The Do-Gooder

by Jessie L. Star

  For a moment he stayed stiff and unrelenting, a statue in the face of my plea, then something in the tight way he was holding himself released, and he shook his head. "No, I know you wouldn't," he said gruffly, "and I'm not putting this all on you. She's my sister, I should've been keeping a better eye on her."

  I was glad then to share some of the responsibility for what had happened, I wouldn't have had him feeling the way it choked and dragged you down alone. Saskia was his family, so this suffocating accountability made an inevitable sort of sense, and yet...

  "Where's your dad in this?" I asked sharply, suddenly remembering that not both the Townsend parents had left the picture. Not that Fletch and Saskia's father was top of my list of dependable adults, but still.

  Fletch let out a dark chuckle that pretty much said it all. "Don't know." He shrugged. "He's not been home the whole time I've been here. Saskia thinks he's got himself a girlfriend."

  I got the gist and balled my hands against the cuffs of my green jumper as I accepted that I'd been in the best position to look out for Saskia, but had been too busy playing games with her brother to realise it.

  "I should've told you," I said simply.

  He nodded, accepting that, and then shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his shorts. "I get why you didn't, though," he muttered. "That's how it is with us, right? We can't just come out and say anything."

  I swept my fringe to the side and tucked the end behind my ear, searching for the right words to respond with. Only the wrong ones seemed to occur to me, however, conscious as I was that he'd just excused me in the way he'd said he couldn't anymore.

  "Yeah, well, our talents lie elsewhere, I guess." I'd taken the coward's route, and I hated myself for it.

  Fletch knew me well enough to know I should've done better, and he kicked at the bottom step in frustration, wedging the toe of his shoe into a spot where the concrete had cracked. He kept his gaze focused down on the chips of grey cement he was dislodging as he said, "No denying that."

  There was a beat of silence and then a particularly big lump of the step gave way to his digging and he bent down to pick it up. Juggling the grey piece back and forth in his hands, he added, "It's not enough, though, is it? For it to work?" He turned suddenly and pegged the chunk of concrete towards the wooden side fence where it connected with a resounding thunk.

  "Look, I get that I was the one that dragged us into this," he faced me again, speaking with sudden animation. "I know you were happy to leave it after that day at Shelbys Beach, but I couldn't. And I knew it'd end badly, it's just...I've always known I wanted you, Lara, since the first day I met you. I know you said what you wrote in Big Blue didn't matter, but what you put about whether I was friends with Donny to get closer to you, that's something I've wondered myself. Because, honestly, there's not been much I wouldn't do to be around you."

  I rose slowly to my feet, gripping the plain metal railing that bordered the steps for balance as I felt my head start to spin.

  "Fletch-" I tried to interrupt him, but he'd clearly found the confidence that I lacked and kept going.

  "But, yeah, it's not good enough. All that hassle I gave you about your deeds...I read Big Blue and I get it. I always thought it was about you forcing yourself to be something you're not, but the way you get people and want to help them out, that is who you are and I'm an arsehole for not getting that sooner."

  "Don't say that," I said sharply, moving down a couple of steps, but stopping just shy of him. "Don't...God, Fletch, don't let me off on this. You were right the other night; I set up my deeds so they'd be entirely on my own terms because I can't handle it when I'm not in control. That's why I'm so all over the place around you, because when I'm with you I'm so far from in control."

  I was shaking again, terrified of the vulnerable position I was putting myself in, but I wasn't going to let myself stop. I refused to shut it away again when it had taken me so long to get to this place.

  "And I've told myself over the years that I can't help it," I continued, ducking my head to look him in the eye. "That it's some weird pheromone, sexual chemistry thing that's out of my hands, but that's such bull. It's not some big, magical mystery, it's because you've always been there for me; you've been the one person who's always seen me and thought that I matter, so how could I not be in love with you?"

  I didn't have to seek his gaze then as his head reared back and he stared at me, disbelief etched into every line of his face. His incredulity wasn't particularly surprising considering my behaviour over the last few years, but it did add another layer of urgency to my tone as I continued, "Because that's what this is, right? It's not the easy, companionable thing Merry and Daz have got going on, but in the way that I think about you all the time and have pretty much been on fire every time I'm around you since I was 14? Yeah, that's how it is. And I know you said you were done, and I get that, I so get that, but the truth is that I don't know if I even know how to be done with you."

  ----------

  He could see only her. The background seemed to have faded and his whole world was the girl in front of him, the girl who had every last one of her defences down and was, therefore, virtually unrecognisable to him.

  Her knuckles were white as they gripped the handrail and her skin was almost translucently pale, reminding him that she'd been in hospital not that long before she'd come here and faced all this. He noticed this, and every other detail of her, because truly focusing on what she'd just said to him felt beyond him at that point.

  He'd been so sure it was over. The hours he'd spent unable to find the right words to comfort Saskia had been filled instead with this surety. He'd said what he had just then as a goodbye, as an attempt for them to part ways a little less messed up than where they'd started, but then she'd...

  "We've done everything wrong, babe," he said, his voice sounding strangled as he forced the truth out. "I'm not sure we even really know who each other are."

  Lara's lips curled slightly in a grimace as she replied, "You sound like Merry, she said the same thing to me a few weeks back."

  This he could understand, and he offered her a similarly stilted smile as he asked, "She read you the riot act, hey?"

  "Yeah."

  "Me too."

  She fiddled with her sleeves again, an anxious motion he was starting to know so well. He was so focused on this revealing gesture, in fact, that he almost didn't hear her as she added, "I copped it from Daz this morning as well."

  "From Daz?" He repeated, failing to see how his mate, who had been so vocally opposed to anything even vaguely related to Lara, had come into this.

  "Yeah," she lifted her chin slightly, some of the old defiance shining through as she said, "I was looking for you, but I got him instead. I tried to apologise to him for the way I've treated him over the years and...well, I'm sure you can guess how that went down."

  She'd tried to apologise to Daz? It was significant, he felt, but he couldn't have said exactly how at that moment. "I would've paid money to see that," he offered in an attempt to defuse the intensity of their situation, but she was clearly having none of it.

  "I was, I am, trying to make it right," she said, clearly desperate for him to see her sincerity. "The way it felt being in hospital, not knowing where you were and knowing that I really didn't deserve to know...I can't do that again. That's my 'can't', Fletch; I can't not have you around."

  A tear, incongruous to her bold stance, escaped her eye then and slid down her cheek until she wiped it away impatiently, as always in no mood for histrionics, especially her own.

  "I'll understand if you want to be rid of me and I'll try and stay away," she said determinedly, "but I just want you to know, before you give up on me entirely, that I'm willing to do the work for you. I want a second go at atoning for past sins and I want to do it right this time."

  "I don't-" he began, trying to tell her that atonement was never what he'd wanted from her, but where he'd cut her off so many times previous, sh
e sought to even the score.

  "Let me try this," she implored swiping quickly at her face as a few more tears made a bid for freedom. "Let me try to be a good person to you for a change. I'm not saying that I don't have a fair few things still to work through because I obviously do, but I'm just..." she swallowed thickly, "I'm just asking you to let me try before you're done with me."

  He knew what it took her to say it, could feel it even, as she continued to resolutely hold herself up for his inspection. It was what he'd never thought he'd get from her, that he'd never even dared to ask for because she'd been so clear in the past that it wasn't on offer.

  Well then…

  Slowly, he reached up and slipped a finger into one of the belt loops of her jeans, tugging her down the last step so they stood toe to toe. Her scent wrapped around him as they stood there in silence, as close as two people could be without touching. This was what it'd been like, Fletch thought, this was the equivalent of what the past month and a bit had been with her, together but not really.

  He could change that now, though, and he did, leaning down to kiss her and feeling her mouth instantly give beneath his. He cupped her face gently, incredibly aware of the combined fragility and strength that made up who she was and wondering how he'd ever thought he'd be able to give her up.

  After a few seconds, he forced himself to lift his head from hers, automatically reaching to steady her as she swayed from the release. He looked down and saw that her hands had risen to his chest during their embrace, bunching the fabric of his t-shirt in a grip that didn't look like it would be lessening any time soon. Well, that was just fine with him.

  "If that was a goodbye kiss, Fletcher Townsend," Lara said breathlessly after a moment, "I'm going to kill you."

  He smiled and pressed his forehead against hers, watching her eyelashes tremble and another couple of tears slip out.

  "Babe," he said lowly, "I think it's pretty clear by now that I have absolutely no ability to say goodbye to you."

  She let out a little noise that was almost a sob and then, her fingers tightening still further around the fabric of his t-shirt, she said one word, with all the finality and conviction he'd come to expect from her.

  "Good."

  Epilogue – What Is

  Five Years Later...

  "I like a good bit of alliteration as much as the next person, Tony, so did you really expect me not to notice that you'd slipped a 'foyer and fountain fee' into the contract? Maria and Amit are getting married in the Peacock Room specifically to avoid additional charges, we've already discussed this."

  I took the proffered clipboard off the lackey hovering beside me and ran my eyes perfunctorily down the final menu for that night, dividing my attention between the number of vegetarian meals required and the obsequious ramblings of the man on the other end of the phone. Satisfied that the dishes listed matched the requirements, I scribbled a quick signature at the bottom to sign it off and then gave my full consideration to the voice continuing to bleat in my ear.

  "I understand that it costs to maintain a facility such as yours," I interrupted firmly when he started in on the excuses for his cock-up, "it's beautiful, which is why I recommend it to my clients. These recommendations are not going to be as forthcoming, however, if you continue to alter the terms we've previously agreed on."

  I caught a napkin as it fluttered free of a tray a waiter was carrying past and popped it back into place on my way across the large hall I'd hired out for the evening. By the time I arrived at the table I'd been aiming for, the backpedalling and profuse apologies had worn extremely thin, so I put on my most gracious tone and cut him off. "I appreciate that, Tony. Just send over the amended contract and I'll get back to you in the morning."

  Pressing the hang up button on my ear piece, I grimaced across at my assistant, Alexis, who grinned back at me.

  "That man is getting a special mention in my memoirs," I said darkly, "under the chapter title 'Knobs I have Known'."

  "I can only assume he'll also turn up in the chapters 'Morons I have Managed' and 'Time Wasters I have Tamed'," she laughed. "It'll be a bestseller!"

  "And very long," I added as Alexis passed me Big Blue opened onto the seating plan, knowing, in that magical assistant way of hers, that that was what I was after.

  We worked in silence then for a couple of minutes, falling into the familiar pattern we'd developed over the past year or so since I'd hired her to embark on my start-up event management venture with me. Between the pair of us we'd wrestled weddings, battled Bar Mitzvahs and attacked anniversaries, bringing every event into line and out into the world as peerlessly elegant occasions, and building a reputation I couldn't help but be proud of in the process.

  Our companionable reverie was shattered before too long, however, as the large double doors at the end of the room banged open and Fletch and Saskia barged in, clearly in the midst of an argument.

  "-don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?" I heard Fletch say as they approached, exasperation lacing each word.

  "That's so typical of you!" Saskia exclaimed before she caught sight of me and threw her hands up imploringly. "Oh my God, Lara, will you sort out your boyfriend?"

  Alexis darted a quick look the Townsend's way and then, wisely, excused herself to check on the audio visual set up for the evening, whilst I turned my attention to the oncoming siblings.

  "Sure, when you need a lift he's your brother, but as soon as he's got up your nose he's my boyfriend," I drawled, crossing my arms and looking them up and down.

  Five years hadn't changed Fletch much, he was still broad-shouldered and solid, still prone to smell like the ocean and dress like he was permanently on holiday. Saskia, however, was virtually unrecognisable from the defiantly misunderstood 15 year old she'd been. To be fair, she was pretty unrecognisable from one day to another as her fondness for trying out new hair colours and make-up styles sometimes made it seem like she was in some sort of witness protection program. Today she sported a choppy purple bob that I hoped to God was a wig, and expertly executed winged eyeliner.

  "Fiancé," Fletch corrected us, leaning forward to give me a quick kiss. "I'm your fiancé, not your boyfriend, you two might give remembering that a go from time to time."

  "We probably forget because the ring you gave her is so thoroughly insignificant it's easy to overlook," Saskia snapped and I shook my head slightly at Fletch as he whipped his head round to check this wasn't an opinion I shared. The understated emerald cut diamond that had sparkled on my ring finger for the past six months or so was exactly right and I gave Saskia a pointed glare as I asked,

  "What's your problem? And can you get over it quickly because we're going to need to start getting ready soon?"

  "My problem," Saskia snapped, "is that my brother dearest thinks I'm a slut."

  I raised my eyebrows and Fletch snorted. "Yeah," he said sarcastically, "because that's what I said."

  Saskia tossed back her violet locks and tapped the heel of her exquisite knee-high boots against the floor as she said, "You might as well have."

  "I asked which one of the guys who are always hanging around you were planning to bring tonight." Fletch shot his sister a significant look. "That's all."

  I rolled my eyes as I felt the atmosphere in the room plummet from 'heated' to 'icy'. How on earth Fletch didn't realise, after all this time, what a colossal error a comment like that was around his volatile sister was beyond me.

  "I go to fashion school!" Saskia howled, making a couple of the nearby staff start in surprise. "I jiggle in the wrong places to interest most of the guys I'm at uni with, so who exactly do you think is lining up to give me a good going over?"

  "The one with the piercings," Fletch said immediately, as I pulled out my phone and started to scroll through my messages. The three of us had been living together since Fletch and I finished uni, so I was adept at multi-tasking while the two of them squabbled.

  "Yeah, well," she scoffed, "he'd root anything that
moves, I don't think that's specific to me."

  "What about the one you were kissing when I saw you last week?" Fletch reached for the bowl of pretzels on the table nearest him and, without raising my eyes from my screen, I slapped his hand away.

  "Who? Quentin?" Saskia flung back her hair again, a sly smile tipping the edges of her lips. "Oh, he doesn't have to line up, he's already head of the queue."

  Fletch's eyes narrowed. "You said his name was Orlando last week."

  "Oh..." she faltered, "yeah."

  I looked up with an arched brow. "Feeling a little bit unstable on that moral high ground of yours?" I asked and she shrugged, still with a smirk.

  "So there are a few guys interested, maybe. But in answer to your original question," she said tartly to her brother, "I'm not bringing anyone tonight. Thursday night's family night, right?"

  And, almost in unison, we all turned our heads to look at the huge poster of Donny that was hanging behind the podium at the far end of the room.

  "It's quite something," Fletch murmured, and I nodded. I'd been subconsciously avoiding looking at the ridiculously large photo of my brother ever since it'd been hung by the crew a few hours ago, but I made myself consider it now.

  "Not exactly my taste," I said eventually, "but I guess it is the Donny Montgomery Surfing Scholarship so probably throwing a curtain or something over it would be considered bad form."

  Mum had spring-boarded the idea for tonight a few months earlier, after I'd taken her to a charity gala I'd organised in memory of a client's child who had passed away. She'd been quiet in the car on the way home, but just as we'd pulled up to her house, she'd turned to me and announced that she too would love her child's name to be synonymous with something other than dying. A split second's thought made it clear that this comment had, in fact, been a request, something Fletch'd confirmed by hearing my retelling of the moment and responding immediately: 'so what are you going to do?'