Paradise Postponed (Not Quite Eden Book 2)

by Dominique Kyle

  Paul and Pete looked at each other.

  “Ok,” Jo said grumpily. “You two have got your ideal protégée. I admit it. I might as well give up.”

  Her menfolk said nothing.

  “Burgers or ice creams?” I asked. Best I retreated for a bit methinks.

  While queuing for the ice creams I spotted Tyler again. He glanced over at me, then spoke to someone standing a couple of feet away with him with an enormous camera in his hands. The man headed over to me.

  “McGinty?”

  “Yes?”

  “Mind if I take a photo op of you as one of the novice drivers?”

  I shrugged. He lifted his camera and snapped a few times.

  “Look over to your left a bit will you? The light’s wrong.”

  Then it was, “Unzip a bit will you? It’s a tad boring.”

  I sighed. I was losing my place in the queue. I unzipped my overalls a bit and looked left. I caught sight of Quinn over by the burger van.

  “Bit lower,” the man was instructing.

  I glared over at Quinn and absentmindedly unzipped a bit more.

  “That’s great. Thanks.” The cameraman moved on and I zipped back up as I stepped back into the queue.

  Back at the pits, I handed round the cornets. Pete had several mates round him ribbing him about his accident and threatening to write lewd things on the cast.

  Paul looked behind me. I turned.

  “Hi Rob,” I said.

  He was standing there giving our cars the once over with a critical gaze.

  He met my eyes, his bright blue gaze enigmatic. “Hi there, McGinty. Nice driving,” he complimented, his tone cool. He looked at Paul.

  “Rob.” Paul acknowledged him with a curt nod.

  “Paul.” Rob returned the gesture, his eyes lidding.

  We all stood motionless for a moment or two. Then Rob walked off. Pete looked across at the pair of us. “Looks like you were right about him,” he commented. “I got the feeling that was a declaration of war.”

  I practically lived round at the Satterthwaites’ for the rest of the week. With so little to do on the cars we were inside a lot, looking at YouTube footage of races and DVDs of World Championships, fiercely discussing tactics, and listening to every bit of race history and personal experience of race strategy we could get out of Paul. Sue mostly watched on fondly, or fed us.

  On Thursday evening Jo marched into the kitchen and slapped a magazine down on the kitchen table. “Guess what’s in the latest edition of ‘Unloaded’?”

  We waited expectantly for the revelation.

  “Only a photo of Eve!”

  Pete reached out his hand for the folded open magazine. When he looked at it, he grinned. Paul put a hand on Pete’s shoulder and leant over to see it too. “She’s obviously making an impact then,” Paul observed with a wry smile.

  “Only because she’s blonde, sexy, nubile and got her tits out,” Jo snapped. “Honestly Eve, what were you thinking?”

  I stared at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was standing in the queue at the ice cream van in those dirty grey driving overalls of yours. Tyler pointed me out to a chap who asked to take a photograph of me, so I didn’t see any harm in it.”

  “Hmm,” Paul was musing. “Can’t do her any harm. If Tyler was pointing her out to the Unloaded photographer then that’s a good sign.”

  “Better start a scrap book,” Peter suggested with a teasing grin.

  Jo snatched the magazine off them and chucked it down in front of me. I stared down at it dismayed. I was looking left with the breaking sun lighting up the planes of my face and my hair blowing back, my overalls unzipped half way down, clearly showing a segment of my lacy red bra and central cleavage.

  “Oh crap!” I exclaimed, mortified. “It was so hot and humid and I’d forgotten I didn’t have much on underneath.”

  Jo still had her arms tightly folded and a black expression on her face.

  “Oh shut up!” I directed crossly at Pete who was completely cracking up.

  “At least she wasn’t leaning forward and pouting at the camera,” Pete subversively pointed out to Jo, as though that made it better.

  Actually I looked as though I had no idea the photo was being taken and my expression was focused and determined. The subtitle was Pick of the new crop, Eve McGinty, is this temptress the one to watch?

  “Oh honestly…” I groaned.

  Paul straightened up. “It’ll gain us plenty of attention. Might as well make the most of it. It’ll wind up the opposition something rotten…”

  Sitting on their sofa a bit later, Jo had cheered up a bit. “You know what if she wins the Whites and Yellows Series Final at the end of the year, they’ll have to present her with a cup, and I can’t imagine any of the men being willing to dress up in gold thongs and thigh boots to present it!”

  Pete was helpless with hilarity at my bewildered expression. Jo’s lip curled. “Surely you’ve seen some of the photos of the prize-givings? Women dressed like tarts draped all over the male winners!”

  “I can think of one man who might oblige,” I muttered. Except that he’d be feeling so sore that he hadn’t won it himself he’d be sulking for weeks. I smiled at the seductive fantasy of it.

  “What was that Eve?” Pete raised his eyebrows at me.

  “Nothing,” I said airily. “But I’ve just thought of something. What are you two doing on Saturday night?”

  Brother and sister looked at each other. Jo shrugged, “Nothing, as far as I know.”

  “Well in that case you’re coming with me to psyche out the enemy,” I informed them.

  When they looked enquiringly at me, I just smiled.

  I timed it so we were walking into the Brown Cow just as Quinn was making his opening remarks while Lisa sorted out the bad reverb on the mike. I used Pete’s broken leg as a battering ram to get to the front.

  “Excuse me, excuse me, we need some space at the front.” I found an extra fold away chair to prop Pete’s leg up on and then we all sat down in a row looking expectantly up at Quinn. His eyes flickered several times over me, and he stumbled over his words. Good, it was already working.

  I’d been hoping that Quinn would be in one of his excessive phases, and he didn’t disappoint me. Being on what was by now almost home ground at the Cow had encouraged him to go about as far out on a limb as it was possible to go short of blatant cross dressing. Tight leopard skin leggings paired with knee-high stiletto heeled boots and a black leather posing pouch and what I can only describe as a crimped in, laced up male leather basque, bright purple lipstick, lightning strike across the cheek, bright purple nail varnish and hair back combed into an enormous halo threaded through with a glittery string hung with screws and bolts.

  Jo could barely wrench her eyes away from him. “Is he gay?”

  “Now is that likely?” I teased. “Have you seen the crush of girls at the front?”

  Pete was blinking, his lips suppressing his hilarity. “Are we gatecrashing a performance of the Rocky Horror Show?”

  I got the giggles. “Now you are both to just stare expressionlessly at him for the whole performance. No foot tapping or smiling or jigging along to the music. We’re here to make him really uncomfortable.”

  “Well this seat sure is bloody uncomfortable,” Jo complained then fell completely silent as Quinn’s opening number opened with a blood curdling scream that hit a high note that could have shattered every glass on the bar.

  “Pint?” I yelled to Pete.

  I squeezed my way to the bar. While waiting for two pints and a Jack Daniels to be poured, I noticed Daisy was standing a couple of feet away.

  “Hi there!” I shouted.

  She jumped and looked nervous. “Eve-”

  I edged closer and leant back against the bar with her. We had to lean close to hear each other. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Quinn straining to see what we were up to whilst Kes was doing a swift guitar break.

 
“I’m sorry Eve, truly I am,” she yelled in my ear. “I had no idea that Adam was going out with you, or I never would have done it!”

  “No worries,” I reassured her. “If it hadn’t ‘ve been you it would have been someone else. Are you two an item now?”

  She shook her head. “He doesn’t really ‘do’ relationships, does he?” She took a sip of her malibu and pineapple. “Several people warned me about that. Said he always has a shag on tap, but never a girlfriend. Still, he’s a good shag, so I guess I don’t mind being on tap every now and again.”

  I turned back, paid, gathered up my glasses and smiled a good-bye to Daisy. Then I wormed my way back to deliver my round. Yes she was right! How come I’d never noticed that? He always had a girl on his arm, but never claimed to have a girlfriend. I suppose I ought to be flattered that he actually even tried to go out with me for a bit.

  I sat close to Pete and between sips of my whisky I leant into his ear and kept up a running commentary which had him in stitches. Quinn glared at me every few lines. Just before the break, I went to the loos to have a piss and re-do my make-up. Jo came in before I’d finished. She came and stood by me at the sinks.

  “Well I can safely say I haven’t been tempted to tap my foot or sing along,” she said sarcastically.

  I grinned at her in the reflection.

  “Why are you flirting outrageously with my brother?” She followed up disapprovingly.

  I put my lipstick away in my shoulder bag. “You know why,” I said.

  “Well make sure it stops the minute we leave the pub,” she ordered me.

  “Sure thing,” I agreed. I wasn’t making a play for Pete, merely attempting to get Quinn paranoid about what I might be saying about him to Pete. But it ruffled me that she was so dead set against the idea of me and her brother ever getting together.

  We went back out together and the last song of the first set was screeching to an end.

  Quinn studiously ignored me and wound his way out towards the door, probably for a fag, a couple of females in tow. Kes came to the edge of the stage and jumped down. He grinned at me and high fived. “Great to have you back on form Eve. We’ve really missed the daily drama of what Adam and Eve will do to each other next.”

  I introduced him to Pete and Jo, and Pete asked curiously, “Who’s Adam?”

  “Quinn of course!” I rolled my eyes.

  I saw Pete working out the significance of our combined names. Then he got that same reflex smile on his face that everyone did.

  “Yeah unfortunate isn’t it?” I drawled. “Especially when I’ve been in the same class with him at school for most of my life!”

  Oz joined us. “Oh do go away please, Eve,” he begged. “You’re putting Adam right off his stride – he keeps forgetting the words.”

  Jamie appeared. He glowered at me. “Go away Eve, we don’t want you here!”

  “Charming!” I exclaimed. “Pete, Jo, meet my little brother.”

  Pete was looking entertained. “Not so little,” he commented.

  I glanced up at Jamie and realised for the first time how far upwards I was having to glance. He was spending so much time horizontal on his bed at home, I hadn’t even noticed his latest massive growth spurt.

  Siân muscled in from behind. I introduced her as well, and I was interested to note that after her dark eyes had flickered over Pete, they came back to rest on him, and she proceeded to exert herself to be charming and flirtatious. Being craggy rather than handsome, and with a broken leg undermining any potential virility, I had expected her to ignore him, but he must be exuding something intangible in the masculine attractiveness stakes.

  Break over, the show went on. Towards the end I noticed Quinn was staring fixedly at the back of the room. I turned round to try to find out what was more riveting to his attention than myself. There were a couple of male police officers standing by the bar, observing the band with narrowed gaze and speaking into their radios.

  I glanced back up at Quinn and knew he was getting the same cold trickle of déjà vu as I was. He gave me a tiny jerk of the head as Kes and Jamie broke into a kind of prolonged guitar duet and put his mike down in its stand. I went to the front of the stage and he crouched down and put his mouth close to my ear.

  “Can you find out what the police want?” He said really quietly, then went swiftly back to the mike just in time for his next orchestrated three octave scream.

  I squeezed my way towards the officers and got their attention. “Excuse me, but the lead singer asked me to find out from you what you want.” I decided to sound really helpful and compliant. “He wants to know if you need him to finish their set early?”

  “We need to speak to one of the guitarists, James McGinty, but we can wait till the end if it’s not too long.”

  I glanced at my watch. “About ten minutes,” I reassured them. Hearing my brother’s name was like a kick in the stomach. “What’s it about? Jamie is my brother.”

  The officer gave me a more measuring look once he’d heard the relationship. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “He’s only sixteen. Is it a matter of a couple of questions about something or do you need me to contact our father to be present?”

  He seemed impressed that I was being so calm and practical. “Best call your father I think.”

  I felt sick. Sounded like it was the reckoning hour. I asked the barman if he had a pen and paper, and wrote on it, they’ve come for Jamie, but they’ll wait till the end, and I wormed back to the front of the stage. Quinn took the note from my hand whilst still singing, glanced at it expressionlessly, and carried on without a hint of a pause, letting the note flutter down to the stage.

  “What’s going on?” Pete asked as I came back to them.

  “The police have arrived to arrest my brother,” I said in a tight voice. “I’m going out now to try and get hold of Dad. If I can’t, then I’ll need to go with Jamie to the station. I’m really sorry-”

  “What’s it about?” Jo asked.

  “Can we do anything?” Pete offered.

  I shook my head to both of them and hurried outside to the quiet of the cobbled back street to ring Dad. No answer at home. His mobile went to answerphone. I left a message on both, but had no idea which station to tell him to come to. I realised I had absolutely no idea where Pauline lived, her phone number or even her surname. He was bound to be at hers.

  I went back to the police. “I can’t get hold of Dad,” I shouted. “I’ll have to come with him instead.”

  The policeman frowned. “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen,” I lied.

  He exchanged a querying glance with the other officer who shrugged, and then reluctantly agreed.

  The second the last chord died away, the police started forward. I just nipped ahead of them fast enough to get a couple of sentences in with Jamie.

  “The police are here Jamie. You must deny everything and whatever cover story you make up, tell it to Dad also. He must never know the truth…”

  Jamie looked warningly past my shoulder and I shut up. The officers took Jamie off into a corner and Quinn came over to me.

  “What’s he done?”

  “No idea,” I said with an attempt at a lighthearted laugh.

  “Yes you do, you’re white as a sheet,” he stated with narrowed eyes on my face.

  “Can you do us a favour Quinn?” I ignored his last comment. “As soon as you get home can you ask your dad to try to get hold of my dad? He might know where Pauline lives. Also, if you see my dad and HER come home, will you nip round there and tell Dad what’s happened?”

  “Sure thing.” He glanced over at Jamie’s abandoned guitar. “And I’ll bring his stuff home as well.”

  “Thanks,” I said. We exchanged a look that lasted a second longer than it should have done as we both tried hard not to mention the previous time, then turned in opposite directions without looking back.

  In the interview room at a police station that I’d never
been to before, they were pushing Jamie very hard.

  “No, really – honestly – I know nothing about it,” Jamie was saying.

  “Who has been saying that he’s involved?” I asked, allowing my face to look anxious.

  “Tariq Rajpar, do you know him?”

  “Yes we know him,” I said. “I’m close friends with his younger sister, and Jamie with his younger brother. But the thing is, Tariq and Nasim’s parents locked Nasim up in her room because she wanted to go out with a Hindu lad, and they were threatening to send her back to Pakistan, so she ran away to our house, and then Tariq and his cousin kept coming round threatening us and fire-bombed the house, so it’s quite likely that Tariq is just telling you this to get back at us for taking in Nasim.”

  The policeman sat back in his seat and looked at the other one. I could tell that the information had hit home.

  “Is PC Holt on duty?” I queried.

  “He’s not based here, why do you ask?”

  “It’s just that he’s the one who came out a couple of times to the house when they were threatening us, and after the fire bombing…” And amazingly I had actually got to the stage where instead of viewing him as the enemy, I was wishing he was here to support us through this. I figured that since nearly all the accusations against me last year had turned out to be vindictive and untrue, he might be inclined to believe us that this was another one.

  “We can check it out in the records or give him a ring,” he said, jotting something down on the paper in front of him.

  “Thing is,” Jamie said. “It could be sort of true that I found the place for them.”

  “What are you saying, Jamie?” I said sharply. I was desperate for him not to blow it.

  Jamie opened his big brown eyes wide and innocent. I tried to see him through the eyes of the two policemen who didn’t know him. Gone were the soft brown curls and baby faced features of last year. Unnoticed by me, he’d shot up, started to fill out, let his hair grow untidily long, and his face had toned down to more angular planes with prickly stubble. Dressed in his gig gear he looked like a thoroughly suspect young man rather than a cute boy.