THE RENTAL
(The Rental #1)
Rebecca Berto
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• About the Book •
At first, Rick Delaney watched Vee Wyland with the hungry eyes of a fox as if she were a rabbit … his rabbit. But one day, he slunk away without notice.
When he returns, that fateful night rips her life into shreds.
That’s why they are here. Why she becomes Victoria and Rick becomes Rhett, and she burrows down into his alluring world: The Rental. One part of her watches with fascination. The other unfurls and embraces her sexual awakening. It may be a game, but the consequences are real.
Following their heart’s desire is forbidden. But walking away could strip their hope for a future.
for Christina
for the late-night chats, the honesty and the support
1
RICK DELANEY WAS parked outside my house with my boyfriend. He stepped out of his car and lifted two fingers, saluting me at the front door. He shouldn’t have been.
How could he return to Melbourne after a whole year when I resigned to a life without him—a life, specifically, with the brother he’d arrived? Bottled-up feelings pounded in my chest so hard I was glad no one was home to witness it.
And my boyfriend? He tripped getting out of the passenger seat. That’s what can happen when you looked at your mobile phone instead of your girlfriend’s smiling face. My expression soured as he passed me, not even a peck on the cheek.
“What’s with the ride?” I called.
Their mum, Mrs Delaney, should’ve been dropping Justin off like usual. But he ignored me and trudged farther into my house.
Rick noticed my expression and jogged up the stairs. Elder by three years, he stood tall with the composure of a man compared to his teenage brother. Strong shoulders filled out his dark T-shirt. He was bigger in not only his upper body but everywhere—thick arms and thighs and a solid build. Add that to a smile and he melted the hearts of women everywhere—seventeen-year-old girls included.
“Mum and Dad are in Europe,” Rick said. “They call it a long-awaited honeymoon. Justin and I call it a mid-life crisis.”
My jaw hung open. How could Justin not tell me? I thought this type of thing excited a boyfriend. Weeks of no parental supervision at home—it’d excite me if not for the sudden pit of worry in my belly. “They’re away? They’re not here?”
“That’s what a holiday is.” Rick deadpanned.
“It’s just that Justin never told me anything.”
“It was only a few days ago.”
As if that made it okay. If Justin didn’t spend so much time with his phone in his face, he might have remembered to tell me. I didn’t know why, but it cut me that I didn’t know an important change in his life. I told him every time my dad left to truck interstate for work, and that was every few weeks. He was gone more than he was here, and Mum worked odd hours. It was lonely and hard to stay away from the temptations Justin and my best friend, Cara offered me at parties or when we hung out.
“Hey, bro,” Justin called behind us. He came up and slammed his hand on the side of the front door. “Come fix the washing machine.”
“Washing machine?” I asked. Why are you acting like you live here? I was close to adding.
“Yeah,” he held out the front of his top, “got a Coke from your fridge and it squirted everywhere.”
“We don’t have any Coke left in the fridge.”
“You do in the spare one.”
I bit my lip and flexed my fingers by my side. Facing him, I cracked a thin smile. Most of the time, Justin wasn’t like this. Correction, before recently, my boyfriend wasn’t like this. He kissed me like no one else, and made me laugh, but damn it, he either had the memory of a goldfish or was too ignorant to care.
“That was for tomorrow night!” I stared into his eyes with hope of making him feel guilty, but he was clueless. “Dad’s back from Sydney tomorrow, and Mum’s got a dinner for us three. You know he loves Coke. You know he’s been away for weeks. You know Mum’s too busy working to buy more groceries before then.”
Justin shook his head. “So uptight.” He squeezed my ass, smiling as he planted his lips fully to mine. “I love that about you, but seriously, I forgot. And your mum works at a supermarket for fuck’s sake.”
True, but Justin drank Coke, and ate all the ice cream, and ate all the chips, and I got sick of explaining to Mum why I was so selfish as to keep putting her out when she only requested little favours like these on special occasions. Such as tomorrow.
“I’m not uptight.” I paused. “It’s fine about the top—I’ll hand wash and Rick—”
But as I turned to tell him not to worry about fixing the washing machine, my hands met a rock solid chest. I froze. My palms lingered on the contours of his defined pecs with my fingertips at his collarbone. Not able to look at his eyes, I dropped my hands, as if that would undo our moment.
It didn’t.
I’d spend sleepless nights dreaming about his body, as I did when he was far away and stopped talking to me. Pictures and memories of him were all I had.
Justin was hot with his dark eyes and brown hair, but compared to Rick, he was scrawny. Mostly bones everywhere, and when we made out, his hips rubbed into mine. I’d forgotten his shortfalls when it was just him and me. I liked him plenty and that grew to love. But now my past was back, and I had no idea what to feel when seconds ago my hands were on his brother.
That brother with a firm build, one that wouldn’t rub against me if we were to … I shut down that thought pattern. I shouldn’t imagine Rick on top of me. We were three years apart, and at my age, sex with him was illegal.
I pulled my thoughts in and mumbled, “Oh, um,” then took a breath and tried again. “Dad’s back tomorrow, so don’t worry about it. He’ll fix it then. I feel terrible putting you out.”
“It’s fine, Vee, really. Kill some time.”
“Thanks, fag,” Justin said, pulling at my arm to drag me away.
“God, Justin, you’re such an ass sometimes.” I shook out of his grip. He looked offended, so I added, “Gotta go clean up the Coke, remember?”
“Seriously,” Rick said, “you two just chill. I’ll let myself through. This way?” He pointed down the hall.
I nodded. “I’ll come with you.”
“Fine.” Justin walked the other way. “You two have fun. I’m hanging in Vee’s bed.”
“Such a tool,” Rick said, walking to the washing machine.
“I know,” I mumbled.
I took out the mop and bucket, and then went to the cupboard to grab the concentrate liquid.
“I was born with a link to him, but indulge me.” Rick crouched by the washing machine on his haunches, legs spread and hands dangling between. “Why is someone as smart and gorgeous as you with him?”
“I ask myself why—”
I stopped.
He said I was smart and gorgeous.
“Oh,” I managed between strangled breaths, “thanks.”
He half-smiled then got to work. His T-shirt rode up on one side as he leant over. Just above his pant line, the angular ‘V’ at his lower back peeked out. Hard as I tried not to gawk, it was impossible when I was alone with him in this small space.
“The, um,” I started and almost forgot what I was going to say. Luckily, I recovered. “The machine won’t start. Not sure what it is. Mum and I have been hand washing for now.”
Rick turned, focusing his attention on the washer. I wiped the laundry bench and cupboard and mopped the floor, trying to concentrate on the mop end and not Rick’s ass or his body bent over the machine.
After I was done, I went to my room to hang with Justin, but he w
asn’t there. I did a lap of the house, called his name, and checked the other rooms too, but he had literally disappeared. I paused a moment in the kitchen, steadying myself on the corner of the bench while I let the realisation absorb. He left without a goodbye, without much of a hello for that matter.
“Rick!” I called.
He emerged wiping his top down his face. I looked away as fast as I could, but the image of his lean eight-pack projected in my imagination anyway.
Justin might’ve been outside or somewhere I hadn’t checked. He had to be. I pushed aside the topic. It would be stupid to suggest he left.
“Thank you so much,” I said, meeting Rick’s eyes, “for in there.” I pointed behind him.
“But you don’t know if I fixed it.”
“You tried.”
He smiled with his lip jutted out and nodded, as if I impressed him. “Well,” he said, “you can be a woman of modern technology from now on. All fixed. It was a loose belt. Slipped off.”
“Oh, lucky me.”
The silence became louder, and judging by the tightness between Rick’s eyebrows, he had just noticed Justin’s absence.
“Justin?” I queried, and he nodded cautiously. “Yeah, I looked everywhere for him. This might sound stupid, but I think he left. I couldn’t find him. He’s just not here.”
Rick tensed his jaw, scoping the open living area. “Bull,” he said, but by the dismissive tone, he sounded like he was saying it to himself or about something else.
He stalked off toward my backyard without another word, so I scampered after him, my little legs no match for his long strides. I flipped the light on outside and Rick walked down the steps, following the shallow lighting spilling over the clumpy, yellowed grass and shrubs lining the property fence.
“Unbelievable,” Rick muttered, I thought, but I couldn’t be sure with his back facing me or by the growl to his tone.
He eased me back with a polite hand and walked around to my front door and beyond. He surveyed the porch and front yard in the same swift and efficient manner as the back, and then turned to me. We were facing each other separated by my whole house. The front light slammed behind him, and it made him glow. I supposed I looked the same and wondered if I seemed as mysterious and alluring as he did. Not possible.
We shut the doors and walked towards each other, meeting near my kitchen bench.
“Did he tell you he was leaving?”
“Not at all,” I said, scratching my head. “I just came from the laundry, and he was gone. Maybe …” but I trailed off, feeling stupid for thinking it.
“What?” Rick said, eyes narrowed.
“Maybe he texted me letting me know why.”
Rick shrugged. “You could check.”
I did, returning with my mobile phone. I had one new message.
Justin: Had to go. Sorry, babe xoxo
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, embodying the same rage as Rick.
“What? He didn’t—” Rick looked at my mobile which I handed over, and he cut himself off to read. “He did. Where did he even go? What a bastard.”
Rick’s cheeks were inflamed now, and a telltale vein popped from his forehead. He scrubbed his temples with the heels of his hands.
I remained there not doing a thing. I hadn’t seen Rick for so long. I hadn’t a clue how to calm him down or what would be appropriate.
“It’s not a big deal,” I said. “He’s my boyfriend, not yours.”
“He’s my brother. I’m here to look out for him and the kid slips from my fingers.”
“Look out?” I asked.
Rick’s face blanched. He stood there with these big helpless arms dangling on either side of his body. He coughed and said, “Parents are away. Someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble.”
“Oh.” I sighed. “It’s nice of you to come back to keep an eye on him. I’m sure he doesn’t think so. Now he can’t run amuck with freedom.” I had so many questions to ask Rick—like whether London was an extended holiday or was he there for work or did he miss me? I couldn’t ask any of them though when we had more important things on our minds.
“I don’t think so either,” Rick said in a solemn tone. The severity of it hit me square in the chest like a physical force, and my body stood immobile while I adjusted to the weirdness of everything. Justin leaving, but also the aloof Rick Delaney who had changed since I last knew him.
“I better go search.” He patted his pockets, looked over the bench, and then ducked into the laundry room. When he emerged, he walked to the front door.
I followed, and we both turned to each other at the same time, drawing a startled chuckle from me. I placed my hand over my chest. “Thanks for everything. It’s good to see you back, Rick.” I leaned up to kiss him, and he stooped to my cheek, pecking it so lightly, only the bristle of his stubble grazed my skin.
He jogged down the front steps, unlocked his car, and was about to jump into it when he looked up at me, this big, lost expression on his handsome face. “See ya,” he called. Then he hopped in and drove.
At least he said goodbye, but the whole night had left me shaken.
• • •
TO CALM MYSELF, I spent the night finding my own answers to Rick’s whereabouts. I stayed in my bedroom, wedged between my scratched wooden desk, the flimsy seat, and my bed, which was not even a metre behind me. I checked Facebook, but it said nowhere about where he lived. He posted statuses only twice a week at most and often, one or two weeks apart. His pictures were never his own snaps, but graphics of something or another from the internet.
When Mum trudged through the door at ten thirty after a long shift at the supermarket, I was caught up in my detective searches. I shut the laptop and met her in the living room as she lumped her handbag by the couch. I plopped down on the couch to watch TV and she took the spot next to me, sighing.
“Hey.”
She planted a big kiss on my cheek. “Hi, darling.”
“Thanks, Mum,” I said, wiping the slobber—or at least the idea of slobber—off my skin. “That grew old, like, a decade ago.”
“But you’re still my little girl.”
Mum was the type of woman you could look at and think, Yep, Mum material. She only showed cleavage during dinners or nights out. She loved straight-leg jeans, T-shirts with prints on them, and her chestnut hair stopped an inch above her shoulders.
“Yeah, and that excuse grew old a while ago, too.”
She flicked between channels, and in the meantime, I blended a berry ice cream smoothie for us in the kitchen. When they were done, I poured them into glasses and handed Mum one with a green straw.
Instead of having a go at me, jokingly, about keeping the pink straw, she just sipped it and placed it on the coffee table. “I want to apologise for your dad and I.”
“Huh?” I pushed my smoothie on the table, too. “What’s wrong?”
Mum pointed to it. “Drink it.”
“Not thirsty anymore. What’s up?”
She traced the stitching along the arm of the couch. “Ah, just with work. He said he’d retire from trucking in a year. Just enough to give us some more cash for Rob’s uni, your schooling, and the bills and mortgage. It won’t be forever. Or, hey! Maybe I’ll become one of those door biatches outside clubs! Is that what they’re called? I bet they make a tonne of cash.”
I had meant to say consoling words about how I didn’t mind, but Mum had a way of keeping doom and gloom to a minimum. I followed her tone. She seemed plagued by these work and money issues. “No, it’s door bitch, and plus, you’re too old to say ‘biatch.’”
“When was the cut-off?”
“About the time Dad knocked you up with me.”
“Uh-huh.” Mum tapped her finger on her chin. “I see where I went wrong. Maybe when I get this almighty promotion, we can buy deluxe smoothies from a takeout place instead.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Mum picked up hers and said, “I’ll finish it in bed.” Being on her f
eet all day, she was wrecked and needed sleep.
“That’s okay, Mum. I’ll be fine by myself.”
• • •
THE STORY OF Rick and I began with my best friend, Cara. Sort of.
Cara and I have been friends since we were twelve, a friendship forged when a random class seating arrangement lumped us together.
Rick was school captain of sports in his last year of school. He became the sudden reason attendance spiked during assemblies. The teachers were rapt with our interest, even if they didn’t know why so many girls were there. We would all sit there holding our tongues at the sight of him in sneakers and workout shorts, revealing crafted calves from years of running, and his tank hugging every curve.
In one English class after such an assembly, Cara wrote a lovey-dovey poem about some guy who could run like a bolt of lightning, who had killer legs, and a perfect set of broad shoulders. That and he had tousled, medium brown hair and dark eyes. She denied it when I asked her, but every other boy in our year level and the one above had pimples, too many bones, and squeaky voices. It was obvious after her extreme lusting for Rick it was about him.
I, too, crushed on him, so when Cara made me ‘get a word in,’ I didn’t complain. That day after school, I pulled him up to chat. He was with Justin, who was in our year level and fifteen like Cara and I. Rick was eighteen, although not by much because he hadn’t gotten his licence yet. He said they were waiting for their mum.
Justin got right into chatting, but Rick eyed me over his shoulder, smiling, but giving me a touch too much attention to be purely polite. I still cringed when I thought about my level of nerves hanging with two cute boys.
I decided the best lead to see if Rick wanted to ask Cara on a date was the weather. Maybe I thought mentioning the word ‘hot’ would heat up the conversation. Or I could find a lead-in by mentioning how good Cara looked in her bikini.
What happened was I waved my hands everywhere and tripped on nothing at all but my stupidity. Rick lunged for me and picked me up the moment my knees crashed into the dirt. I sat there, legs dangling over the school fence while Justin washed off one of my knees with his water bottle, and Rick did the same with his other. I held my lips together in a firm line, refusing to let my lip wobble, and focused on the blinding sun. At least it made it impossible to cry.
The Rental Page 1