Pistol

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Pistol Page 10

by Max Henry


  If only she knew that ‘uncomfortable’ was the very thing Steph craved about his company. Steph had nodded, relaxed slightly by the thought her bestie had her back. But now, as she whimpered into her knees, she wasn’t so sure. Shame didn’t begin to cover how she’d feel telling Cass she was right. You did this to yourself. Yeah, wasn’t that the truth?

  As her eyes adjusted to the dark, and the tears ran dry, she trained her gaze on the front door. It’s dark, ominous presence felt like a blatant reminder of her foolishness. Steph grabbed the hem of the t-shirt, and ripped it off over her head. She tossed it into the bedroom, more at ease with being naked than sitting in the cottony embrace of the silly way she’d put herself out there—only to have her heart trampled.

  What was going through her mind? Had she honestly expected him to jump her? Be so consumed with lust that he couldn’t help himself?

  She was more of an idiot than she first thought.

  Her legs slumped to the floor as she contemplated going to bed. The night was over, her pride shattered, and her ego in a coma. She made a move to get up, but a slight change in the darkness around the entrance-way drew her eye. Steph relaxed into her position once more, and squinted hard. The shadow of two shoes cut through the slip of light that seeped under the door.

  He was still there?

  Her heart ratcheted up a notch, her breaths short and unsatisfying.

  Can he see me? What does he want?

  Her questions were doomed to remain unanswered as the shadows moved away to let the unbroken glow filter in over the carpet once more. The corners of her mouth twitched downwards, and she swiped the unbidden tears back. He may as well have stung her with his words all over again for how she felt. Empty, unwanted, and undesirable. Her hope wanted to run after him, tell him to stay, but her heart poured cement into her limbs and made movement seem like an impossibility. A black hole of misery slowly sucked any will she had left from her weary body. She sat in her pit of despair until the sadness bloomed to rage, and then back to pity for her failed attempt.

  Steph dragged herself to stand, and headed through to the bathroom to do her pre-bed rituals: face, teeth, toilet. Her eyes remained devoid of emotion throughout; her mind worked on zombie auto-pilot as she moved through the familiar motions.

  She tucked herself below the sheets, and let out a deep sigh. Her eyes drew closed to the nightmare of her current life. Her mother despised her, her brother and friends thought she should be more ‘normal’. Perhaps her appearance—tattoos, and vintage clothes—were the very reason someone as thoughtful as Ivan had never found her attractive? If she couldn’t draw the attention of a boy she spent the better part of her childhood with, then who?

  Perhaps it was time after all to become more ‘normal’, more socially acceptable. Dye her hair a flat shade of brown, and wear more mainstream fashion. A corner of her mind screamed that it was suicide for her identity if she went through with it. But reason argued. What good was being different, relishing what was unique about her, if no-one else cared about it? Because at the end of the work-week, all she wanted was to come home to somebody who loved her, tattoos or none, victory curls or not. Steph longed to be held—just held. To have a warm arm lay heavy over her side as she slept. Someone to bring her coffee in the morning. Another toothbrush in the bathroom.

  I don’t want to be alone.

  Maybe if she looked like all the other girls in the clubs, she could attract a man who would treat her right, love her and cherish her. A man who didn’t tease her mercilessly, and leave her confused. Crying. Alone.

  Maybe.

  ****

  A solid thump echoed through the unit. What time is it? Steph drew her head up to check the display of her phone, and cringed. She’d slept in past the alarm, and now Ivan would be here to help her shift.

  With light-headed sluggishness she plonked her feet on the floor, and pushed out of bed. Her gaze fell on her naked body—she never slept naked—and she groaned at the memory of the night before. She kicked the offending t-shirt aside, and headed to the closet. In record time she pulled on a singlet, and shorts. “Coming!”

  Steph scuffed her feet on the floor as she crossed to the door, unbolted it, and opened it onto a concerned Ivan.

  “Were you still asleep?”

  She nodded.

  “Hard night out on the piss, I guess, being your last day in the office and all?”

  “Something like that.” She’d let him believe whatever he wanted to. Cassie had asked her out for a drink, but she’d feigned a headache, and opted for a ‘quiet night in’ before her shift.

  Ivan wandered around the small place to suss out how many boxes she had packed, and what remained. He pointed to her relatively untouched room. “That all we’ve got left to pack?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Won’t take me long if you want to start with the boxed stuff.”

  He tipped his chin, and stooped down to pick up two boxes. “Can you prop the door open?”

  “Sure.” Steph crossed the lounge, and pulled the front door onto its stopper. She was glad Ivan hadn’t asked why her room was still untouched. A little part of her died at the memory of how hopeful she’d been that she would have woken up this morning with Pete beside her.

  Silly.

  “I’m going to grab a quick shower,” she called after Ivan.

  “No worries.” His voice drifted back through the open door as he made his way down the landing to the stairs.

  A shiver shook her shoulders, and she started for the bathroom, eager to get under the soothing jets. She cranked the water on, and shut the door. As Steph stripped from her clothes, she looked at her naked form in the wide mirror above the basin. The angel inked on her chest looked sadly toward her side. Flowers curled up her left forearm. Her right shoulder burst in a bright display of coloured stars which slowly faded into a candy-store design. Steph slowly turned to look over her shoulder, and traced the lines of the fairies which danced on the centre of her back. For the first time ever, she was left confused at what to make of her art. None of it had been done lightly. She’d chosen each piece, and deliberated over it for months before going ahead with the work. But now, the pictures gave her a strange sense of foreboding. Were they the reason she attracted the wrong types? Was she too different?

  She drew a deep sigh, and stepped into the warm flow of water. The droplets ran lines over her body, like gentle fingers which eased her worries away. Steph dropped her forehead to the wall, and groaned. Was this how she would feel every morning from now? Would she look at the tattoos that adorned her body and cringe?

  She finished off washing, and got out to dry herself as quickly as she could. Her lip compressed between her teeth, she chose a pair of long skinny jeans and a raglan tee. She dressed, and pulled her hair back into a plain pony-tail. Steph regarded her reflection for a moment, slightly saddened at the lack of her that stared back. The woman who returned her gaze was exactly that; just another woman.

  Ivan stopped in his tracks, box in his arms as she emerged from the bedroom. “What did you do with Steph?”

  She shrugged, the corners of her lips drawn down. “I had to grow up sooner or later.”

  Ivan placed the box on the sofa, and stepped toward her. He captured her arms in his hands, and bent down to level with her eyes. “What happened last night?”

  She matched his strained expression as she fought with what to say.

  “Has this got something to do with Pete?”

  “Why do you jump to that conclusion?”

  “Call it instinct,” Ivan drawled.

  “Have you been talking to Cass?” She narrowed her gaze.

  “Perhaps. What did he do?”

  “Nothing. That’s just it.”

  “So why are you suddenly ready to join a convent?”

  Steph sighed heavily, and pulled free of Ivan’s grasp. “I just think that perhaps if I want to have a shot at finding a long-term kind of guy, that I better look like less trouble.”


  Ivan rubbed his brow, and shook his head. “You don’t look like trouble. You’ve always looked fantastic. You’re a beautiful woman, Steph.”

  She furrowed her brow, and pouted as she slammed her arms across her chest. “So how come everyone goes for Cass when we’re out? How come in all the time we’ve known each other you’ve never tried it on with me? Huh?”

  Ivan blushed, and averted his eyes.

  Oh, no way. Why did I never see it?

  “I always thought you were great, Steph. All that time we ran together when we were teenagers was hell on me. I’m surprised you never noticed.”

  She cocked her head to the side, and eyed him with regret. “But you never tried to kiss me? How would I know?”

  “Aww, come on.” He threw his hands at his sides, and paced the room. “Why on earth do you think I hung around you, and not your brother?”

  Steph looked at her feet as she replayed old memories for new clues. “I’m sorry I made it hard for you,” she whispered.

  “Forget it.” Ivan stopped before her, and drew her into a tight hug. “I got over it. And I think I ended up with the better deal, don’t you?”

  “I guess.”

  He was dead right though. He may be a guy, but Ivan was closer to her than Cass. He knew all about her past, her hopes for the future, and her weakest moments. He was her rock since they were kids, and she wouldn’t risk the loss of that for some summer fling that would have been doomed to fail from the start.

  “Come on. Let’s get you shifted. Maybe we can cheer you up by starting afresh? New place, new rules?”

  “Maybe.” She wanted to believe him, but the pull in her gut each time she thought of losing the only connection she had to Pete told her otherwise. Pete knew she lived here, and once she moved, then what? Unless she went to visit him at the bar, how could he ever know where she was?

  Not that he wanted to. Hadn’t he made that clear?

  So why did she think he’d be back?

  ****

  Cass spun in Steph’s new living room, and let out a low whistle. “Wow, babe. You scored a great place here.”

  Steph looked around the three bedroom house, and smiled. Guess I have. “Well, rent is cheaper out here, so I get more for the same as I did in town.”

  “Do you what?” Cass sighed.

  Ivan placed a drink in each of their hands, and retrieved his beer. “Cheers,” he said, and clinked glasses.

  “Cheers,” Steph replied.

  A throaty rumble drew close before the engine shut off. Cass glanced her way, and Steph shrugged. Nobody was due to visit, but she only knew of two people who owned V8’s, and one didn’t have her new address. She walked to the front door, and grinned as her suspicions proved correct. “Ben!”

  Her brother closed the door on his Holden Ute, and beamed back. “Hey sis. Had to come check out your new pad considering you’ve decided to move to the dark side.”

  “Shut up,” she scolded, and drew him into a hug. He’d teased her relentlessly about how she’d never lived in the same area as him since they both left home. “You look swish.” She stepped back to look him over. “Off somewhere?”

  “Date.” The boy actually blushed.

  “Come in and tell me all about her.” Steph urged him ahead of her, and followed to the door. She smiled at the warm welcomes that chorused when Ben stepped inside. These were the moments she should live for—not some sordid sexual encounter with an arrogant ass. Yet, her heart still ached at the thought their brief tryst may be all she ever shared with Pete. You need a distraction.

  “Hey, Ben?”

  “Yeah?” He placed his sunglasses on the counter, and turned to address her.

  “You got Brodie’s number?”

  “What are you up to, Steph?”

  She shrugged, aware Cass also eyed her with equal interest. “Thought I owed him an apology from last time we went out.” Ben had let his friend Brodie take her out as his ‘plus one’ to a mutual friends wedding. Steph had spent most of the night drunk, crying into her wine after she received a text from Dave which accused her of an affair with Brodie.

  Ben cocked his eyebrow at her sudden turn of conscience. “Really?” He drew out each syllable, and leant his broad frame into the end of the counter.

  “What? I was a bit rude don’t you think?”

  “And you’re only deciding this now, because?”

  She shrugged again. “Only just thought of it?”

  Ben glared at her, and she did her best to blend into the wall. Cass’s curt tone set her heart into a gallop. “Steph, can I talk with you for a moment?”

  “Sure.” She followed her bestie from the room, like a prisoner off to the firing line.

  Cass shut the spare room door behind them. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to distract myself, Cass.”

  “From what? What about Pete?”

  “What about him?”

  Cass sighed heavily as she placed a hand to her forehead. “Okay, correct me if I’m wrong, but you two seemed to have something going on. I take it this ‘distraction’ is to do with him, though.”

  “We did have something going on, yes.”

  “And?”

  “Past tense, Cass.”

  Her friend openly stared at her, confusion knitted in her brow. “What?”

  “He came over last night and said we’d been ‘fun’.”

  “Asshole! I’ll bloody hunt him down for stuffing you around like that.”

  “No, Cass. No. Leave it. Please.”

  “Steph.” Cass frowned. “He’s been taking advantage of you, and you want to let him get away with it? What if he does the same to another girl?”

  “He won’t.” Steph couldn’t pin-point why, but she knew that his reaction was a specialty reserved for her. For all she knew, he was onto his next conquest already. Who’s to say he was affected by the loss of their ... thing?

  The disappointment in Cass’s eyes shook Steph to the core. She flinched as Cass stormed past her, and out of the room. What if she’d broken the trust they had for one another? That kind of thing was near on impossible to recover. Technically, despite the fact Pete had clearly fucked her over, Steph had still chosen to defend him over agreeing with her best friend. She had betrayed Cass, and disrespected her by the choice to ignore the value of her opinion.

  Steph drew a deep breath, plastered her happy face on, and walked out into the lion’s den. Whatever her friends, and family had to say to her, she deserved it. Yet she knew that nothing they said would change her stance on Pete; he was still an experience—no matter how confused and broken he’d left her—she didn’t regret.

  Take it one day at a time, Steph. One day at a time.

  The patrons pissed him off no end tonight. Try as he might, Pete couldn’t suppress the urge to hit something—or someone.

  As soon as he arrived home from Steph’s last night, he had pulled the letter Derek gave him out, purely to remind himself why it was he couldn’t entertain the idea of keeping her around. The letterhead seemed to leer at him as he unfolded the page.

  Irish Prison Service – Limerick Prison

  He read the contents again, still maddened by what it meant for him. She shouldn’t assume she had the right to interfere with his life now. The fact she was his mother meant nothing. His mother died the moment she committed the crime that put her in that prison.

  The thing which turned his insides to a cesspit of lava, was that she fucking knew where he lived.

  She had known how to contact him.

  How?

  His only connection to her was Derek, and he’d been more than clear with the old git that he didn’t want the woman to know of his new home. So then, had the guy betrayed him? And did he honestly want to know? Because what difference would it make, that a week from now, his fuckin’ mother would set foot on Australian turf to look for him.

  Pete realised the tumbler he screwed around a dishcloth had begun to warm in his hand. How
long had he stood there, in a daze as he dried the now super-heated vessel? He placed it down on the counter, and ran his eye over the dozen or so people who waited for service. Janie did her best to keep up, but hell, the woman had only been on staff for a month. He better get back into it, no matter how much he wanted to deck the next plonker who spilt a drink on him.

  Pete worked his way through four bourbons, a teapot, two vodkas, and a swag of OJ’s before he took a step back to catch his breath. He leant against the low fridges; his hands braced the top of the cool doors either side of him. A bubbly laugh drew his eyes right, and he spotted a familiar wave of blonde hair. Steph’s friend edged into the bar, and beckoned Janie.

  He swept past the barmaid, and took the spot before the blonde. “What ya after?”

  Her eyes drew wide as she looked at him, and she turned her body like she wanted to block whatever was behind her. “Two vodka martinis, thanks.”

  He nodded tightly, and then swung himself over the bar to look around her. She side-stepped, but not far enough. His eyes landed on the prize, yet he felt like he’d lucked out at the derby.

  What the fuck has she done?

  Pete tapped Janie on her shoulder, and pointed to Steph’s friend. He then proceeded to march to the end of the bar, and out through the divider into the floor area. People moved aside wide-eyed, and cautious as he approached her.

  “Can I help you?”

  He scowled at her cheek. “What have ya gone and done to yerself?”

  Steph looked down at her ensemble. “Got dressed?” She shrugged.

  His blood pumped a bass-beat in his ears. “Yeah, but what in? And what have ya done to yer hair?”

  She narrowed her gaze. “I dressed in clothes, Pete. And I believe people refer to what I’ve done to my hair as a dye job.”

  He matched the intensity of her ire. “Ya fuckin’ well know what I’m on about. Now stop playin’ at bein’ a pretty, dumb tart.”

  “What’s it to you, anyway? Maybe I am just a dumb tart? Wouldn’t that be suitable for what we—” she gestured between them “—had?”

 

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