Switch

by Jennifer Ryder

  “Yup. The hotter the better.”

  “Good.”

  ****

  The unmistakable smell of basil, chilli and spices fills the apartment as I open the takeaway containers, and place them in the middle of the dining table. We load up our plates and don’t waste any time digging in.

  “This is delicious,” Suds murmurs around a mouthful of what I reckon is the Beef Massaman curry.

  “My brother is in jail,” I announce without warning.

  Suds takes her time finishing her mouthful. There’s no choking on her food or gasping in shock or horror. There’s no judgment in the eyes that haven’t strayed from mine. There’s only an acceptance of what I’ve just told her.

  “So I’m staying in his room, yeah?”

  My shoulders drop. I’ve chosen the right person to speak to about this. About me and how fucked up my life is. “Yeah. It’s the room I have for him when he gets out.”

  “In how long?”

  “About three months.”

  She nods and spoons a chunk of beef dripping in the rich sauce onto her plate.

  “It’s my fault he’s in there.”

  She tilts her head to the side and blinks several times. “Why do you think that?”

  “He got involved in a motorcycle club, thanks to my dad, but I didn’t find out until he was sworn in as a full member. If I wasn’t so busy travelling around Australia with work, I would’ve done something about it.”

  “What put him behind bars?”

  “Drugs.”

  She nods. “How old is he?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “Then he’s old enough to be responsible for his decisions. Don’t take it on yourself.”

  “When Mamma was dying she made me promise to look out for him.” One day she was going in for a routine operation on her leg, and the next she was fighting the worst case of staph infection the doctors had seen in years. I fucking failed her by not looking out for V.

  Suds wraps her mouth around another forkful of rice and slowly chews. “And when he’s out, you’ll look out for him.”

  “Yeah. I have no idea how it’s gonna work.”

  “You’ll work it out.”

  Suds puts down her fork on the edge of her plate and stares at me. I wipe at the side of my mouth in case I have food stuck there. What’s she looking at?

  “So tell me, what’s he like? Argumentative? Bossy? Anything at all like his older brother?”

  I give her a smart-arse smile, showing my amusement. It’s nice to talk about him as the person I know, not my brother, the inmate. “He’s impressionable, fiercely loyal, which I both love and hate, and he’s a bit more put together than I am when it comes to emotions and shit. Definitely not as hot-headed.”

  “I’d love to meet him.”

  Hang on a minute. “You would?” I don’t think I could take her with me to the jail. How would V react? Would I just be rubbing shit in his face? Would Suds feel differently about my family and me afterwards?

  “Of course. How else am I gonna find out all the nitty-gritty shit about you?”

  She wants to know more?

  “Not sure what else there is to know,” I say with a shrug.

  “Oh, I bet there’s loads of shit to know. You’re not exactly an open book.”

  “Well, I’m gonna have to have words with him first. I can’t have him spilling shit.” Whilst he’s loyal, I have no doubt he would throw me under a bus with embarrassing shit for the sake of a good laugh. Like how I busted my wrist when I flung it against the wall when Mamma caught me wanking that time. He laughed his fucking head off for weeks after that, and just to be an arse, he likes to bring it up every so often.

  “Don’t be worried, De Luca. I promise that I’ll only use the juicy information against you. I’m not one to gossip.”

  I give her a smarmy smile in return. I bet she’ll use anything she can. It’s not much of a threat though, because I’d like to see what she does with it. I’m intrigued by what goes on inside that head of hers.

  I finish my mouthful and take in a long breath. There’s serious shit I need to focus on here for a minute.

  “Did you really mean what you said? About coming to meetings?” I ask quietly.

  “Yes,” she says with certainty. I close my eyes for a second, grateful to have Suds in my corner.

  “After dinner, we get rid of the grog. I can’t have it here.”

  “No worries.”

  With a nod, I think over what I’m gonna say next. I have no idea how I’m going to deal with what’s ahead of me.

  “How the fuck am I gonna handle Vegas?” I blurt out.

  “Once day at a time. I’ll be there too, so if you need to talk or anything, I’m around.”

  “But what about Jones? Some fuckin’ best man I am if I won’t even drink. I might as well not fuckin’ go.” Jesus, I sound like a bloody child.

  “I think you should tell Jones the truth.” Is she crazy?

  “What! No. I’ll get crucified for this shit.”

  “Do you really think a good friend would do that to you? He values you enough to have in his wedding party. Doesn’t that tell you something about him, and what he thinks of you? You need to take a chance and tell him. I think you’ll be surprised how he reacts.”

  “I guess,” I grumble.

  “Just do it, and then it’s done,” she orders.

  “Such a bossy bitch,” I say, and shake my head.

  “You love it,” she teases.

  Hmm. She’s right. It does get my dick hard.

  After we clean up, Suds practically has to hold my hand as I tip every last drop of alcohol down the sink. I need to convince myself that pouring a few hundred bucks of grog down the drain is a good thing.

  Two days dry. Small fuckin’ miracle.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  SOPHIE

  Tuesday

  After a long day at work, I toss my dirty apron in the wash basket at the back of the kitchen and then follow Tarsh into the staffroom. I feel like flopping myself down in a chair but I know if I do, it’ll be ten times harder to get up. My feet are throbbing like mad. Once I get home, I can have a nice hot bath … if Rocco hasn’t used up all the hot water, that is.

  “You were awesome today, Tarsh. Today was flat out and you totally handled it.”

  “I wouldn’t have been able to do it on my own. How am I going to cope when you’re gone?”

  “You were fine. I tell you, though, I’m impressed how you handled the guys in the kitchen. You’re on a fast track to making them your bitches.”

  “You really think?” she asks, all doey-eyed.

  “Absolutely.”

  I grab my bag from my locker and slap it down on the table. As I reach for my jacket inside, a muffled ring makes me jump. I search for my phone in a mild panic before it rings out. It’s a private number, but I don’t hesitate to answer. It could be the call I’ve been waiting for.

  “Hello, Sophie speaking,” I answer in my most polite voice. Even I surprise myself with how I sound. Very professional.

  “Good afternoon, Sophie. It’s Julie Walker from Walker & Wilde,” she says, her tone all business.

  “Nice to hear from you,” I say, mirroring her tone.

  “I’ll cut right to the chase, Sophie.”

  “Sure,” I say, feeling hopeful, yet bracing myself for disappointment.

  “I’m offering you a job on my team,” Julie says.

  She’s what?

  “Oh my God, you are?”

  I cover my hand over my mouth to stifle my scream and do a very wild version of a happy dance. Tarsh has to duck to avoid being poked in the face.

  “I’ve got an eye for people. You don’t get to where I am without it. I see something in you, Sophie. You’re hungry, you know your stuff, and I know given half the chance, you’ll flourish.”

  “You … you have no idea what this means to me.”

  “I was lucky enough that someone gave me a c
hance … but I’m not taking a chance on you. You’re a sure thing.”

  “Thank you. I’ll take it,” I gush.

  A soft laugh flows through the phone. “You haven’t even asked me what the job is.”

  Wow, I am flustered. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s a junior position to start, but we’d like to help you fast track your studies so you can finish your degree. We’d be happy to offer you some study leave.”

  “Oh my God. I … I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much.”

  “No problems. I’ll email you the employment package for you to take a look at it. I’m assuming you’ll give four weeks’ notice to your current employer?”

  Four weeks. It’ll be after I get back from Vegas. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.

  “Yes, I’d feel better about giving him as much notice as possible. I’ve offered to do some extra training with another staff member to make sure she’s up to speed before I leave.” I throw a wink in Tarsh’s direction. She’s grinning like a child model with Vaseline on her teeth, and clutching her hands in front of her chest.

  “Just another confirmation that we made the right decision to hire you. Once you’ve had a look through the papers, give me a call and we’ll catch up and get this thing squared away.”

  “Thank you. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  When I get off the phone, Tarsh is blinking and fidgeting on her feet like an excited puppy. “Did you get a job?” she probes.

  “Yeah, I kinda did,” I say, almost not believing the words falling from my mouth. I don’t even need to read the contract to know I’ll say yes, but I’ll be checking over all the conditions and my entitlements. I won’t be walking in blind. I’ve learnt my lesson when it comes to the fine print.

  Tarsh wraps her arms around my shoulders and squeals. “I’m so happy for you.”

  Wow. It seems I actually made a friend. I guess there’s the lesson in opening up to people. There’s definitely nothing wrong with having more people on my side.

  “Thanks.” I give her a gentle squeeze and then reach for my phone. I ring April to share the good news. Unfortunately it goes straight to voicemail, so I leave a very squeally message for her to call me.

  When I know who’s next on my list to call to share the news, pride swells in my chest.

  “I got a job,” I yell.

  “Shit. That’s awesome,” Rocco says, competing with a loud pop-pop-pop noise in the background.

  “I’m thinking a feast of popcorn, jelly and noodles is in order.”

  “You trying to piss me off? Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. I’ll cook,” he demands.

  “Jelly for dessert then? I stuck a batch of limey goodness in the fridge last night.”

  He grumbles. I can’t tell if it’s an affirmative for glowing green dessert or no.

  “What time are you home?” I ask.

  “I’m leaving the workshop now, so maybe in an hour. I’ll pick up some shit on the way.”

  “I’d prefer you picked up food,” I joke.

  His deep voice chuckles into the phone before the call ends.

  I’m serious about the jelly. I didn’t make it last night for nothing.

  I say goodbye to Tarsh. Tony isn’t in the office, so I make my way to my car. I’ll send him an email when I get home, and talk to him properly next shift. I hope he’s okay with me leaving. It’ll certainly be weird saying goodbye after working for him for so long.

  A bright green flower truck drives past, and all I can think about is the jelly. Just to be a smart arse, I send Rocco a text.

  Me: You’ll eat the jelly, and you’ll love it

  Rocco: I love EATING things other than jelly

  Of course the mention of eating has me picturing his soft lips and that goddamn tongue … stud and all. The phone beeps again.

  Rocco: Jelly is NOT food

  I choose to ignore the innuendo in his first text, and reply to the second.

  Me: I beg to differ

  Rocco: I wish you’d beg for something else

  His words cause a quiver between my legs. My poor sex-deprived vag. Rocco hasn’t even said anything dirty to me, and I’m ready to shove my hand down my pants. I don’t know whether we should be playing this game.

  Me: Like what? Clean your black stubble out of the bathroom sink? Put the toilet seat down?

  Rocco: Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean …

  Me: I’ll see you at home soon x

  No! I put a kiss at the end? What the hell am I thinking? Clearly I’m overexcited. Surely he won’t read anything into it.

  As much fun as this banter is, I need to remember that this living arrangement is a short-term thing. Now that I have a good job, I need to start looking ahead. Rocco’s brother will be out in a few months and he’ll need his room back.

  When I get inside my car, I pat the steering wheel and smile. Thanks to Rocco’s generosity, I still have a vehicle. He’s a good guy deep down, whether he knows it or not. Now that I have this new job, it won’t be long before I can start paying him back.

  ****

  When I get home, the first thing I do is check my emails.

  As Julie promised, there’s an email from her. I read through the employment package and am astounded at what I’m being offered. For a junior position, it’s a higher salary than I expected, and they’re giving me two weeks paid study leave to finish my degree. It really is a dream come true. I reply with a very formal acceptance of the offer, and give her a few times around my shifts in the café to meet up and sign the paperwork.

  I dial Tony’s number, and it goes straight to voicemail. Rather than resign in a voicemail message, I let him know I’ll send him an email. Then I type a very courteous letter of resignation, thanking him for the opportunity and giving four weeks’ notice, noting that he had already approved a few days annual leave for when I go overseas.

  My phone buzzes. I jump up and down on the spot and then answer the call.

  “Babe,” I squeal.

  “Soph? What’s happened?” April says through a chuckle.

  “I got the job, like a proper job in recruitment.”

  “That’s incredible, babe. I’m so happy for you.”

  I prance around my room as I tell her all about where I’ll be working and the study side of things. Saying it all out loud makes it that much more real. I can’t wait to get started.

  “You’ll do us all proud, McKenna. Love ya,” April says before we say our goodbyes. I can’t wait until I see her next so I can squeeze the crap out of her. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy and excited about something.

  I get changed into a pair of black and grey tartan leggings, and team it with a black singlet top and a semi-see through knitted jumper over the top. I even leave my bra on, because, well, I don’t wanna look like a slob. Not that Rocco seems to care any other time—in fact, I’d say he’d actually prefer me bra-less.

  I let my hair loose and iron out the kinks from my hairband, fix my eyeliner and then paint my fingernails and toenails black. Once I’m feeling a little more put together, I make my way to the fridge, grabbing a spoon on the way. I sneak a scoop of the jelly, savouring the sweet zesty softness as it rolls around my mouth. Because I’m in a playful mood, I take a couple of noodle cups and a bag of microwave popcorn and place them in the centre of the kitchen bench. Just for Rocco.

  As much as I love my staples, I’m curious to know what Rocco will bring home.

  Three loud knocks echo from the front entrance. Wow. He’s earlier than I thought.

  “Did you forget your keys?” I sing out on the way to the door. On second thought, he’s probably laden with bags of shopping. I run the last few steps and yank open the door.

  “I’ve sampled dessert and it’s—”

  Whoosh!

  The air rushes from my lungs as I take in the form in front of me.

  It can’t be …

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  SOPHI
E

  “Ah, it is you, Sophie. You’ve grown more beautiful as the years have passed.”

  I don’t hesitate to smash my balled up fist into his cheekbone, connecting with his nose.

  “What’re you—”

  My right fist connects again, followed by a strong left hook to his jaw. His knees buckle and his arse hits the tiled floor. His palms slap to the cool surface as he tries to steady himself. As he looks up, blood streams from his nostril over his lip, and then it splashes on the lapel of his silvery grey suit.

  No! He’s not meant to bleed everywhere! I swallow down the unease rising from my gut.

  Don’t be a pussy, Soph. You’ve been waiting for this day.

  “Fuck,” I grunt out as I crack my knuckles. I fling out my hand in an attempt to ease the pain radiating from it. I should have picked somewhere softer to hit him. I’ll save that for my next strike.

  He holds his hands defensively in front of his face as I lean down and drill him with a look of pure evil.

  “You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve, coming anywhere near me.”

  Heavy thuds echo up from the bottom of the stairwell, growing louder. Plastic rustles and something glass smashes. I don’t care if I have an audience. I’m doing this—to hell with the consequences.

  I grit my teeth and pull my fist back, preparing to strike. This time, I mean business.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” a gruff voice echoes. Rocco jumps over Fuckface and loops his arms around my ribs, stepping me back into the open apartment door.

  “No! I’m not done,” I cry out, clawing at De Luca’s toned biceps, causing him to grimace. I choke on my own breath. Breathe, Soph.

  “Who the fuck is this?” he growls in my ear, loud enough for only me to hear.

  “Meet Prince Fuckface,” I announce, loud and proud. Of course, this is the first time I’ve had the pleasure of saying it to his face.

  “This is him?” he says, turning and eyeing him from head to toe as the arsehole rises to his feet.

  “Well, that’s charming, Sophie,” the prince says, as he takes a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs at the claret which continues to stream out of his nose. I swallow down a mouthful of acid. Gah!

  He stuffs the bloodied material into his pocket and extends his hand to Rocco. “Gregory Chase.” How is it that he can still look this sharp in a suit?