, I just really couldn’t deal with Dean right now.
‘Nothing,’ I lied, trying to step in front of his desk so his attention didn’t stray to my note. I really didn’t want to have to explain myself, I just wanted to sneak out through the back and head to the bus terminal.
‘Why is it that every time I come into my office, you’re here looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights?’ Dean asked, dumping his bag on the floor, sighing as he ran his hand through his thick brown hair. He looked tired, weary from travel, unshaven, wound up like he had the whole weight of the world on his shoulders, simply by just stepping back into his office. I guess one positive outcome was that I would finally be out of his hair and Sherry, his most prized bar possession, could come back and they could put Hank the Shark back up together and live happily ever after.
‘Don’t mind me, I was just going.’ I broke eye contact with him. I didn’t want him to see that when I said I was going, I actually meant I was leaving.
‘Whoa, wait a sec,’ he said, pulling me up to a stop just as I was right beside him. ‘I want to ask you something,’ he said. His voice sounded darker than I had remembered, and I thought maybe he had seen that the outside tables were different.
I swallowed, I didn’t know why. I was leaving so what did it matter? Firing me would be doing us both a favour. Now I just really regretted the note, thinking there was no way of retrieving it without him noticing. I waited for him to say something snide about any of the changes, but then he asked, ‘You think you’re ready to start tomorrow night?’
‘W– what?’ I said, a wave of disbelief rolling over me.
‘Cassie said you’ve studied the cocktail book. Do you want to try put it into practice, begin on a slow night?’
Practice, I thought? If only he knew that I had put in some serious practice last night, that I had totally smashed it when I had all my wits about me. As for when my world was turned upside down, I had gone from bartender extraordinaire to a hot mess within seconds. I wasn’t ready, and being confronted with this question, I realised Dean deserved to know the truth. Inhaling, I went back to his desk, slid the coaster off it and brought it over, passing it to him without a word. I watched his brows knit together as he started to read. I brushed past him, quickly making my way out before he had the chance to respond. Hopefully it was enough and now I could just go.
I thought he might call after me, maybe even come after me, block my way and demand an explanation, true Bold and the Beautiful–type stuff; instead, the reality of my world was oh, so different, as I heard him call out.
‘You are un-fucking-believable.’
I paused, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck rise at the tone of his voice. I slowly turned to glare at him leaning in the doorway of his office, his brows lowered in challenge.
‘Excuse me?’ I said.
‘You heard me.’ Dean crumpled up the coaster in his hand and threw it so it landed at my feet.
My mouth gaped as I watched it fall. To think I had actually complimented him. Did he not read that part?
Dean pushed off from the doorway, striding towards me, his anger rolling off him. ‘Never in all my life have I met such a spoilt, ungrateful, whining, self-absorbed, infuriating princess like you,’ he shouted.
I should have had tears welling in my eyes, I should have slapped him for insulting me, for yelling at me, I should have yelled back that of all the bossy, moody, smart-arsed bastards I had ever met, he was lord of the arseholes, but I didn’t because aside from everything Dean had just said, there was one
very important detail … Everything he had just said was the truth.
I defiantly looked in his stormy and feral eyes, unblinking. ‘I know,’ I said.
Dean’s scowl deepened. He looked at me like I was insane. ‘What?’
I shrugged. ‘I’m all those things,’ I admitted.
Dean’s expression shifted to one of total amazement as his gaze flicked over my face, as if waiting for me to reveal the truth.
‘And if I am all those things, then I think I’m doing you a favour by leaving.’
Dean’s frown returned. ‘I think I’ll be the judge of that,’ he said.
‘It’s too late, I quit.’
‘Like hell you do.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You’re not going anywhere, there’s work to do,’ he deadpanned, turning to walk back to his office as if the issue was non-negotiable. ‘Seven tomorrow night start,’ he called back over his shoulder.
Now I was getting mad. ‘You can’t make me,’ I shouted after him, sounding like a defiant teenager.
Dean laughed, turning to look back at me. ‘Oh, yes, I can.’
‘No, no, really, you can’t.’
‘Yes, I can, times infinity, no returns,’ Dean said, crossing his arms and arching his brow at me in cocky challenge.
I scoffed. ‘You’re such a fucking child.’
Dean’s smile spread across his infuriating face. ‘Yeah, but you would miss me if I were gone. In fact, did you miss me? Is that what all this is about? Punishing me for going away while you pine away for me?’
‘You are delusional,’ I said.
‘Or, am I the only real person in Paradise City?’ he said, his voice mocking, as he referred back to my note.
Honestly, I could just shoot myself between the eyes sometimes.
I started forward. This time it was me who was stalking him. I came to stand right before him, breathing out a laugh. ‘There is nothing real in Paradise, not you, not anyone, and if I could have my time over again I would have never, ever come to this city.’ I said my words with such steeliness there was no way Dean could have ever questioned my meaning and as his eyes searched mine, something came over him, almost an air of acceptance, of knowing that nothing he could do or say could change my mind.
He shifted slightly, nodding his head. ‘Okay, go then. If that’s what you want, go.’
I lifted my chin, meeting him in challenge as I nodded in return. I stepped away from him, thinking there was nothing left to say as I made a long, silent, determined line towards my room. I reached in for my suitcase, trying not to grimace at the weight of it as I extended the telescopic handle and rolled it behind me down the hall. I didn’t dare look back, but I could sense he was watching me go as I put all my energy into walking away. I turned the corner at the end of the hall, finally out of sight as I quickened my steps towards the exit door, almost at a run. I felt weightless and a new determination kicked into gear as I held my hand out, ready to push the heavy steel door open with all my strength. I could hear a voice singing in my mind … freeeedoooooom
BANG!
‘Aaaahhh, what the … owwwww!’
I felt as though I’d run straight into a brick wall. No, make that a steel wall. The usually unlocked, dodgy back door was now not so open and not so dodgy. I had jarred every part of my body upon impact; my teeth had literally rattled. I probably had fractures. I winced and rubbed at my right shoulder. It was then I heard the laughter from behind me, the infuriating laughter as Dean was hunched over, trying to control his hysterics, although he was failing miserably.
Bastard.
‘Oh, well, when I said what’s stopping you, I kind of forgot to tell you that the back door probably might. Sorry, my bad, I got it fixed,’ he said, wiping his eyes and trying to blink himself into gaining his composure. He walked over to me, reaching out. ‘You okay?’ he asked, still laughing.
I snatched my arm away from him. ‘Don’t touch me. Thanks for telling me,’ I snapped, rubbing my wrist.
‘I thought you knew?’ he said, wiping away tears of mirth.
‘How the hell was I supposed to know you’d had it fixed?’
A crooked smile lined the corner of Dean’s face. ‘Yeah, well, you can never be too careful of what deviants might be lurking on back fire escapes,’ he teased, leaning against the wall next to me.
‘Dean?’
‘Yes, Lexie?’
‘Open the fucking door.’
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Three hours I waited.
I waited until some random passer-by happened to tell me that there were no buses running today.
Just great!
A thunderous cloud settled over me. No, really, an actual, honest-to-God cloud came over the city, and the heavens opened up, drenching me in a heavy downpour. First the rain pummelled down heavily, then the sun pierced through the cloud and the rain stopped, causing steam to rise off the hot concrete, cranking up the humidity to at least ninety per cent. I threw caution to the wind and made a break for it, rolling my bag back to where I had come from, until, of course, the cloud closed in and the rain poured down again. I walked on, one of the sole figures walking in the storm as everyone around me scurried under cover to wait it out. Others ran with papers, jackets, bags, anything they could grab to shield them from the weather. But I didn’t care, I was over caring, I simply walked on, my hair plastered to my drenched t-shirt, my suitcase rolling behind me as I veered back into Arcadia Lane, heading back to the Wipe Out Bar. I would rip off one of those bloody tablecloths and use it as a towel if I had to, but as I neared, I decided on another course of action.
‘Dean Saville!’ I screamed up to the balcony like some crazed lunatic, standing in the rain. Oh my God, I really was in a Jane Austen novel, minus the ladylike decorum.
I went to yell out once more but just before I did, a figure appeared at the edge of the balcony, his hands plunged deep into his pockets as he took in the tragic, and amusing, if his smirk was anything to go by, sight before him.
‘You just can’t stay away, can you?’ he called down.
‘You knew the buses weren’t running today,’ I accused.
Dean squinted up to the heavens as if deep in thought. ‘Now that I think about it …’ he said, tapping his chin.
Forever the smart-arse.
‘You are such an arsehole,’ I shouted.
Dean roared with laughter. ‘For Christ’s sake, woman, I gave you a job, shelter from the storm.’ He swept his arm out to the streetscape. ‘What more do you want from me?’ he yelled.
My mouth gaped, ready to speak but unable to as I actually didn’t know what to say. He was right, he was trying to help me, and all I was trying to do was run away, so eternally emotionally screwed up there really was no way of helping me. As much as Dean had given me there was only one thing I had been searching for this whole time. The only thing I’d wanted from anyone was Ballantine, and as my eyes blurred with the rawness of that emotion, I looked up at Ballantine’s older brother, gripping the railing of the balcony, his arms corded with his toned, tattooed muscles as the tension coiled in his body, staring down at me. It was then I realised, as I shook my head, there were tears joining the streaks of rain on my face.
‘I don’t want anything from you,’ I said as I backed away, turning and rolling my bag down the arcade. No more would I put him out, no more crazy, selfish behaviour, this was done … it had to be.
‘Lexie, wait!’
I glanced back briefly, only to do a double-take. I stopped still, my eyes widening as Dean climbed over the balcony railing, the downpour of the overflowing guttering drenching him.
What the hell was he doing?
He slid along the edge of the lip, side-stepping slowly to the left, while hanging onto the railing. His shoe suddenly slipped and I slapped my hand over my mouth, muffling my scream. But he quickly regained his footing as he steadied himself and reached out to grab the downpipe, the dodgy downpipe.
‘Dea
n, no!’ I shouted, running forward, looking up in horror as he ignored me and took hold of the downpipe, edging his way slowly down. I could hear the pipe groan under his weight. Nothing about the old building was solid and everything was made even less reliable by the rain. I held my breath, thinking him mad, that anyone even attempting to climb down in such a way in the pouring rain must be insane. I held my breath until finally, a few metres from the ground, he jumped, splashing a puddle on the drenched cement. I breathed a sigh of relief that was very short-lived as I took in Dean’s murderous expression. By this time I should have been used to these death stares but this was something else entirely, this darkness took on a whole new depth, and I knew if I ran it would be of no use, that he would simply chase me down. He stormed over to me, glaring, the rain drenching him now too as he blinked wildly, his chest heaving.
‘Really? You want nothing from me?’ he shouted.
I blinked against the rain. Scared, shocked, dumbfounded by his words and his death-defying actions, which were all for what? So he could shout at me? I shook my head, more determined than ever to no longer owe Dean Saville a thing. He had done so much for me and I had screwed him around enough. ‘No,’ I said, with the utmost certainty.
Instead of being pleased, my answer had the absolute opposite effect on him – he got mad, madder than I had ever seen him.
He reached past me, grabbing my suitcase and moving inside.
‘Hey!’ I yelled after him. ‘Who said I was coming back?’
‘Sleep on the street then,’ he called over his shoulder as he stormed past an open-mouthed pedestrian sheltering under the eaves of the Wipe Out Bar verandah. She wasn’t the only one watching. The people at a group of tables in the bistro area were taking in the turbulent scene, their heads turning back and forth as if they were at a tennis match. There was no time to care, I was too busy being furious. I stormed past them, trying my best not to slip over as I squelched my way inside, my eyes boring into the back of Dean’s head as he took my suitcase upstairs.
