Ardent Strangers

by Samantha Kately

  He bites his lip ring, his face hardening. “Sounds like a good idea not to rush considering all that trouble with Jeremy. The punk.”

  I nod, removing my toasty hands from the warmer. Frickin’ Jeremy.

  He leans over the pass. “Has Tasha spoken to you, yet?”

  “No. Why?”

  “That’s for her to say. But I want you to know she’s not in our good books at present.”

  A bad feeling settles inside me. What’s he saying? She’s going to be fired? This place wouldn’t be the same without her.

  “Don’t let it worry you, okay?” He gives me a reassuring nod as he tosses a steak on the grill. I walk away feeling less sturdy on my feet, hardly aware that I’m clearing up tables as I go. I walk past the first booth and find Tasha hunched over a sandwich.

  “Hi Tash,” I say.

  She doesn’t even raise her head to look at me.

  That does it! I slide into the bench opposite her. “Tasha, what’s wrong?”

  She tosses her sandwich on the plate and blinks up at me, tears clinging to her lashes. I reach out for her hand, but she pulls back. I’m dumbfounded.

  “I did something,” she whispers. “Or more to the point, Pete did.”

  “Okay… Is it really that bad that you can’t tell me?”

  Her voice cracks, “Yes.”

  “Tasha, please talk to me. I hate seeing you this upset.”

  She wipes her eyes and takes a big bite of her sandwich, then examines its ingredients—a sign that she’s done talking.

  I scoot out from the bench, peeved, upset. “I’m here if you want to talk later, okay?”

  She stares out the window.

  I give up and start clearing tables when Aaron’s voice rumbles behind my ear, “Would you like the good news or the bad news first?”

  I smile, recalling him pinning me to the bed last night and having his way with me for the second time. “Good first.”

  “Over one-thousand entries and we’re already climbing the top forty.”

  “You’re kidding me?” I don’t know whether to smile or cry. People like our music. A song I wrote about despising everything that Jeremy had done and now it’s being heard around Australia, being propelled up the Original Star charts. Crazy.

  “By tonight, who knows, we could be in the final twenty-four,” he says against my neck.

  I need those lips of his back on my neck, placing languid kisses upon the crooks and curves of my body. As I turn in his arms, he picks me up. I laugh when I see the huge grin on Aaron’s face—a stark contrast to the man in my kitchen last night. “That’s… Wow.” I can’t believe we’re so close, that we might actually be on stage in a few days’ time, playing our songs.

  He lowers me to the floor, our noses bumping as his lips move toward mine. He sighs and lifts his head. I touch my mouth as if I’d felt a phantom kiss, then become annoyed that he’d tried to kiss me after we’d agreed not to.

  Now I really want him.

  After delivering a table order, Quinn whistles our way. “I take it your ranking well?”

  “We were placed at thirty-eighth about twenty minutes ago,” Aaron replies.

  “Nice. I’m Quinn, by the way.”

  “Aaron.”

  They size each other up and eventually shake hands. I never realized how much I valued Quinn’s approval until this moment, but what he thinks of Aaron matters.

  Quinn nods, as if he’s decided something. “I’m making you two a special celebratory lunch. On the house.” I’m about to say thanks, but he’s already bounding away to the kitchen.

  Aaron and I move to the corner booth and nervously open his laptop. The Original Star website is going crazy. Entrants are moving up and down the chart so fast that I can barely keep track. Minutes later, we are positioned at thirty. Only six positions higher and we’re in!

  Nerves zip around my body, intensified by Aaron’s hand skimming over my back.

  “So, what’s the bad news?” I ask huskily, wishing his hands were on my naked skin.

  “I think one particular part of our deal is going to undo me.”

  Oh no. He is having second thoughts. “Which part would that be?”

  He considers this and starts to smile. “The wai—”

  That’s all I hear, because we freeze at the familiar British-American accent coming from the door. “You’re the one who called the hotline?” Nathaniel says.

  Aaron sinks lower into the seat, pulling me with him. If Nathaniel sees us together it’s going to look very bad indeed. Aaron could have let Nathaniel know my whereabouts at any time, but he didn’t think of betraying my confidences, not even for an easy ten grand or out of loyalty to his friend.

  I nearly die when I hear Tasha’s voice, “Yes. But I haven’t told her yet.”

  “No need. Where’s Evangeline?” Nathaniel says.

  “Last booth,” she says shakily.

  Aaron grunts softly, while I’m on the brink of crying.

  Tasha called the hotline! My so-called best friend! How could she?

  Determined footsteps come closer. This can’t be happening. Nathaniel cannot be here. How can I explain that I’m not allowed to see him? Is the contract valid if he wants to see me? I have no idea. But I realize I don’t want to see him. For a short time he was a figure on a bridge, a troubled man in need of help, a silly notion that love at first sight could exist. But after that contract I thought I’d never see him again. The fact that Nathaniel’s sought me out on such a grand scale means I’ve become important to him.

  No.

  No.

  This can’t be. I can’t be his angel forever. Impossible. I’ve made myself move on. With Aaron.

  I have a sudden urge to bolt. Springing from the bench, I collide into Nathaniel.

  “Ah, there she is,” he says, squeezing my arms. His eyes narrow, taking in my face, hair, and apron. “You’re not happy to see me.”

  I shake my head, swamped by guilt that I’d decided to flee. I try to wriggle out of his grasp. “I can’t.”

  His hands drop away at once. He smooths his jacket.

  Heat fills my eyes. The tears come next. Then I run, dodging tables and the few customers watching avidly. Through the blur of tears, I see Tasha standing against the play area fence, her hands covering her mouth. And Laura Barnes is standing beside her! The lawyer looks bitter, but her expression changes to neutral when she notices Nathaniel witnessing it all. I rush past her and into the kitchen, where Quinn and Penny stop me from running out the back door.

  Penny pulls me into a hug and I try not to sob, try not to make a single sound to let Nathaniel know that I’m still here. I signed the contract. I can’t see him. I can’t talk to him. And although I didn’t want to see him before, I’m not so sure. He looked so hurt. I did that—me, who once vowed to save him.

  “Evangeline?” he calls out, his voice closer.

  The next voice surprises me more. “Leave her, Nate.”

  I sink to a crate and peer through the warming shelves of the pass.

  “Randall?” Nathaniel strides back toward the last booth where Aaron is now standing, shoulders squared, his face as impenetrable as the night I’d first met him. “What the hell is this? You’re here? You disappear from the hospital with no word, and here you are with the very girl I’ve been searching for.”

  “She asked to be left alone,” Aaron says.

  “No. You’ve done something to turn her against me. She stayed with me at the hospital, held my hand, talked to me. And now you’re here, meddling in something that’s none of your business.”

  “I’ve done no such thing. Ask Laura why Evangeline ran. Or ask Laura why she fired me. They’re basically the same answer.”

  Gaze narrowed at Aaron, Laura looks ready to interject, as if she’s in the middle of a court hearing. But there might also be fear in her eyes. She startles a little, as Nathaniel says, “Screw asking Laura. You tell me. We’ve been friends since we were five. I deserve the tr
uth.”

  “Fine. Laura pressured Evangeline to sign a contract to prevent contact with you. It was supposedly a measure designed to aid your recovery. No Evangeline, no reminder of the bridge incident, no reminder of D—” Aaron’s mouth tightens. “Of Damien.”

  Hearing Aaron’s voice turn rough at his brother’s name is heartbreaking. I fling back tears, unable to arrange this mess into any logical order. We have all been slighted and hurt in some way by someone, and I’m confused beyond belief.

  “Laura?” Nathaniel turns in the middle of the room. “Is this true?”

  Her chin juts out proudly. “It is. But you must know that I had your best interests in mind. It’s not like we haven’t used these contracts before—”

  “You must have known this was different, surely. She saved my life! And I asked you about Evangeline repeatedly. You knew I wanted to find her and you said nothing. I made a god damned hotline for her!”

  Laura braces her clutch bag. “I don’t believe this is the time or the place to be discussing this.”

  “I think it’s the perfect time to discuss this.”

  Hearing her flirty heels tap towards Nathaniel makes me angrier than I could have imagined. Then she leans into him and whispers something.

  “No,” he says, stepping aside. “That contract needs to be shredded, abolished.”

  “Nathaniel, consider what I’m saying. Look at the anguish she’s already caused you. If she was truly desperate to see you, she could have called that hotline of yours, she could have asked Aaron for your number. It doesn’t really scream commitment now, does it?”

  How dare she!

  “And she just scurried away from you like you don’t mean a thing to her,” Laura adds, angering me further.

  His voice turns darkly quiet. “Evangeline was probably abiding by your contract.”

  Laura scoffs. “Highly unlikely. And you forget that I was trying to help you. I’m the one who’s always looked out for you, Nathaniel, yet you are investing all your time trying to find someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

  I want to be found. I do. But what if Laura is luring me into breaking the contract so she can throw me in jail? I’d be out of his mind for good.

  “Damn it!” Nathaniel spits out.

  He grabs the chair beside him and lifts it as if he’s about to hurl it out the window. Quinn looks ready to race into the dining area, but Aaron’s hand darts between Nathaniel’s grasp, slamming the chair down with a bang. Everyone in the café flinches.

  Nathaniel storms toward the play area, shoves a cheque at Tasha, and is out the door like a gust of wind, his two suited agents flanking him. Laura strides calmly behind them, as if the sun has started to shine after a passing cloud.

  Penny crouches down and tucks me under her arm. “What have you gotten yourself into, Eve?”

  I shake my head. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Except Aaron.”

  “Why him?” asks Quinn, returning to the grill and his flaming steaks.

  The words tumble from my mouth, “I met Nathaniel first, rode with him in the ambulance. I waited outside his hospital room for hours and was denied entry by the doctors and Nathaniel’s head of security, Agent Randall—” I gulp, recalling the cold agent standing outside the door and the same man who drove me home, jobless and homeless, who unbeknownst to me had lost his brother, who had found it in his heart to tuck me into bed after a long harrowing night. A lump forms in my throat. “You know him as Aaron.”

  “Aaron?” Quinn rubs his jaw. “Head of security to a billionaire? Your housemate must be one scary mother… Hang on. Didn’t you say you got him fired?”

  I shrug and sniff. “Nathaniel’s lawyer was forcing me to sign the contract and Aaron warned me against it. She fired him on the spot.”

  “But you signed it,” says Penny.

  I blink up at her, seeing her dusting of freckles across her nose. “Now you know why I couldn’t talk about it, why that hotline scared me. Please keep this to yourselves, will you?”

  “Sure, Evie,” Penny says, squeezing me.

  “We’d never,” Quinn adds. “You’re like family. Unlike a certain waitress who sold you out.” He glares at Tasha as she walks into the pantry and grabs her bag, placing the hotline’s cheque inside. “Feel free to leave, Tasha.”

  She looks at the kitchen window filled with herb pots, then finds the courage to look to me. “I’m sorry. Pete and I were short on our mortgage last month, and with the wedding coming up…”

  I stare at the tiled floor, finding a long crack as my tears splatter upon it. I think I’m hyperventilating. I can’t calm down. Twelve years of knowing Tasha and I could never have predicted this.

  A thumb sweeps lightly under my jaw. I close my eyes and lift my head. Three days and I know his touch anywhere, the caress of his hands as they slide over my cheeks. I trust it, maybe stupidly, more than my best friend who betrayed me with a phone call.

  “Evangeline,” Aaron murmurs. It takes me a moment before I can look at him. I don’t even know why I’m crying anymore; I just wish he wasn’t seeing it. “Let’s go home, hey?”

  Best idea all day. Except that Penny and Quinn will only have Wendy on duty.

  At the grill, they are packing two steak sandwiches with mushroom sauce. Penny passes the bags to Aaron and smiles kindly in my direction. “We’re officially giving you the day off. Go home. Eat. Rest. Get your strength back for when you two are voted in tonight.”

  I sniff and laugh. “Yeah, like that’s ever going to happen. I’m jinxed.”

  “You could have mentioned that before we entered the competition.” Aaron grunts, pulling me up from the crate and steering me out of the back door. I’m surprised when he takes my hand and leads me down the opposite end of the alley and out onto a main street, away from the café’s carpark.

  “My car’s the other way.”

  But he proceeds in the other direction, then rounds the corner into a side street. “We’ll take my hire car. Unless you want Nathaniel following you home?”

  “He’d do that?”

  “Let me put it this way. As his previous head of security, the tactic is not unfamiliar to me.”

  “He made you follow people?”

  “Only when they are of dubious character and worth investigating. You would be the exception.”

  It makes me wonder what Aaron’s job entailed under Nathaniel’s employment. Suddenly, I’m scanning the street with its crammed townhouses and hilly pavements bordered by cars. Any one of those cars could be waiting to pull out from the curb, ready to follow us home. Part of me kind of wishes Nathaniel would follow us home. That clause was never in the contract.

  “I didn’t mean to unsettle you.” He squeezes my hand. “But you did ask.”

  I did ask.

  We find Aaron’s car down another side-street. Once we’re driving in the direction of home, he clicks off the radio. “Did you want to talk about before with Nathaniel?”

  “Not really,” I say, staring out the window.

  Verdict

  Eyes fixed to the television, Aaron and I are literally on the edge of our seats as the trademark silhouette of a music scroll and a singer flashes behind the glittering words Original Star. Generic rock music whips over the credits and the crowd goes wild as pop sensation Skylar Finch blows kisses from the stage, her auburn locks and creamy skin shining like a Hollywood siren. She’s escorted arm-in-arm by legendary American rocker Hudson Wilmer, lead singer and guitarist of ‘Water’s Edge’, and pretty boy singer Zach Mason.

  The three judges glide down the stairs to the judging table. Zach springs into the right chair and spins around to the front row of screaming girls, grins cheekily and spins back toward the stage. Sandy hair sweeps into his baby blue eyes, as if to give him a reason to sweep it away again. The girls in the front row are bordering on hysterics.

  Hudson sits on the other end. His tattoos, piercings, eyeliner, and gritty hair—which is chin length on the right and buzz-cu
t on the left—look out of place beside the glam couple beside him. And the way he smiles, he might be having regrets about signing on for the show.

  Aaron shakes his head. “Okay, Hudson is cool, but I seriously question if I can be in a competition with that Zach kid as a judge.”

  I smile. “Don’t worry, there’s a fair chance you won’t be.”

  He sends me a dark look, then frowns at the screen. “Is that Zach kid even a celebrity?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. In Australia, anyway.”

  Aaron grunts, takes a swig of beer and a bite of pizza, while I curl up at the other end of the sofa, settling in for another two hours of suspenseful torture. As Dan Groen appears center stage excitement buzzes through me. I am finally about to see the bands and singers who have made it into the final twenty-four. But Dan rambles on with the introductions, the voting system, then announces a surprise performance at the end of the show by the entrant who polled at number one.

  Damn. That surprise performance must have been pre-rehearsed at the studio, which means that band number one already knows they’re in prime position. And it’s not us.

  Aaron and I share a downtrodden look.

  “That’s one less spot, then,” I say, shrugging.

  Aaron grunts again.

  I smile to myself, realizing that I’m probably going to be hearing a lot more grunts tonight. But that doesn’t mean that every time Dan speaks I’m not eager to hear the verdict. Any moment now…

  Cut to an ad-break, one that goes for a full five minutes! Aaron and I both groan, but we stare at the advertisements, waiting in hope.

  In the hours since I left work we have been glued to Aaron’s laptop, watching our position shift upwards to number twenty-five. One position higher and we would be in the final twenty-four. It was almost enough to make me forget the Nathaniel incident, which I’ve still refused to discuss. At five pm the polling vanished from the screen. Aaron looked as if he was about to have heart failure as he leapt from the chair and yelled at the laptop, “Come on!” This was followed by a string of expletives that were pretty creative when combined in that particular order. I’d sat at the kitchen table, watching his impassioned plea for the voting malfunction to fix itself. It was only when I’d burst out laughing that he seemed to realize what he was doing, turned, and broke out into a sheepish grin. Voting continued for another two hours in top secret mode, and I’m pretty sure that Aaron has been pulling his hair out ever since.