Paradise City

by C. J. Duggan

  ‘How long have you and Ballantine been . . . a thing?’

  A thing? She made it sound like it was unsavoury, as if it was something that needed to be treated with a shot of penicillin.

  I shrugged. How could I tell her I didn’t trust her? ‘The night your dad found me at the Wipe Out Bar, I was with Ballantine; he wasn’t really happy about that, and he made me promise that I wouldn’t see him anymore.’

  A crease formed across Amanda’s brow. ‘But you did.’

  ‘In secret, yes.’

  Amanda nodded. ‘Wow! First Dean and then Ballantine. I’m impressed.’

  ‘Dean was just a rumour,’ I said, trying to defend myself.

  ‘Okay . . . and he was on our doorstep last night because . . .’

  ‘It’s not like that.’

  Amanda gave me a sceptical look, as if she wasn’t buying anything I said. I guess I couldn’t blame her, she wasn’t exactly my confidante. Why would she believe me? But more to the point, she didn’t have to. There was only one person whose opinion I cared about, and although I could just kick myself for using Dean at all to make Ballantine jealous, I knew with absolute certainty where my heart belonged.

  ‘Ready to get this show on the road?’ I heard my dad’s voice travel up the drive as he carried the last of my bags to the car. I anxiously glanced down the street again. Ballantine would be here any minute now, I thought, as I stepped up from the gutter, brushing the back of my pants.

  Usually I avoided goodbyes, but this time I would embrace them wholeheartedly, taking my time to say my farewells. I even awkwardly hugged Uncle Peter for a moment too long; he frowned as I pulled back, looking at me like I was possessed or something. The things you do to buy some time.

  I gave Amanda a hug goodbye, her surprised limp arms circling around me. Our relationship had been the epitome of a rollercoaster ride: enemies one minute, friends the next. As for the terms we were parting on, well, she might have been glad to see the back of me, but there was no mistaking the gradual pressure that built in her hug, as if the ice queen was slowly thawing. As I pulled back, the same nondescript emotion reflected in her blue eyes and I almost smiled with the predictability that was my cousin Amanda. An unexpected emotion lodged itself in my throat when I was crushed by Aunty Karen’s perfumed embrace; her teary farewell had me taking a deep breath.

  Hold it together, Lexie.

  Mum laughed at her highly emotional sister. ‘You’ll have her back before you know it.’

  My heart leapt in approval; I hadn’t received my exam results yet, but the fact my mum was talking this way, well, my heart definitely approved.

  I will be back, I told myself, I will definitely be back.

  My palms became clammy as I wasted as much time as humanly possible getting into the car, my mind flashing back to Ballantine pressing me against the very street post I was staring at now. The way he’d placed his mouth against mine, branding me so hot, so fierce, it was like he was making sure I would never forget his lips, so I wouldn’t be able to even if I tried. He had told me he would be here, that he would see me off, he’d said even Uncle Peter couldn’t keep him away. So where was he? Had he slept in? Surely he hadn’t been called into work, today of all days, surely he would have let me know. My mind began to race as Dad started up the engine, his elbow leaning out the driver’s side as he and Mum chatted to the others through the open window.

  All I could do was look down the road, a bubble of panic rising in my chest.

  He’s not coming, he’s not coming to say goodbye.

  I swallowed hard as Dad’s laughter filled the cabin, my heart stalling as he moved to shift the column into gear. It was then by some miracle I saw a silhouette at the top of our street.

  Oh my God.

  ‘Wait, Dad, stop!’ I cried out. Scrambling to open the car door I slid from my seat, my feet connecting with the hot bitumen of the road as I broke into a run, caring little that my entire family was watching on. My heart soared and my lungs burned, a trickle of sweat ran down my back. I was smiling so broadly my face ached as I dashed towards the outline of the shadow, closer and closer, until my smile all but fell away, and my legs gave up their determined strides and slowed as my vision cleared to the figure before me, the silhouette belonging to a boy who was most definitely not Ballantine.

  ‘Boon?’ I panted, blinking as if unable to believe that it really was Boon, closing the last stretch between us.

  ‘I thought I might have missed you,’ he said, coming to stand before me with his hands plunged in his pockets.

  My chest heaved as my eyes looked past him briefly, before focusing back on him in silent question. I could feel my insides burn with a raw anxiety as a feeling of dread surfaced in me. I was about to grill Boon with a million questions when he cut in.

  ‘Oh shit, before I forget, this is for you,’ he said, scrounging through his pocket and pulling out a crumpled bit of paper. ‘Ballantine wanted me to give this to you,’ he said, holding it out to me.

  Without a moment of hesitation I snatched it out of Boon’s grasp, unfolding it with a shaky hand. I would take any goodbye, any explanation. If something had come up and he couldn’t make it, at least he had sent something with Boon, at least that was something, right?

  Wrong, so utterly, utterly wrong.

  My eyes connected with the paper. I paused; all colour drained from my face. ‘Oh-no-no-no-no . . .’ I whispered, my voice shaking.

  Boon seemed puzzled by my reaction as he shifted uneasily from side to side, and even more uneasily as I lifted my horrified gaze to meet his uncertain one. Boon shrugged. ‘He said that you dropped this last night.’

  Boon was clearly unaware of what it said, but all I could think of was the insinuations of such a note. I closed my eyes remembering how I had plunged the paper into my skirt in a hurry before the social. I then pictured Ballantine, picking up this crumpled piece of paper that had fallen out of my infuriatingly impractical mini skirt; he would have unwrinkled it and seen clearly enough under the streetlight in my frenzied handwriting:

  Dean,

  I need to speak to you ASAP.

  Lexie

  After swearing black and blue that there was nothing going on between Dean and me, that Ballantine had no reason to think we were connected in any way, one single note would implicate me – such a simple, innocent line could appear so sinister. This was bad: very, very bad.

  I swallowed. ‘D– did Ballantine say anything?’

  Boon shook his head. ‘He just wanted me to give that to you.’

  I read the smudged ink of my message, read it one last damning time before I crumpled it up in my fist, so tight, hoping to wipe it all away. My vision blurred as I plunged the twisted piece of paper into my pocket. My mind was reeling at a hundred miles an hour. Why? Why did he believe that stupid note over what I told him the night before? How could he accept that the pregnancy test had been for Amanda and not for me, yet couldn’t see past this note? Why wouldn’t he let me explain?

  Boon studied the worried lines of my face. ‘Trouble in Paradise?’ he asked, nodding his head towards the paper that now lay in my pocket.

  ‘Something like that,’ I muttered.

  From his uncomfortable stance, I could tell Boon wished he was anywhere else but here. But I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily – what the hell did I have to lose?

  ‘Boon, what’s the deal with Ballantine and Dean? Am I missing something?’

  Boon shrugged. ‘He and Dean have a shit history.’

  That did nothing to answer my question as to why he wouldn’t at least try to learn the truth about me.

  Why did he believe the rumours?

  ‘So, will you come back to Paradise?’

  That was now a very loaded question. Would I come back? Could I come back? Ballantine had made a very public display at the dance, openly declaring us a couple. But what would he do while I was gone? Why didn’t he come and talk to me about this? I didn’t eve
n know what he was planning to do now that he’d finished school. Maybe he won’t even be here next year?

  Will I be back?

  ‘I . . . I guess so, Boon. Maybe. I don’t know.’

  I didn’t wait for a reaction, I simply turned and made my way back to the car, my heart growing heavier with each step that led me away from the very streetlight I had stood under with Ballantine just hours before.

  How quickly things can change.

  Avoiding my family’s inquisitive stares, I made a long, intent line towards the open back passenger door. I needed to slip into the back seat, to hide away from the world, to avoid their questions and concern.

  Head down, veering to the side of the car, my path was abruptly cut off as, without a word, Amanda crossed the small stretch of road to me, wrapping her arms around me so tight it knocked the breath from me. I stood there, stunned, taking a minute for my arms to fit around her. Amanda didn’t say anything, and I didn’t have to, she could read it all over my face. I inhaled a deep, shuddery breath. Just as I thought everything about my stay in Paradise was so utterly predictable, Amanda’s comfort surprised me; the unexpected kindness tore away the last barrier I was so desperately trying to cling to. My tears fell, and a bubble of sorrow lodged itself in my chest.

  Amanda pulled away. ‘See you soon,’ she said firmly, as if the point was non-negotiable. ‘Okay?’

  I smiled weakly. ‘Sure,’ I said, finally making my way towards the back door, sliding in just as Boon reached the kerb of Aunty Karen’s house to stand next to Amanda and join in the farewell party.

  I craned my neck to look out the opposite window, unable to bring myself to focus on anything besides the sun in the clear blue sky and the delicate hum of the car’s engine.

  Mum turned in her seat, offering me a thin smile. ‘You okay, love?’

  ‘Yeah, fine,’ I lied. ‘I just want to go home.’

  Dad’s eyes lifted to the rearview mirror. ‘Now that we can do,’ he said. He once again put the gear into place as he readied to pull away from Aunty Karen and Uncle Peter’s house, accelerating with a friendly double honk of the horn and a wave.

  A blur of colour passed by my open window as suburbia quickly melted into cluttered city landscapes with tacky palm trees and swarming tourists. I slowly took the scrunched-up piece of paper from my pocket, my eyes skimming over it for the very last time, before I extended my arm and held the note out the window. It fluttered around in my grip until eventually, and finally, I let it go.

  I quickly turned to watch its fate, swirling and flailing until it was inevitably swallowed up by the city. A brutal, beautiful, gritty city that was far more challenging than I could ever have imagined.

  Will I be back?

  More than anything I wanted to believe I would be, but as Paradise faded behind me, I had to wonder if there was anything left to come back to.

  Lexie’s story continues in Paradise Road, available September 2015 . . .

  Acknowledgements

  This book was born from great sadness, at a time when I didn’t know if I could write again. It is a testament to each and every one of those mentioned directly and indirectly, for giving me the strength to not give up.

  To Michael, for believing in and supporting everything I do with your unwavering love and understanding. For being patient with the stress I bring, and the deadlines and insanely odd hours. I know it’s not easy, but you are the beautiful part of my reality. I wouldn’t want to share it with anyone else.

  To the entire Hachette family: it has been an absolute honour to collaborate with such a reputable and prolific publishing team such as yours. Fiona Hazard, Kate Stevens – I have said it before and I will say it again – you ladies are a class act. Your passion, support and encouragement make working with you a sheer joy. I will never forget how one email transformed my life; from the bottom of my heart, I thank you both. A special mention also to the people behind the velvet curtain: Louise, Justin, Josie, Kelly, Kimberley, Melinda, Anna, Nathan, Naomi and Chris.

  To Sascha, Marion, Anita, Keary and Karen, for always pushing me and helping me to the finish line even when it seems impossible. Your friendships, patience and smarts are what help govern my success; I cherish each and every one of you.

  To Chris Burgess, for believing in my work and transforming my career to new heights through your constant championing of my novels. A thank you seems so inadequate, but I will never forget your part in this, truly.

  My beautiful Misfits. This industry would be impossible without you; my life has been enriched simply by having you three warm, wonderfully hilarious, crazy talented women in my life. Jessica Roscoe (Lili Saint Germain), Frankie Rose (Callie Hart), Lilliana Anderson: my love for you ladies is immeasurable; let’s grow old together.

  My amazing family and friends for putting up with my lockdowns and never-ending deadlines, for constantly reminding me of things I tend to forget; you remind me to live and be balanced. Your love is the best anchor I could wish for.

  To all the readers, bloggers and reviewers of my stories, for taking something away from my words and for loving and embracing the characters; for wanting to read Australian voices, and get lost in a rich culture worthy of any local and international platform. In a world that is often dark enough, it is a pleasure to inject it with a little bit of sunshine and a whole lot of passion.

  And of course to those who I’ve loved and lost while penning these novels – my beautiful Dad and mother-in-law, Brenda, your spirits are with me each and every day; I write to make you proud. Love you always.

  C.J. Duggan is the internationally bestselling author of the Summer series who lives with her husband in a rural border town of New South Wales. When she isn’t writing books about swoony boys and 90s pop culture you will find her renovating her hundred-year-old Victorian homestead or annoying her local travel agent for a quote to escape the chaos. Paradise City is C.J.’s eighth book, and the first in her new series of New Adult romance.

  CJDugganbooks.com

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