by JD Nixon
“You’re going home now,” he directed firmly, leaving no room for argument.
Because I felt tired anyway, I didn’t debate, nodding agreement while I yawned.
“Tessie,” he said, frowning when I closed my eyes. He shook me. My eyes sprung open with that intense concentration inebriated people have to prove they’re not inebriated. “Tessie, listen to me. Did you sing tonight?”
I nodded in surprise.
“How many songs?” I told him two and he swore under his breath. “Was one of them ‘I Will Survive’?”
“Yes. Why, what’s the matter?” I asked him, growing concerned.
He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “I found this under the patrol car’s wiper when I put Foxy in the car to drive her here.” He handed it to me.
Tessie lovely
That green dress is perfect on you. I’m loving the sight of all that flesh you’re flashing. Very tasty. And I love it when you sing ‘I Will Survive’ – so optimistic of you. I’m not happy about you talking to that man at the bar for so long though. I’ll be telling Jakey about that.
Hope you didn’t waste anyone’s time tonight in Big Town. I was only joking about going there :-)
love always, Red xx
“He’s here in town,” I said, numb. “He didn’t go to Big Town. He lied to me.”
“You positive it’s his handwriting?”
“Yes! Stop asking me that all the time.” The amount of trouble I was in slowly dawned on me. “Have you rung the Super?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m so screwed. She’s going to kill me.”
“Yep,” he agreed. “We’re screwed. You stay here for a few minutes. There are enough people around to keep you safe. I’m going to the foyer where it’s quieter to let her know to call off the surveillance. We can’t have all those cops up all night waiting for something that’s not going to happen.”
I sat back down on the bar stool, waiting anxiously for him to return. I couldn’t express my gratitude to him for taking a bullet for me by ringing the Super. She was going to be angry.
“Trouble?” asked Mike.
I’d forgotten about him, and whirled around in surprise. I nodded unhappily and rested with my chin on my palm, staring at the door, waiting for the Sarge to return. I started biting my nails.
When he walked through the door, I sprang up too quickly and tripped myself on the bar stool, stumbling forward yet again. The two men rushed to save me from falling flat on my face once more and pulled me upright.
“Whatdidshesay? Whatdidshesay?” I asked nervously.
“Her phone was engaged, so I left a message and hung up.”
“My phone’s broken so she can’t contact me. Turn your phone off now so she can’t ring you back.”
“Already done.”
I smiled at him with incredible relief. “Thank you so much, Sarge.”
He put his arm around my shoulder and leaned down close to my face, staring directly into my eyes so that I would pay attention. His warm breath breezed across my face. He’d been eating something minty. “Round everyone up, Tessie. You’re all going home. Enough is enough.”
“Okay,” I agreed easily again and turned to head off. He looked after me in surprise before addressing Mr Love.
“Did you hypnotise her or something? She never does what I ask normally.”
I turned back. “I can hear you, you know!”
“Off you go and do what you’re told,” the Sarge called after me, almost smiling. I shot him a look over my shoulder and managed to pick my way over to Lizzie. She sprawled on one of the corner lounges, her head lolling backwards, lightly snoring. She was in worse shape than me and the only one I cared about tonight because I’d promised Brett I’d look after her. I shook her shoulder and called her name softly.
Slowly, like a deep sea diver rising to the surface, she roused herself into consciousness.
“Time to go, Lizzie. The Sarge is going to give us a lift home. Do you have your handbag?”
She patted her hand around the lounge next to her, panicking when she couldn’t find it. I leaned down and plucked a bag from between her feet.
“Is this it?”
She nodded and stood up, but then clutched my arm. “You haven’t sung anything tonight. I wanted to hear you sing.”
“I did sing, Lizzie. You must have been asleep.”
“I wasn’t asleep! Who the hell sleeps at their own hen’s party?”
I flinched at her vehemence. “Okay. Sorry. Maybe you were in the ladies?”
A notoriously stubborn woman, she decided to dig her heels in. “I’m not going anywhere until you sing. It’s my hen’s party and I want to hear you sing.”
“But it’s late and –”
“I want to hear you sing,” she insisted, plonking herself back down on the lounge. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Shoulders slumping with tiredness, I caved in and unfortunately, the karaoke machine happened to be free. “What do you want to hear?”
“Some party music. Surprise me.”
Well, that’s not going to happen, I thought with not a small amount of snarkiness. Abe hadn’t updated the karaoke songs since he’d installed the machine five years ago, and there was no such thing as a surprise in song choices. Everything had been previously sung to death a million times. Wearily, I scrolled through the list of songs, finally picking one that I thought Lizzie might like.
I had everyone’s attention from the heavy opening guitar riff (one that Jake had tried unsuccessfully to teach me), earning myself a cheer for choosing Joan Jett’s ‘I Love Rock N Roll”. Leaning on the bar, the Sarge raised his palms in a what the hell are you doing – you’re supposed to be going home gesture. I busied myself with the microphone, deliberately ignoring him.
For some reason, whenever I stood on that little stage with a microphone in my hand, my inner extrovert uncurled. Jake and I had performed enough duets on this stage to make me feel comfortable when I stood there. Sometimes it almost felt as though I was singing in front of my bedroom mirror using my hairbrush as a microphone like I did as a kid. And because I knew Nana Fuller had instilled technical competence in me as a singer, I wasn’t as self-conscious as many others about my voice when I sang in public.
I urged the crowd to gather around, reminding them that Lizzie and Brett were soon to be married. A huge cheer almost raised the roof – even from the tourists who didn’t have a clue why they were rejoicing – making Lizzie smile and, yes, even blush a little. I dedicated the song to the happy couple.
It was a great rendition. I felt like a rock star, strutting around on the stage, nearly slipping off it a few times. I gave it everything I had, singing my heart out, the crowd enthusiastically if not tunefully, joining in the chorus. At the end I bowed a couple of times before realising the men in the crowd were only encouraging me to do so because they could see down the top of my dress when I did.
“Stage dive!” shouted someone, and it was taken up with great enthusiasm by the rest of the crowd, until they were all shouting and clapping, “Stage dive! Stage dive!” And at that moment, filled with the exhilaration of a good performance and too much alcohol, it seemed like a brilliant idea. I moved to the edge of the stage and flung my arms out in preparation, laughing.
“Tessie, NO!” I heard the Sarge’s loud voice and saw him as a blur as he ran towards me, but I’d already launched myself off the tiny stage into the crowd. Somehow it was a successful stage dive, despite the fact that most people were inebriated and the stage was only half-a-metre high. I was caught, body surfed for a few minutes, groped a little bit (which earned those responsible an ungentle elbow in the stomach afterwards) and let down gently onto my two feet, safe and sound. I threw my arms up in the air in triumph and we all cheered.
“We’re leaving now,” the Sarge snapped, putting his hands on my shoulders and propelling me towards the door.
“Free lift home by the Sarge in the blue light taxi!�
�� I called loudly over my shoulder at the crowd. When a group of people stepped forward, I hastily clarified, “Hen’s party women only. Sorry.”
Amid the groans, ten of the fifteen women decided to cut their losses and head on home, most of them farmers. Even with my fuzzy brain, I managed to calculate that ten women plus me weren’t going to fit into the patrol car no matter how hard we tried. The Sarge was going to have to run shifts.
In front of everyone, we argued in fierce whispers for a good couple of minutes over whether I should sit in the front seat for each trip where he could keep an eye on me. Fortunately I won the argument and he screeched off with his first load of four passengers, while I waited outside the pub with the rest of the women. We sat on its tiny front log fence, freezing in the night air.
“You weren’t going to say goodbye?” asked a voice tinged with sadness from behind me. Mike Amour leaned against a tree trunk, lighting up a cigarette. I half-smiled apologetically.
“Sorry, Mr Love, but the Sarge frogmarched me out of there before I had a chance to say goodbye to anyone.”
I gripped myself tighter, bunching up closer to Lizzie, trying to steal some of her body heat. When the Sarge returned, he ushered another four women into the car, throwing Mike another suspicious glance. He took a moment to drape his leather jacket over my shoulders. I clutched it around me, gratefully savouring his recent body warmth, and also his intriguing and sophisticated cologne trapped in the material. I had no idea what it was, but I liked it a lot.
Mike finished his cigarette and ground the butt under his shoe before giving me a resigned farewell. I turned back to him then and wished him well for the rest of his trip. I couldn’t resist reminding him about the dangers of Mount Big and how deceptively treacherous it was.
“It was nice to meet you, Just Tess,” he said and thrust out his hand. I reached over to shake his hand. “Maybe we might run into each other again before I leave town?”
“Maybe,” I smiled, eagerly jumping to my feet when the patrol car returned.
The Sarge helped Lizzie into the back as well as another two women who’d wandered out after changing their mind about staying, hoping a ride home was still on offer. Gretel wasn’t one of them I noticed with displeasure.
He virtually pushed me into the front seat and drove away from the pub for the third time. He dropped each woman off, taking the time to drive into their property, right up to their house, and then walking them to their door. Where needed, he lent a supportive arm, even going inside with them for a few minutes, either delivering them to their partner or making sure they’d be okay for the rest of the night. I watched everything he did from the warmth of the car, his last passenger. When he returned to the car for the last time, I was yawning hugely and leaning my head against the window, my eyes heavy.
At his house, he roused me from sleep and helped me out of the car. I’d taken off my high heels while I’d waited for him and dangled them from one hand as I almost fell out of the car.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” I complained when my bare feet hit his gravel drive. “It hurts.”
Muttering under his breath, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, marching towards the verandah.
“Hey!” I screeched, waving my arms and legs helplessly. “You can’t do that! That’s illegal! Put me down now!”
Up the stairs he went, only depositing me on my feet again when he was ready to open the door.
“Don’t you dare ever do that again!” I said in white hot fury.
“Or what?” he asked smiling, pushing me through doorway into the hallway, his hand in the middle of my back.
“I don’t know, but I’ll think of something though. And you’re going to be really sorry when I do,” I threatened.
He laughed. “Okay, Miss Huffy. It’s time for you to go to sleep. You know where everything is.”
He stalked off down the hallway towards the kitchen. I trailed after him and leaned on the doorway tiredly, watching him as he thirstily drank a glass of tap water. He glanced at me, took a fresh glass from a cupboard and poured me a glass of cold water from the fridge, handing it to me.
“Why not tap water for me too?” I asked, gulping down the deliciously cold water.
He smiled briefly, before rinsing and placing his glass upside down on the drying rack. “Only the best for you, Tessie.”
My shoulders fell in shame and I felt a little teary. “You were so nice to all the women tonight and you’re so nice to me all the time and I’m always so horrible to you and so ungrateful.”
He took the glass off me and rinsed it, before taking hold of my shoulders and turning me around. “Go on, beautiful, off to bed before you start blubbing and telling me that you love me.”
“But you’re so nice all the time,” I insisted, my voice wobbly.
He sighed wearily. “Yep, that’s me. Mr Nice Guy. What man doesn’t love being called that?”
I stopped and slumped against the hall wall. I shut my eyes for a second, but then everything spun around and I listed to the right. “I don’t think I should have had that last drink.”
He clutched my arm to keep me upright, and laughed softly. “Or the ones before it. You need to sleep. Come on, be a good girl for me and go to bed. I’m exhausted.”
He pushed me towards the bathroom where, under his patient instruction, I brushed my teeth and washed the makeup off my face. He guided me to my room and handed me my pyjamas. My brain befuddled, I struggled to put on the clothes, hopping about on one foot, thumping into the wall repeatedly and crashing into the furniture, swearing loudly.
He knocked on the door. “Are you all right in there?”
I sat heavily on the bed, completely naked and holding the twisted t-shirt and long pants limply from one hand, on the verge of frustrated tears. “These clothes you gave me don’t work.”
I distinctly heard a shout of laughter from the other side of the door.
“Are you laughing at me?” I screeched.
“Of course not,” he soothed. “Can I come in? Are you decent?” He rattled the handle of the door.
“No! Don’t even think about it!” I screamed, jumping up in panic, my arms covering myself, tripping over my high heels, which I’d discarded carelessly in the middle of the floor. I crashed to the ground, grazing my knees on the carpet, swearing up a storm. Angry tears trickled down my cheeks.
“Tessie, are you okay?” he asked anxiously from the other side. “I’m coming in.”
“No! Don’t you dare come in!” I shouted from the floor, pulling myself to my feet by holding onto the bedspread. Hiding behind the door, I opened it only far enough to thrust the clothes out to him. “Fix these for me.”
He laughed quietly to himself the whole time. “You have one leg of the pants inside out.” He sorted them out and handed them back. “Try to put them on now.”
I closed the door and after more hopping and bouncing off the wall, I managed to pull the pants on. Then I noticed the tag at the front and groaned loudly. “You didn’t fix them properly. They’re round the wrong way.”
“Take them off, turn them around, and put them back on again,” he said patiently through his quiet laughter.
“Why is everything so hard tonight?” I moaned as I took them off and put them on the right way.
“I can’t imagine,” he chuckled and handed the t-shirt into me through the gap in the door. “Now remember, your head goes through the large hole, not one of the two small holes. They’re for your arms.”
I finally managed to dress myself and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to do up my knife sheath.
“Can I come in now?”
“Yes,” I mumbled, still struggling with the clasp of the sheath.
“Do you need a hand with that?”
“Yes, please.”
I flopped back onto his very comfy queen-sized guest bed while he sat on the bed and fastened my sheath around my thigh for me. While he was occupied, I studied his face. When we’d first met I hadn�
��t thought he was particularly good-looking as he’d seemed unapproachable, his features stern. But now I could appreciate why a lot of women found him attractive, even with the bruising around his nose.
A small crease appeared between his nicely shaped black eyebrows, and he pursed his lips slightly as he concentrated.
“Where do you have the knife while you’re sleeping?”
“Huh?” I asked, distracted by the feel of his fingers grazing my thigh. There weren’t too many men in my life who’d ever touched me so intimately. My heart began to hammer.
When his fingers brushed over my inner thigh again, sudden desire jolted through my body, shocking me and making me gasp. He stopped what he was doing and raised his eyes to mine. I pressed my lips together tightly. That forehead crease deepened for a few seconds before he returned to his task.
I focused on his hands, unable to stop myself from wondering what it would feel like to have those strong masculine fingers stroking my naked back or caressing my breasts. What would those lips feel like kissing my neck and my shoulders? Would his eyes change colour to that dark stormy ocean blue when he was aroused? Would he tease or be a serious lover, or would he tease until the lovemaking became too intensely ardent to be anything but serious?
Oh God! Where the hell was Jakey when I needed him?
Jakey’s never around when you need him, taunted some voice from deep inside my mind. Where did that thought come from and why was I thinking about the Sarge in such a way? My thoughts jumbled in my mind, but they were wrong and disloyal and confusing.
You’re not thinking straight, I reassured myself. It’s the alcohol doing the thinking.
In vino veritas, mocked that other voice.
Shut up! I screamed at it silently. I jammed my eyes shut and blocked that traitorous voice from my mind.
The Sarge didn’t respond to me immediately, his attention all on the sheath. “Um, your knife? Where do you position it while you sleep?” I wasn’t sure if his voice was a little hoarser than normal or if I only imagined it.
