Tabby picked up the address book. “Ta-dah. Stop stalking the old man, he’s fine. Probably loling and splashing around in the ocean. Why stress him out about nothing?”
“Are you kidding? Everything around here’s fucked.”
“No, it isn’t. Well parts of it are, but me and Nix and Noah and Scott and the puppies are here to help. Face it, you’re making life hard for yourself by holding onto all this stuff for no reason.”
Sam flushed a little, wondering if this was how Nix felt whenever she accused her of being a pedantic busybody. “You can’t lecture me, you’ve never committed to a pizza long enough to finish it.”
“Maybe so, but at least I’m not in mad denial about my love for Scott Sanderson and trying to take it out on dad for going on a holiday instead of just being happy.”
Sam could hardly talk. She couldn’t remember being so pissed off, even at Greg Sanderson. That had been shocking, but this, this was personal. “I am not taking my feelings out on dad! And for your information, I tried to call Scott and he didn’t pick up, so I’m not in denial. I want to talk to him and sort everything out.”
Tabby didn’t say anything. She urged a third puppy onto her belly, gently squishing their bodies together. Sam watched her, anger pulsing through her veins. Her youngest sister didn’t know anything, she was reckless and clinically underemployed and as soon as she was done helping out with the shop, she’d be running off to Bondi or Johannesburg.
“You know life is serious,” she told her. “You can’t just feel good all the time.”
Tabby grinned, her pale blue eyes sparkling. “Says who?”
Sam opened her mouth to say something like ‘Copernicus’ but found she didn’t have the words. Something in the composition of her sister’s face and the things she was saying was all too reminiscent of their dad. Without warning, she burst into tears, pressing her face into her hands.
“Oh shit,” Tabby said. “Oh fuck, sorry, sorry for being so edgy. This day has been such a fruit salad of fuckery, I should have just put the puppies on you and left.”
“It’s fine,” Sam sobbed into her hands. “I just miss Scott and I’m scared about tomorrow and about you and Nix leaving and Dad never coming back…”
“But you don’t need to worry about that, we’re family. We’re always going to be together—see?” Tabby tapped on her cheek and when Sam opened her eyes, she showed her the daisy-chain tattoo on her wrist. The sight of it made Sam cry even harder.
“Oh God, I’m making it worse. Wait, I know how to fix this.”
Sam felt a warm weight settle on her lap and she automatically began petting the velvet puppy.
“That’s it, everything’s gonna be okay.” Tabby rubbed circles on her back using a puppy.
Sam snorted. “You’re so ridiculous.”
“I am. You’re going to get through this, Sammy. Things come together, they fall apart. They work out and then they don’t, but you and Scott were meant to be together. Give him some space and I promise he’ll come back.”
Sam smiled, leaning against her sister’s side. “You’re dad, aren’t you? Foul-mouthed dad.”
“Yeah. Hey, do you think we can make a puppy pyramid?”
So they lay there, playing with the paws of the half-Rottweiler, half-Spaniel mutts. As they did, Sam looked down at the spray of cherry blossoms she’d had inked into her forearms. If you’d asked her when she’d gotten them done, she would have denied all association with Scott, but the day she’d met him, the cherry tree had been in bloom. Maybe Tabby was right, maybe they were meant to be together. She could give him some space and hope that what they shared was strong enough to endure his poshness and her temper and what had happened today. Maybe Scott would show up in his suit, his face all taut with worry and—
“About keeping the puppies,” Tabby said, interrupting Sam’s romantic musings. “We could possibly just keep them, you know?”
“Don’t. Not tonight.”
“I’m not saying anything concrete but you might consider…” Tabby sat up. “Can you hear that?”
They froze, holding as many of the puppies as they could. The front door slammed shut and someone was walking along the hallway.
“Shit, what if Scott’s dad is back to take another crack at killing us?” Tabby stage whispered.
“He doesn’t have a key. It must be—”
“Hello?” Nicole called. “Are you guys in?”
“Oh fuck, cuntlord’s gonna be with her.” Tabby buried her face in Sam’s sheets. “Quick! Let’s pretend to be asleep.”
Nicole sighed. “I’m by myself! You don’t have to hide!”
Sam and Tabby looked at each other and grinned.
“We’re in my room,” Sam called. “Come up here!”
Nicole appeared a few seconds later, her eyes red and her black hair loose and ruffled.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, lying down on the bed and picking up a puppy. “No one say anything.”
Sam hesitated, then decided she should probably ask. “Where’s Aaron?”
Nicole’s mouth puckered. “He’s at the airport flying back to Adelaide.”
“And you are…?”
“Staying. We have more work to do, don’t we? And I have obligations here, don’t I? Fadeout Festival is tomorrow and the books are a mess. I’m staying. At least for a little bit. Now, no more talking.”
Sam turned away so no one would see her smile. Aaron had fucked up. He’d pushed too hard trying to guilt Nix back to Adelaide and it had blown up in his face. She felt like maybe Tabby was right and maybe everything would be okay.
As she lay in the bed with her sisters and seven dogs, talking shit about Fadeout and the journalists and which of the firefighters who attended was the hottest, Sam felt a warmth seep inside her soul, liquefying a cold she hadn’t known was there. Maybe Tabby had been right about lightening the fuck up. Maybe she would. She could use the space, the air and the light. She could not fight everything so hard. Drift and see where the tide took her and Scott and Silver Daughters Ink.
“I’m going to take a picture,” Tabby announced, raising her phone into the air. The three of them smiled and the resulting image was so lovely Sam told Tabby to put it on Instagram. The caption she chose was, ‘The DaSilva sisters back together and stronger than ever #love #sisters #puppypyramid’
Chapter 21
“We’re pretty drunk, aren’t we, Mr Sanderson?”
Scott raised his head off the bar table. It felt like he was peeling off a sticker. He glared blearily at Toby. “Don’t call me Mr Sanderson.”
“Sorry, sir. I mean…Scott.”
“Better.” Scott returned his head to the table. It felt like it weighed fifty stone. After he’d left his father in the hospital, he’d called Toby and all but dragged him to The Elephant and Wheelbarrow. He’d needed to get out of his head and knew the drums weren’t going to cut it this time. He had to delay the moment when he’d return to his empty apartment and too-full mind and think about what his dad had done to Samantha and Samantha’s family. And him.
He’d expected to sink a few rounds, but Toby evidently had his own reasons for wanting to drink and avoid home because it was now late and they were both drunk. Scott didn’t know what the time was. He’d guess somewhere between midnight and a massive hangover.
“Mr…Scott? Can I ask you something?”
Scott rubbed his eyes. “What’s up?”
“Have you maybe tried calling Samantha?”
God, Samantha…Those beautiful blue eyes and that long black hair. Her soft pale skin and the whimpering gasps she made right before she came on him…
“Mr Sanderson?”
“Can’t call her,” he said thickly. “She doesn’t have a mobile phone and besides, she wants to make sure I’m okay and I’m not. I don’t even know how to begin being okay, so what is there to say?”
“Right…” Toby tapped the rim of his pint. “How’s…how’s your dad?”
/>
“Outraged. Claiming it’s all a big misunderstanding. Threatening to disown me.”
“Geez…”
“It doesn’t matter if he disowns me.” Scott drained the last of his beer. “Even if I was broke, I wouldn’t give a damn. I can’t believe I let this happen.”
Toby winced. “You didn’t let this happen.”
Scott held up a hand. “I appreciate you saying that, but I did. I knew he was getting meaner, I knew he had an axe to grind against Sam’s dad about my mum. I should have got him sectioned or called someone, and I didnt.”
There was a short silence. The music in the background pulsed, some indie band that sounded like Foster the People, but weren’t.
“How is your life over?” Toby asked. “I mean, I know your dad tried to burn down your girlfriend’s house, but how else?”
“That wasn’t all he’s done.” Scott stood up, testing his beer-weakened knees. “I’ll get another round and then I’ll tell you.”
“You’ve gotten the last two, this one’s mine.” Scott watched as Toby half-stood, half-slithered off his barstool and headed for the counter. He wondered if he could get his assistant to call Tabby and ask if Samantha was okay. He’d gotten her voicemail, but he couldn’t bring himself to call her back and risk saying or doing something that hurt her. They would need to invent new words to describe how much he and his accursed bloodline had injured her family, and not just because of his father. He’d smashed Sam’s pie, left for London without saying goodbye, let Martha get away with insulting her and then acted as though their class differences didn’t matter. He’d failed to stop his dad from burning her property. He was a failure.
Toby returned, placing his pint in front of him. Scott looked at it without much appetite. He was feeling decidedly waterlogged. He would have switched to whisky, but then he’d be heaving behind the table instead of lying on it.
“So,” Toby said. “How is your life ruined?”
“Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Definitely.”
Scott picked up his pint, reassured by the sloshy weight of all that alcohol. “I’m not going to go back to the beginning, because it’ll take forever and I’ll cry. All you need to know is there once existed a website called buyscottsandersonaroot.com…”
He told Toby about most of his and Sam’s shared history and despite his attempts to not drag it out, his pint was almost empty by the time he was done. “…and that’s why Samantha DaSilva is probably the love of my life and I don’t deserve her. The end.”
Toby stared blearily at him. “That’s a big story, Mr Sanderson.”
“Scott.”
“Scott. Do you…do you think you moved back to Melbourne to be with Samantha?”
He’d been asking himself the same question ever since she tackled that guy outside her shop. He’d known the answer all along, so why deny it now? “I think so. It wasn’t conscious, I just thought I wanted a change, but as soon as I saw her, all the feelings came back.”
“That’s good.”
“It was, until my dad revealed he’d stolen her underwear Polaroids and tried to burn her house down.”
Toby looked dejected. “Oh, yeah. Does that mean you don’t mind her tattoos?”
Scott frowned. “Why would you…bloody Martha, is she gossiping about Samantha?”
“Not heaps! She just said she hoped she wasn’t your girlfriend because tattoos are super unprofessional.”
“Christ, I should have told her to butt out when I had the chance. I love Samantha’s tattoos, they’re beautiful. It’s just new for me to have a girlfriend who’s cool. All my girlfriends have been…” He flipped through his mental rolodex trying to find a common denominator. “Me.”
“You?”
“Yes, they’ve been female versions of me.” He shook his head, amazed by his own obliviousness. “I can’t believe I never noticed before. I feel so sorry for them, Toby. Who wants to date the male version of themselves?”
“Narcissists. Not that I’m saying you’re a narcissist, Mr Sanderson!”
Scott smiled. “No, you’ve got a fair point, although maybe I wasn’t trying to date the male versions of myself. Maybe I just couldn’t handle the idea of dating a girl who wasn’t Samantha.”
“I think that makes sense, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“I don’t.”
They drank in silence and Scott realised he’d been ear-bashing Toby for hours without reciprocal questions. “I’ve been going on about myself for ages. What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
Toby’s cheeks turned scarlet. “Nah.”
“You don’t need to be embarrassed. My dad just tried to burn my girlfriend’s house down. I’m in no position to judge anyone’s love life.”
“It’s not that, I’m…” Toby stared into the middle distance. His face was now the color of raw beef.
“You’re…?”
Toby didn’t elaborate.
“Do you need another drink? Cos’ I can go get one.”
Scott stood and realised he was in no position to walk anywhere without falling ass over tit. “Can I give you the money to go and get another round? I’m slightly incapacitated right now.”
Toby shook his head. “It’s okay, we don’t need any more drinks. I don’t have anything to say about my love life because I don’t have a love life. I’m a…” He swallowed. “I’m a virgin.”
Scott was glad he was so pissed. He could stare blankly at Toby and not have it seem as rude as if he was doing it in a well-lit, sober location. “Oh. Shit. Okay. Well, that’s no big deal. Lots of peop—”
“Please don’t tell me lots of people are virgins,” Toby said with such loaded misery, Scott closed his mouth.
Toby finished the rest of his pint in one swallow. “I think I should get another round.”
“Wait, first I should tell you I was a virgin, too.”
His personal assistant narrowed his eyes. “When you were twenty-two?”
“No, I was eighteen but—”
“Then please, don’t. Everyone’s always on about how they were a virgin when they were eighteen, like that’s supposed to make me feel better. It doesn’t. I can legally drink in America and I’ve barely even touched a girl. It’s embarrassing, and no one gets it. People pretending to get it drive me crazy.”
Scott felt like an asshole. “Okay, sorry. I don’t want to patronize you. Just…what happened, mate? You’re a great-looking kid and if some scrawny arsehole like me could get laid at college, I have no idea why you didn’t.”
That got a smile out of his personal assistant. Albeit one that faded almost instantly.
“It’s complicated. I was in a relationship all through high school—this girl from the same church as me. We were thinking we’d get engaged after we graduated but then she broke up with me.”
“That sucks,” Scott said. “Did she tell you why?”
“Um, yeah. She’s a lesbian.”
“Right…” Scott fought off a wince on Toby’s behalf. “That’s…”
“It’s fine,” Toby said with a rueful grin. “I met her girlfriend last year. They’re a great couple.”
Scott sat back in his chair. “Jesus, okay. So, that was a while ago, though. What happened? Why haven’t you done anything since?”
Toby shrugged his massive shoulders. “I don’t know, I’m pretty awkward and my parents are pretty controlling. That doesn’t help. I got Tinder for a bit but all the dates I went on…I never clicked with anyone. I know I should have maybe just done it with someone and got it out of the way, but that didn’t seem right…I sound like a dickhead, don’t I?”
Scott shook his head. “You just want your first time to mean something. That’s fine. I don’t want to tell you more trite bullshit stories, but I was like that, too. I waited for Sam.”
Toby frowned. “Was she your first?”
“No. After I left for London, I did it with the first girl who’d have me. My cousi
n’s friend from college.”
“Did you regret it?”
Scott remembered that night, the feelings of relief mingled with disappointment and his abject fear when Freya Bishop asked him if he wanted to go for a picnic the next day. “Yeah, a bit. Not just because it wasn’t Sam. I still wanted it to mean something and the way it went down…it was just checking a box.”
Toby looked down at his hands. “Sure.”
“Then again, a smart man once told me virginity is just an idea. I didn’t want to hear it at the time, but it’s the truth. What you’ve done with your body isn’t as important as how you feel.”
Toby smiled. “Thanks, Mr Sander…Scott.”
Scott grinned. “No problem. Well, our beers are empty and if we keep going, one or both of us is going to spew—should we head home?”
“Yeah,” Toby said glumly. “Hopefully my parents haven’t chucked all my stuff onto the lawn. They’re so mad at me.”
“Because you wouldn’t let them kill the puppies?”
“Yeah, and because I work as a PA instead of at my dad’s accounting firm, and because I don’t have a girlfriend from church. But mostly because they can tell I’m not religious, anymore.” Toby gave a long hard sigh. “I just need six months. Six months, and I’ll have enough money to leave home.”
Scott stared at him. He and Toby had something in common—an unfair obligation to a shitty family. “What do you say you come crash at mine? I’ve got a spare mattress no one’s using.”
Toby blinked at him. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, lets both just put off the inevitable for a few more hours.”
“Sounds great to me!”
A ten-minute Uber ride and they were back at his apartment. Scott struggled with the front door but when he finally managed to unlock it, he showed Toby into the lounge. “Feel free to have a shower or a tea, or something.”
But Toby wasn’t listening, he was staring at his drums. “You play?”
“Yeah,” Scott said, as he struggled out of his jacket. “Do you?”
“No, but I’ve got a guitar at home…” Toby gave him a shifty look. “Do you want to jam sometime?”
For the first time in hours, Scott legitimately stopped feeling a cramped sense of panic and despair. “Not now, I think the neighbors would throw us out a window, but we could tomorrow, if you like? I don’t have any plans.”
So Wild Page 31