Shotgun Wedding (Sidelined #4)

by Ainslie Paton

  “I do.” She looked up. “I might like you too, Reid, if you gave me a chance.”

  “I don’t need to be liked.”

  “You don’t need to win a popularity contest, but if you want to change the world you’re going to need people who believe you can do it to come with you.”

  “I’ve told him that,” said Dev.

  She shoulder-bumped Dev. “He’s not a good listener, is he?”

  Traitor. “I listen to you, Patel.”

  Dev shoulder bumped Sarina back. They were both looking at him. “He’s selective.”

  Reid stared them down. “There’s too much noise, too many blowhards.”

  “I agree,” Sarina said.

  She was right, and it annoyed him. He couldn’t do what he wanted to do alone and Dev had been telling him this.

  “I could help.”

  “She could, Reid. She knows people.”

  He gestured between himself and Dev. “Why would you want to help us?”

  “Because you are a mess.” He grunted at her and she went on. “Introverted. Socially awkward, deeply hidden inferiority complex, massive ego. But stubborn, focused, intelligence to burn.”

  All that from him blocking her sun and mauling a sandwich.

  He shifted his eyes to Dev. “What did you tell her?”

  “We didn’t talk about you, doofus.”

  He went to his haunches. “Is this some kind of party trick?”

  “Yes, it’s how I pay my tuition. I go around using my bullshit social science major to guess people’s underlying motivation and my grateful subjects throw money at me.”

  “Fuck off.” He wanted to laugh, but Dev was doing enough of that for both of them.

  She shoved his knee so he tipped back on his ass and sat. “You are hard core. I already like you.”

  “Are you high?” She had to be. Likeable was something he’d never been. Scary, weird, obsessive, loner; he had a lock on those attributes, but likeable was a whole other state of mind. You didn’t need to be likeable to succeed.

  “High on sunshine and intellectual curiosity and perfectly serious about wanting to help you both get a business up.”

  “Why?”

  She smiled. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m a mess, apparently.”

  “But Dev’s not and he believes in you. And I can introduce you to other people who will. And then I’m in on the ground floor when you start your revolution.”

  Mercenary, not hearts and flowers. That he could understand.

  “Do you know Owen Lange?” Sarina pointed to a blond guy. Preppy. Aviator shades, bright white Colgate smile, about Reid’s height. He stood with a group at the other side of the lawn looking like a trust fund.

  Reid didn’t know anyone outside of the guys in his own stream and no one he could call a friend other than Dev, who took one look at this Owen guy and tried to swallow his lips. Trouble in paradise already.

  “Finance major. His family is big in casinos. Wants to start his own business so he can get out from under his dad.”

  How fucking nice that must be. Come from money and want to make more like it was an optional extra, upsizing to large fries. “Good luck to him.”

  “You know how to write a business plan then? How to find backers?”

  No, but he’d find out. How hard could it be? “What’s your point?”

  “The network effect works with people as well.”

  No it didn’t. The network effect was about scaling up new technology, like how a phone was useless unless you knew someone else with a phone and the more people with a phone you knew, the more useful the phone was. He frowned. Oh, wait.

  Sarina tapped her temple. “Now he’s got it. The more people you know, the more likely to find the people who share your way of looking at the world.”

  “And that guy.”

  “Owen.”

  “You think he might think the way I do?” Fat chance that guy worked as a laborer over spring break. His band t-shirt was probably more expensive than Reid’s whole wardrobe. That guy didn’t need to make his own revolution happen, it was just a nice to do.

  “I don’t think anyone quite thinks the way you do. But I think you’re smart enough to know you have failings and you’ll need to fill in the gaps.”

  “Consulting your crystal ball again?” It was scarily accurate.

  “No, I take cloud readings.”

  “Funny.” He didn’t laugh. Dev did.

  Reid knew he was smart, worked hard. He also knew where his failings were, he’d planned to bluff past them. “I’m not in the market for partners.” Easiest way to get ripped off.

  She slapped his knee. “You’d be an arrogant prick if you weren’t so insecure.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Plus your fly is undone.”

  “Shit.” He shoved his hand over his crotch. It was entirely possible he’d been exposing his Pikachu undies to half the college. But his hand closed over a safely zipped dick.

  “Made you look,” the two of them chorused.

  “What is this, junior high?” He got his feet back under him and stood again. “How long have you two known each other?”

  “We just met,” said Dev at the same time as Sarina said, “Forever.”

  His algorithm, when he got it to work as a web-based service, plus Dev, plus this Sarina chick he didn’t intimidate, plus her blond friend, Owen, who could work a business plan plus make sure Dev didn’t have a reason to get distracted over a babe and end up crying when there was no way he could pull her anyway. It was something better than a bluff.

  “What’s your business called?” Sarina said.

  “Plus,” he shot back, as if he’d thought about that for more than a second. She’d said it first and it was a good fit. He could change it later if he had a better idea.

  Behind Sarina, Dev made a face. “Didn’t think you had a name for it.”

  “I do now.”

  “I like it.” She grinned. Did she guess he’d plucked it from her? “Simple, easy to remember, descriptive.”

  “What happens now?” He’d have to find some way of explaining the software to people who didn’t code. Was this even a good idea?

  Dev got up and gave Sarina his hand. She took it and stood. He didn’t let go while she slipped her shoes on. She had a hoop through her eyebrow. She had a nice smile. She’d said stuff that made sense. She had Dev hanging on her every word. Reid had left his keyboard and come outside for sustenance, because he couldn’t keep working without it.

  “We see how we go becoming friends,” she said.

  Not what he’d expected.

  “Don’t make that face. You need friends, Reid. You need them for when everything goes great, plus,” she made finger quotes around the word, “when it all turns to shit.”

  He’d come looking for food not friends, and his face no doubt was made of horror show.

  “I’m not good at friends. Dev will tell you.”

  “You’re in college, it’s all about learning new things.”

  “I’m only interested in Plus.”

  She studied him. He didn’t know what she’d make of his worn jeans with the white paint stains, his faded tee, filthy runners. He rubbed his chin. Last shave was days ago. But at least he’d showered because he never went a day without hitting the gym so a wash was mandatory. She’d see he wasn’t put together and personable like Dev, or a junior tycoon with daddy issues like Owen. But there was nothing he could do about that. He was an arrogant prick and he was insecure and that was the best of it, no point pretending he was slumming it. It’s all he’d ever known and she’d see it straight up. Witch.

  “We’ll see,” she said.

  He looked over her head at Dev. What the fuck did that mean? Dev grinned as though it was payday at the restaurant where he worked. “You could do with having some fun, Reid.”

  Fun. He wasn’t here to have fun. Plus was his ticket to something better. He didn’t know this chick and
he didn’t understand her motives, and fuck, his head thumped, his hand ached. He wasn’t hungry anymore but he could sleep for days. People were out in the sun and the fresh air, screwing around with guitars and other people’s private parts, having a life. The best thing about the last year had been his friendship with Dev. What if he had two Devs in his life, three.

  “It’s friends,” said Sarina. “Start there and who knows what could happen. It could be better for you.”

  Better together instead of alone.

  “I have to code.” He waved a hand at Dev. “You run interference with friends.”

  He’d walked off before he realized he hadn’t said goodbye to Sarina. He turned back to find her watching him. She was a cool chick. He’d be lucky to have her as an acquaintance, let alone a friend. He gave her a salute because he was a dumbass, but she saluted back, coming to attention and snapping off the gesture as if she was military, while Dev fell about laughing. He rubbed his eyes. If they hadn’t been talking about him before, they sure as shit would be now.

  He liked Sarina’s pierced eyebrow. He liked she didn’t flinch. Her friend Owen had seen Reid check him out and instead of ignoring it or projecting aggression, he’d given a smile and a nod. Reid knew nothing about business plans and sure, he could learn, but it’d take time he didn’t have and he only had so much time before someone else had the same ideas he had. He was a singular near friendless weirdo but he wasn’t idiot enough to think isolating himself was the way to win.

  Plus. Friends. Potential business partners. Fun. Better Together.

  He didn’t know what it all meant yet, certainly didn’t trust it, could turn out to be a unicorn, an alien abduction experience, but as he hunkered over his keyboard in his musty dorm room, it tasted like nourishment and felt as warm and healing as sunshine, and that was food for thought.

  If you enjoyed Sidelined: Offensive Behavior, Damaged Goods, Sold Short and Shotgun Wedding, you might enjoy the angsty heroes of Love Triumphs: Insecure, Inconsolable and Incapable.

  Read on for a sample of Inconsolable.

  You can find out more about the series at: www.ainsliepaton.com.au

  And if you really, really enjoyed Shotgun Wedding, or you have a comment that might help another reader, think about leaving a review at your favorite ebook retailer or Goodreads.

  INCONSOLABLE

  A sample chapter

  Sometimes the only way to forgiveness is through love

  Foley has a new boss she doesn’t like, a housemate who’s been known to wear odd shoes, and a car that’s ready to pack it in. She hasn’t met a guy worth lipstick in forever, and though she planned a life less ordinary, the only thing unique about her is a badly thought through tattoo.

  Until Drum.

  Drum wasn’t always the cliff guy, a homeless man sheltering in a cave tucked above a popular tourist beach. He wanted to get as far away from his previous life as possible. Now he wakes with the sun, runs on the beach, does odd jobs for cash to buy food, and is at peace.

  Until Foley.

  It’s Foley’s job to find Drum a safer place to live, but the only home Drum wants is the one place he can never stay: Foley’s heart.

  Nowhere in Foley’s job description did it say lean over a railing on top of a scary cliff to talk a homeless hermit squatter into living somewhere else.

  Community relations managers didn’t do spelunking as a rule, nor did they force evictions in the face of pending public outrage.

  Foley’s job description said sensible, definitive, measurable things that you could put a key performance indicator against and bank a salary on. It said present the public face of council with integrity and professionalism. It was about recreation, community engagement and the environment. It was parks and beaches, family, historical and cultural events.

  It wasn’t sweating and squinting in the February heat haze with her stomach whirling and her palms so slippery the railing might as well have been made of butter while she yodeled off into space.

  “Hello, are you there?”

  The midday sun burned her forehead as she tried again. “Hello, I’m Foley Barnes. I’m from council. I’d like to talk to you if you’ve got the time.”

  Got the time. Idiot. He was an unemployed squatter, what could he possibly be doing but deliberately avoiding her. This would be funny if it wasn’t something Gabriella wanted her to fail at.

  Foley wiped her hands on her pants, put them back on the railing and leaned a little further over. She couldn’t see the man’s camp site. That’s how he’d managed to live on the cliff face undetected for so long. He was tucked away in a cave that must extend back under the rock ledge, perhaps even beneath the walkway and Marks Park, where she stood.

  Of course, now she’d said she was from council he’d probably think he was in trouble and he’d stay hidden away down there, so that was another dumb move.

  “Hello, you’re not in trouble or anything. I want to introduce myself.”

  Oh yeah, sure. That was going to work. He’d be sitting down there laughing his homeless head off.

  She sighed. Even in this she was Frustrated Foley. Nat was going to love it.

  “Okay, I’ll come down to you.”

  There were two ways she could go and they both involved the railing: under or over. That’s why the pants suit and the sensible shoes, instead of a lightweight dress and heels. If she had to be a billy goat on work time, she’d be a practically dressed one.

  She clamped her back teeth together and ducked under the metal rail, stepping out on the rock ledge. One of the world’s most famous beaches was spread out in front of her, along with a good deal of the coastline. It was blue on blue where the sky met the sea and it sparkled; blindingly awe-inspiring, spectacular, and though she saw it often, the beauty of it never got old. Now it was especially breathtaking, but for all the worst reasons. From the wrong side of the safety railing it was simply bigger, more ferociously beautiful and potentially deadly.

  She took a steadying lungful. She’d wanted a life less ordinary. She could’ve been in her comfortable air-conditioned office, at her ergonomically sound desk, working on the Beach Film Festival or the Winter Wonderland, or she could walk along the coast, a very safe distance from the edge, and check Sereno, the heritage-listed house she was trying to save from greedy agents and developers, but no, here she was, back to the wall, thrill-seeking on a rock ledge.

  Nat was going to piss herself laughing.

  From here Foley could see the ledge had two tiers. The one she was standing on and another that jutted out beneath. The cave must be between them. The edge and the drop off into the ocean was a good car length away, but it was still the edge to a sheer cliff and no next birthday. Sensible shoes or not, her knees locked.

  “Hello, are you there?”

  She bent forward and tried to peer along the ledge and was rewarded with the sight of a blue tarp. But no hermit squatter man. He couldn’t keep avoiding her, and surely he’d be able to hear her, unless he was sleeping. If he was sleeping she should let him be. It wasn’t smart to sneak up on a sleeping hermit on a cliff face. Who knows what he might do? They knew so little about him anyway. But you had to surmise what they knew didn’t suggest model citizen. He was an unemployed, bearded street person, who’d made a permanent camp site on a cliff face.

  “Hello, Mr Drum. Are you there? My name is Foley and I’d like to visit you.”

  Was that his surname, Drum? The lifesavers and the park rangers called him that. It was probably a nickname. They all spoke favourably about the man. A good bloke. Maybe some mental health problems, but he didn’t appear to be dangerous and was always ready to help out. There was probably truth in that, given he’d been living in the cave for about a year now and there’d been no reports of trouble.

  “Mr Drum. If you’re there, I need to talk to you.”

  And he needed to talk to her like he needed...Hell, he must need a lot of things. A hot shower and a home-cooked meal. A shave, haircut
and a job. A proper bed to sleep on and some form of counselling. And walls. The man must need walls, at night, when there was only the moon and the stars to see by and it was windy or cold, or just plain frightening to be living on the edge of the world with nothing to stop you falling off.

  A shudder started in her thighs and rippled through her body, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Imagine being here during a storm. It could rip you out of this life and hurl you into the forgotten. No one would even know it had happened, unless a body washed up. Oh God. What if he sleepwalked? What if he was hurt or sick or already dead in his camp site?

  Or he really was dangerous and they didn’t know it yet.

  Gabriella had suggested she take a ranger or a lifesaver from the beach with her, but no, Foley argued that might scare the man, and they didn’t want that. They wanted this to be a peaceful eviction. Not something the local press would write up. Which was true, but it was also Foley being stubborn about doing it her own way, because two months on she wasn’t over losing the department director job to Gabriella, and was thoroughly infected with an overwhelming desire to stick one up her by being the singularly most competent person on the entire planet.

  And for all that bravado, the man, the whole idea of him—which in air-conditioned comfort, within solid walls, was entirely benign, in a we’re more scary than he is, and it’ll be no trouble for me to manage way—was freaking her the fuck out.

  The singularly most competent person on the entire planet probably didn’t have rubber knees.

  That, and the knowledge she’d have to go down to the lower ledge to find Drum, or go back to the office and admit defeat, stopped her retreat. Not an option. But neither was moving her legs. Her feet stuck like sea snails to the rock, slimy suckers growing from the soles of her sensible, before you considered rock climbing in them, shoes and sticking like wet on water.

  She looked around for anything resembling steps naturally carved in the rock face. It wasn’t that she was scared of heights. She wasn’t besties with them, but she wasn’t normally frightened rigid of them, or spiders, or snakes, or the Doberman in the house next door to her unit block that tried to leap the fence to eat her every time she walked past. Those were decent, solid, ordinary fears, but not her fears.