Paradise Road

by C. J. Duggan

‘Wow, he really gets under your skin, hey?’

  I blinked from my violent thoughts, as I looked at Cassie. ‘Like no-one else.’

  Cassie laughed. ‘Seriously, you sure you don’t want to get away from the beast?’

  I glanced up at the stairs, thinking I could stay here and stew or go out with friends and let my hair down. It took me all of two-point-five seconds to decide as a smile spread slowly across my face. ‘Let’s go!’

  Turning the remaining lights out only served to highlight the glow from upstairs in Dean’s office. I glanced at the shadow standing in his doorway and quickly averted my eyes as we walked through the front door, Cassie locking up behind us. Before we moved on, I grabbed Cassie’s arm.

  ‘Cass, I’m so sorry about last week, what I did was just … unforgivable.’

  Cassie laughed. ‘Lexie, you’ve apologised six times a day, every day, for the past week. Please get over it, because I sure have.’

  It made me feel a little better, but not enough to make me forget everything else I had done as Dean’s furious words rang in my ears.

  ‘And just for the record,’ she said, linking her arm through mine, ‘if it means you apologising with cake, then you can offend me anytime.’

  I laughed, grateful that Cassie was such a beacon of light in what otherwise would have been complete blackness.

  •

  We met the others at the boardwalk but my heart wasn’t really in it. Well, not until we had made our way down to the beach and a stash of peach coolers had been unveiled.

  Classy.

  By the early hours of the morning I was circling the beach, dancing like Stevie Nicks and cursing Dean Saville to the entire group, who simply looked on in uncomfortable silence.

  As much as Cassie had been entertained by my rants about The Devil Man Upstairs, she’d had to say her goodbyes early because of the babysitter.

  Boon and Amanda sat on the beach, watching on as I stood before them, my arms flailing as I retold Wipe Out Bar stories with passion and gusto.

  ‘And then, and then … get this, you’re going to love this,’ I said, taking a swig of my wine cooler. ‘Dean kisses me into oblivion.’

  ‘Oh shit, I’m not hearing this.’ Boon shifted awkwardly, while Amanda watched on with wide eyes.

  ‘You and Dean?’ she asked.

  ‘Yep, definitely not listening.’ Boon plugged his ears.

  ‘Yep! Into the middle of next week, and now he’s all like, oooh, I’m broody and angry and blah, blah, blah … pffft … whatever.’ Another long sip.

  ‘Okaaay, time to head back, I think,’ said Amanda, moving to stand, brushing the sand from her pants as she moved over to take me by the arm.

  ‘Whaaaat? But the night is young,’ I called to the sky.

  ‘Ugh, Boon, help me,’ Amanda gritted.

  Boon snaked my other arm over his shoulders, so I lifted my legs, swinging them like a kid.

  ‘Wheeeeeee …’

  ‘Come on, Lexie, stop mucking around,’ said Boon, who was struggling to find purchase in the sand.

  I recalled lying on the back seat of Boon’s car, and then seeing Amanda’s blurry face blink into blackness.

  I was awakened rather forcibly by three slaps to the face.

  ‘Ugh, okay-okay-okay-okay,’ I shouted, pushing the hands away from my stinging cheeks as I pulled myself into a seated position. I felt like I had been out for hours, but it had only been a power nap.

  ‘What time is it?’ I croaked, squinting through one eye.

  ‘Two a.m. and time for bed,’ said Boon, his no-nonsense eyes reflected in the rearview mirror of his car. I turned my bleary gaze from where he sat to the passenger seat where Amanda looked at me, worry etched across her face. She was looking at me like I was a stranger, like the Lexie of old was lost, and she was. Good ol’ Lexie Atkinson of then, the one she knew, was long gone. I grinned, looking between Boon and Amanda, with a wiggle of my brows as if to say, ‘I know what you’re going to do.’

  I slapped the back of Boon’s seat. ‘Thanks for the lift, Mum and Dad,’ I said cheerfully, before wrestling with the door handle then sliding out rather inelegantly. I stood in the back alley, squinting up to see the moon’s rays light the graffitied back wall of the Wipe Out Bar.

  ‘Aaaah, home crap home,’ I said through a hiccup.

  Amanda leaned over Boon, looking at me through the opened window. ‘I think I should come with you.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Please, I’m like a homing pigeon, I don’t need your help.’ I waved her away.

  ‘Lexie.’ Amanda’s voice sounded stern.

  ‘Shhh,’ I motioned with a finger to my lips. ‘Don’t wake the beast.’ I glanced back to the building.

  Boon shook his head. ‘Night, Lexie.’

  Again my eyes shifted from Boon to Amanda, grinning like a fool. Boon quickly put the car into gear and pulled out of the car park before I said anything humiliating.

  Okay, so I was a bit sloshed, but it was all good. I knew my limits. I knew that climbing the back fire escape was probably a bad idea. I knew it would be best to go in via the basement. That would be no sweat, except, like most back entrances would be at two a.m., it was locked, and I was sober enough to know I didn’t have a key.

  Using the wall to help me balance, I managed to zigzag my way around to the front of the building. Optimistically, I grabbed at the front door and gave it a jiggle.

  Locked.

  ‘Noooooo,’ I groaned, banging my forehead lightly to the glass. Whether it was the knocks to my head, or the sudden realisation of my rather hopeless situation, I came up with a genius idea. Shucking off my annoying sand-filled shoes by the door, I padded my way out to the arcade, to stand right where I had the day I stood in the rain. There was a light shining up on the balcony, and if I knew Dean, he would have the balcony doors open.

  I clasped my hands on either side of my mouth. ‘Romeo, Romeo, let down your golden hair.’ I squinted, mulling over what I had just said. ‘Was that right?’ I shrugged, ready to call out again when a figure appeared on the balcony above.

  ‘I think you’re a bit confused,’ Dean deadpanned, leaning shirtless against a pole and sipping on a beer. He was backlit by the light of his apartment. I wasn’t too drunk to notice that he looked like an angel.

  Damn him.

  ‘Let me in by the hairs of my chinny-chin-chin.’

  ‘Almost,’ he mused, taking another sip like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  ‘What is this, Aladdin’s cave? Do I need a freakin’ password?’

  ‘What’s with all the fairytale references?’

  I pouted. ‘I’m tired.’

  ‘You’re drunk.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Can you please let me in?’

  Dean stared down at me, nursing his beer. ‘Let me think about it,’ he said, backing away from the balcony and disappearing.

  ‘What?’

  Oh, so he was going to be a smart-arse, was he? Well, fine, he asked for it. I will just roof rock his house. I turned around, looking desperately, only to find no rocks, just concrete. Right, okay.

  ‘Dean, come on, I could be kidnapped or anything,’ I pleaded, in all seriousness.

  I heard laughter coming from up above, causing me to squint as Dean was nowhere to be seen. ‘I don’t think there is any danger of that, sweetheart.’

  My eyebrows knitted. Now I was getting angry. It was amazing how quickly that sobered me up, and long enough to have a rather ingenious brainwave too. My eyes roamed to the downpipe and I smiled.

  ‘Well, what do you know, Jack and the motherfucking beanstalk.’ I laughed, thinking myself far too clever. I grabbed onto the pipe, hitching my foot into one of the stirrups. ‘Fee, fie, fo, oh shit.’ I slipped, having to re-grip and pull my way up. Miraculously, I seemed to be getting somewhere.

  ‘Ah haaa, I smell the blood of a businessman,’ I sang.

  ‘Lexie, what the fuck?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, now I’ve got
your attention,’ I panted, continuing my climb.

  ‘Seriously, get down, it’s not safe.’ Dean sounded panicked. Dean never sounded panicked.

  He made me pause and look down. Whoa! Bad idea. I was a lot higher than I thought. I would’ve been impressed if I wasn’t so terrified.

  Dean cursed under his breath. I could hear a creaking from above; oh shit, was he climbing over the railing?

  ‘Here, take my hand.’

  I glanced. He was a mile away, there was no way I could reach him.

  ‘Keep moving, Lexie, that pipe won’t hold your weight forever.’

  I frowned, throwing him a filthy look. ‘What is that supposed to mean? I share my cupcakes, thank you very much,’ I snapped, ‘Oh, and don’t bother thanking me for the Hummingbird. Yeah, no worries, Lexie, anytime, Lex–’

  ‘Lexie, if you don’t shut up and start moving I will unbolt the drainpipe from my end. Now, MOVE IT!’

  ‘Geeeez, okay, keep your shirt on.’ I stepped up, once, twice. ‘Not that you’re wearing one,’ I mumbled.

  ‘That’s it, keep moving, you’re almost there.’

  Dean kept on with the encouragement, as I climbed and climbed, not seeing his hand until it was literally touching me, grabbing my arm and pulling me up and guiding me to cling onto the railing.

  ‘Now, come on, the railing isn’t much safer.’ The warmth of his breath blew across my face as I stood eye to eye with him. ‘Come on, one leg at a time, I’ve got you.’

  One leg at a time in a short black skirt was no easy feat, but it was that or death, so I chose the lack of modesty.

  The dismount was a disaster as my second leg found no purchase and I fell straight into Dean’s arms, knocking us over and landing with an oomph on the balcony floor, my fall broken by Dean’s body. He was not so lucky as he winced in pain, grabbing the back of his head.

  ‘Oh God, did I break you?’ My eyes searched his face, trying to see if there was any evidence of damage.

  I could feel the vibration of laughter through my palms as Dean laughed, and laughed some more. My brows rose in surprise, thinking the worst – he had gone mad, I had driven him to the point of breaking, not only physically, but mentally too.

  Dean sobered, looking up into my eyes. If I wasn’t a bit drunk already, I would have become drunk from this look, the way it felt like he was looking inside me, into the deepest, darkest corners, places I would gladly let him go.

  ‘You are a danger to yourself and to everyone else around you, Lexie Atkinson.’ Dean swept a piece of hair out of my eyes.

  I breathed, ‘I know.’

  That answer only caused him to smile. ‘Wow, the one thing we agree on, and it’s a doozy.’

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I sat on the edge of Dean’s bed, quiet as a church mouse, sipping a glass of water. Much to my disappointment I watched as Dean padded back into the room, peeling a shirt over his six pack and covering up the vast spread of his tattoos that always caused me to stare. Coming to stand before me he held out a black piece of material. ‘Here, put this on.’ My eyes narrowed to his outstretched hand.

  Dean sighed, chucking it on the bed next to me. ‘Where the hell did you go tonight? You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.’

  My eyes flicked up, the insult evident, which only amused him all the more. ‘You’ve got sand everywhere.’

  I glanced at my dirty clothes and the sand marks I had left on Dean’s polished boards.

  ‘Oh, shit, sorry.’ I jumped off the bed, afraid to touch anything now. ‘I better go and clean myself up.’

  Dean looked at me, a small, crooked grin in the corner of his mouth, as he reached again for the material on the bed. ‘You, my bathroom, clean yourself up and put this on.’ He unflicked the material to reveal a black t-shirt. My brows knitted together, confused.

  ‘I do have my clothes.’

  ‘And right now you couldn’t so much as navigate your way out of a paper bag. Clean up, sober up and go to bed.’

  ‘Well, I did manage to navigate my way up a drainpipe.’ I cocked my brow.

  ‘Yeah, and that ended well,’ he said, rubbing the back of his skull. ‘There’s a towel, face washer, and a spare toothbrush in the drawer: knock yourself out. Well, actually, try not to,’ he added.

  Oh, he was sooo hilarious. ‘Lock on the door too, from memory,’ I mused.

  ‘There is. It prevents me from wanting to ravish house guests,’ Dean deadpanned as he channel flicked his big-screen TV.

  I closed the bathroom door behind me, clicking the door locked, more so out of habit from showering in a dodgy bathroom down the hall, that had a flamingo-pink sink and tiles, with a nice dash of mould. Here, in Dean’s plush apartment, it was quite different. The bathroom was modern with brass fittings and polished stone surfaces. I worked on getting ready for the shower, not wanting to make a mess in here as well. Whoa, was I a mess! I looked in the mirror; my cheeks were flushed, no doubt from the daredevil excitement, and my hair was windswept and wild. I looked like a blonde scarecrow. My eyeliner was all smudged so I was rocking that racoon-eye look. Oh God, I was mortified. How Dean had not tossed me out of his room was anyone’s guess. I was hideous. I must have looked quite the sight, climbing up his drainpipe. I was starting to definitely sober up enough to recognise the emotion of full-fledged embarrassment. I let the scalding hot water spray over my neck and shoulders using the industrial-strength water pressure. It was glorious, better than any massage. I could feel the heat seeping into my muscles, into my bones, and all of a sudden I could feel my eyes closing as I leant against the wall, almost drifting off to sleep, until I heard an almighty pounding on the bathroom door.

  ‘You okay?’ called Dean.

  My eyes snapped open. ‘Yes, YES!’ I yelled. I stepped back into the stream, washing the rest of the suds from my hair, the fumes from the herbal shampoo waking me up a bit.

  I brushed my teeth, feeling not exactly alive, but a cleaner version of my train-wrecked self. Dean’s t-shirt swam on me, resting just above my knees, and a lucky thing too seeing as my knickers were folded up with my dirty clothes. My drainpipe climbing days were over. Taking the towel from my head, I combed my hair with my fingers, sweeping the long tendrils over my shoulder. I quietly opened the door, padding my way into the main room, before stopping. The flickering of the TV in the distance was the main source of light other than the lamps by the bed, the bed where Dean was lying, with his arm tucked behind his head, asleep.

  I smiled, tiptoeing over to him, standing to the side, tilting my head to take in his sleeping form. The usual lines of worry and anger were melted away in his sleep. He looked so peaceful, so young, his wavy dark hair tousled with sleep. Dean usually carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, storming around, being a constant authority figure. It had me exhausted just thinking about it. No, wait, I actually was just exhausted.

  Dean held the remote control to his chest, which rose and fell in that peaceful sleeping slumber. I bit my lower lip, working to gently move it from his grasp, slowly, slowly edging it away. I lifted it so as to point and turn the TV off, plunging the room into semi-darkness.

  I gently placed the remote next to his bedside and looked down on him for a long moment, thinking I may never see him like this again, so vulnerable, so at ease in the world. I wanted to reach out and touch him, push the rogue curl away from his brow, and before I could catch my sanity, I slowly, gently reached down, and tucked the silken fold aside. I brought my hand away slowly, ready to creep away, but Dean’s hand snaked around my wrist so fast I yelped, scaring him and myself as he woke, blinking and confused as he finally got his bearings and looked up at me.

  ‘Lexie?’ he croaked.

  ‘I’m sorry, I was just leaving. I didn’t mean to wake you.’

  Dean held me still, cementing me in place as he rolled onto his side, glancing at his clock and blinking. ‘Jesus, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.’

  I laughed. ‘You
were dead to the world.’

  ‘Really?’ He frowned, before realising he still held me, and then quickly let me go. ‘Sorry, um, it’s just, I don’t sleep.’

  ‘Like, ever?’

  ‘Well, not much, put it that way.’

  ‘So maybe putting up with me has exhausted you in ways you could never possibly understand,’ I smirked, joking, but nevertheless thinking there might be a bit of truth to it.

  Dean smiled, wider than I had ever seen him do so before. He nodded to the spare side of his bed. ‘Do you want to exhaust me some more?’

  ‘What?’ I replied, my eyes widening.

  Dean’s brows lowered in confusion until it finally sunk in. ‘Oh, Christ, no, what I meant was you can … oh, bloody hell, what I meant was you can sit down and talk to me and maybe I might fall asleep. I’m really not making this any better, am I?’

  I couldn’t help but laugh, hearing Dean stumble over his words. His embarrassment was something I had never been witness to. I liked it. I didn’t know if it was because we were in his environment, the comfort of his apartment, but it just felt different. ‘Wow,’ I laughed. ‘I don’t know which way I should be offended? The fact my conversation could send you to sleep or that the idea of sleeping with me is so repulsive.’

  Gone was all Dean’s boyishness, embarrassment and light-hearted gibberish. Instead what replaced them was the Dean I recognised: the serious, no-nonsense man who made his way to sit on the edge of his bed, a wicked grin curving the corner of his mouth. He stood, towering over me, causing me to tilt my head back so as to look into his hypnotic eyes, eyes that were studying every line of my face, before landing on my mouth.

  ‘Make no mistake, Lexie, I assure you neither one of those things is remotely true.’

  I swallowed, aware of the rise and fall of my breathing as I was lost in his gaze. ‘Really?’

  He nodded once. ‘Really.’

  ‘What if you can’t get back to sleep?’

  Dean shrugged. ‘Stay and find out.’

  Considering I was usually being told to leave by Dean, or getting frogmarched in a particular direction, this bout of hospitality was a truly foreign concept.