by Lyon, Raquel
The bicycles had belonged to my parents and had been sitting in Pappa’s garage, gathering rust for a year, along with boxes full of other memorabilia that Pappa couldn’t bear to get rid of. It was time they had an outing.
I’d checked in on Kendrick before I left, but he was out of it, and I thought it best to let him sleep. He could tell me what happened later. Pappa had enquired as to his whereabouts, and I contemplated telling him that Kendrick had gone to college, but if he woke up, or if Pappa went into his room for some reason, I’d be in trouble. Hell, I’d be in the shit anyway. I’d said Kendrick wasn’t feeling well and wanted to be left alone. Pappa had drawn his own conclusion and grumbled something about too much beer. I hoped it was enough to prevent him from poking his nose around the door and exposing my lie, but I wasn’t holding my breath.
Finally plumping for the old lean the bike against the leg method, I knocked. It wasn’t long before I got an answer.
As usual for our relationship, Cora had totally ignored my request. Not a patch of Lycra in sight. Her tie fronted top and tight capri pants, which left nothing to the imagination, would have to do. She looked down at the bikes, and frowned. “What are those?”
“A couple of elephants. What do they look like?”
“Is this is your idea of a date?”
“Actually, I figured it would be more your idea of a date. You know. Something sporty. And let’s face it, your wine and dine thing didn’t work out too well. What’s up? Can’t you cycle?”
“Of course, I can.” She paused for a second and her brow furrowed. “Or I could … thirty years ago.”
“You haven’t been on a bike since you were nine?”
She shook her head. “I outgrew my old one, and my parents couldn’t afford a replacement. I haven’t had cause to cycle since.”
“Well, it was either these or the sledge. Although, if you fancy trying that, I might be able to rustle up a couple of Huskies …”
Her nose wrinkled. “Scary eyes.”
“That settles it, then. Don’t worry. It’s like riding a bike.” I laughed.
Cora wobbled, at first, but I rode alongside her, grabbing the saddle on occasion to prevent an unwanted familiarity with the road, and by the time we arrived at the park, she was much steadier.
The sultry afternoon had brought life to the rolling grasslands. Mothers congregated in groups, watching their small children run in circles; joggers paced in time with the music filling their ears, and clusters of teenagers, enjoying their first days of academic freedom, kicked around balls or slurped from cans which most likely held liquid far more potent than the outer artwork illustrated. It reminded me of my own schooldays, when illicit drinking with my mates was the highlight of any day.
I shouted over to Cora, “Need a rest?”
She nodded.
We pulled up under an old oak tree. I propped the bikes against it and reached into my backpack for a specially prepared package.
“I hope you like red,” I said, as I unrolled the picnic blanket. “I gathered from the contents of your refrigerator that you’re a wine fan, but I haven’t the first clue about the stuff.” Inside the blanket were a bottle and two tumblers. “I nicked this particular vintage from Pappa’s wine rack. He didn’t have white,” I added, laying the bottle on the ground, in order to spread out the blanket, and beckoning Cora to sit down.
“Are you sure we should be having alcohol?” she asked, over the sound of the cork popping.
“Still hung over?”
She watched the red liquid fill the glasses. “I meant with the bikes,” she said, accepting her glass and staring into it. “What if we get stopped by the police?”
I cracked a smile. “What, drunk in charge of a bicycle?”
“It happens. I’ve seen it on television.”
“Yeah, if you’re a pisshead. Seriously, you looked drunk enough, wobbling all over the road, on the way here. I doubt anyone would notice the difference.”
Cora pretended to take offence, affording me a small slap to the thigh, as she sipped on her drink and sloshed the liquid around her mouth. “Mmm, this isn’t bad.”
Wine was wine to me. I couldn’t tell good from bad and, given the choice, would have preferred a beer or whisky, so I downed mine in one gulp and laid back, letting the warmth radiate around my stomach.
The sun twinkled through the canopy of leaves over our heads. Life was good. Only one thing could make it better, and I could feel the weight of her stare. A huge grin stretched across my face.
“What are you thinking?” Cora asked.
I turned my head. “Do you believe in heaven?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Look.” I pointed up to the tree.
Cora shuffled her bottom down the blanket to lie beside me. “What am I looking at?”
“I was thinking the sun looks like angels’ wands twinkling.”
“Angels don’t have wands.”
“They did in my school plays.”
“Were you an angel?”
I smiled at the irony. “I’ve never been an angel. I was usually a sheep. I did once get promoted to a wise man, but I dropped the gold on Baby Jesus’s head and it didn’t go down too well.” Her laugh surfaced again, and I felt her walls crumbling. “What about you?” I asked, rolling over to face her.
“What about me?”
I propped up on my elbow and studied Cora’s face. Her cheeks were flushed from the exercise; her eyes reflected the twinkles. She was my angel. “Tell me about your childhood.”
“I was the Virgin Mary.”
No surprise there. “Teacher’s pet?”
“Teacher’s daughter.”
“Mother or father?”
“Father. My mother has health problems. She hasn’t worked for years.”
“I’m sorry.” Without thinking, I snapped off a long blade of grass and rolled it between my fingers. “What about siblings?”
“Just me.”
“What was that like?”
“Quiet. Lonely at times. But I had a lot of friends. I was happy.” I trailed the grass up her arm and she shivered.
“Are you cold?”
Her eyes flicked to mine. “No. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
I wanted to kiss her so fucking badly. I wanted to touch her for real, not with an inanimate object but with my fingers running over her silken skin, exploring places left untouched for too long. Screw that. I didn’t just want it, I needed it, and the way she was looking at me told me she wanted it just as much as I did—even if she was still refusing admit it. But I was afraid to spoil the moment. It was too perfect. Her hard edges were softening but I wasn’t sure she was soft enough. The grass continued its journey across her enticing slice of bare stomach. Her lips parted and a puff of breath shot out, quickly replaced by a sharp intake. Yeah. She was soft. I leaned closer, until my nose was inches from hers. Maybe this was the moment.
“Don’t,” she said.
“Don’t what?”
“Kiss me.”
“Who said I was going to kiss you?”
“Weren’t you?”
“I thought about it.” I must have thought about it over a thousand times, since I’d first laid eyes on her. “Who wouldn’t?”
“Well stop thinking about it.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
A haze of moisture glistened over her perfect cupid’s bow, inviting me to run my tongue over it. Lips like hers deserved to be kissed. If it were up to me, I’d keep them plumped and puckered all day every day. Starting now. What would she do if I tried, hit me, push me away? Was it worth the risk? It might be.
“Actually, I don’t remember our kissing discussion. Fancy running it by me again?” I discarded the grass but continued the stroking, drawing circles around her belly button.
“I, um …” Her mouth stayed open as her eyes closed. My touch had rendered her speechless. I saw my chance and bent my head to
her collarbone. When my lips made contact, I passed the point of no return. The pounding in my chest refused to be ignored. Static charged blood through my veins and my dick sprang into action. Down boy. Patience. A moan shivered through Cora. It was all the encouragement I needed. I gripped her waist and moved up her neck to nibble on her earlobe. She smelled of vanilla and lilies; it was intoxicating, and my head whirled with her scent.
She sucked in a breath, and her hand gripped my arm, lifting it away as she pushed up to standing. “I have to get back.”
Damn the woman. What was it going to take for her to let me in?
Chapter Thirteen
Kendrick stirred and winced, as I entered his room, later that day. “Shit, my head’s banging. What happened?”
“You tell me.”
He pressed a hand over his face, feeling the swelling. “My face is fucked.”
“Tends to happen when you come in contact with a fist or three. How do you feel?” I asked, opening the first-aid kit. “Dizzy? Sick?”
“Nope. Can’t feel anything through this damn pain.” He groaned. “Do I still have all my bits?”
“You might be missing a spot of brain, but let’s face it, that’s not much of a loss. Your bits, you can check for yourself.” Kendrick tried to laugh but it came out as a grimace, switching to a growl, as I parted wedges of hair packed with congealed blood. “Did you see who did you over?”
“Nah, man. Got jumped from behind. Whacked me with something hard. I thought my head was going to explode.” His face repeatedly crumbled and his teeth ground together as he talked. “Next thing I know, I’m on the ground, boots coming from all directions. How did you find me?” he asked, watching me remove items from the first-aid box.
“I didn’t.”
“Then who?”
“Liam.”
He forced a grin. “Told you he was a top mate.”
“You might wanna rethink that. He wasn’t too friendly this morning.”
“He’s just wary of dudes he doesn’t know.”
I soaked a cloth with antiseptic and cleaned his wounds for the second time in a day. “Hostile was more the word I had in mind, and he said to say the job’s off.”
“Really? Crap. I was counting on that.” He swatted at my hand. “Jesus, is that acid?”
“Shut up and hold still.”
“Did he say why?”
“He didn’t stop to chat.”
“Man, I needed that money.”
“Then get a proper job.”
“Get serious.”
With the cuts more exposed, I was thankful they appeared less severe than at first thought. He should be able to get by without stitches, if I held the skin together with sticking plasters, but it would probably leave a scar, in any case. The swellings covering his face were worse. I had to remember what he looked like to know my brother was hiding beneath them. “Why are you so desperate for cash?” I asked.
“I wanna do something.”
“Such as?”
“You wouldn’t like it.”
“Then you’d better not do it,” I said, smearing cream over the worst scrapes.
“You’re not my dad.”
“If I have no say, why bother with the secrecy? Unless you give a shit what I think.”
“I wanna get some wheels, all right?”
“Can you even drive?” I handed him a couple of painkillers and he shot them back.
“Course.”
“You have a licence?”
“Well, no. But I will. Soon. That’s why I need the cash.”
Kendrick wanting a car was no surprise. I’d expected it. He’d have all the money he needed when he hit twenty-one and came into his share of Mum’s life insurance, but patience didn’t come easy to Kendrick, and my sympathy was in short supply. “Not getting why you thought I wouldn’t be okay with that. What are you not telling me?”
“The car …”
“Yeah?”
“I wanna race it.”
Hell, no. “You can fuck that idea off, right now.”
“See. I fucking knew it. You’re such a douche. Lighten up.”
“You’ve no experience. At all.”
“I’ll get some.”
“Uh-uh. No way. I am not going to another funeral.”
“I’ll be careful. Just do the small races, not the big stuff.”
“Not on my watch.” He was in no fit state for an argument, but there was no chance in hell I’d be letting him risk his life for an adrenalin kick. “This conversation isn’t over, but I’m not being responsible for you popping a blood vessel.” I smashed the tube of cream and packet of tablets back into the first-aid box and slammed it shut. “I’ll bring food up soon.”
The evening dragged. I spent the majority of it in front of the TV, watching a film with Paps and sketching out ideas for Cora’s rear garden. But it was hard to concentrate under the deluge of Pappa’s comments about continuity errors and how modern films had too many special effects and not enough storyline. I tried to humour him. The old man had been short of company since Gran’s death, and I doubted Kendrick had been of much use in that department. When the film finished, I left Paps doing his late-night crossword, checked in on Kendrick, and got my head down.
The next morning, I started work at the restaurant, and completed it a few days later, well within the timescale I’d predicted. It would have been quicker had I not had to wait for a delivery of topsoil.
Despite my job keeping me busy, my mind constantly wandered to thoughts of Cora. I could still taste her skin on my lips, hear her sighs in my ears, and feel her body touching mine. I ached to be with her again, and wondered if she was thinking about me at all. I’d decided to try the absence makes the heart grow fonder tact, but so far, I had no clue as to whether it was working. All I knew was, a few days without so much as a sighting of her was more than I could handle, and I was beginning to panic that our time apart was undoing any progress I’d made. On the last day of the job, I caught the bus home and resolved to call round to see her, that evening.
A couple of streets from home, the bus pulled in at the stop in front of the Pocket Scratcher. Down the side alley, three men stood huddled behind the dumpsters, and an altercation was taking place. I recognised two of the men as Snakehead and Tattooed Guy. They had the third man cornered, and Snakehead was waggling something small and white in his face. An old lady shuffling along the aisle distracted me for a second, and when I turned back to the alley, Tattooed Guy was holding the third man’s arms behind his back, while Snakehead pummelled fists into his stomach. I felt every punch as if it were me. It should have been me instead of Kendrick. The old lady took her seat, the bus set off, and I saw no more.
When I arrived home, I went straight to Kendrick’s room. He had finally dragged his scrawny ass out of bed, and with the swellings receding, looked marginally more human. The scratches had scabbed over, and his bruises had changed from purple to an odd mixture of green and brown. He was sitting on his bed, lacing up his boots, as I entered.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I asked.
“Out.”
“No shit. Where?” I didn’t have time to babysit him tonight.
“Don’t bust a brain cell. I’ll keep out of trouble.” Kendrick shot to his feet and grabbed his jacket from the floor. “Lexi’s at a loose end, and I need my kicks, man. I’m going nuts holed up in this room.” He delved in the pocket, noted the presence of a condom, and tossed the jacket over one shoulder. “Wanna come? I can ask if Tina’s free too.”
“Nah, I’ll pass on the walking STD this time, thanks. I’ve got other plans.”
“What plans? You hooked up without telling me?” he asked, contorting his face as if the possibility were laughable.
I followed him out of the room and jogged down the stairs. “I’m working on it.”
“Yeah? You have someone in mind? Who is it? Do I know her?”
“Kind of.”
He turned to face
me. “Really? Who? Is it that hot chick from the burger joint?”
“Nah, I’m after some higher class action.”
Pappa’s voice prevented Kendrick firing any more questions my way. “Kendrick? Is that you? Feeling better?” He wandered into the hallway. “Good grief. You don’t get those from any illness I know.” Pappa scowled at me. “I expected better of you, Johnny. You told me he was ill and you were taking care of him. You’ve been lying to me for days.”
“I’m sorry, Paps, but I didn’t want to worry you,” I said, wondering how in hell I was going to explain why his grandson’s face was six shades of messed up. I didn’t have to.
Pappa grabbed Kendrick’s chin, and turned his head from side to side. “Who did this?”
“No one, Paps. Bike crash,” Kendrick said, wincing slightly.
“What bike?”
“My mate’s. I was riding pillion. We rode out of town. A few of them were racing, and the bike I was on got out of control and crashed into a tree. I rolled down the banking into a pile of twigs and crap. Scraped the shit out of me.”
“You were racing? It was that Murphy boy wasn’t it? I knew he’d get you into trouble. Why weren’t you wearing a helmet?”
“I was. Strap snapped. Helmet came off. It’s nothing, Paps. Don’t fuss.”
I had to respect my brother’s genius. If there had been a medal for bullshit, he’d have earned his stripes with that excuse.
Paps continued his interrogation. “Have you been to hospital?”
“No need. It was only a couple of bumps and scrapes. I’m good.”
“You should still get looked over. Banging your head is dangerous.”
“I said I’m good.” Kendrick made a break for the exit. “See you later.”
Pappa watched the door close, before his attention slid back to me. “Idiot boy. He’s a danger to himself. Who gets injured in a road accident and doesn’t go to hospital?”
How could I answer without more lies? “Some people, I guess.”
“Hmm.”
“Don’t you believe his story?”
“I’m not sure I believe anything that boy says, nowadays.” Pappa shuffled into the lounge, as I headed for the kitchen to grab a bite. Nerves over my visit to Cora had snuffed my appetite, but I knew I should eat something. I settled for a banana.
