“Get lucky, did we?” April says out from somewhere behind me.
“Jesus,” I curse and place my hand against my hammering heart. I roll over to find April standing in her PJs, nursing a cup of tea.
“It’s been a while.” I’ve neither confirmed nor denied. This better not bite me on the arse later. I can’t tell her that Rocco had a crisis. He was ready to jump off the wagon. I’m just glad I was able to be there for him, to help him through it.
“It’ll be hard to go home,” I say, changing the subject before there are more questions.
“Yeah, but it’ll be good to get home and get everything sorted.”
“I can’t believe that in only five more weeks you’ll be a married woman.”
“I can’t believe it either.”
“Be prepared for the baby questions at the wedding. People are nosey. They’re never satisfied. They always want to know what the next thing is.”
“I’m all for the practising, but I think we’re gonna wait at least six months before we get serious. Once we’ve gotten through the supercross season, then we can see where we’re at.”
I get out of bed and kiss her on the cheek, making a loud ‘mwah’ noise. “I couldn’t be happier for you, babe.”
“Thanks, Soph.” She gives me a smile, but then it slowly fades.
“What?” I prompt.
“It won’t be long, you know. I see big things happening for you, McKenna,” she says, with a play punch to my shoulder.
“You think I’ve got potential?” I say, faking the chewing of gum and putting a hand on my hip. Yes, I just went all Pretty Woman on her arse. Funny how the chick in that movie has the surname De Luca …
“Yeah. I do.”
****
I fasten my seatbelt, Vicky to one side of me, April on the other. I reckon after a couple of complimentary glasses of red, I’ll have no problems snoozing all the way through to Sydney.
“You have a good time, Vicky?” I ask, as she straightens out her black skirt and clips the belt low around her hips.
“Yeah, I did. It was amazing. Even though you probably took ten years off my life on that rollercoaster.”
“Yeah,” I say and laugh. “That was some ride.”
“I’ve loved spending more time with you … and everyone else.”
Is she somehow referring to the young motocross rider?
“You and Billy seemed to be getting along well. Any spark there?”
She blushes on cue. “Yeah, he’s nice, but—”
“But what?”
“I can’t see myself with him long-term.”
“From what I hear from April, Billy’s a nice guy.” I saw him opening doors for her, buying her drinks. He was the epitome of a gentleman. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think they were together. They seemed quite comfortable in each other’s company.
“He is, I see myself with someone, well, more … professional.”
“A suit, in other words.”
She nods in agreement. “Yeah. You know, someone who works in my field. Someone with similar interests.”
“Just like I thought,” I scoff. “Can I give you some advice?”
“Of course?” she says, and blinks rapidly, as if she’s got something stuck in her eye.
“Don’t fall for the suit. You have to look at the man underneath.”
“Aw, look at you, Sophie. That’s beautiful advice. When did you become the relationship guru?”
“Since a man in a suit took me for everything,” I state, my tone bored. I pop another mini pretzel in my mouth.
She opens and closes her mouth as if she’s imitating a Guppie. I take great pleasure in the fact that the chatterbox is now lost for words.
“When do you start the new job?” April asks.
“A couple of days after I get back. Can’t wait.” I feel the ridiculous smile pull at my lips, and I don’t care. It’s only up from here.
“I’m so bloody happy for you,” April says, leaning across Vicky and grabbing my hand tight. “Like I said, big things happening for you, McKenna.”
I blow her a kiss.
God I love this woman.
****
The cab ride from the airport is quiet. I don’t bring up the kissing incident, and neither does Rocco. I still don’t know what to think about it. Maybe what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. I just don’t want things to be weird between us. Rocco is becoming a closer friend than I’d ever thought possible. I don’t want to jeopardise that. He kissed me when he was feeling weak. He was battling some pretty heavy shit. The mind can make you do crazy things.
When Rocco and I get home, we dump our bags in the hallway. I make a beeline for the kitchen. I’ve missed my staples.
“Noodles?” I ask, as I fill the kettle with water.
He laughs, pulls out a stool and sits. “Yeah, sounds good.”
Once I’ve drained off the hot water, I pass him a cup, and we head to the couch. I look at the clock, which informs me it’s nearly two am. I’d slept solidly for seven hours on the way home, much to my surprise, and I’m too wired to sleep now. It shouldn’t be too hard to get my body clock back in sync.
“Let’s see if I can stay awake until it’s time to go to work,” I say, as Rocco flips through the channel guide on the TV.
“Oh my God!” I cry out as I point towards the screen. “Go back up.” He presses a button and scrolls up the list of channels. Ah, there you are. “Can we watch Footloose? Pretty please?”
He grunts. Really, I don’t care what he thinks about my taste in movies. 80s all the way.
“What about Tattoo Nightmares?” he grumbles.
I stand up and stomp my feet on the floor. I don’t care that I probably look like a spoiled child right now. “That shit is on all the time. I need Footloose in my life right now.”
“Fine, but on one condition.”
I turn to him. “Name it.”
“That you come with me to AA this week?”
I love that this is on his mind. He’s really thinking about it and he’s making changes, but I have no idea why he’d use this as a condition. I’d already told him I’d come to as many meetings as he wanted.
“I’d be coming with you anyway,” I state the obvious.
“I know, I just—”
“Rocco, I’ll be there. Now put the damn movie on.”
“Such a bossy bitch,” he mutters, and then selects the channel.
I laugh and grab the blanket to cover us, tucking it around my feet. He wraps his closest arm around my shoulders, and draws me into his side with a firm grasp of his hand.
“Fuckin’ survived Vegas,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. He presses his lips to my forehead, leaving an imprint of the heat from his mouth. My mind jumps right back to that night.
I’m tempted to say ‘what happened in Vegas stays there’ but I don’t want it to. A part of me doesn’t want what transpired between us to stay on the other side of the world.
“Yeah, we did.”
“Glad I had you,” he says, in a voice so quiet that I barely hear him.
“Anytime. Now shush. Kevin is on.”
His upper body shakes with silent laughter as I wrap my arm around his warm middle.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ROCCO
Wednesday
“’Kay, I’ll see you tonight,” Suds says as she breezes out the door. Even sporting those bags under her eyes after staying up after the flight, she seems fresh. I guess the holiday did her the world of good, even though she ended up babysitting me.
I finish the rest of my orange juice and walk into the bathroom to brush my teeth. There’s fuckin’ underwear everywhere, with the addition of a stark white bikini.
Fuck me dead. Badarse Bridesmaid.
Now all I can think about is how she ground her pussy against me as I filled her mouth with my tongue that night. Now I want her in my bed. Yes, I’ve wanted her in there since she first threw daggers at me, but my
motives aren’t purely sexual now. It’s probably about time I deal with the fact that I have feelings for her … because I do. Part of realising these feelings means I’m gonna have to talk to her. I don’t know what she wants, but I know I can’t let it slide and not open up to her about this shit. I can’t let the crackle of pure attraction that we had between us in Vegas fizzle out, and I don’t want her to move out. Maybe she could move into my room, and V could have his back? Soph is a part of this household now, and I know V will be cool with that.
Tonight, I’ll talk to her.
It’s time to man the fuck up.
****
After unpacking my bags, cleaning the place a bit and stocking the pantry and fridge with groceries, I do some weights in my room. I’m finding that keeping busy is the key. Distraction. At least it’s only another hour or so before she gets home.
With each bicep curl, I’m wondering what in the hell I’ll say to Suds.
‘I have a fuckin’ thing for you.’ Nah. Sounds lame.
‘I want in your pants, but I want you in my life more.’ She might slap me before she hears the last part.
I wander into the kitchen, and start making the pasta dough. I feel like a fucking kid, thinking about Suds and how to approach it. How do I make my feelings known to her when I don’t know myself what’s going on inside my head? I like her; I more than fucking like her, but do I love her? I did love Trinity—at least, I think I did. I was blinded by my feelings for her. It’s completely different this time. I’m older and I’m wiser, which could be debated, but this thing we have going on wasn’t like a punch in the face to start. It’s been a slow burn … it’s gotten hotter over time, but there’s other shit there too. An understanding. We’re kind of on a level ground. We’ve both had shitty pasts. We’re trying to better ourselves. It just feels right that we do this shit together.
As I debate all this, I knead the dough over and over. I try again to come up with some simple way of expressing to her what I want.
‘What do you think about us, you know, having a thing where we fuck and do stuff together?’
Jesus Christ. I have no clue how to do this.
You know who I should ask? V. He had the same girlfriend for years. Surely he knows a thing or two about relationships, even for a young fella. Guilt hits me head-on. Fuck. I’m a shit of a brother. Here I am thinking about myself when instead of fart-arsing around the house, I should’ve arranged to see him this morning. I’ll ring the office in the morning and book in another visit. I’ll have to get some photos printed off my phone, seeing’s the bastards won’t let me take it in there. He’ll be jealous as all hell when I tell him about the cars in the desert, among everything else, but like I said to him—I’ll take him there one day. When he gets out might be the perfect opportunity. We’ll take a break and get out of town before the MC think they can get their claws on him. I’ll have to arrange some time off with Mac.
I rest the dough and then tackle my washing. When enough time has passed, I unpack the pasta maker and dust the old flour off it.
I look up to the heavens, thinking of my beautiful Mamma. “I’ma making pasta,” I say, mocking her best English accent and waving my open hands in a ta-da gesture.
I hope I don’t fuck up this batch, because I feel as if I’m cooking for my harshest critic. If it’s shit, I know I can rely on Suds to tell it to me straight. I wouldn’t want it, or her for that matter, any other way. I need to show this girl how it’s done.
I clean and dry the bench and dust it with A-grade pasta flour. Have to have the primo shit. In no time, I’m in a good rhythm. Each wind through of the dough makes the pasta thinner each time until I have the perfect thickness for fettucine. There’s flour on the front of my black shirt, on my jeans, on the floor, but I haven’t had this much fun in the kitchen since … well, I guess since Suds and I started cooking together.
It’s right on the tip of my tongue what I want to say to her, but I’m thinking that actions will speak louder than words. I’m just gonna haul her into my arms and let my mouth do the talking. No more pussy footing around.
A series of knocks ring out from the front door.
If that Fuckface ex of Suds is out there, then I’m glad we get to be alone this time. I don’t need this fucker coming around and thinking that he’s welcome, because he’s not. This is my place.
I grab a tea towel and do my best to tidy myself up. Suds should be here any minute. Maybe she can’t find her key in her bag or something. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.
When I open the door, I’m met with two shadows in the stairwell. Two uniformed officers are standing side by side, with their hands clasped in front of them.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
“Mr De Luca?” the short, female officer enquiries. She brushes her fingers over the loose stands of hair on the side of her head, and tucks them into her navy hat.
“Yeah.”
“I’m Detective Senior Constable Coubrough and this is Detective Constable Grant.”
“My flatmate, Sophie, isn’t here. I’m assuming you’re here because she finally reported her handbag stolen?” At least I hope so.
“Mr De Luca, would you mind if we came in?”
“Sure. I guess, but she’s not home from work yet.”
They take a few steps inside, but we end up awkwardly milling around the entranceway.
“Can we take a seat?” the female officer asks.
I motion towards the lounge room. They both take a seat on the three-seater lounge. I sit opposite, waiting for them to get on with it.
“I’ll get straight to the point, Mr De Luca. We’re not here to see your flatmate. We’re here to see you.”
I swallow down a lump in my throat. “Okay.”
If that fuckwit Brett is pressing charges over our little scuffle in Nowra I’m gonna lose it. Particularly after that shit he pulled with Suds in Vegas. The bastard is lucky I haven’t tried to drive him into the ground like a fence post.
“Hit me with it,” I say and brace myself. It won’t help me to lose it in front of these guys. I can do that after they leave. That dipshit Brett will be complaining about more than a possible broken nose next time I see his face.
“Your younger brother Vinnie has been found dead,” the female cop says.
“Ah, what?” For a second there I thought she said …
“Your brother is dead. I’m very sorry for your loss.” She reaches out her hand and places it on my fingers, which are curled over my kneecap.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Can my partner make you a coffee or a tea?” she asks.
As if on cue, the tall male officer stands and strides into the kitchen.
“Earlier today we were informed by Long Bail Jail that Vincent De Luca was found dead. Again, I’m sorry—”
“Um, what?”
“Is there anybody I can call for you?”
“No, but what you can do is tell me what the fuck happened,” I snarl.
“Long Bay informed us that he had been moved back from protection a few days ago. We’re treating the death as suspicious, and will be conducting a criminal investigation. As your brother died in custody, the coroner will be conducting an inquest.”
Holy fuck! Did my meddling do this?
“And you’re sure it’s him?”
“Yes, but for the purposes of formal identification we need you to accompany us to the morgue to identify the body.”
“When?” I blurt out.
“As soon as possible.”
I need to see this shit for myself. I won’t believe it until I see him.
It’s not him.
It’s not.
With the back of my hand, I wipe the wetness from my cheek. Harden the fuck up, De Luca. It’s not him. It’s some other fucker that’s been doin’ time. The jail has got him mixed up. Half the staff in that fucked-up place couldn’t find their own arse if you asked them to. They’d ask you
to fill out a fucking form first.
I stand up and grab my wallet and keys, leaving the bench covered in the now dry and cracked pasta.
“Let’s go,” I say, as I hold the door open.
Both officers guide me down the stairs, one behind me and one in front. It’s as if they think I’m gonna do a runner or something.
The male cop opens the back door and ushers me into the back seat. Vinnie probably sat in a car just like this when they arrested him. He would have been shitting bricks.
This is some kind of warped dream. It has to be.
A life without my brother?
Nessuna famiglia. No family.
Where does that leave me?
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
SOPHIE
Second-last shift down, one to go. With each day that passes before I start my new job, the load is getting lighter. It’s fucking liberating.
Today I confirmed with the bank that Fuckface did in fact pay off a hundred grand, and later another instalment of fifty thousand after that, which pretty much covers it.
Part of me is relieved, but another part of me worries that he’ll return. He was adamant that he would get me back. One thing I know is that I’m holding my ground. He has to clear everything with the bank. I’ve done enough.
There are no free car spaces up close to the apartment this afternoon, so I park a way down the street. I pull up to the curb and jerk on the handbrake. Fuckface is a jerk. Thinking about him only stirs me up more. I have to be pro-active about this.
I dial Vicky’s number.
“Hey, Sophie. So good to hear from you,” she says in that effervescent tone I’ve come to take a liking to.
“You too, Vicky. Hey, I hope I’ve got you at a good time, but I was wondering if I could ask a favour? Feel free to say no.”
“Oooh, I’m intrigued. What can I do?”
“Do you know anything about bank loans?”
“I specialise in commercial contracts and finance, so absolutely.”
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