Attraction: (A Temptation Series Stand-alone) (The Temptation Series Book 4)

by Golland, KM

  ‘Shit!’ I said out loud.

  ‘Yes, here’s your shit. Now hand over the cash,’ a voice said in response.

  I looked up to find smart kid dangling the baggie which now contained Sasha’s turd. He was offering it to me and, with his other hand out, it was clear I had to pay up.

  Ahh ... shiit!

  ***

  For the week that followed, I popped in and out of work sporadically. It was school holidays so I was not required to be there daily, but had to perform some admin work in preparation for the following semester.

  So for the holiday period my timetable was flexible and, because of that, I found myself to be Libby’s slave, subjected to her threats of having to clean the floors in our house.

  Just as I was about to switch on the vacuum, my phone rang.

  I smiled at the perfectly timed interruption. Lib, on the other hand, just shook her head from her seated position at the dining table. She was planning the first week of term three’s tasks. ‘Don’t think you are getting out of vacuuming,’ she grumbled without looking up from her laptop screen.

  ‘Of course not,’ I responded before answering my phone. It was Lexi. ‘What up, Duffy?’ I said with a proud smile.

  There was a short pause before she answered. ‘Not up the duff any more, hon. I lost the baby.’

  My breath caught and my chest panged. Slowly, I lowered myself to sit on the couch, gripping the light brown cushion as I came to rest. I wanted nothing more than to apologise for my highly inappropriate words, but I was too ashamed and disgusted with myself to even speak.

  Unable to control my emotions, I let out a sob as tears wet my cheeks.

  ‘Carls? You there?’ she said softly.

  ‘Uh huh,’ I choked out, trying to avoid making her aware of my emotional state.

  ‘You all right?’

  Am I all right? I said in disbelief, then sniffed. ‘I just shamefully make a joke about you being pregnant when you’re no longer pregnant, and you ask if I’m all right? What’s fucking wrong with this picture?’ I spat out angrily. I was so furious with my lack of decorum.

  ‘Carls,’ she sighed, ‘how were you to know?’

  I knew she was trying to make me feel better. It was what Alexis did. She was forever attempting to make people feel comfortable in their own skin, and pushing aside her feelings was her way of trying to make me feel better. Even though I was an inconsiderate bitch.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said bitterly. ‘I’m a bitch, a horrible best friend.’

  ‘You are not ... well ... you are a bitch, but you are definitely not a horrible best friend,’ she said with a sad laugh.

  ‘Yeah? Well, I disagree. So what happened, Lex? Do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘Sure. There’s not much to say really. I fell down the stairs, broke my ankle and miscarried,’ she explained a little tersely.

  I gripped at my chest. ‘Jesus, fuck! When did this happen?’

  ‘Monday, just past. I was in hospital pretty much all last week.’

  Shooting up from the couch, I began to make my way to my room to grab my car keys. ‘Right, I’m coming over there.’ My eyes met Libby’s and her eyebrows rose. She had closed her laptop and was now completely focussed on my conversation.

  ‘No. I actually just want to be with Bryce, Carls. But thank you.’

  Turning back around and pacing toward the window, I placed my hand on my forehead. ‘Oh, poor Bryce. He was really looking forward to being a dad. How is he?’

  ‘He’s coping. Anyway, hon, as you can imagine, I need to call a few people, and next on my list is Tash. I will need a moment to prepare myself, so I’d better get going.’

  I laughed mildly, trying to lighten the mood for Alexis’ sake. Ringing family and friends with this news must be absolutely dreadful for her. ‘I understand. Okay, if you need me for anything, please call. I love you, you know,’ I whispered quietly.

  ‘I do know. I love you too. ’Bye.’

  As we disconnected our call, I let the tears fall freely. Poor Lexi. Poor Bryce. Hearing about people losing their baby always ripped me to shreds. But hearing that my best friend, my ally, my sister from another mother, had lost her child made my heart crumble to pieces.

  This traumatic event, Alexis and Bryce’s traumatic event, had now reinforced the fact that I would NEVER EVER have children of my own.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Two weeks had passed since I’d made that horrid inconsiderate slip of the tongue to Alexis, and I wanted to prove, if not to my friends then at least to myself, that I could be a better friend. That night, when Alexis had told me about her miscarriage, I organised a bunch of flowers to be sent to the apartment. I couldn’t take back what I had said, but I was a girl, and I knew all too well that flowers always made the biggest of fuck-ups seem not so bad. Plus Alexis loved flowers and, regardless of whether she’d accepted my apology or not, I wanted her to have pretty buds of colour to look at and find some form of comfort in.

  During our telephone conversation, she’d asked to be left alone; to be given time with Bryce to grieve. And as much as it damn near killed me, I respected her request. I wanted nothing more than to take her out — broken foot or no broken foot — plaster her with alcohol and make her forget what had happened. But I knew deep down that it would not benefit her in the long run, nor was it a permanent fix. Not that there could be a permanent fix for what she had lost.

  So instead I gave her space, knowing, like so many times before, that she would call upon me when she needed me — it was how we rolled. What she didn’t know was that her request for solitude had an expiration date. She had one month, one month before I tracked her down.

  ***

  For the duration of term three at Yellow Bark Primary School, the curriculum’s focus was on emergency situations. I had arranged for members of the police force, fire brigade, ambulance and SES to visit the school in the coming weeks in order to educate the children through demonstrations and impart information on what to do in the case of an emergency.

  Also, as part of Emergency Education Month, the staff had to participate in a first aid refresher course. Pressing Send, I forwarded a memo to the teaching staff’s email accounts, reminding them of the course and that it was compulsory to attend.

  Before I was able to move on to my next task for the day, my phone beeped indicating a message.

  Back in Melbourne. Ready for a soaking? ~ Derek

  His messages had a tendency to catch me off-guard, but to be honest, for the past couple of weeks, I hadn’t really given the sexy firefighter much thought. I’d been depressed and moping around after Lexi revealed her bad news. Then I’d had my new Carly-is-the-best-friend-you-can-have makeover and had been busy pulling my weight around the house ever since. Not to mention the enormous workload that came with the start of a school term.

  Feeling in a daring mood, I figured I’d give him a run for his money. At Lexi’s party, he seemed to like that.

  I’m not the moist type ~ Carly

  Almost instantly, a response came through.

  Trust me, I can make you wet ~ Derek

  Fuck me stupid. He is already on his way to making that happen. Going by one of Carly’s Cardinals — ‘Do not let penises have the upper hand’ — I opted to be brazen rather than modest. Who am I kidding? Modesty is not a part of my repertoire.

  Oh, yeah? How exactly? ~ Carly

  Again, faster than Quick Draw McGraw, he drew one out and fired it back at me.

  I have a hose ~ Derek

  Oh, and how I want to see this hose, touch this hose and douse my fiery hole with it. Caramello Koala had me hook line and sinker and I couldn’t help but play with him.

  It must be a pretty good hose ~ Carly

  It’s the best. But there’s only one way for you to find out ~ Derek

  Let me guess. You’ll need to use it on me ~ Carly

  That’s the plan ~ Derek

  Closing my eyes, I struggled to maintain my c
omposure for what I was about to type.

  I like your plan ~ Carly

  You free tomorrow night? ~ Derek

  Sweet baby cheeses, yes! But no. OMG! I need to de-fuzz. I need a colonic irrigation. I need to sharpen my nails. I need to strengthen my facial muscles.

  Yes ~ Carly

  Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

  Sweet. I’ll pick you up at six. What’s your address? ~ Derek

  As I pressed Send and forwarded my address to Derek, a timid voice captured my attention. ‘Miss Henkley, I don’t feel very well.’

  I looked up to find a rather sickly-looking Samuel Barker — aged six. To say he was many shades of green did not do his complexion justice; he was as emerald as the city of Oz. Eww, I hate this part of my job. I hate vomit ... and sneezing ... and snot ... and toileting accidents.

  ‘Samuel, do you feel like you want to throw up?’ I asked quickly.

  He nodded gingerly. ‘Yes.’

  Standing up at the speed of light, I pushed my chair back. Every fibre in me wanted to scream, RUN! RUN THE FUCK TO THE TOILET! But I didn’t. I knew very well that I was required to remain calm, although calm in this situation went against my better judgement — that kid needed to haul arse to the dunny and fast. ‘Well, quickly go to the sick bay toilet. I’ll be right behind you,’ I informed him.

  He moved off the step and hurriedly made his way to the bathroom and, just as he bent over the bowl, a spewnami hurtled from his mouth.

  I held my breath and pulled a face that probably had me looking like a pufferfish. Then, gently rubbing his back, I comforted him as he continued to vomit. ‘It’s all right, mate. Get it all out. You’ll feel so much better.’

  Fuck me, this better not be gastro.

  ***

  What’s that saying ... famous last words, or put the mockers on something? Well, whatever the saying is, it fucking happened. Yes, Samuel’s spewnami was the result of gastroenteritis, which also resulted in me getting gastroenteritis, which in turn meant my Derek-hose-sampling never occurred.

  The morning of our date night — if that’s what we were to have — I got struck down with the highly contagious bug. I’d had to text Derek and tell him I needed a raincheck. Unfortunately, I got the impression he hadn’t believed me. It was now four days later and still not one text from him.

  The relentless stomach bug spread right through the school faculty. Mind you, given that Lib and I lived together, it was inevitable that she, too, would contract the virus.

  I’d been vomiting on and off for days and was only just now able to keep my food down. Lib, however, was still in the stages of everything-is-gonna-come-up.

  As she walked into the lounge room wearing her pink fluffy slippers, Tweety Bird flannel PJs and carrying a bottle of water, I felt her pain. I’d gained enough energy to shower and do my hair. Lib, on the other hand, looked like a walking troll doll, her red hair somehow defying gravity.

  ‘Feelin’ any better?’ I asked from my curled position on the couch.

  She flopped down beside me and commandeered the other end of the seat, resting her feet against mine. ‘No.’

  Adjusting my blanket, I spread it out so that it covered her as well. ‘You contracted it roughly a day after me, so you should start to improve tomorrow.’

  ‘I hope so,’ she groaned. ‘I’ve got so much stuff to get through in preparation for the emergency services members who are visiting early next week.’

  I flicked the channel of the TV, searching for something decent. ‘Can you not ask the substitute to get started with it?’

  ‘Of course, and she will. I just had some special activities that I wanted to do with my kids.’

  Lib loved being a teacher. LOVED it. She was forever going far beyond the call of duty and what was expected of her. I didn’t get it ... not that I really needed to.

  ‘Being sick sucks,’ I said resolutely. ‘I had a hot date planned the other night which I had to cancel. And, to top it off, he is a firefighter. Lib, my vagina is a blaze and I wanted him to put it out with his fire hose.’

  She raised her eyebrow, then scowled and rubbed her tummy. Knowing these signs, I calculated in my head that she had less than five minutes before she was blowing chunks again.

  ‘Where’d you meet him?’ Lib asked before taking what looked like a laboured sip of her water.

  ‘You want me to get you anything, a dry cracker?’ I suggested. ‘It may make you feel a little better.’

  She shook her head. ‘No thanks, it will barely see my oesophagus. I don’t want to waste a good cracker.’

  I let out a small giggle. Lib was the biggest tight-arse I had ever come across. She wasted nothing. ‘You need to eat something. You can’t just rely on water.’

  She groaned. ‘Do we have any more of those Hydralyte ice blocks? I’ll suck on one of those.’

  I stood up. ‘Hang on. I’ll check the freezer.’

  Shuffling into the kitchen in my moccasins and yellow duck PJs, I opened the freezer and searched for the hydrating ice stick.

  ‘So, where’d you meet this fireman?’ Lib called out from the other room.

  ‘He’s Alexis’ boyfriend’s best friend,’ I shouted back, delving into the depths of the freezer.

  Managing to find the ice treat for her, I snipped the plastic top off and wrapped it in a paper towel. I’m such a good fucking friend.

  Just as I was about to head back into the lounge, Sasha barked from her position outside and not so subtly scratched the glass sliding door with her paw. I opened it and let her in. ‘Who’s a good girl?’ I praised in my Scooby Doo voice.

  She wagged her tail and gave me a smile — at least, it looked like a smile — then proceeded into the lounge. I followed her and handed Libby the ice block. ‘Here. This will at least hydrate you.’

  ‘Thanks. So ... tell me more about this firefighter. Is he hot?’

  I laughed. Hearing Derek referred to as hot would always make me laugh. ‘God, yes! Seriously, Lib, he is the hottest guy I have ever seen.’

  She bit down on the ice block then made a holy-shit-that-is-cold face. ‘Nice! So when are you seeing him next?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I answered sullenly.

  ‘What do you mean you don’t know?’

  ‘I mean that when I texted him and told him I had gastro, I don’t think he believed me. He didn’t ask when I was free again.’

  ‘So text him back and ask when he is free,’ she suggested, as if it were that simple. It wasn’t. There was a process, an unwritten law on how these first dates were handled. He was meant to chase me. Not the other way around.

  ‘Elizabeth,’ I sternly remarked, ‘with all due respect, when was the last time you dated?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ she griped.

  ‘A shitload. You don’t chase the guy before the first date.’ I rolled my eyes at her. ‘Everyone knows that. He has to chase you.’

  ‘Who says?’ she mildly groaned, clenching her tummy.

  I flicked my eyes in her direction and gave her a questioning glare. ‘You gonna be sick? If you’re gonna be sick, fuck off. This is my favourite blanket.’

  Lib closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them again. ‘I’m good. I’ve got this. I am a strong woman who is in charge of her body. I say what it does and doesn’t do.’

  Looking at her as if she had grown a second head, or was about to wrench off her bra and set fire to it in our living room, I asked her what verbal diarrhoea was spilling from her mouth. ‘What the king fuck of Fucktown have you been reading?’

  ‘None of your business. Just know that it works. I’m in charge and ruler of my destiny.’

  ‘You’re a ruler of looneyville. Where all loonies liaise and sprout utter looneyness.’

  Before I was able to hold my intervention in order to pull Lib out from her obvious descent into cray cray country, Sasha happily placed her head in Libby’s lap and presented her with a dead bird.

  ‘Oh my god! What i
s that? Get it off me. Is that a bird?’ Libby screamed.

  She leapt off the couch, flinging the mangled bird carcass in my direction.

  ‘Argh! Don’t throw it at me,’ I screamed back, while throwing my legs up in the air in defence and looking somewhat like a beetle trying to get itself upright.

  I was quickly tangled in my blanket, still performing the beetle dance. ‘Where is it? Lib, for the love of god, where the hell is it?’

  Peeking out from underneath the corner of my blanket, I observed Lib standing there with her hand over her mouth, eyelids tightly closed and shaking her head. It was written all over her face that in mere seconds she was going to throw up again.

  Sasha’s wagging tail, repeatedly tapping the side of the couch, grabbed our attention. We glanced in her direction. What I thought earlier on was Sasha smiling at me had been one hundred percent correct. Because there, standing happily on four legs, was my dog with the dead bird half hanging out of her smiling mouth.

  ‘Ugh, I’m gonna be sick,’ Lib said, running off at rapid speed.

  ‘Sasha! Out! Go! Get outside,’ I yelled at her.

  She gave me a look that said what-did-I-do-wrong, then drooped her head and made her way to the back door.

  ***

  After a week’s absence, Lib and I returned to work, having recovered from our spate of gastro, although both of us felt a little seedy for the duration of the work week. You’d think that after working around children our immune systems would be invulnerable. They weren’t. Well, at least mine wasn’t. I was forever coming down with every germ, bug and infection that these fucklets felt necessary to share with me. Now over a week later, things had returned to normal.

  ‘What the hairy spider has he written?’ I mumbled to myself as I tried to decipher the principal’s notes for the weekly newsletter I was typing up. ‘The prep students can write neater than this.’

  ‘Excuse me, ma’am, but I’m here to put out your fire.’

  Unsure that I’d heard what I thought I’d just heard, I looked up at the person standing on the other side of the counter.