He laughs and opens the passenger door. “Your carriage awaits, me lady,” he says, helping me into my seat as if I’m an invalid, guiding my elbow with one hand, the other on my waist. I’d swat his offer of assistance, but you know, he’s touching me.
I like it more than I should.
---
After a tough shift, I wash the smell of wood-fire off me. A giant huntsman decides to join me in the shower. I don’t get the long shower I’d wanted. What is it with eight-legged creatures around here?
After coating the spider with bug spray until he doesn’t move anymore, I blow-dry my hair and slip on some cotton PJs. I set myself up in bed with my laptop to re-read my assignment. I’ve had a bit of a break from this project, so my head will be clearer and hopefully there won’t be too many edits.
After fifteen minutes of following the cursor on screen, my phone beeps.
Quade: How’s the noggin?
My heart flutters with hope, even though it’s a simple question. Fire races to my cheeks as the embarrassment of my epic fall today burns in my memory. I run my hand over the lump, grateful it’s come down. I haven’t told anyone, but I’ve been popping Panadol tablets every few hours to try and get rid of this headache. I decide it’s probably best to shut off my laptop and get some rest. I flick off my lamp and snuggle under the sheet, staring at his text.
Lacey: Feeling fine, thanks :) I’m showered and snuggled up in bed
Three little dots flash on my phone as he types his response. Waiting, waiting, waiting.
The dots disappear.
Oh.
They re-appear.
Yay!
Watching, watching …
They disappear.
Bloody hell. “Why is he taking so long to reply?” I grumble out loud to no one. I decide to send him a message, because I reckon I’ll be here all night otherwise.
Lacey: What are you trying to type? Those stupid dots are bugging me
The dots re-appear, quickly replaced by a blue bubble of words.
Quade: Something I should probably keep to myself
What on earth is he going on about?
Lacey: Don’t hold back. I can take it. Give it to me
I grip the phone tight as the stupid dots do their magic act again. If he doesn’t hurry up I’ll ring him and blast him over the phone.
Quade: Night, Lace. Sexy dreams :)
What? He’s not going to tell me? And what’s with the sexy dreams? Is that an autocorrect error or intentional?
Lacey: Don’t you mean SWEET dreams LOL
Quade: Yeah, those too :p
I put my phone on charge and close my eyes, hoping like anything that a certain someone plays a starring role in my dreams tonight.
CHAPTER NINE
The next morning I get back on track with my study and decide to go in to work with a few hours to spare and help Dad clean up the stockroom a bit. Even though I was early yesterday, I still have a lot of making up to do for being late at least eighty per cent of the time. Bad daughter.
Mum is walking out of the front door when I step up to the shop. “Hello, sweet,” she says, and kisses my cheek.
“Hey, Mum.”
“The courtyard is spotless. An electrician came and fixed the wall fountain and I’ve watered the plants in the terracotta pots so you don’t have to do it tonight. Napkin holders are full—oh, and I bought a stack of new aprons. They’re out back near the sink. I’ve gotta go home and shower for work.”
She’s definitely Wonder Woman. “Thanks, Mum.”
She leans in close, her jasmine perfume wrapping around me. “I think your father is a little nervous about the new starter. I told him that he has nothing to worry about, and that our superstar daughter will take care of her.”
“Ha. We’ve got this, Mum. Promise.”
After two hours of assembling boxes, prepping and rotating stock, the smile on Dad’s face is wider and he’s whistling more. The nerves must be fading.
A truck arrives and I offer to take care of the delivery, giving Dad a chance to read the paper behind the counter while there’s a break in orders and before the new girl comes in.
Lily.
I’ve never met a Lily before. It’s a lovely name. Will the girl behind the name be just as nice? It’s not a name that breeds anxiety like the name Pia or Mindy or Rachel, so I should be lucky, right?
If Dad liked her on their first meet and is prepared to give a stranger a go, then I have to trust his instincts. Surely I wouldn’t be that unlucky to have to work in my own family’s business with a weirdo? I’ll be devo if we don’t get along. Still, I’ll just have to make a real effort. I need to do this for Dad. He’s the one who really needs the help.
“Peppi?” Dad calls out from the front of the shop, his voice filtering through to me as I stack the last of the boxes in the cool room. “Come meet Lily.”
I finish the job and come out the front, keen to meet this girl and discover if she’s anything like I imagine her to be. I hold crossed fingers behind my back. Please let her be nice, kind and drama-free.
My eyes connect with a tall slim girl dressed all in black with long blonde hair in a tight ponytail. She blinks her sparkling blue eyes at me and turns her head to Dad as he mumbles something, spotlighting the jagged scar she bares on her left cheek. Her skin puckers at the side of her mouth as her glossy pink lips pull into a nervous smile. The scar does little to detract from her beauty. Time stands still as reality sets in. Is she back from the dead?
My feet freeze to the floor as I take in her radiant skin, which glows under the bright lights of the kitchen. When her eyes land on my face, and she says “hi” in a sweet, hesitant voice, all I can think of is Faith. Faith at eighteen. Just like Lily is now—with her whole life ahead of her.
Faith before she died.
The room starts to spin. I grip the wall as a wave of nausea crashes over me. My whole body is taken over with the shakes. My chest squeezes painfully tight, expelling the air from my lungs as if I’m being crushed from all sides.
“Can’t … breathe,” I hiss, and stumble out into the alleyway, the pounding of my heart thumping out of control and reverberating in my ears.
I flop down on an upturned milk crate and lower my head between my parted knees, telling myself to chill the hell out. Breathe in … breathe out. You know how to handle these, I keep chanting inside my head.
It’s been at least twelve months since I’ve had an attack. They were regular after the funeral, but I’ve been managing them. I guess I didn’t expect someone like Lily to walk through the door. Someone who looks exactly like Faith.
“Peppi? You okay?” Dad calls out.
I glance up to see him holding the screen door ajar, his brows bunched together.
“I’m fine. Just need some air.” I focus on a crack in the pavement as I breathe. In. Out. In—
The screen door screeches as it opens wider.
“Dad, I’m fine,” I assure him, still focused on the concrete.
A pair of worn out black ballet flats come into view.
“Wow. Most people at least get to know me a little better before they run,” a soft voice says, a kick of sarcasm in her tone.
Lily.
Oh God. That’s the last thing I want her to think. God knows how many times she’s been abandoned—that’s what happens to foster kids, right? At least that’s what I’ve gotten out of the movies I’ve seen. She’s probably got hang-ups about people leaving her. I just rubbed salt in the wound. Great first impression.
“I’m so sorry, Lily, I just …” I look up, meeting her gaze. She drills me with those captivating blue eyes and blinks her long lashes, tilting her head closer to her shoulder. Apart from that scar, her skin is absolute perfection. “God … you remind me of someone,” I whisper.
Her brows pull together. “Someone that you’d run from?”
“No,” I scoff. I fist the corners of my apron and bring them to shield my face. Do I tell her? Str
aight off the bat? I was hoping to make a fresh start with this girl, not burden her with the ghost of my past. “You remind me of my best friend, Faith. She was killed in a hit-and-run accident.”
Lily’s hand flies to her mouth as she takes in a sharp breath. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” I breathe.
“I don’t know what to say,” she says, offering me a silent apology with her puppy-dog eyes.
You put one foot in front of the other, and you carry on. That was what Faith would have told me. Then she’d have slapped me on the arse and wrapped her arm around my shoulders, and she’d have walked beside me.
I fucking miss you, biatch.
I stand up and wipe the wetness from my cheeks. I take in a laboured breath and tell myself to get my shit together.
For the next four hours, I push myself. I give Lily as much information as I can, and she really tries. In fact, she’s pretty cluey and picks things up real quick. Anything I ask her to do she does without complaint or hesitation. I guess Dad was right. One shift is probably enough time to see if someone has what it takes.
At the end of the night, as a treat, I make Lily and I one of my special dessert calzones with dark chocolate and raspberries.
“You did great,” I tell her when she leans on the counter beside me.
“Thanks,” she whispers, hesitation in her tone. “Just hope your dad feels the same.”
“Dad!” I yell out. He surfaces from out back, widening his eyes at me. “Do you want some dessert?” I can’t help but smile at him.
He shakes his head as he approaches. I don’t know how many times he’s told me that it’s a crime to put fruit on a pizza. I don’t get it. My fruity calzones are delicious, and more and more people are ordering them.
“So ’ow did you like tonight?” he asks Lily. He wipes his hand on a white towel, and tosses it over his shoulder.
“It was great,” she says, looking between us.
“You did well. So do you tink de Palace is de place for you? Because I’d love you to stay on.”
She covers her mouth and then looks to me.
“O. M. G,” she says, pausing between the announcement of each letter. “Really?”
“Yes. Really. ’Ave a chat with Lacey and work out your hours. You two will ’ave to work together for de first few weeks, but den I tink you’ll be fine to work wit me on your own.”
“O. M. G,” she says again. “Thank you so much. I promise you won’t regret it.”
While we wait for our dessert, we come up with a rough roster to run past Dad. The smile never budges from Lily’s face. Once we start eating, I swear her grin grows wider than before.
Setting our friendship off on the right foot, I even tell her when she has a giant dollop of chocolate wedged against one of her top teeth.
“I hear your dad works at the hospital,” I say, and wipe the corner of my mouth.
“He’s not my dad,” she blurts out. “Foster dad.”
“Sorry. Foster dad.”
“He does rehab with people who’ve had major surgery. Helps them walk again and stuff.”
“That’s pretty cool. What about your foster mum?”
“She tries to control shit. Me, for example. Next question?”
Ah. A sore point to avoid.
“Well I’m glad you’re here. I’m looking forward to working with you again. It’s nice to have a girl around here that seems normal.”
“Same. I’m so glad your dad is giving me a chance. Where I was before … it wasn’t so easy.” Her shoulders sag as she releases a heavy breath. The lost look in her eye has my heart aching. I can only hope it’s easier for her in Runaway … starting here at the Palace.
“My dad’s a big softie. A heart the size of Ayers Rock.”
“I’m looking forward to having my own money and getting to make some decisions of my own. Now that I’m eighteen, my foster parents can’t shut me down so much.”
“What are you planning on doing?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet, but when I do, I’ll hopefully have saved some cash. I just want something that’s mine. It’s never been about me and what I want.”
“Well I’ll have my fingers crossed for you. I know exactly what it feels like to be lost and not know what you wanna do. I was exactly the same at your age.”
“You make yourself sound so old when you talk like that.”
I guess I do feel like I’m much wiser now. “I’m far from old.”
“You so are. What’s there to do around here for fun, anyways?”
“Fun? What’s that exactly?” I say, sarcasm dripping from my words. Really, I can’t remember the last time I had fun. I guess it all came to a halt that night. I used to be fun. Now I’m just a bore. My life seems so serious.
But I’m pursuing the truth.
The door chime rings. Both our heads swing towards the entrance.
Quade waltzes into the shop, all smiles when his eyes meet mine. When he looks to the figure to my left, his smile vanishes and his strong jaw hangs loose.
Oh boy.
A smashing sound breaks his zombie-like gaze. The white plastic bag he was carrying is now on the floor. He mumbles something to himself and shakes his head.
I’m quick on my feet, my black sneakers squealing as I round the counter to his side.
“Quade,” I bark out.
“Sorry, I … ah,” he mumbles, looking down at the thick red liquid oozing from the bag onto the floor. He looks at me and then back at Lily. I turn behind me to see that thankfully she’s more focused on the mess on the floor rather than the two basket-cases staring at her.
“I know what you’re seeing right now, Quade. Just breathe and come outside.”
CHAPTER TEN
I take Quade by the elbow and direct him towards the front of the shop.
“I’ll get a mop,” Lily calls out.
He clears his throat and focuses on his feet as we walk outside. I lead him to the park bench out front. The old timber seat creaks with his weight as he flops onto it. Quade tugs my hand so that I sit down beside him.
“Jesus Christ,” he grunts out. “My heart’s going ballistic.” He draws my hand to his chest, moulding my palm around his rounded pec. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Of course the simple act of feeling his heart beat has my own blood-pumping machine going crazy too. Partly because his is beating hard, but mainly because my hand is on his rock-hard bod. I turn in my seat and in slow circles I smooth my hand over that beautiful pec. His hand drops to my knee. I swallow down hard and try not to focus on that, instead placing my attention on my hand, which moves anti-clockwise on his chest as if I have no control over it. I press it around slow, my mind committing to memory the feel of his chest and the bump of his nipple. Ai yai yai. I keep moving, firstly to try and calm him, secondly for my own personal pleasure. Who the hell am I kidding? I’m putting my own pleasure first right now.
A grunt of sorts slips from my mouth and I squeeze my legs together. As if my thighs weren’t already touching.
“I thought it was a ghost.”
“At least you didn’t have a panic attack when you laid eyes on her,” I blurt out, hoping he focuses on that rather than the desperate whimper I just let fly. You desperate hussy.
His brows snap together. “You what?”
“Don’t worry. I’m good. Adjusting, I guess.” In this very moment, I wish he knew how long I’d suffered from the attacks, how crippling, how debilitating they were after her death … and after he left town without a word.
“Who is she?” he asks.
“Her name’s Lily. She’s new to town. First shift in the Palace.”
“Wow. She’s the spitting image.”
“Oh, I know. Don’t worry. I know.”
“Such a fuckin’ shock. At first it was just like one of the million other times I’d seen you and Faith together, except you know. She’s gone.”
The mood turns sombre as his eyes focus on mine, as if I held all the answers. I
wish I did. I feel so bad for him right now, but we can’t get hung up on it. Quade has returned and I want our friendship back on track. Yes, a reminder that she’s gone is hard, but we need to be able to laugh like we used to.
I remove my hand from his body and point to his other pec. “You need me to rub that other pec? ’Cause I’d hate for it to feel left out.”
He sighs and chuckles, taking my hands and placing them on top of one another on my leg.
“Maybe some other time,” he says, and I wonder whether I’m pushing it if I tell him I might just hold him to that. Raincheck?
“I know you probably didn’t come around here to be man-handled, so what brought you to the shop? Need a garlic pizza or something to go with dinner?” I ask with a shrug. Why else would he be here?
“Came here for you,” he says, certain as anything.
“Me?” I practically squeal as the blood rushes to my cheeks. “Why?”
“I’m catching up with a few people from school tomorrow night at the Royal Hotel. I thought maybe you might like to come down and grab some dinner with me?”
He’s asking me to dinner? “And you don’t have anyone else to go with? Another girl, perhaps?”
“No. I want you to come with me. Is that so hard to believe, Lace?”
Yes. “No. Guess not.”
Relax, there’ll be other people there. It’s not a date.
“Do you have to work tomorrow night?”
“I’ll help Dad do some prep through the day, but Tuesday nights are always quiet, and my uncle comes in to help then, so I’d just be home.” And Mum will likely be on night shift again. “I’d love to come. Thanks for asking.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up from your place just before seven? Unless you wanna drive?”
Drive? No thanks. Besides, I’d need a licence for that. Something I haven’t been able to put myself through, no matter how many times Dad offered to take me for lessons. Why would I learn to drive a murder weapon when I can walk everywhere I need to be?
Losing Faith (Surfers Way) Page 7