“Where exactly did they go, Si?”
“Just down the road. I expect they’ve done their worst.”
Emily narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by that?” She didn’t want to entertain visions of her sister causing enough trouble to land her in the police holding cells. Granted, she skirted that sort of madness as it was.
“Let’s go take a look, shall we?” He walked to the front door, each step deliberate and so cool she wanted to goad him with sharp words, but she bit her tongue.
Simon waited for her to lock, a slight smile tugging at his lips, as though he were privy to some secret joke he wasn’t inclined to share any time soon. The keys jingled in his hand as he twirled them, making her think of a cat’s tail swishing.
It didn’t help that her fingers didn’t want to play along and it took her two attempts to lock the door after typing in the alarm code, all the while aware of those pale eyes regarding her every move. The pressure of his hand on the small of her back as he guided her to his car gave some comfort, and she shot a glance across the street to Mrs. De Wet’s house, where she was sure she discerned a silhouetted figure twitch the lounge curtains back in place.
The last of the twilight had bled from the sky, but a haze clouded the stars and made the upturned bowl of night sky appear as though it were covered in a layer of gauze. The first fitful tugs of a full-blown southeaster whispered through the street.
She was full of questions, not liking this entire situation one bit, but Simon did not offer her an opportunity to speak, because a Rammstein album blasted from the Alfa’s sound system at full volume. The guttural German lyrics added to her need to lash out at something, anything, and Emily clenched the leather seat instead. How much pressure would she have to exert for her nails to puncture holes in the no doubt expensive upholstery?
The orange of the streetlights made Simon’s skin glow with an alien sheen, that insufferable smirk never once leaving his face. The guitar riffs pounded and Emily gritted her teeth.
They drove down Camp Road into Orange Street then turned into the area where Oranjezicht melded with Gardens. It was a pretty enough neighborhood with its Victorian- and Edwardian-era architecture, but Emily was in no mood to admire houses. At the moment the doorways gaped darkly.
Then Simon surprised her by switching off the music completely and turning his car’s lights on dim. The sapphire flashing of police lights ahead made her blood run cold, especially when Simon turned the car into a side street without indicating.
“Phone your sister.” He handed her his cellphone. The man’s voice was without inflection, and he glanced about, something which didn’t bode well by her estimation.
Although she wanted to say I told you so, Emily took the phone without a word, needing a few seconds and a deep breath or two before she could recall Rae’s number. The call went through and the ring tone on the other end of the line started.
Once. Twice. Three times the phone rang.
“Pick up,” Emily muttered, as if her words could somehow make her sister answer.
By the sixth ring, Emily wanted to give up in disgust, but Simon watched her, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, the low purr of the Alfa’s engine only evident through the vibration Emily picked up from the floor.
“Hello?” Rae sounded out of breath.
“Where the fuck are you and what the hell is going on?” Emily asked.
A moment’s surprised silence greeted her before Rae replied. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Of course it’s bloody well me.”
“He didn’t tell you, did he?”
“If you mean I had to beat it out of him, pretty much. Now will someone please explain to me what sort of hare-brained scheme the three of you have cooked up? Before I do my nut.”
“You mean I cooked up,” Rae said. “Whatever’s happening here tonight has nothing to do with Simon but everything to do with you and me. No one messes with us, sis.”
“What have you done? Where are you?”
Her sister laughed, although the slight high-pitched edge to her tone suggested Rae bordered on hysteria. “We’re down by Dunkley Square. Headed home. Please don’t tell me you’ve persuaded Simon to drive you to come looking for me.”
Emily didn’t feel like commenting on that. “You stay right where you are. I will be there in less than a minute.” With that, she killed the call and looked pointedly at Simon. “And you can drive directly to Dunkley Square. Whatever shit’s gone down here, I really don’t think I want to know about it.”
He shrugged, that infuriating smile even broader on his features as he put the car in gear and swung into the road. “Whatever you say, love.”
Emily stared out the window, fuming. The scenery passed in a blur as Simon took the narrow streets at twice the speed she assumed legal.
Dunkley Square, bounded on one side by a luxury bed-and-breakfast accommodation and a row of semi-detached double-storey Edwardians on the other, was packed, small tables set outside the two restaurants spilling onto the sidewalk with plenty of cars crowding the small parking area.
At first she couldn’t see her sister, but when two drab shadows detached themselves from a deeper patch of gloom to the Barnett Street side, Emily jerked the car door open and strode toward them before Simon had a chance to bring the vehicle to a proper standstill. If he knew what was good for him, he’d stay right where he was. She wasn’t sure with whom she should be more furious, Simon or Rae.
Davy hunched behind Rae, as though he could somehow vanish behind the diminutive young woman, and one glare from Emily had him take a step back. Rae held her hands clenched at her sides but there was no mistaking the slow drip of blood spattering the tarmac.
“What happened to your hand?” Emily’s anger gave way to concern.
“It’s just a scratch.” Rae’s smile was too tight. She was clearly in a fair amount of pain.
“Let me see.” Emily gestured with her fingers.
Rae cast a glance back at Davy, who gave the slightest shake of his head. Rae locked gazes with her sister and offered Emily the injured limb.
Emily sucked in a hiss. A deep gash marred the skin, at least three inches across the palm. “You’ll need stitches.”
Her sister blanched and pulled her hand back. “It’s just a scratch.”
“That you got doing what?”
“Climbing over a gate.”
“Which means you’ll need an anti-tetanus shot as well. I’m pretty certain you’ve not had one since you were ten and you had that little incident with the neighbor’s bull terrier.”
“It’s going to be fine. I’ll just go back home and–”
“You will do nothing of a sort. We’re going to the hospital. Now. Look at the way you’re bleeding. What if you end up getting gangrene or hepatitis? We’ll talk about what you were getting up to later.” Emily looked farther up the mountain where blue lights still flashed, painting the eaves of houses in their glare. “I have no doubt it was spectacular, whatever havoc you instigated.”
* * * *
They made a morbid family portrait, the four of them seated in a row at Groote Schuur Hospital’s trauma unit. Rae tried to put on a brave front, but had to admit Emily had been right. The wound hadn’t stopped bleeding by the time they arrived and the pain… She bit the insides of her cheeks. Fuck, it burned.
She’d been stupid to think the wild banana would hide her. In fact, her boots had crushed dried leaves and made more of a noise, which had brought Theo around the corner to investigate. Although he’d not been a big man and was in his late fifties, judging by his appearance, his yell of “Hey! Who are you? What are you doing here?” had her clearing the six-foot gate as though the barrier didn’t exist, despite her initial misgivings.
He’d tried to grab her foot while she scrambled for purchase and she recalled landing one very solid kick she suspected connected with his temple.
Of getting the horrid gash in her hand, she had scant recollection, only no
ticing the pain and the warmth of her blood trickling down her fingers once she’d rejoined Davy and they’d made a quick getaway, Davy already on the phone.
They’d lurked for a while, sheltered in a garden not far from Theo’s home, just to watch. Rae had muttered to herself all the time at the pain, unwilling to let Davy know how bad the wound was. It took the phone call fifteen minutes to bring about the desired reaction, three unsavory types halting out front in a suped-up Toyota.
Davy had never introduced Rae to his supplier, or any of his cohorts, for which Rae was glad, but it still gave her an uneasy twinge to know he was on a first-name basis with these guys. It brought a lot of things into perspective, that her casual acceptance of a constant source of weed kept thugs like that in business, thugs who had very little conscience when it came to exacting a pound of revenge. Those men had guns, some no doubt with prison records. Hell, some may even have killed.
They’d turned on Davy, after all, when they’d grown suspicious of his activities and felt the need to put him in his place. She had to suppose it was a stroke of brilliance setting the gangster on the stalker, though it made her feel scratchy behind the eyes.
Five minutes later, the cops had arrived and, while some sort of altercation clearly took place at Theo’s house, Davy had thought it prudent for them to slink away when gun shots had cracked through the night. That was when he’d seen the gash on her hand. Or rather, he’d accidentally grabbed her injured hand in his and elicited a pained yelp from her.
Now they were in the stinking hospital with its flickering tube-lighting and surly nurses who glared at the foursome as though they were worse than scum. Row upon row of old plastic seats marched in skew lines in the hall. The other people patiently waiting for service varied between honest types who had suffered some unfortunate injury to the downright disreputable, looking as though they’d escaped the consequences of some sort of illegal activity.
The nurses probably categorized Rae in the latter class. At any rate, they gave them a wide berth. Emily sat very still and straight, Simon’s hand clasped tightly in hers, while he stared directly ahead, as though he existed in another place entirely. He hadn’t said anything during the drive to the hospital, so Rae assumed he most likely felt like shit for having given over Theo’s address.
Davy kept his arm around her and squeezed every so often. It felt oh so good to lean her head against his shoulder and have him press his lips against her scalp. Thank goodness the nurses had given her soft medicinal padding to keep pressure on the wound while she waited for a doctor, but even this soaked through quickly and a horrible queasiness stole through the dull ache that throbbed up her arm.
This entire drama was her fault, and Rae didn’t feel right about complaining, so she swallowed back her discomfort and tried to think about nice things, like finishing a painting of magnolias in the style of Tretchikoff for her art assignment, or the big metal fest which was happening quite soon.
If she were lucky, she might still be able to ask Simon for golden circle tickets for Davy as well. She cast a furtive glance in Simon’s direction but he still resolutely stared ahead. Never mind. The opportunity for that request would present itself. For now it was simply a case of facing the dread doctor and the umpteen stitches in which her latest escapade had resulted. Rae only prayed none of this would get back to her parents. Not that she cared, but she preferred to avoid complicated explanations.
Chapter 13
Blow-out
“Shite.” The front cover photograph of the Adamastor Mirror caught Rae’s eye on her way to college. She paused in front of the vendor, a wizened old crone who hawked her tabloids on the corner just before the administration building.
Although it wasn’t the best of pictures–blurry as though the photograph had been taken using a cellphone’s camera–there was no mistaking Simon and a blonde’s cleavage, her smiling mouth painted in scarlet. But that wasn’t the worst. Simon pinched a rolled-up banknote between finger and thumb and gave all appearance to be enjoying hoovering up a fat line of white powder. The headline screamed Shock-rocker Van Helsdingen caught in the act.
“Shite, shite, shite,” Rae muttered again, the old lady frowning at her all the while.
The whole world would know by now, and she had to make a quick decision: go to class and put up with a good, full-blown ribbing from her mates, or skip her lectures and find Emily before this whole situation exploded way out of proportion.
Another desperate scenario played itself out in Rae’s mind, of her barging into the newspaper publisher’s office where she’d find the editor and throttle him until the no-doubt fat grin was erased from his face. Not practical.
Fingers twitching, she stood very still and took deep breaths before she dug in her purse and handed the lady two bucks for the paper. Her hands trembled so much, the stitches in her wound tightened as she scanned the article. The gist of it was, so far as she could tell, Simon had allegedly lived it up during Hellbound Heart’s European tour despite his official statement of being clean after countless NA meetings.
Only he’d not attended all those meetings. He’d been shagging Emily senseless during that time. That much was certain.
“Fuck!” Rae almost dropped her cellphone but dialed through to Em’s shop. No answer. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Who could she call? Her first thought flew to Davy but what could he do? Besides, it was way too early to wake him. He’d probably only gotten to bed a few hours ago.
She’d stored Simon’s number after that time he’d allowed Emily to use his phone. Granted, she’d not intended to use the number, but it never hurt to have it on hand. She’d never considered it would have been this sort of scenario. Fuck college. Art history was shit boring in any case. She turned and started walking back up Kloof Street. Stodgy lectures could wait. This was a family emergency.
Simon answered after the fourth ring with a distracted “Hello.”
“What the fuck were you playing at while you were on tour?” Rae yelled at him.
“Hey? Who’s this?”
“Raeven, dumbass. You obviously haven’t seen the papers this morning, have you?”
“What–”
“You’d better haul your sorry butt down to my sister’s house. Now. I’ve just tried her at the shop and she’s obviously not in yet, but it’s not going to take her long to see the front cover of the bleeding Adamastor Mirror. Did you fuck that chick? Because if you did–”
The line went dead. Bastard! He’d killed the call. After a brief debate whether she’d call him back, Rae elected against that and carried on walking. Her lungs burned as she gasped in air, and the sunlight grew too warm by the moment. Damn, coffin kids weren’t supposed to be out and about during the day.
Her chest grew tight and she prayed she’d make it home soon, before Emily found out.
* * * *
The front door banging open had Emily spinning around. She hastily upended her mug of tea in the sink and left the kitchen to investigate, the fear not dawning until she laid eyes on her sister who stood gasping and red-faced on the threshold. Only then did she consider it could have been an intruder, or even that Theo guy, though they had not heard a peep from him for the past week.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at college?” Emily asked.
Rae pressed a hand to her chest then shut the door behind her. Still breathing hard, she didn’t talk but merely gestured for Emily to follow her into the lounge as she waved a rolled-up newspaper in the other.
The first, faint stirrings of unease made Emily compliant and she obeyed, plunking herself down on the couch next to Rae. “What’s up?”
Tears sprang in the corners of Rae’s eyes and she handed Emily the newspaper. At first the contents of the image didn’t register, then Emily’s chest tightened, her breathing turning into shallow gasps. The room contracted on the outer edge of her vision and it was difficult to focus on what she held before her. Simon. Some dumb blonde. A line of cocaine. A ringing st
arted in her ears and she pressed the heels of her hands onto her eyes, not caring that she smudged her liner. “It can’t be true,” she tried to say, but the words came out as more of a whimper. He’d probably shagged the chick.
“It happened in Berlin, I think,” said Rae.
Emily’s words choked in her throat. Her eyes burned so much it would be ridiculous to try to read anything. She flung the offending newspaper away from her with as much force as possible. It opened midair like some dying bird to flutter to the floor not far from where she sat.
Warm hands covered hers. “I’ve called him to tell him,” Rae said.
Emily parted her lids just a crack. “Why did you do that?”
“You should talk about this.”
“I don’t want to talk about it!” A fiery hot anger bubbled up like lava, raising Emily to her feet. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s abso-fucking-lutely nothing to talk about here. The fact of the matter is he went away for six weeks and abused my trust. For all I know, he had sex with other women too.”
“Just talk to him, okay? He’s probably going to feel like a grade-A douche because of this. I’d sooner this be settled here, now, with everything in the open rather than you finding out from someone showing you the paper at work. Though I feel like shite now for having gotten involved.”
Emily glared at her sister. “This is none of your business, in any case.”
Her sister rose to her feet in a fluid motion, arms akimbo. “You forget, it is my business. When anyone fucks with my sister, that person fucks with me. I’m sure there’s some sort of explanation for this and we’re going to find out.”
Something about the small young woman in front of her, so patently angry and authoritative, made Emily laugh despite herself and she sat back down, cradling her head in her hands. “Okay, so we wait.”
It would take Simon about ten or fifteen minutes to arrive, but the cuckoo clock marked out a quarter, then half an hour, and in that time they’d had a cup of tea and she’d even smoked one of Rae’s filthy beedies. Simon did not arrive.
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