Discovering Stella

by K. M. Golland

  Despite the gossip, I felt comfortable in Pittstown. Safe. To the point of considering a permanent move. This thinking was rather abrupt on my part for I had only been in town a short time. However, in hindsight, the possibility of staying on had always been at the back of my mind, mainly because I had nowhere else I wanted to go. Pittstown just felt right. Meg, Todd, even Lawson ... they all just felt right. We seemed to get along quite well, and for the first time in a long time I felt free. Content. Distracted.

  At first, the three of them had been highly inquisitive about my sudden appearance, and to be honest, I didn’t blame them. I was deliberately curt with certain topics and knew these evasions gave a mysterious vibe. Whether intended or not, people tend to wear the fact they have secrets like an elaborate coat.

  So far, avoiding their curiosity had been successful, if tricky. However, I knew it was only a matter of time before something gave. I was walking an extremely taut tightrope and, unfortunately for me, my balance was awry.

  It was now Friday night, and the four of us decided to spend it eating pizza and chilling out. Over the past couple of days, I’d gotten used to drinking a beer or two with Lawson and Todd during dinner. It was strange, but I enjoyed it. And I couldn’t exactly explain why, but during that short moment in my day when the four of us were sitting around the dining table, eating dinner and sharing whatever was on our minds, I felt happy. And I forgot. I forgot the bad. I forgot my past.

  “I love this song,” I said, enthusiastically bouncing on the spot as ‘Take Me Back’ by Noiseworks played on the stereo.

  Todd and Lawson were sitting on the living room sofa, eyes glued to the television, watching the football. “Hey, Stel, you still sing?” Todd asked, breaking his stare.

  I shook my head at him and then continued concentrating on the CD collection before me. “Nope, not really.”

  “That’s a damn shame. I loved hearing you sing when we were younger.”

  “Pfft, you had no choice.”

  “Hey,” Meg interrupted from her perched position on Todd’s lap, her voice at an enthusiastic high-pitch. “Bone Dry is looking for a female lead singer. Pity you don’t live close by.”

  Keeping my back to them, I asked, “What’s Bone Dry?”

  “The local band that plays at the pub on Saturday nights.”

  Not really interested in the local band, I kept scanning the music catalogue and tried not to sound disinterested. “What happened to their former lead singer?”

  A second of silence ensued, prompting me to turn around with curiosity.

  “She ... um ...”

  “She opened her legs more than her mouth,” Lawson added, interrupting Meg and making Todd nearly spit his beer. “Then again, she opened her mouth quite a bit as well.” Lawson’s attention didn’t waver from the TV, but I could tell he sensed we were all staring at him. “What?” he muttered. “It’s the truth.”

  “Sure is,” Todd murmured in reply, shrugging his shoulders.

  I widened my eyes then turned back around, not wanting to get into the drama that was the local band break-up. “Well, I don’t know how long I’m staying. You may be sick of me by tomorrow. Plus, I don’t sing anymore. I just don’t have the heart for it,” I explained. Truth was, I missed singing so much that it hurt. Music and the ability to convey a story through song was a part of me, a part that had been torn away, leaving a gaping hole I did not know how to thread back together.

  Quickly wiping a tear while my back was turned, I pushed aside my feelings of loss.

  “How about SingStar? Do you do SingStar?” Meg asked, her voice sounding hopeful.

  I turned to face her and laughed half-heartedly, shaking my head. “No! I don’t do SingStar!”

  “Good! Not that shit again,” Lawson added, finally looking up from watching the TV.

  Practically jumping off Todd’s lap, Meg headed for the Play-Station console which sat under the lowline unit against the wall. “Sure you do.” Sure I freakin’ well don’t.

  Watching in horror as she set up the stupid karaoke game, I grew nervous at the prospect of singing. I hadn’t sung in front of anyone for so long.

  “I really don’t think I can do it,” I explained, as heat swept across my face. “Is anyone else hot? It’s so hot in here.” I removed my short-sleeved cardigan, exposing my strapless lemon-coloured dress, and fanned my face with my hands. Maybe it had something to do with my drinking beer.

  Todd laughed. “You’re really not used to this weather, are you? It’s probably still thirty-odd degrees outside.” Okay, so it’s not the beer. It really is quite humid.“Really? Bloody hell, I think I need another drink.”

  Lawson stood up and started to make his way toward the kitchen. “I’ll grab you one.”

  “Yes! Here we are. What would you like to sing, Stella?” Meg asked, passing me the microphone.

  I handed it back to her. “Nothing. I really don’t think I can.”

  “Sure you can, it’ll be like riding a bike.” She shoved the microphone back into my hands with an eager smile.

  The tell-tale signs of a panic attack began to wash over me: the tightening of my chest and shortness of breath, the flushes of heat and trembling hands.

  I needed air. I needed space. I needed to get out of the room and away from Meg.

  “Are you a ballad-type girl or a rock chick?” she queried as she slowly dragged her finger down the songs listed on the back of the disc cover.

  “Ah ... ah ... I’m not anything,” I answered, placing the microphone down. “I’m sorry.”

  Spinning around in a rush to go outside and get some air, I bumped into Lawson who was entering the room with our beers, some of which ended up down his shirt.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” I apologised, turning once more and heading outside.

  As I made my hasty retreat, I could hear Lawson, Meg and Todd calling out to me. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t sing.

  F O U R

  The princess and the toad

  “What did you say to her?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at Meg and Todd, trying to pinpoint the culprit.

  Meg shrugged innocently. “Nothing. I just asked her to sing. I didn’t know she’d flip out.” She turned to face Todd and whacked him on the shoulder. “It’s your fault. You said she used to sing.”

  “Hey, steady on,” he said, raising his hands in defence. “She did, all the time. She was in a choir and the lead in every bloody school production we had.” He let out a miserable sigh and gave Meg’s leg a light tap, indicating she get up off his lap. “Something’s not right. This isn’t the Stella I know.”

  Meg stood and leaned back, appearing to try to catch a glimpse of Stella down the hallway. “You haven’t seen or spoken to her in a long time, babe. People can change.”

  “Nah, this is different,” Todd muttered, shaking his head. “I can see it in her eyes.”

  “I agree. She’s very touchy. Almost afraid,” I added.

  Meg acknowledged my words with a slight nod before returning her gaze back to where Stella had disappeared. Screwing up her face in confusion, she lowered her voice and spoke to Todd. “When she called, did she say anything to you? Why she was coming? If anything had happened back at home, that type of stuff.”

  He shook his head again and rubbed his eyes. “No. She just said that she had a heap of holiday time and wanted to get away for a while. I didn’t question it. I was just so happy to hear from her after so long. Our parents’ divorce was a little messy and, because of that, we drifted apart. Well, I drifted overseas, so that didn’t help.”

  “Here,” I offered, passing Meg and Todd the beers. “I’ll go and see if she’s all right. Try and loosen her up a bit.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, mate,” Todd said sceptically as he accepted the bottle.

  I gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “It’s good. She likes me.”

  “You sure ‘bout that?”

  Meg grabbed Todd’s h
and and lured him to sit back on the couch. “She likes him.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?”

  “I can tell, it’s a girl thing,” she responded with a laugh, placing herself on Todd’s lap.

  He shrugged and slid his hands up her shirt. “Hmm ... if you say so.”

  Meg giggled.

  “Do you mind?” I asked, raising an eyebrow in annoyance. “That’s my sister you’re fuckin’ groping in front of me.”

  Todd laughed like a greedy prick while Meg swiped at his hands. “Yeah, I know.”

  Turning toward the kitchen, I shook my head and took my cue to leave. I was more concerned about Stella than with Todd and Meg playing touchy-feely in our living room. When I’d said that Stella liked me, I was actually being a cocky smartarse. Truth be told, I didn’t think she liked me at all, and that had to change ... fast. “I’ll just go see if she’s all right. Talk about the weather, that kind of shit,” I mumbled as I left the room.

  “Yeah, well if she does like you, she won’t after that,” Todd called out.

  “Whatever, dipshit.”

  Heading to the liquor cupboard, I pulled out a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses, then prepared an accompanying bowl of lime wedges and a shaker of salt.

  I hadn’t forgotten her comment about not drinking much. Then again, over the past week, she’d seemed happy enough to have a few beers over dinner. So let’s just say my dismissal of the ‘not drinking much’ was justifiably deliberate. She needed to loosen up, open up ... drop her protective guard. And my good old buddy ‘the devil’s water’ was going to help that process along.

  * * *

  The flywire door creaked noisily as I pushed it open with my elbow, my hands full of ingredients.

  Stella was sitting on the loveseat swing we had on our back porch, her gaze directed outward. Meg’s and my house backed onto one of the red gum national parks in the area, which if you walked north through it for approximately five minutes led to the Murray River. Our yard had no fence. It didn’t need it.

  As I approached Stella, who sat with one leg pulled close to her body and the other resting on the porch, her foot gently propelling the swing, she looked up and wiped a tear from her eye.

  “Are you really that bad?” I asked confidently, overlooking her tears and opting to ignore the awkwardness by taking a make-fun-of-her approach.

  “What?” she sniffed, scrunching her cute button nose and looking confused.

  I kicked at an empty milk crate by the back door, moving it with my foot until it was positioned in front of the swing, then sat down next to her and placed my items on top of it. “At singing. Are you really that bad?”

  She gave me a small smile that indicated she knew what I was doing. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “You want to talk about what’s makin’ you sad?”

  “No,” she responded resolutely, “but thank you.”

  I winked and continued to arrange my ingredients. If she didn’t want to talk, I wasn’t going to push her. Besides, I had other plans to help make her feel better. “Don’t worry, you can’t be as bad as Meg. Her voice has the ability to make you wish you were born without any fucking ears.”

  Stella burst into laughter and the sound, coupled with the glint in her eye, made me feel all nice and shit. Even with a red, blotchy face she was bloody gorgeous.

  “That’s terrible.” She giggled while eyeing the items I was positioning. “What’s all that?”

  Unscrewing the bottle cap, I took a quick swig and then cricked my neck. “This, Princess, is how we country folk temporarily forget bad shit.”

  “Please don’t call me that,” she jokingly scolded while pulling her phone out of her dress pocket and becoming distracted by what was showing on the screen. Stella frowned and pushed the off button, placing the phone back in her pocket before turning her attention to me and giving a small smile. “I am nota princess.”

  “I think Princess suits you. I’m gonna stick with it. Unless you want to be called Towel Girl.”

  Quickly glancing in her direction, I noted Stella’s eyebrows practically hitting the roof, her stunned expression hilarious. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” I said playfully, not really knowing if baiting her was the right move considering her current state. It was, however, apparently taking her mind off whatever it was that had made her upset in the first place. “Princess it is.”

  She let out a mild grunt, which was enough to stir my dick. “Fine. But you have to have a stupid nickname as well. It’s only fair.”

  “How ‘bout Prince?” I suggested as I tapped salt onto my wrist. She laughed sarcastically. “No. Definitely not.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I responded, half-heartedly.

  Stella shifted in her seat and shifted closer, her interested eyes fixed on my actions. “I’ve never really done tequila shots before.”

  “Really? Oh, you are most definitely a princess then,” I sniggered.

  She narrowed her eyes at me, snatched the salt shaker from my hand and tapped out a small pile, studying the granules carefully. Suddenly desperate to see her tongue slide against her skin, I stupidly opened my big mouth. “Lick it,” I instructed, my voice now uncontrollably low and gruff, and if I didn’t know any better I’d say I sounded like Barry fuckin’ White.

  Stella met my eyes and then stared at the salt again, so I placed the shot glass and lime wedge on the plate nearest her.

  “Lick the salt and then quickly drink this, followed by sucking on this,” I added after clearing my throat, speaking normally this time around.

  She took a deep breath and raised her arm to her mouth, sucking and licking the salt from her wrist. I know it shouldn’t have, but the sight of her tongue lit my balls on fire. I wanted to bathe them in the stuff and have her lick them, which in hindsight is fucking crazy — salt can burn like a bitch.

  Stella produced all kinds of squinty facial expressions, bodily jerks and flapping motions before lunging for the shot glass and quickly swallowing the tequila. This only increased the flapping of her hands after she placed the glass back down. Honestly, she looked as if she was performing that stupid chicken dance.

  “Lime,” I said, picking it up and placing the wedge between her teeth with my free hand, holding it firmly in place.

  Her eyes opened wide and she mumbled in protest, but then calmed almost instantly when the juice counteracted the strong taste of the alcohol.

  When she nodded, I removed the lime and raised my eyebrow in question. “So, how was it?”

  “Horrible,” she answered, wiping her chin coyly. “But I’ll try it again. You know, just to make sure.”

  Smiling, I quickly licked my wrist, downed my shot and sucked my lime, showing her how it should be done.

  “Wow! You’re a seasoned pro,” she praised, one eyebrow raised.

  “Yes, you are in the presence of greatness.”

  She snorted and licked her fingers. “I think I’m also in the presence of egotism.”

  I chuckled at her mild stab and poured another round, then slowly turned my head in her direction, eyeing the way her lips wrapped around her small petite digits. Fuck me, those lips! “Did the princess just crack a joke?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

  “Yes, the princess can do many things that the toad is unaware of.”

  I smiled at her smugness as she reached for the salt shaker and readied herself for the next shot. My plan was definitely working. She was forgetting her problems and loosening up.

  “Toad?” I questioned, holding my hand out for the shaker.

  Stella obliged and passed it over. “It’s suitable, don’t you think?”

  “I like being a prince better.”

  “No doubt you do, but unfortunately, you don’t possess the manners of a prince.”

  Feigning being insulted, I handed her a shot. “You’re mistaken, fair maiden. Here I am, selflessly offering my services to you, all gentleman-like. I am definitely a prince.”

&nbs
p; “Well ... if the tales are in fact true, a toad can become a prince.” She performed the lick, sip, suck process again.

  “Yes. That would involve a kiss, right?”

  “Not gonna happen,” she spluttered and choked, spilling drops of tequila and lime juice over us.

  I shook my head. “Maybe you aren’t a princess after all.”

  “I did try to tell you that.”

  “Then what are you?”

  Stella sat upright and eagerly began the pouring of the next round. Her now comfortable disposition impressed me, so I happily sat back and let her take the reins.

  “I’m a te-killer. Get it? Tequila killer?” she cackled and handed me my overfilled shot.

  “Another joke. Who would’ve thought?”

  “Hey!” She gave my shoulder a pathetic whack. “I joke. I’ll have you know that I’m a very good joker.”

  Amused by her quickly escalating tipsy state, I continued to deliberately take her mind off her earlier problem by steering our conversation toward silliness. “That was weak, especially for a te-killer.”

  “Shh ...” she said, her mild scolding making me laugh. Stella raised her hand and placed her index finger against my lips. “Shh ... I need to concentrate or I’ll spill it,” she whispered.

  Fuck!I wanted to suck her finger into my mouth, trail my tongue down her arm and capture those fucking kissable lips. The woman made me all kinds of turned on.

  I groaned inwardly, because the last thing I wanted was to lose control and do exactly what I’d been fantasising about, no doubt sending her into another meltdown. I knew that I had to restrain myself, so instead, I decided to use the fact we were partaking in tequila shots and came up with a risky move. “You do realise we aren’t doing these shots properly, don’t you?”

  She paused before licking the salt off her wrist. “No. What are we doing wrong?”