Cass shoved the plate of spaghetti under my nose, forcing me to take it and snatched the magazine away. ‘Stupid magazine,’ she said. ‘I was just going to throw it out.’
Without warning, I burst into tears.
Cass tossed the magazine into the sink and threw her arms around me. We stood together—me clutching the plate, Cass clutching me—like that until my sobbing exhausted itself. When I was done, she went and dug a clean tea towel out of an unpacked box to wipe my face.
‘I’m supposed to be the one doing that,’ I said. ‘You’re supposed to be the blubbing teenager.’
She smiled. ‘You do pretty good most of the time.’
I smiled back. ‘I hope Eireen Tozzi doesn’t see it. I’ll get another call to visit.’
We both giggled.
Then I straightened up and looked around, suddenly realising that the kitchen bench was laden with dips, sliced vegetables, and I spied a plate of prunes wrapped in bacon next to the toaster.
‘Devils on horseback?’ I said. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Surprise,’ she said. ‘We’re having a housewarming.’
‘When?’
There was a knock at the door.
Her smile got wider. ‘Now. Can you answer it; I gotta get the mini quiches out of the oven.’
‘Mini quiches?’
‘Frozen ones,’ she said. ‘From Wal.’
Slightly stunned I walked over to the front door and peered through the crack between the frosted glass and the door jam. It was Wal. And Liv.
I flung the door open and embraced my Aunt with enthusiasm. She laughed and kissed me back.
‘Show me in, silly girl,’ she said. ‘I haven’t got rid of my hospital legs yet.’
Wal and I guided her over to the couch and they sat down together, holding hands.
‘Drinks coming!’ yelled Cass from the kitchen.
‘They most certainly are,’ said a voice from the open door. It was Bok, waving a bottle of champagne at us. Smitts and Henry followed him in.
‘Henny?’ I said, feeling my eyes widen.
He shook his finger at me. Then gave a bright and forgiving smile.
We were all right.
I cheered, and went to out to find enough glasses for the fizz.
Cass’s face was flushed from the hot stove and with little girl excitement as she loaded mini sausage rolls onto a tray alongside the mini quiches.
‘This your idea?’ I asked.
‘You can be mad at me later,’ she said and took the tray through.
I trailed after her with a stack of cups and glasses and set them down on the crates Cass had cleared to use as coffee tables.
Hoshi and JoBob walked in together as I handed Liv a re-purposed vegemite jar. Hoshi and my parents had met before, and suddenly the room was a buzz of cross-conversations, and awash with champagne and pastry crumbs.
Then a loud knock on the still-open door preceded Ed entering the room juggling a bottle of red wine, a Beats Pill, and a pot plant. Bok took the pot plant from him and set it down next to Buddha. Cass pounced on the music and switched it on.
The affecting tones of Lana Del Rey sprang from the speakers and seemed to expand everyone’s largesse. They settled in, laughing and drinking and eating while the songstress crooned in the background. Their auras glowed and mingled in a swirling rainbow of colours.
I watched them with swelling emotion in my heart. I’d made a second deal with the devil today, and I had no idea what the future would bring for me. But I did know, that right now, with these people here, everything was … perfect. Except for one thing. Nick.
On cue, my phone rang. I stepped back into the kitchen to answer it.
‘Tara?’
‘Nick?’
‘I’m sorry.’ He sounded edgy, unsettled.
‘For?’
‘For pushing you. Taking you out in public when you weren’t ready. When we weren’t ready.’
‘You’ve seen the photo in the magazine,’ I said.
‘Yes. You were right about it. It was unfair of me. And I wanted you to know something.’ He sounded a little breathless. ‘You still there?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve decided to take a few months holiday in Europe, sort my head out. Work out how to properly disengage from Toni. So, it’s properly over.’
‘Oh,’ I said, my heart sinking. ‘Good idea, I suppose.’
‘I’m glad you think so, because I’m at the airport now. Boarding any minute. But I wanted to tell you how much I care about you. How much you lift me up. How amazing you are. And I had to know the answer to a question before I went…’
‘What’s that, Nick?’
‘Please Tara, will you wait for me?’
About the Author
Marianne Delacourt also writes award-winning speculative fiction as Marianne de Pierres. She currently lives in Brisbane.
Find out more about her work at
@mdepierres
mdepierres
www.mariannedepierres.com
Also by Marianne Delacourt
Sharp Shooter
Book 1 in the Tara Sharp series
Tara Sharp should be just another unemployable, twenty-something, ex-private schoolgirl ... but she has the gift—or curse as she sees it—of reading people's auras. The trouble is, auras sometimes tell you things about people they don't want you to know.
When a family friend recommends Mr Hara's Paralanguage School, Tara decides to give it a whirl - and graduates with flying colours. So when Mr Hara picks up passes on a job for a hot-shot lawyer she jumps at the chance despite some of his less-than-salubrious clients.
Tara should know better than to get involved when she learns the job involves mob boss Johnny Vogue. But she's broke and the magic words 'retainer' and 'bonus' have been mentioned. Soon Tara finds herself sucked into an underworld 'situation' that has her running for her life.
* * *
Sharp Turn
Book 2 in the Tara Sharp series
Tara’s quirky PI business is attracting some even quirkier customers. She’s not sure how Madame Vine’s Escort Agency got her number. And then there’s the eccentric motorcycle racing team owner, Bolo Ignatius. Both these clients want to Tara to investigate suspicious circumstances that turn up dead bodies. That can only mean one thing in this town: John Viaspa. Tara goes in for round two with the local crime boss, while balancing the tight rope of her deliciously complicated love life.
* * *
Tara Sharp’s life can only be describe as furious fun.
* * *
Too Sharp
Book 3 in the Tara Sharp series
Tara Sharp’s new case brings her to Brisbane, where she is placed in charge of Slim Sledge, a high-maintenance rock star. Tara’s a sucker for a backstage pass, and it’ll provide some much-needed distance between herself and her mother’s not-so-subtle hints about getting a “real” job, not to mention crime lord Johnny Viaspa, the only man on the planet who wants her dead.
She expected the music industry to be cut-throat, but Tara soon uncovers more problems than just Slim Sledge’s demands and his rabid fans. Everywhere she turns, the grudges run deeper and the danger ramps up.
Has Tara finally pushed her luck too far?
Also from Deadlines
Deadlines is the crime imprint of the award-winning Twelfth Planet Press specialty small press. We aim to promote quality, fun writing in fresh, exciting projects that seeks to raise the awareness of women’s voices, and demonstrate the depth and breadth of Australian fiction to a broader audience.
Tara Sharp
By Marianne Delacourt
* * *
Sharp Shooter
Sharp Turn
Too Sharp
Café La Femme
By Livia Day
* * *
A Trifle Dead
The Blackmail Blend
Drowned Vanilla
Keep Calm & Kill the Chef (Coming Soon!)
&nb
sp; Copyright © 2017 by Marianne Delacourt
First published in Australia in October 2017
by Deadlines
Editing by Alisa Krasnostein and Katharine Stubbs
Copyediting by Elizabeth Disney
Cover by Cathy Larsen Design
Ebook conversion by Alisa Krasnostein
www.twelfthplanetpress.com
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
ISBN: 978-1-922101-53-2
Sharp Edge Page 20