by C. J. Duggan
Sean snapped out of his thoughts, his confused eyes staring my way, a small, wicked smile forming on his face.
“I don’t know, I guess I’m speaking to the wrong person. I mean, it’s your dad who owns the place. I guess I should really be asking him.” He reached into his pocket for his mobile.
Son of a bitch!
“So this is how it’s going to be?” I bit out.
“Lose some of that pride, Amy.” Sean’s thumb hovered over the call button. “Accept a helping hand once in a while.”
My frown deepened.
Sean sighed. “It’s not charity. If you want, I can offer you mate’s rates and you can have your precious little bill. You can pay it back whenever you want and your dad doesn’t have to know. How’s that sound? Deal?”
I thought about it for a moment. I had no idea how I planned to pay it back, but I would. I so would. I squared my shoulders.
“Deal!”
Sean pocketed his mobile with a smile. “Right! Best get back to it then.”
Before I could offer up a forked-tongued retaliation, Sean peeled himself from the alcove and walked out of the door.
***
Being up at this hour when I didn’t have to be was unthinkable, but then again so was pulling out a long line of mouldy hair from the shower drainpipe. I gagged as I placed the vile tendril in the bin and washed my hands with blistering hot water. I cleared the condensation from the mirror and stared at my reflection. My hair was now dampened from the shower, my face was fresh and make-up free. I stuck out my tongue to judge its colour, not that I exactly knew what I was looking for even if I was sick. And I was ill. I was completely revolted by this place, at least.
By nine a.m. I was showered and dressed, but for what exactly I wasn’t sure. Each time I heard a chorus of laughter or a raised voice or power tool from outside it grated me.
My stomach rumbled in protest and I remembered how the hotel wasn’t even stocked with things like food! I grabbed my bag from my room and made my way downstairs; I wanted to distance myself from what had now turned into a construction site. A few hours out would do the trick.
I stepped out onto the verandah, super aware of what would greet me now: a jungle of steel poles stood as support under the gaping hole in the balcony floor, with a board placed under the hole as something to walk on until they fixed it. Stan was up on the boarded platform, whistling along to the radio. Yeah – a radio! They had certainly settled in for the day.
Stan looked down at me with a smile.
“You off, then?”
“Yeah. Just have to get a few things from town. Looks like he has you doing all the work.”
Stan laughed. “He wishes.” He plonked down into a sitting position, his legs dangling over the edge.
I wondered why Stan was here helping Sean, anyway. Last I knew, Stan had been working elsewhere in town, but that was a while ago.
“So what have you been up to, Stan?”
“Oh, you know, work and more work.”
“So you’re just helping out Sean?”
Stan looked at me, confused. “We work together.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, Sean came and saw me when he got back, made me a deal and here I am.”
I nodded. At a loss as to what else to say, I was about to ask how his girlfriend, Ellie, was going. Then, I quickly stopped myself as I remembered they had broken up a few years ago. Before I put my foot in anything else, I decided I’d better get going. I wasn’t exactly up with the latest in Onslow happenings.
“Well,” I said, “don’t work too hard.”
I turned to walk down the steps before it registered. “Stan, did you want anything from down the street?”
Stan’s smile was more striking than the sun. “No thanks, Amy, Sean’s popped down for some smoko, best not spoil my appetite,” he said with a wink.
“Okay, no worries, see ya later.”
I headed towards the downward slope of Coronary Hill; I would no doubt be puffing and panting up it on my return, arms loaded with bags. I wasn’t exactly fit. For now, though, the downward walk was awkward, but manageable.
I had made my way down the last of the hill, walking out on the flattened edge of the bitumen into town, when I saw a white twin cab Hilux in the distance, making its way towards me.
“Oh, great!” I said, tipping my head back and groaning.
It slowed, as I knew it would, and had a suntanned arm leaning out of the opened window as it pulled to a stop. A smile beamed at me from the driver’s seat as the driver pulled back his sunnies to rest on his head.
Sean.
“I would offer you a lift, but I’m afraid that might be considered charitable. I wouldn’t want to give you that dastardly impression.”
I tilted my head and smiled sarcastically.
“Hey, I brought some smoko.” Sean leaned over to the passenger side. He held out a Chico Roll and a strawberry Big M to me.
I cringed at the thought of devouring that for breakfast.
“No thanks, I’m just heading into town to get some supplies.”
“You sure? This will give you all your daily calcium needs and …” he said. “What exactly is in a Chico Roll?”
It was a good question. “I hate to think.”
Sean studied the giant Aussie version of a spring roll before he shrugged and bit into it.
“Mmm, it’s good. Sure you don’t want some?” he spoke with his mouth full.
I screwed up my nose as I watched him. “As tempting as it looks, I think I’ll pass.”
Sean swallowed and winced. “I think it’s got cabbage in it.”
“I’ll definitely pass.”
I started to walk again but instead of leaving him behind like I intended, Sean put the ute in reverse and drove backwards alongside me.
“It won’t take us long to finish what we’re doing,” he said.
“Great!”
“We’ll be all clear and out of the way by the weekend.”
“Sounds good.”
“You are opening for the weekend, right?”
I stopped.
What day was it?
“Today’s Thursday,” Sean said, as if having read my mind.
Open for the weekend? Was I going to open today? Was Matt even coming in? I hadn’t even thought about it. Crap!
I half laughed to myself. “Would anyone even notice if we didn’t?” I asked.
Sean looked at me side on for a long moment. “Wow! Is that the sound of defeat, Henderson?”
Ha! Wouldn’t you love that? I thought.
I straightened, squared my shoulders, and quickened my pace. “Best get back to work, Sean, I’m not paying you to eat Chico Rolls. We’ll be open!”
I heard his laughter over the engine … “Yes ma’am!”
Against my better judgment, as he put the car back into drive and roared away, even though I was terrified, I smiled.
The weekend loomed and I had no idea what I was doing.
Chapter Ten
After downing a civilised sandwich from Betty’s Bakehouse …
I scanned the aisles of the local IGA supermarket, filling my trolley with cleaning products and food, and counting my blessings that Jan and Roy, the owners, made home deliveries. I dreaded walking back up Coronary Hill enough already without having to lug a week’s worth of shopping too. I studied the product information and weighed up which bleach would be the most effective when I heard voices from the next aisle over.
“He’s back in town, I see,” a hushed voice said.
“Yes, he’s been here a few weeks now,” a second voice joined in speculatively.
I smiled and shook my head, just envisioning the two local ladies clutching at their pearls as they gossiped in the supermarket aisle. Not much had changed in Onslow.
“Apparently he secured this massive building project. Built a multi-million dollar school.”
I stilled. Pardon?
“Yeah, I heard that he ca
shed in big time.”
“Well, no doubt; he has just put in an offer on the old Ellermans’ lake house … in cash.”
I leaned closer to the disinfectant products, trying to peek between the bottles to the next aisle.
“I always knew he was destined for something big,” the first one said. “My heart just broke when he injured his knee.”
The second voice sighed. “Football was everything to him, wasn’t it? Such a shame.”
“The Onslow Tigers lost out big time that day.”
Silence followed and I envisioned their grave heads nodding as they reminisced.
“Well, things happen for a reason. I am a big believer in that.”
“Oh yes, absolutely; I mean look at him now. Back, and bigger and better than ever.”
“Bigger and better? Are you not telling me something, Loz?”
A chorus of giggles sounded and I slowly manoeuvred my trolley to get a better look through the shelves. I spied Loz, a blushing thirty-something blonde, holding a basket. She was a lot younger than I’d imagined.
Loz elbowed her friend. “Carly! I’m a married woman.”
“Oh, yeah, and you don’t fantasise about Sean Murphy? I can only hope that one day something needs fixing at my place so I can give him a call.”
I rolled my eyes as more giggles sounded.
“Well, let’s just say …” Loz looked around, “he could leave his drill piece under my pillow any day of the week.”
And in that very moment of me not paying attention to where I was going, my trolley ran straight into a display of stacked baked beans. A hundred cans tumbled to the floor, clinking and clanking and rolling, making an almighty crash. The wayward tins rolled in all directions. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment as I went to ground, trying to stop the avalanche of falling cans from rolling out of control, but with little success. Not only had I interrupted the gossip session, I had caused calamity through the whole supermarket. Roy came sweeping along in his white apron; Jan hurried over from the deli, gasping in horror. Not at the wrecked display, as I thought for a second, but at me.
“Oh, my poor dear, are you all right?” They both helped me to my feet, their sweet faces furrowed in concern. Although I didn’t doubt their sincerity – from living at the Onslow all my childhood I’d seen that expression on Dad before – that look also meant, ‘Please don’t sue us.’
“I’m so sorry; I wasn’t looking where I was going.” I went to pick up the cans, but Roy and Jan ushered me away.
“No, no, we’ll take care of that, young Amy, don’t you worry yourself, it happens all the time,” Roy assured me. Which wasn’t very assuring, actually.
I moved aside, my cheeks burning in mortification as Loz and Carly, the horny housewives, looked me over in a cool, calculating assessment.
I turned from them and said in my loudest voice, “Hey, Roy, Sean Murphy is doing some renovations at the Onslow; you wouldn’t happen to have any drill pieces, would you?”
Roy thought for a moment. “Yes, I’m sure I do. Come with me, we’ll check out the back.”
I followed Roy, making sure to smile sweetly as I passed the now gaping, horrified housewives. I’d never seen cheeks go so red.
Strangely, I didn’t feel so embarrassed over a few cans of baked beans anymore.
***
I carried the essentials, such as food and hygiene products, up the hill back to the Onslow and, even toting so few items, the trip up the steep incline just about killed me. My home delivery would be coming later in the day; it would give me enough time to think about what the hell I was doing before I set myself to do more cleaning. This was not the summer I had planned for, that was for sure.
My arm muscles burned by the time I lugged myself across the drive. I spotted Sean and Stan sitting on the steps of the Onslow, talking animatedly and nursing bottles of Gatorade.
Stan saw me first, and it wasn’t until I had closed the distance that Sean’s gaze followed Stan’s. Stan jumped up and grabbed my bags and I tried not to sigh in relief.
“I bet a lift never looked so good.” Sean saluted me with his drink.
“That’s not all that looks good around here, apparently,” I said.
“Oh?” Sean quirked his brow before taking a drink from his bottle.
“Mmm, I overheard some horny housewives in the supermarket, and apparently you, Mr Murphy, can leave your drill piece under their pillow any day of the week.”
Sean spat out a stream of blue Gatorade that led him into a coughing fit. Stan burst into hysterics and barely contained himself as Sean fought to catch his breath, his eyes watering.
I smiled and stretched my arms above my head. “Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.”
I grabbed the bags from Stan and, without a backwards glance, made my way inside.
***
After psyching myself up for the next challenge, I cleaned out Dad’s fridge. It wasn’t pretty. At first I doubted if it would ever be the same; the smell of the rot and wet goo at the bottom of the veggie drawer was enough to make me dry retch. I had scrubbed and rubbed it within an inch of its life. Now it was ready for some non-expired food.
I placed the shopping in the bar cool room until I’d faced off with the fridge. Just as I was about to yank the heavy cool room door open, the hotel phone rang. I flinched at the high-pitched sound; that phone never rang – well, not while I was ever here, anyway. Surely Mum and Dad would ring my mobile?
I eyed the phone like it was some cornered, deadly creature. I picked it up.
“H-Hello?”
A loud chorus of coughing made me flinch away from the receiver.
“Amy?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, hey, it’s Matt,” a raspy voice spoke softly into the receiver.
“What’s up, Matt?” Although, I could probably guess.
“Yeah, listen, I won’t be able to make it into work today.” Cough-cough-cough. “I’ve been up all night, crook as a dog.”
“Oh, no. That’s awful,” I said, without any enthusiasm.
“Yeah, I’m just going to sleep all day. Hopefully it’s just a twenty-four-hour thing.”
“Here’s hoping!”
I slammed down the phone, thus ending the coughing attack.
“Wanker!”
“Nice to know it’s not just me who cops it.”
I flinched to see Sean standing at the bar.
“Jesus, Sean, don’t you knock?”
He shrugged. “It’s a public place.”
A closed public place.
I couldn’t be bothered arguing.
“What do you want?”
“I need to access upstairs.”
I did a mental check of upstairs; it was less smoke-infused than it had been yesterday, and at least it was now dust and grime free: passable for public inspection.
“Okay.”
I felt Sean’s eyes burning into the back of me as his heavy footsteps followed me up the staircase.
“So you’re going to be a home owner, I hear,” I said over my shoulder.
“Indeed.”
“The Ellermans’ lake house?”
We reached the apartment door. I could hear Sean chuckling so I turned to see him shaking his head.
“What?”
“You went into town for a few hours and now you know all the goss.”
“Well, not all of it.”
Sean stood so close to me on the landing. It was a hot summer day and the upstairs was always warm if the doors weren’t open for the air flow to filter through the building. I felt claustrophobic as I reached my sweaty palm out to the handle of the apartment door. I could open it, walk in, create more space between us, but Sean’s eyes pinned me there; they questioned me with a mocking glint and a crooked curve to the corner of his mouth.
“Tell me, Amy, it wasn’t you asking the locals about me, was it?”
I blanched, horrified by the question. “No!”
“You sure?
You weren’t looking for a character reference?”
I cocked my head and smiled. “Now why would I need one of those? I know exactly what kind of character you are, Sean Murphy.”
“Is that right?” He stepped closer, forcing me to lift my head to meet his eyes. He was so close we were almost touching, but I refused to be distracted. Not by the heat that emanated off his body, or the smell of his sharp, musty aftershave, or the feel of his breath. I refused to be sidetracked by the vivid blue of his eyes.
By anything.
Two could play at this game. I stepped closer as I looked him straight in the eyes.
“That’s right.”
“And what kind of character am I, then, Amy Henderson?” His voice was lower, hypnotic, and I fought not to be lost in it.
I smiled sweetly. “I think I’ve already told you.”
His eyes flicked over my face. He studied me with intense scrutiny and his gaze rested on my mouth for a split second and then back to the staring competition. Was he the one getting distracted now?
I bit my lower lip and his gaze followed the brief action; yep, he was distracted, all right.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Tell me again.”
“You mean the part where I called you a self-centred, womanising egomaniac? Or do you want me to elaborate on that?”
He quirked his brow. “I thought you’d have had a better imagination than that.”
My eyes narrowed as he leaned towards me. I froze as he closed the distance. My heart pounded in my chest and it was as if all the oxygen was sucked from the space between us. I bit my lip again, trying to control the shallow rise and fall of my chest as Sean leaned in and grabbed … my hand? He placed his over mine that held the doorknob to the apartment. He twisted the handle until it clicked and pushed lightly, trapping my hand under his. He didn’t let go, his cheek was near mine and it puffed out in a wicked grin.
“After you,” he whispered. His breath tickled against my cheek.
I wrenched my hand from under his, pushed the door wide open and strode in, grateful for the space as I walked to the farthest corner of the room. The French door was open, just how I had left it, in the hope that a constant flow of air would filter through the apartment. It was working. I had never been so grateful for the luxury of fresh air as I breathed it deep into my lungs, fighting to control the beating of my heart. I could only hope that I wasn’t scarlet red as I suspected my cheeks were. Oh, wouldn’t he just love that?