The Twenty-One (Emerald Cove #2)

by Lauren K. McKellar

  Hope hollers and cheers, the alcohol inside me buzzes, and I get caught up in the moment. I spin, and turn, and tease, and taunt, and Joel does exactly the same back to me. You couldn’t wipe the grin off my face if you tried. Because it’s totally daggy, and totally uncool, but without a doubt, it’s fun. The kind of fun that seizes your chest and makes you giddy from smiling, unable to stop.

  The music turns slow, and Joel steps into me, until one of my feet is trapped between his, the heat of his body almost palpable against my skin. He offers the microphone to my lips, and in those close quarters, his body sheltering my own, his lips close enough to lick, there’s something sexual about the gesture. Something much more electric than just the music pumping through the speakers.

  I open my mouth and breathe the words about it turning colder, and the summer ending. I make the mistake of looking into Joel’s eyes.

  There, I find something sad.

  Something finite.

  I slow as he sings his words, stepping closer still, until our bodies are a whisper from each other. My voice shakes as I sing the next line, and even though we’re in the middle of a bar, all eyes on us, for the briefest of moments I hope he’s going to kiss me, because those pink lips look so damn kissable right now.

  The music changes, and we both gear up for the final word of the song. It’s the moment that will see us kiss, or change this moment from sexually and somehow emotionally-charged to crowd-pleasing. To playing up to the audience. Somehow, I’m out of breath from the dancing, or maybe it’s one too many drinks, or maybe it’s the emotion of it all. My chest rises and falls at a speed not natural to me.

  Joel winks at me, and it says so much. It says ‘ham it up’ and ‘let it go’ all at once.

  “Nii ... iiiiiiights,” we sing in nasal unison, and the choir on the backing track demands more behind us.

  When the final note of the song finishes, Joel grabs my hand and raises it in the air, then jerks it down and we full-body bow to the standing ovation of a group of people I presume are his friends and Hope, who has at some point walked over to join their table.

  “Give it up again for Joel and his friend,” the MC announces, striding over and reclaiming his microphone from Joel’s tightly clasped grip.

  He takes the cordless piece of equipment away, but Joel and I still stand there, our chests heaving, our eyes locked. Joel grins, and it’s so perfect that a piece of me wants to fall in it. “Bring back any memories?”

  I beam in return. “One or two.”

  He raises his hand, and for a painstakingly long moment I think he’s going to touch my lower back, my arm, my cheek.

  But he drops his stray hand just as quickly, as if the errant thought caught him by surprise almost as much as it did me.

  “Get a room!” Someone in the audience calls out, and it breaks any spell we could have been under. I giggle nervously, and Joel extends his arm, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him and off the stage.

  We join his group of friends and Hope, all of whom aren’t shy to congratulate us on our performance.

  “That was amazing,” a girl gushes. She grabs a beer from the table and shoves it into Joel’s chest. “Here. Drink.”

  “Thanks, Fiona.” He lifts the bottle and drinks.

  I look to Hope. “Cheers, chicky.” She hands me a whiskey sour and clinks my glass with her own. “Never thought I’d see you do karaoke just for some guy.”

  My chest flushes. I look around the room. Is it hot in here?

  “Never thought I would either.”

  Silence settles over the table, and then the girl stands up and offers her hand to me. “Fiona,” she says.

  “Marc,” a guy with short brown hair says. He has a kind of surfer vibe going on.

  “Kohl,” the final guy says, shaking my hand then running his own through his thick black hair. Hope almost drools.

  “Ellie,” I say.

  Fiona’s glass drops to the table where she’s sitting. She snaps her neck to Joel. “The Ellie?”

  One side of his lips rise in a smile. “The Ellie Mayfield,” Joel finishes, and I pretend that my insides aren’t twisting themselves in knots.

  “So do you guys often come out to do karaoke?” I ask.

  Fiona almost spits out the mouthful of red wine she was in the middle of swallowing. Her hands shoot to her mouth. Kohl sniggers.

  “Not exactly.” Marc shakes his head. “This was just another of Joely’s challenges.”

  “Conquered in style, my friend.” Fiona nods, then lifts her glass. “To Joel!”

  “To Joel!” everyone echoes, Hope and I included.

  “What do you mean challenges?” Hope asks.

  “Ah ...” Fiona says. She pulls out a vacant seat next to her and gestures for me to sit, which I do, in between her and Hope. Joel takes a seat across the table from me next to Marc and Kohl, and I almost wish he were sitting somewhere else. Somewhere where it would be less obvious if I stared at him.

  “I’m completing twenty-one challenges before I turn twenty-one,” Joel explains.

  I cock my head, curious. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, a bunch of my family and friends set me a list of twenty-one things to do before I get to twenty-one. Sort of like ... a rite of passage into adulthood, if you will.”

  “Like a bucket list?” Hope frowns.

  Marc nods. “Yeah,” he says, “only a whole lot less ...”

  “Deadly?” Hope supplies.

  “I was gonna say expensive,” Marc jokes, and we all laugh.

  “So what kind of challenges have you had?” I ask.

  “Well, this was one. Marc here set me the challenge of singing karaoke.” Joel slaps Marc on the back. “Although at the time I didn’t realise I’d have such an excellent singing partner to complete the task with.”

  “Does that mean he has to do it again?” Kohl muses.

  Fiona shoots him a death glare. “I think, after the breakup with Vanessa, he can catch a break on this one.”

  The table falls silent, and so do I.

  “So anyway,” Fiona chatters on, “what about you two? Do you always come out on karaoke night?”

  Hope shakes her head. “I didn’t realise it was karaoke here tonight. I’ve only been once before, and it was late, and to be honest ...” she scrunches up her nose, “I remember it more for the whiskey.”

  “A lady after my own heart.” Kohl holds up his glass in her direction.

  “What can I say? I have good taste.” Hope shrugs. “And after the function we were at earlier ...” She mock shudders, and I laugh.

  “It wasn’t all bad,” I say, but my eyes rest on Joel, because I swear he’s looking into me, looking through me right now. “We were at the opening of an art gallery. It was a work thing for my mum.”

  “So you attend your mum’s event functions. Don’t you find that boring?” Fiona asks, then flinches. “Ow! Joel that hurt!”

  “Sorry,” he says, but a smile twists his lips, and Fiona soon laughs along with him.

  “Y’know, they’re not exactly fun. But she’s my mum, and it’s ...” I pause, struggling to find the words to explain. How do you say because after my father died, I picked up the pieces? I promised I’d always be there to pick up the pieces?

  I can’t find the words to explain that to a group of virtual strangers. Instead, I settle for, “I guess sometimes it’s just easier not to say no. I often help out her and my sister, even if it might not be what I want.”

  Silence falls across the table, and a particularly raucous group of guys to our left burst into laughter sprinkled with applause as one of them staggers over to the microphone.

  “Sometimes you have to fight for what you want.” Joel’s voice is low, and his eyes dark. His words go straight to my heart.

  “I ...” I open and close my mouth, unsure of what to say. The way he looks at me, it’s as if we’re the only two people in the room. As if no one else can hear the words coming out of his mouth.
/>
  “You can’t save everybody, Ellie.”

  The moment ends when the cocktail waitress comes over to clear our glasses and ask if we want another round. We all shake our heads, no. It’s getting near midnight, and if Hope and I want to catch a ride back to the EC with Mum’s driver, we’re going to have to head back to the gallery soon.

  “Well, it was very nice meeting you all.” Hope shrugs on her jacket, and I do the same. Kohl, Marc, Fiona and Joel all nod and smile, and as a group we pay our tabs and walk outside where we attempt to flag down two cabs.

  A yellow car with the vacant light on top pulls to the kerb, and Fiona pushes Hope toward it. “You guys go first. We’ll grab the next one.”

  We all hug like long-lost, newly-found friends. I save Joel for last. He grips me with ferocity, and the heat coming from his body makes me feel safe. At home. I pause there in his arms, waiting for more. For proof that this connection I’ve been almost sure I’m feeling isn’t one-sided.

  Ask for my number. Please ask for my number.

  “Safe travels, Miss Mayfield.” His breath is warm against my ear.

  I pull back slowly, and look into his eyes. His breath causes tiny clouds of mist to fog away from his mouth and over mine.

  “C’mon, Ellie,” Hope calls from the car. “We do not want to have to catch the train again.”

  I nod, and slowly pull back out of Joel’s embrace. “It was really nice seeing you.”

  Joel gives a small nod, and I walk backward to the car. He smiles, but doesn’t move to stop me. I try to push down the hurt. Is this really it? Is this the last time I’ll see him?

  With each step toward the car, I imagine a new rationale for the heavy sense of dejection I’m feeling. Maybe I imagined the chemistry. Maybe he told his friends about me, but it hadn’t been nice. Maybe he’s being sensible and giving himself time to heal after the whole Vanessa fiasco. Maybe.

  My knees hit the metal of the car door and I give him one last look, then sit down and swing my legs in in front of me. I pull on the door and it slams shut. Through the glass, I take one glance back at the four of them, Fiona waving her hands dramatically as a taxi speeds past, Kohl and Marc deep in conversation about something or other. Joel still staring at me.

  “You’re looking at him like a lovesick puppy,” Hope says to me, then to the taxi driver, “The Constantina Gallery, please.”

  “Right. On Main—”

  He never gets to finish that sentence because the door to the taxi swings open. Joel leans into me. His chest rises and falls in quick succession, as if he had to run a mile to get here, and I wonder if mentally perhaps he did.

  “What are you doing next Thursday morning?” he breathes. I can’t stop the smile that flushes my face.

  “Is he coming too?” the driver grunts.

  “No,” Joel says, then looks at me again. Mischief lights up his eyes.

  “Nothing.”

  “Meet me at The View café at six,” he says.

  I cock my head. “In the morning?”

  He nods, and the smile that accompanies his words is truly heart-melting. “It’ll be worth it. I promise.”

  “The meter’s running, you two,” the driver says, tapping the glass screen that has numbers rolling across it.

  My mind whirls. I’m going to see him again. And maybe this isn’t the smart decision, or the safe one, especially given our past, but I want this more than anything. I want this with everything that I have.

  “Okay.”

  As soon as the word leaves my mouth, Joel’s smile gets even bigger. “You know, I think this could be the start of an epic story.”

  I laugh. “Get out of the cab, Joel. I’ll see you Thursday.”

  He steps back and shuts the taxi door, clapping the roof of the vehicle in send-off. I don’t stop smiling, tilting my head back to look at him as we pull away from the kerb and off through the deserted Sydney night streets.

  “Something you want to tell me?” Hope asks, and I grin. Because this might be the most exciting thing I’ve done in years.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The time before dawn is one I like the most. It’s when the old white beach house is bathed in sunlight, the early-morning rays filtered through the pine tree branches in zebra stripes. It’s when the world is still before the rush of commuters from Emerald Cove to Sydney kicks in. It’s when the sounds of waves crashing, birds calling, are the only signs of life.

  They’re not as ugly as the rest of the world.

  And ugly makes me think of Joel. Because that word is everything he’s not. My mind swims with thoughts of him, his voice, his laugh, his smile. It’s been three days since the karaoke bar, and I can’t get him out of my mind, even though I know I should still be mad at him for what he did.

  “Summer lovin’ ...” I softly sing, a smile creeping up my cheeks.

  I prop one foot up on a seat at the dining room table, knotting my laces through then, prop my foot down and bang. The front door slams open.

  “Hellooooo!”

  I don’t have to turn around. I just know.

  “Sissy!” The unsteady thud of feet not dissimilar to a newborn pony’s thud across the floor, then two warm arms wrap around my waist.

  I straighten, and try not to breathe in too deeply. With the amount of fumes wafting off her, I could get drunk.

  I turn around and she relaxes her grip. Mascara tracks down her cheeks like tiny ants, and her blonde hair is wild. Somehow, on her, the look is sex-tousled, not homeless, as I’m sure it would appear if I wore it.

  I haven’t seen her since Mum’s function on Wednesday, and yet it seems as if she’s been drinking ever since.

  “We need to talk about last week,” I say, my voice terse.

  “What ‘bout it?” Dani asks, then claps her hand over her mouth. “Oh ... the bags ...”

  “What were you thinking?” I ask, shaking my head. “I had to stuff all those bags by myself, and lie to Mum about it.”

  Dani shrugs one shoulder then sidles up to me, wrapping her arm around my body. “I’m sorry, Ell Bell.”

  “I know you need the money. It’s not like you’re working anywhere else ...” I trail off. “Anyway, don’t do it again, okay?”

  She shakes her head so fast and so far it might fall off. “Never. Never ever.”

  “And lay off the alcohol! You were drunk last week at the bar, and clearly now.”

  “I’m just having a little fun, Ellie. Weren’t you ever young?”

  It’s only then I notice Zy in the doorway. He leans against the frame, his arms folded across his chest. Those dark eyes study us, and I frown. He should know better.

  He’s her best friend. He’s supposed to keep her safe.

  “Where you goin’?” Dani slurs.

  “Just for a run.”

  “Ha!” Dani snorts, as if the very idea of exercise is ridiculous. “What for?”

  “To stay fit.” I take her hands and place them by her sides.

  “Well, I think running is shit. Don’t you, Zy?” Dani spins, and grips the chair to steady herself as momentum sees her falling too fast.

  And that right there, that very moment is Dani in a nutshell. Momentum that’s fallen too far. Too hard. Too fast.

  “You’re being stupid, Ellie. Just come hang out with us. We can have wine ... breakfast drinks!” She throws one hand in the air, her voice rising with glee.

  “I’ll give it a miss.” I walk toward the door, and even though I try to block out those sounds, they haunt me as I go.

  “You’re so fucking boring, Ellie.”

  There.

  Those words.

  I baulk, then straighten my back. I can’t show weakness in front of her.

  They say sticks and stones can break your bones, but names will never hurt you. Whoever came up with that was wrong.

  Words are powerful weapons. Words are capable of rendering me black and blue with the force of their vicious attack. They’re brittle and barbed, and the
y never miss. It’s a direct assault to the heart.

  “Take care of her,” I mutter to Zy as I walk past. His eyes follow me out the front door, but I don’t stop and ask him for more information. I don’t ask him where they’ve been, or what she’s been doing all night.

  I gave up asking a long time ago. I gave up asking when I learnt I wouldn’t like the answer.

  Because words may hurt me, but my sister hurts me even more.

  ***

  Colin and I spend the one-hour car trip up to the Hunter in silence. My mind is a million miles from here. It’s on a little girl who used to be so precious. Who’d pick flowers in the park for Mum and me, surprising us with sweet-smelling gifts on our pillows. The little girl who spent every day by our father’s side from the second he was admitted to hospital, leaving him only to make more picnic lunches for the family to share.

  Since he died, she’s been on some kind of drinking spree. It’s as if she’s too afraid to slow down.

  And I’m worried she might crash.

  I take my phone out from my purse and tap out a text to Zy, quick and to the point.

  Ellie: Please make sure she doesn’t vomit in her sleep. I’ll be back from work to check on her by midday.

  “Penny for them,” Colin says, bringing me back to the present.

  I shake my head. “Not even worth that.”

  “Your thoughts are worth far more than a penny.” Colin smiles as he pulls his Audi into the lot at the cheese factory. “That’s why it’s so important to me that you come and taste the cheese.”

  I smile. “After two years of working for you I’ve finally been upgraded, huh?”

  “Yes.” Colin’s nod is curt. “Just don’t tell Sharon.”

  “Ha!” I laugh, thinking of Colin’s wife. I’ve met her a few times, when I’ve gone around to their place to pick up and drop off baskets. She’s a sweet older woman with a penchant for cats and green lacy aprons, the kind of lady I’d want for a grandmother.

  We exit the car and head to the cheese factory where Bruno, the Italian cheese-maker, greets us both with kisses on either cheek. Somehow, it’s inherently less wanky than the cheek-kissing that went on at the art gallery the other night.