Sleek Comes the Night
Page 4
“Stroke… Stroke… Stroke!” the coxswain bellowed, upping the rate a notch.
This was the last lap for the morning. Nic’s muscles burned, their rhythm sliding in synchrony with the oarsman in front. The river smelled of briny earth, the rising sun rippling its surface in scattered diamonds, quick splashes affirming the boat’s speed. He loved the knowledge his strength added to their swift slice through the water.
The team glided in to the jetty, hassling each other and exchanging congrats for a good session. Their times improved, giving the new team a real shot at the inter-schools championship. Enmasse, the eight ferried the boat and other equipment to the rowing shed.
“Oy! Nic.” There was a volley of whistles and murmured appreciation.
“Yeah?” Nic squatted over his bag, towelling sweat from his face. It was six-thirty a.m. and he’d already moved on in his mind, cataloguing the rest of the day’s burdens.
“Who’s the milf?”
“What?”
“She’s asking for you, big-boy.”
“Woo, hoo!”
He stood, the glare blinding, and turned in the direction of tapped heels on plank. “Nicholas Lawson?”
His stomach contracted. He recognised the accent. Sure enough, a lovely woman that had to be Mira’s mother clipped over. These people were like a virus, hard to shake off once you’d been exposed. She had a brisk manner, adorned in an elegant skirt and jacket, a hint of lace showing. Dark tresses piled in a glossy do and make-up complimented her flawless skin. Gold glinted everywhere. It was hard not to notice her exceptional figure.
“What can I do for you, Mrs…Mira?”
“You have me, Nicholas.” Her voice dripped honey, almost hypnotic. He really hoped none of the guys caught that. He’d never hear the end of it. They’d made themselves visibly scarce, but he knew the worst stirrers snooped nearby. “I am Hanna Arkady. Wife to Anatoly. Mother to Mira. And Aunt to Sasha.”
He battled the urge to mimic the introduction. ‘I am Nicholas Benjamin Lawson. Son of Jonathon. Brother to Samuel. I enjoy pina coladas at sunset. My star sign is Scorpio.’ He extended a hand. “Mrs Arkady. I’m Nic. What can I do for you?”
“Call me Hanna.” Fantastic, he though wryly. More ammunition for the gits giggling like toddlers in the shed. Her cool palm brushed his in a brief squeeze. “I wish to hire you for a job. I understand you clean pools?”
“Ahh, yeah. I’m absolutely booked solid, sorry.” It wasn’t a lie, what with his tutoring commitments. He automatically moved to push hair from his eyes, the habit so ingrained he forgot it was unnecessary. “But I have a colleague who might have slot. Would you like me to pass on your details? Or Mr Jackson at the shop could put you in contact.”
“The shop?”
How did she know he cleaned pools, if not through the shop? “Jackson’s Pool and Spa. It’s on the main strip, when you enter town limits.”
“I see. We shall speak soon, I am sure.”
She minced from the dock, haughtily ignoring the attention of two of his more brazen pals, who’d decided to swan about shirtless for her exit, tensing biceps and glistening from exertion. Nic shook his head. “Himbos,” he muttered.
After extended ogling, which only ended when she drove away in a silver convertible Merc, Nate sidled over, Cody in tow. “Well. Well. Met the neighbour I see. Please tell me I’ve got her slot,” he jauntily raised an eyebrow. Nate was tall and broad and brown-haired. Girls fell over themselves for his handsome charisma. His sleaze didn’t deter them at all. It deterred Nic. Often.
Cody feigned sobbing, gaining a sympathetic head-pat from Nate. “Why do I not have your dumb luck?”
He didn’t need luck, also genetically gifted with dark skin and curly hair. Unlike Nate, whose morals shamed a chimpanzee, Cody had a regular girlfriend and familiarity with the concept of loyalty. His full moniker was Cody Joplin and earned him the nickname CJ.
“Whose neighbour?” Nic had a sinking feeling.
“You don’t know,” they cried in unison.
“It’s priceless,” CJ gazed at Nate in glee.
“The only guy in town in the dark!” Nate grinned back. “Tell me, young Nicholas. Are you in possession of even a speck of testosterone?”
“He was born without that gland. Poor sucker.”
“No.” Nate tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Let us consider the philosophical implications. Maybe he’s the privileged one, and we’re the poor suckers.” Cody looked as though Nate had lost his mind. ”Defenceless under the tyranny of our organs,” he elaborated.
“Of course. But where does free-will figure? If we’re nothing but hormonal chumps.”
Nic rolled his eyes and gathered his gear. “I’ve got an exam.” He didn’t want to know the answer anyway. “Plato. Socrates. See you in school.”
But they kept pace, book-ending him as he made for the showers. “Apparently,” Nate supplied conspirationally, “the Arkady clan owns the house on the hill. Your hill, you fortunate dog.”
“They’ve been living in Europe,” Cody said. “We’re expecting an acquaintance with the delightful Sasha today. He’s enrolled at Sacristy Grammar.”
“Is there any way this information can be wrong?” Nic asked. “And how the hell do you gossiping old biddies know?”
“Our sources are infallible,” Nate said.
“Gossiping old biddies, in fact. Butter them up with a bit of flattery, and they’ll tell you their bra size.”
Nate slapped Cody on the back of his head. “Do I need that mental image? It’s stuck in there! I can’t delete it.”
Nic stopped listening as he breached the tiled amenities, dumping his bag on a bench and readying to disrobe. It had been idle optimism. Mira now lived a stone’s throw from his house, dense forest and a long driveway feeble barriers, especially as her family seemed determined to drag him into their presence.
Maybe it was some European custom, targeting the first male encountered and brow-beating him into submission. There were plenty of potential specimens here. They were smack in the middle of an agricultural belt, teeming with farmhands, stockmen and growers. Why him?
***
Chapter Five