“Hmm,” Nicole said, taking another sip of hot water. “I guess I am there to rake the studio over the coals. I have no idea how you guys could be running at a loss.”
“Right…but you still think we can save it, right? We can pump up the website and get the heritage building people off my dick? We won’t have to sell to Angry Greg?”
Nicole put down her teacup, leaning forward and placing her hand over Sam’s. “I promise. We’ll get you up and running in no time.”
They smiled, and the frost that had coated their conversation finally thawed.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Sam said.
“Me too.” Nicole squeezed her hand and let go. She always did that—a little extra tightness before the release. “So, about Scott Sanderson…?”
Sam choked on her mouthful of whipped cream. “Wh-what about him?”
“Um, everything? I can’t believe you saw him again after all these years. The last time I saw him was the night you guys came back from the police station. He left that night, didn’t he?”
“Er…yeah. I think so.” Sam took in her sister’s nervous expression. “Things were incredibly civil when we had that drink, I promise.”
Nicole fidgeted with the paper tail of her teabag. “Sure, it’s just…the cops told you two to stay away from each other.”
“That was a decade ago and it wasn’t a formal restraining order. Neither of us was charged.”
Nicole didn’t look at all reassured. “He didn’t…mention The Thing, did he?”
“No. Didn’t even hint at it. I don’t think he wants to go there any more than I do. We just went for a drink and talked about the business. It was normal. Everything was normal.”
Her sister tilted her head to the side. “Did something happen?”
“No!” Sam refused to think about the hug, the way she and Scott had looked at each other over the scratchy pub table, his suggestion of margaritas and the unspoken suggestion that whatever followed margaritas would be fine by him, too. She refused to think about the spanking dreams.
“Scott Sanderson and I had a beer, talked about finance and his crackers dad and then we went our separate ways. It was nothing. It was less than nothing.”
Her sister opened her mouth and then closed it again. Then she took a long sip of tea. “He didn’t mention how horrible we were to him, did he?”
“We weren’t that horrible,” Sam protested. “Anyway, he gave as good as he got! Remember when he put up those fake lost dog posters that said I was missing and also a kelpie with hip dysplasia?”
“Oh Sam, that was ages ago. Build a bridge why don’t you? Besides, I don’t mean the pranks, I mean what happened after…you know.”
After his mum died.
Neither of them said it, but they didn’t have to.
“He didn’t bring it up and it doesn’t matter. He was only in town because he broke up with his girlfriend. Probably doing some bachelor tour of King Streets’ trashiest strip clubs.”
She shouldn’t have said that. Nicole treated any extraneous information about a guy as a sure sign Sam was interested. The little dig about strip clubs had her twin ramrod straight in her chair. “Sammy, do you—”
“Don’t even think about it! I do not have a crush on Scott!”
“But—”
“I mean it. I mean it the same way I meant it back then. I’m not into posho twats and even if he wasn’t a posho twat, he almost ruined our lives.”
Nicole looked around nervously, jittery at the mere memory of The Thing. “We still don’t know he did it.”
“Who cares? He could have done it. Considering the prank history, he’s the most likely person to have done it and if it was him, then he’s the reason I’ll never be able to be a schoolteacher or a politician.”
“You hate kids. And politicians.”
“So? You don’t, and what tainted my reputation almost ruined yours, too. Remember?”
Her sister went pale. “Okay, okay, we won’t go there.”
Sam enjoyed two seconds of Scott-free silence before… “At least tell me a little more about him.”
“Like what?”
Nicole tilted her head to the side again, like a curious pigeon. “What does he do? How tall is he?”
“He looks the same, except for the unshaved thing all dudes are rocking these days. He’s in finance with some massive company and he’s, I dunno, man-sized.”
Sam knew she was being too aggressive and it was suspicious as fuck, but she couldn’t help it. The past week she’d thought of almost nothing but the time she’d looked through his living room window and seen him playing the drums without a shirt on. His wiry body had been taut, his pretty face solemn as a grown man’s. As she watched him, a sizzle had run through her body and into her underwear. He must have sensed her there, because without missing a beat he’d looked up and they’d stared at each another for a long moment, the way they had in the pub.
But Nicole wasn’t to know that, couldn’t know that. She’d never understood what was between the two of them—mind-reading was something that was impossible even for identical twins and Sam was grateful for it. She forced a smile at her sister. “Look, I’m tired and grumpy. Can we just go to the terminal and wait for Tabby? I’m worried she’ll wander off if we’re not there.”
“True.” Nicole put down her tea. “I hope she’s wearing something normal.”
They’d barely reached the domestic arrivals terminal when a crowd of rumpled, Sunday night passengers spilled toward them. Nicole stood on her tiptoes. “Can you see…oh, fucking hell.”
Sam laughed. She couldn’t help it. Nix swearing was always funny, but the reason why she was swearing was just…magnificent. If Nicole had been noticeable in the crowd, Tabby was an elephant with a smoker’s cough and fifty Norse warriors riding on its back.
Her hair was turquoise. The chunky headphones around her neck were purple. Her Ugg boots were mint green and her dress was mustard yellow. It was so short and tight it showed off both her huge boobs and long legs. She was covered in tattoos and unlike Sam and their dad, who favoured black and grey, Tabby’s were brightly absurd—pink unicorns, sentient ice cream cones, winged roller skates and electric blue octopuses. Her bizarre appearance was further enhanced by the fact she was carrying a huge pillow, a backpack and two enormous plastic bags, all stuffed to capacity. She should have looked ridiculous—and did—but in typical Tabby fashion, it worked. She was like a cartoon character in the third dimension. Betty Boop with ink.
Sam raised her hand. “Tabby! Over here!”
“Oh my god,” Nicole moaned. “What is she doing? Why is she like this?”
Sam waved vigorously at her sister. “You know Tabby, she does what she likes.”
“She looks like a rainbow lorikeet had a baby with a bag lady.”
“Yeah, she does! Tabby! Tabby! Over here, you dipstick!”
Tabby’s gaze found hers and a huge grin spread across her face. “Sisters! Sister reunion!”
She said it so loudly Nicole turned away, burying her face in her hands, but Sam just laughed and opened her arms. Tabby rushed in, almost knocking her over with the sumo-wrestler bulk of her stuff. She smelled like warm honey and crayons. She, too, felt like home.
“Hey, big sister.”
“Hey, yourself.” Sam pulled away so that Nicole could hug her, which she did with the pinched look of someone struggling to contain their criticism.
“How are you boatholes doing?” Tabby said.
Nicole’s mouth twitched. “Good. Did you get my email about your 2017 tax return? Because—”
“All in good time. Check this out.”
She turned and despite all the shit she was carrying, managed to pull down the back of her dress and expose a huge peacock back tattoo.
“Wow,” Sam said, while Nicole gripped her face like a banshee. “How long did that take?”
“Six sessions! The chick that did it, wait, Sammy, do you know Lisa Loir?”
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“Yeah! Holy shit, she had six sessions free?”
“Nope, she owed me for a tattoo I gave her of the Eiffel tower getting sat on by Moby Dick so she squeezed me in. I haven’t posted anything about it yet. That’s my gift to you. I’m gonna show it off on Insta and Snapchat tonight. Let people know I’m back in Melbourne and ready to take work. Good advertising.”
Sam doubted that, but she wasn’t in a position to turn down any advertising. “Sure. So you’re coming into the studio?”
“Of course I am! I want to save SDI. I want to help you earn all the money and rise above the plebs to live like the lizard illuminati we’ve long aspired to be.”
Sam nudged her to shut up before Nicole figured out the illuminati thing was about Aaron. Tabby hated him even more than Sam did.
“There’s a name for people like you,” she’d told him two Christmases ago. “It’s ‘shit-cunt.’ You’re a shit-cunt, Aaron.”
She’d been fairly drunk, but Aaron still hadn’t appreciated the sentiment.
Thankfully Nicole didn’t appear to have noticed the lizard thing, she smoothed a chuck of blue hair out of Tabby’s eyes. “Are you hungry? Do you want to get something to eat?”
“Ooh yeah, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
Sam shot Nicole a ‘don’t ask’ look. “There’s a pub next to McDonald’s that’s pretty good.”
Tabby stiffened as though she’d just been informed of a runaway leopard. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather get out of the airport.”
Nicole narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“I’ve got some, uh, stuff, packed in with my granola.”
Sam flicked Tabby’s ear. “Let me guess, Wonder Woman; it’s not granola?”
“You can put it in granola.”
Nicole’s cheeks turned bright red. “Are you serious? You flew on a plane with drugs?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Tabby gripped her shirt collar, looking as though she expected a SWAT team to come bursting through the roof at any moment. “Are you seriously trying to get me pinged at the airport, Nicole? Is that what you want? To get your own sister pinged at the airport?”
“Of course I don’t want to get you pinged at the airport,” Nicole hissed. “But why you would even put yourself in that position—”
“Like you’ve never done drugs,” Tabby interrupted. “In case you’ve forgotten, I was there at Big Day Out 2012 when you were gakked off your head on—”
Nicole put a hand over her mouth.
“Oppression!” Tabby said, backing away. “Oppression and censorship!”
“Shut up!”
“And all regarding a non-violent, essentially victimless crime!”
Her voice was getting louder and louder, a Tabby tactic for cutting arguments off at the knees—be louder than your opponents, and they shall give up out of embarrassment.
Home sweet home, Sam thought, sizing Tabby’s bags. “Let’s just go, everyone. Come on!”
She’d been so excited about seeing her sisters, she hadn’t thought about what having them under one roof would mean. They weren’t kids anymore. There was years of change to work through. Still, she couldn’t help smiling to herself. Her sisters were back where they belonged. Surely everything would take care of itself from here.
That sense of contentment was rattled when they arrived at the building. Both Tabby and Nicole insisted on going straight inside Silver Daughters, as though their dad might have left clues regarding his disappearance hitherto uncovered by Sam. Noah was standing behind the counter reading a cracked copy of Fool’s Fate. He didn’t look up when they burst in, Nicole and Tabby debating the likelihood their dad had gone to Tampa at the top of their lungs.
“Hey,” Sam said apologetically. “Any customers?”
Noah shook his head, licking his thumb and turning another page.
Tabby let out a pointy-hat and broomstick cackle. “Whoa, who’s this tall muscly drink of water?”
She was taking the piss. She’d met Noah when she came to visit last year and took perverse pleasure in giving him shit and getting only the mildest of looks in return.
Noah didn’t so much as glance up, which was probably why Tabby practically vaulted the counter and flung her arms around him. “Big brother, it’s me! Tabby! Do you have not a single kind word for your baby sister?”
Noah held up his book and continued to read over Tabby’s head, a faint smile creasing the corners of his cheeks.
Sam grinned, and turned to explain the situation to Nicole, only to find her twin staring at Noah. Her expression suggested the final clues in a mystery novel had just fallen into place and the killer was unmistakably Sam’s second in command.
“Who,” she whispered, her gaze fixed on Noah’s face, “is that?”
“Uh, Noah Newcomb? Tattoo artist? The big guy dad loves?”
Nicole didn’t respond, just continued staring at Noah as though he was the Zodiac killer. Perhaps aware that he was being mentally framed for crimes he didn’t commit, Noah looked up. When he met Nicole’s gaze, his expression hardened and her apprehension became fifty times more valid. The guy was six-four and fucking huge, with bloodthirsty tattoos blocking out both arms and his meaty neck. It didn’t take much to make him look dodgy as hell.
Sam clapped her hands. “Noah, this is my twin, Nicole. Nix, this is Noah, my most valuable employee. Your most valuable employee, too, since you’ll be working here on a semi-professional basis.”
She was rambling but no one seemed to notice. Nicole and Noah were locked in a stare-off and Tabby was gazing at both of them open-mouthed, as though they were performing a stage play.
“How’s it going?” Noah growled.
“Very good, thank you.” Nicole’s smile brimmed with unwarranted primness. “If you’re working, do you think you should be reading behind the counter?”
Noah’s gaze darkened and Sam almost groaned out loud—could her twin not be a killjoy even once? She was always frosty with big tattooed guys, but Noah wasn’t some lughead idiot. He was her friend, not to mention, working at a reduced salary to take some financial heat off the business.
“Drop it, Nix,” Sam said, taking her sister’s hand. “Let’s just get some food and head upstairs, you can critique all of dad’s new frog sculptures. Wont that be fun?”
“Fine,” Nicole said in that same snotty tone. “See you later, Noah.”
He grunted, returning his gaze to Fool’s Fate and didn’t remove it again.
“Don’t be such a snob,” Sam chided as they headed around the back to the apartment. “Noah’s a good guy.”
Nicole sniffed, turning her head up to stare at the sky. “He’s got a spider’s web on his elbow, has he been to jail?”
“Uh…” It occurred to Sam that she’d never asked. No one ever asked Noah anything about himself and with good reason—you got no response. “Look, dad likes him, how bad could he be?”
“To be fair, dad married mum,” Tabby piped up. “His judgement has some pretty serious holes. By the way, Yosemite Sam, don’t worry about dinner for me. I’m meeting Ando and the boys in fifteen.”
“Oh, come on! You just got here! We should have group dinner at least?”
Nicole glanced up at the sky. “Well, I was thinking of going to Monica’s and seeing her baby. Now I know Tabby’s leaving, I’ll just have a shower and head out.”
Tabby scowled. “I’m having the first shower.”
As her younger sisters proceeded to argue about the shower hierarchy structure, Sam felt a headache prickling at her temples. These were not good signs and God knew what was to come next.
Chapter 7
The first time Scott saw Samantha, she’d been dancing. His family had just moved into the new house and after a long day of unloading boxes, his father’s simmering anger had driven him to his bedroom. Once inside, he’d heard bright pop music coming through the window. He stuck his head outside and then he saw the girl next door. She had long black hair
and a pale face, and she was dancing. Not swaying from side to side, dancing—throwing her body around the room as she lip-synched the words. She was being awfully loud. Scott watched her, waiting for someone to tell her to stop, but no one did.
One song turned into another, and though a squirmy feeling told him to look away, he couldn’t. She wasn’t a good dancer, exactly, but she clearly didn’t care, she was just dancing, kicking and punching the air with the utmost pleasure and zero shame. He watched her dance until his dad shouted for him to shut the bloody window.
His post plane panic that he would be alone and friendless in Melbourne had proved pointless. As soon as he started work, his old life rebuilt itself. His colleagues were friendly and his proximity to the Yarra made finding another rowing team simple. His BMW had been delivered, his boss was friendly, his apartment was semi-unpacked and his father was leaving him alone. Everything was sorted.
Everything except the matter of Samantha DaSilva.
There was nothing sensible there for him to hope for, nothing about a shared future that made sense. Yet, his memories of their shared adolescence were sharper than they’d been in years. In London, he’d barely thought of Sam. In Melbourne he walked the streets recalling even their most mundane run-ins. His teenage romance had glossed the whole city in rose-gold nostalgia.
It was moronic. Even before she had extensive tattoos and a failing business, his attraction to Sam made no sense. She was an uncompromising exhibitionist and he was…British. Yet he couldn’t let go. Thoughts of seeing her again were more compelling than asking out any of the pretty, interested women he came into contact with.
In the back of his mind, he was perpetually inventing excuses to swing by the tattoo parlour again. Of course, he couldn’t do it. There was no plausible reason and he’d told Samantha he was only visiting. He’d look like a twat if he just showed up at her door and said ‘surprise! I do live in Melbourne again! How about another drink?’
So he tried, with limited to no success, to put her out of his mind. At least until his personal assistant burst into his office. “Your dad’s here! Your dad’s here and I don’t know what to do!”
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