Paradise City

by C. J. Duggan

  I straightened. ‘Luke.’

  He paused midway out the door, his eyes flashing with a heated interest, the same way they always did when I called him by his first name. I would have to remember that.

  ‘Thanks for my picture.’

  Something happened then. It was an unexpected shyness I had never seen in him before, as a boyish grin spread across his face. ‘No worries.’

  ‘Hey, do you want to try something different next week?’ I asked. ‘Do you want to try actually having a lunchtime instead of detention? I hear it’s pretty good.’

  Ballantine laughed, warm and tender, until his eyes dipped to my t-shirt; it served as a trigger to wipe away his smile. He had said he believed that there was nothing going on between me and Dean, but the sudden coldness that swept over him said otherwise. I stepped forward, tilting my head to get into his line of vision, bringing him back to me. He blinked in confusion, which softened the hard lines of his face.

  ‘It’s you, Ballantine. It’s always been you,’ I said, taking his hand. ‘You have to ignore the rumours because that’s exactly what they are: rumours.’

  Ballantine’s eyes ticked over my face, wide and taken aback. ‘I trust you, Lex.’

  I gave him a small, sad smile. ‘I don’t think you do.’

  Ballantine stared down to where our hands joined, thinking for the longest time. ‘I trust you,’ he said, lifting his eyes to mine. ‘It’s him I don’t trust.’

  Ballantine had never hidden his disdain for his boss. I’d seen Dean the boss. He didn’t say much to his staff, and he ran the place with almost military precision. Had he and Ballantine fought over the way he was treated? I knew he wasn’t happy. Surely Paradise City was big enough for Ballantine to find employment somewhere else. There was nothing between Dean and me. Ballantine had to know that.

  ‘Well, you’re going to have to get over it,’ I said in frustration. ‘You can’t go living your life filled with all this anger towards him. Stop working with him, find a new job, a new hangout. Sever the bloody cord. Simple!’

  A small smile curved the corner of his mouth. ‘Simple,’ he repeated.

  ‘Simple.’ I nodded with a sense of finality.

  ‘If only it was that simple.’

  Now I was getting mad – mad and more frustrated – at the stubborn, gorgeous boy who stood before me. I folded my arms. ‘And it’s not, because?’

  He sighed. ‘Because even if I quit my job, found a new haunt, or moved towns, it wouldn’t change things.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t it?’

  Ballantine’s expression sobered as his dark, serious eyes looked down into mine. ‘Because he’ll always be my brother.’

  •

  Whaaaaat? Brothers? They were brothers?

  With nothing more than a peck on the forehead and a devious little smile, Ballantine had dropped the bombshell and left me in Dean’s office – no, wait, make that left me in his brother’s office – mouth agape, stunned.

  What the hell?

  I had no real recollection of going down the stairs; all I recalled was turning my dazed expression towards Dean as I walked past him at the bar where he was pouring a drink for a thirsty patron.

  Fucking brothers?

  I slid back into my seat, wearing my oversized Wipe Out Bar t-shirt. My heart sank as I took in the soggy plate before me. Parmi and what chips were left. I threw a knowing look to Amanda, who refused to look my way.

  ‘That’s better,’ said Aunty Karen.

  I pulled at the baggy tee. ‘Yep! I’m a local now.’

  But not local enough, it seemed, to be in the know about certain facts . . . they were brothers? How had this not been mentioned? I felt like a giant mug. I remembered Laura’s eagerness to use Dean to make Ballantine jealous, but she never mentioned they were brothers.

  I tried to be upbeat and cheerful, but after the Ballantine bombshell, well, I was a bit distracted.

  ‘You’re not hungry?’ asked Uncle Peter.

  It was then that I realised that all of their plates were empty, and I was the one who was holding everyone up.

  ‘I just don’t feel very well.’ It wasn’t a complete lie.

  ‘Oh, sweetheart, I hope you’re not letting what happened get to you?’ Aunty Karen responded.

  ‘Yeah. No need to cry over spilt raspberry. Jesus!’ added Amanda, rather unsympathetically.

  ‘No, it’s not that; I just have a really bad headache.’ Okay, so that was a lie.

  ‘Well, we can go if you want?’ suggested Aunty Karen.

  ‘What! And miss dessert?’ said Amanda, pouting like a small child.

  ‘There’s ice-cream at home.’ Aunty Karen was grabbing her bag, ready to move, and Uncle Peter glanced at his watch. They had fulfilled their duty in pacifying us teenagers in a place they would otherwise not step foot in, so their eagerness to leave was not a surprise. I was relieved I wasn’t going to be forced to eat my food, as I really just wanted to get out of there. The only one who was put out was Amanda.

  ‘So precious Lexie wants to go home so we go home? Typical,’ she scoffed.

  ‘Amanda, we’d do the same if you felt unwell,’ said Aunty Karen.

  ‘Maybe it’s just the place that’s given Lexie bad vibes. What do you think, Dad?’

  She was teetering on the edge of hinting at something more when Uncle Peter cut her a dark look, one that had her instantly falling quiet and storming out in front of us.

  Aunty Karen sighed. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with that girl lately.’

  Uncle Peter guided Aunty Karen out of the bistro, placing a hand on the small of her back while I lingered behind, hoping to catch a glimpse of the bar. I wanted to make eye contact with Dean before we left, but he was nowhere to be seen. I was never more curious than now to look at Dean, really look at him, and see if I could detect any kind of family resemblance between the two of them.

  I looked to the office upstairs, wondering if he was watching us leave. Before I knew it, our bill was paid and we were out the door, weaving down the arcade.

  I blew out a long, steadying breath. Uncle Peter and Aunty Karen let go of their hand holding so I could pass them and walk in front with Amanda.

  ‘What’s wrong? Did you forget to give ol’ Deano a kiss goodbye?’ Amanda teased.

  My head snapped around to her. ‘I didn’t know Ballantine and Dean were brothers.’

  Amanda scoffed. ‘Yeah, duh . . . everyone knows that.’

  ‘They look nothing alike, they don’t even have the same last name.’

  I mean, how the hell was a girl to know?

  Amanda rolled her eyes. ‘Different dads, idiot. Jesus, and they put you in accelerated classes?’

  ‘Shut up,’ I said, glowering at her. I forged forward, hating the fact that home meant more time spent with her and her moods. It was like living with a child, a spoilt child. Seriously, had my aunty and uncle ever thought about boarding school? Or a convent or something? A Tibetan monastery where she would have to take a vow of silence? It would be considered a community service.

  At least by the time we got home, I could excuse myself in a believable enough way that had me fake-pop some Panadol and go to bed, while Amanda stuffed her face with ice-cream. I lay on my bed, unfolding the drawing that Ballantine had created. The inky magical world he had built made me smile, calming me with the knowledge that we were good, that we would make the effort to be together, even if we had to fly under the radar. I regretted not asking him what he was doing on the weekend, or where he would be, at least. I really didn’t want to have to hang out with Amanda socially if I could help it. Still, if it meant seeing Ballantine, I would suck it up.

  I folded the paper and stuck it inside my pillowcase, covering myself with the doona, and wondered if I would get a knock on my window tonight or tomorrow night. When I started to drift off to sleep I smiled, thinking about the events of the day. From the way Ballantine had made me feel, it was no wonder I was exhausted. Then, inevitably
, I thought back to Dean’s office and Ballantine’s revelation and it played over and over in my mind.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Time flies when you’re ignoring someone . . . or at least trying to.

  With seemingly little drama – a.k.a. no detentions to speak of – aside from a hundred lines of ‘I will not forget to turn up to detention’, no really serious retribution for skipping that Friday’s detention occurred. It was a pretty lenient punishment from the easy-going, softly spoken art teacher, Miss Parker, and it certainly made for a better start to the week. A week that quickly bled into another, and before I knew it weeks had passed and I wasn’t known as the new delinquent kid on the block. Sure enough, even the rumours of Dean and me subsided, helped by Gemma and Boppo hooking up. All was well with the world and I welcomed the change with open arms. I never thought I would be so deliriously happy to have studying for end-of-year exams as my main worry.

  I was just enjoying the drama-less aspect of my life, which meant no Dean Saville, and no Wipe Out Bar. I was keeping out of trouble and staying focused, except when Ballantine was anywhere in my eyeline, then all rational, logical thought seemed to fly out of my head. Aside from Dean, and a suspicious Uncle Peter, Laura was the only other soul who knew about Ballantine and me, and therefore the only person I could sigh and share things with, important things like:

  ‘Did you see Ballantine’s new sunglasses? They really suit him, don’t you think?’

  ‘Did you see the way Ballantine put Boon in his place about that history assignment?’

  ‘Did you see how Ballantine shot that empty can in the bin from like fifty metres away, as if it were nothing.’

  ‘Did you see how Ballantine –’

  ‘Lexie, shut up!’ Laura snapped one day.

  It took me by surprise, and I almost tripped down the path. I blinked down at her.

  ‘Shut up?’

  ‘Yes! Please shut up. All we ever talk about is Ballantine. Ballantine parked his car under the shade of a tree; Ballantine smells incredible; Ballantine has the heart of a poet and the grace of an earthbound angel.’

  ‘Okay, I never said that,’ I corrected.

  ‘You might as well have. It’s all you talk about. Ballantine, Ballantine, Ballantine!’

  I didn’t know what to say. How could I deny it? I probably didn’t speak about much else – okay, anything else, ever – but . . . Oh God, I had turned into one of those girls, the ones that I had always despised. The revelation was not a good one.

  Laura took in a calming breath. ‘You know, maybe if you two just acted like normal people who like each other instead of all this bloody cloak-and-dagger stuff then you wouldn’t have to share so much with me.’

  ‘But it’s going so well, flying under the radar. You’ve seen how Gemma and Boppo have been copping it; they can’t go anywhere or do anything without a running commentary.’

  Laura rolled her eyes. ‘It would die down and then something else would come up and you’d be old news.’

  ‘Yeah, well. No-one has a cousin like Amanda, or an Uncle Peter to deal with.’

  ‘They probably don’t have a best friend like Laura either who is seriously contemplating climbing a bell tower if we don’t start talking about normal stuff, like what are you wearing to the social next week?’

  My eyes lit up; now that was something worthy of discussion. The school social was next Friday, my first social ever, and I could almost jump out of my skin I was so excited. It was going to be a bittersweet way to end the school year. As much as I tried not to think about it the term was drawing to a close. Everything was moving so fast and the Year Twelves were finishing up their last week. Exams were now finished for all seniors so the social was a big deal for more than one reason. It was a funny feeling to be looking forward to and dreading something at the same time. I had never hated being in Year Eleven more and for the life of me I couldn’t think beyond that, to next year, a year with no Ballantine, no Boon, even no Amanda. Every time it popped into my mind I had to quickly shake it from my thoughts.

  ‘I have no idea. Do you want to go down to Arcadia next week sometime and we’ll go shopping?’

  ‘What about now? We could hit Priceline and get some fake tan for your legs.’

  ‘Okay, firstly, I am going to pretend I am not offended by that offer, and secondly, I can’t tonight.’

  ‘Oh, and pray tell, why not tonight?’

  ‘I would tell you but you’d probably climb a bell tower,’ I said tilting my head.

  ‘Don’t tell me you two are doing something normal, or are you wearing disguises?’

  ‘Nope, we’re not going anywhere public. Ballantine isn’t working so I’m going to watch some movies at his place.’

  Laura’s expression darkened. ‘And let me guess . . .’

  ‘Can you please, please cover for me?’ I clasped my hands under my chin in prayer.

  ‘Do you promise not to give me the rundown tomorrow about how cute Ballantine was at loading the DVD player?’ she said, curving her brow in amusement.

  ‘I swear, you will not even know what we watched, what we ate . . . nothing.’

  ‘Unless it’s sexy in nature, I don’t want to know anything.’

  ‘Well, you are definitely not knowing any of that,’ I said.

  ‘Aw, come on, you are so cagey about that stuff. Best friends tell each other everything; come on, how big is he?’

  ‘Laura!’ I snapped, looking around the suburban tree-lined street we were walking along, hoping there wasn’t a stray grandmother watering her garden within earshot.

  ‘Come on, I want details!’ She bounced on the balls of her feet alongside me.

  ‘Well, he’s a great kisser.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And that’s all you’re getting,’ I said with a laugh.

  The truth was, after the common room and the occasional stolen make-out session, there had been no sexy times to speak of. We were both hoping to rectify that tonight, and because of the sexy wink Ballantine had given me as he’d passed me going out the school gate, I suddenly felt nervous.

  ‘Unless you haven’t done the deed there is no excuse not to tell.’

  I fell silent, concentrating on the cracks in the pavement as we walked.

  ‘Oh my God. You haven’t done it?’

  ‘Laura,’ I warned.

  ‘You and Ballantine haven’t made the beast with two backs?’ She looked aghast.

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘Listen, Lexie. I’m sorry, I just thought that you, well . . . it’s Ballantine.’

  I stopped, spinning around to face her. ‘And what? He’s a horndog surfer who usually beds every girl he sees?’

  ‘Well, yeah, kind of. Don’t get me wrong. I’m just surprised, that’s all.’

  Laura’s words only made me feel worse.

  We hadn’t really spoken about sex with each other. Maybe he wasn’t as interested as I thought he was? Why was he waiting? Was I going to end up dying a virgin?

  ‘Well, how about you stop worrying about it? If you’re not interested in the mundane then don’t sweat it over anything else.’ I stormed ahead, wanting to leave Laura and the conversation behind.

  ‘Lexie, wait!’ Laura grabbed my arm, pulling me up short.

  ‘I’m sorry, really. You’re right, it’s none of my business and I have no right to pry.’

  I nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Can I just offer some words of advice? As a friend.’

  I let my silence urge her on.

  ‘I don’t know how things are in Red Hill, but here in PC, things move a lot faster. You know boys will only hold hands for so long, and boys get bored . . . and then the new girl comes along and –’

  ‘What are you saying? If I don’t seal the deal with Ballantine his eyes might wander elsewhere?’

  ‘Well, that’s kind of what happened with Lucy Fell.’ Laura cringed.

  My blood ran cold, which was a normal reaction
to anything to do with Lucy, but to do with Ballantine and Lucy, it made my stomach turn as well. I could have guessed from what had happened at the bus stop, and from Lucy’s particular hatred of me that it was because they did share a past. I just wasn’t sure it was a past I needed to know about.

  Laura stepped forward, tilting her head to grab my attention. ‘Lexie, you have . . . done it before, right?’

  Okay, now I definitely wanted to leave this conversation well and truly behind.

  ‘Look, I’ve got to go and get ready, so I’ll see you later,’ I said quickly, turning and walking fast. I might be able to look Laura in the eye and confess that Ballantine and I hadn’t ‘done it yet’ but I drew the line at telling her I was a virgin. Although, by the way I was running away from her, I was thinking she would have guessed. And now, instead of looking forward to our movie night, I was bloody well dreading it.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I’d made up my mind.

  After tonight I was no longer going to be a virgin. Ballantine would not get bored with me and I would not be the only freak at Paradise High that still held her V-plates. I had wanted to come here for experiences, and it didn’t get any more real than this.

  The warm wind made my eyes water. I had to continually blink my vision clear as I ran down the long concrete footpath, mindful not to scratch myself along the less manicured fence lines where bushes invaded the walkway. For the first time ever, I turned into Ballantine’s street. I steadied into a slower jog, attempting to gather my breath. I paused for a moment, leaning over with my hands on my knees, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. Wow, I was so impossibly unfit; still, the adrenalin that was coursing through my body carried me on and towards a large, two-storey home on the right, with a silver Lexus parked in the drive. Number fourteen. Just like he had said. I had hoped that Ballantine would be waiting out the front for me, but he was nowhere in sight.

  Crap!

  I crossed the road, making my way towards Ballantine’s house, anxiety growing with each step. Maybe I was pushing my luck? What was I thinking? After the promise I’d made to my uncle about staying away, here I was at Ballantine’s house, under the guise of watching movies with Laura, having raided Amanda’s jewellery box for a condom.