Loyal Love

by Henry, Max

  Because everything is taken. There’s no offer presented to you, no choice to be made. Just a stiff upper lip to be had while the knives are thrust in your back one-by-one.

  “That girl you were asking about has an interview with the Dean this afternoon.” She resumes supping at her berry crush; elbows braced on the table while she cradles the plastic cup between her palms.

  The position of her arms amplifies the gifts God gave her. I know I said she’s like a sister now, but I wouldn’t be much of a man if I didn’t notice those sorts of details on a woman.

  “Let me know what the outcome is.”

  Willow shrugs one shoulder. “They usually take a few days to decide. But I’ll flick you a message when I hear.” She stirs the ice, a gentle scraping swish. “What is it about her that you’re so interested in?”

  “Nothing about her, per se.” I flag the waitress. “More what she might get up to.”

  “Mmm?” Willow’s eyes narrow. “Do elaborate.”

  “Espresso macchiato.” I wink at the young brunette, then promptly frown at how similar her hair colour is to Greer’s.

  She nods, turns with an exaggerated spin of her hips, and heads for the counter. Willow giggles, lips still wrapped around her straw.

  “What?”

  “I swear she would have turned in her apron for the day if you’d asked.”

  “Hardly.”

  “Oh, come on,” she cries. “The girl practically stood there and imagined you naked.”

  I smirk, ducking my chin with an amused huff. “She’s not what I’m looking for, Willow.”

  “What are you after?” She finally tears her plump pink lips from the plastic tube and leans back in her seat. “I thought maybe you’d resorted to scraping the bottom of the barrel when I saw you on our turf, but you surprised me, Colt.”

  I lift an eyebrow, peering out at her from under my lashes. “You shouldn’t put yourself down like that.”

  “I’m not.” She gives a little wiggle of her head. “It’s more that you’re not known to knock on the same door twice.”

  “You make me sound like such a swell guy,” I tease, matching her position.

  She smiles as I extend my arm over the back of the empty chair next to me. “Admit it.” She huffs out her nose. “You get off on being the bad guy.”

  “Never denied that I do.”

  We lock gazes across the table, so much unsaid in the way she narrows her perfectly lined eyes on me.

  “Your macchiato,” the lovely waitress says with a smile as she slides the cup onto the table before me. “Would you like anything else?”

  “Yes,” Willow states without breaking eye contact. “I need your help to settle a disagreement that my friend and I had.”

  I frown, warning her to shut the hell up.

  She continues, shifting her attention to the nervous girl beside us. “First. How old are you?”

  The waitress glances between the two of us. “Twenty-two.”

  “Lovely.” Willow gestures with a limp hand in my direction. “Colt is eighteen. Would you sleep with him if he asked you to?”

  The girl’s face goes a deep shade of pink. I bury my face in my hands and groan.

  “If you need anything else from the menu, please let me know.” She virtually runs from the scene, finding respite with an elderly couple on the far side of the café.

  “Did you have to do that?” I drag both hands down my face, tugging my bottom lip in the process.

  Willow chuckles. “I wanted to know.” She shrugs.

  “You have no shame.”

  A manicured finger points toward my phone. “Clearly.”

  With a huff, I turn my head to watch the waitress as she delivers another order to the barista. I’ll need to stop by and apologise on my way out. Jesus. Since when did I give a fuck about how people feel?

  Not so long ago it would have been me asking the poor woman the crass question. The difference is, unlike Willow, who purely asks out of curiosity without any regard for the position she puts the other person in, I would have done it for the thrill of embarrassing the waitress.

  The high of knowing she would have thought about me long into the night, whether she was interested or not.

  Now? Fuck. I just want to focus on getting things right for Lacey.

  For once in my goddamn life, I want to be the good guy.

  Just to say I could.

  TUCK

  Every damn interaction that we have tears another hole in my confidence. I spend the entire day conscious of who looks at me, for how long, and what I overhear them say. I never used to give a fuck about the rest of the student body, but each time Lacey knocks me back, it shakes a little more of my armour to the floor.

  There are only so many blows an ego can take before it needs time to recover. And mine never gets that chance.

  I don’t allow it.

  “Hey.”

  I jolt out of my head at the softly spoken word behind me. “Hey.”

  Cate selects a salad bowl from the cafeteria cabinet and then waits for me to move forward in the line.

  “Forgot your lunch as well?” I ask.

  I was so damn preoccupied with getting to school I’m surprised I managed to get my uniform on straight.

  She lifts one shoulder. “They have custard tarts today.” Her lips curl into a smile. “I’m a sucker for anything with custard.”

  I tip my head at her tray. “Hence the salad, right?”

  She nods. “Got to balance the calories.”

  Fucking girls. “You don’t need to worry about that shit.” I edge forward and snag a roast beef sandwich and a thick, freshly baked Turkish delight to round the meal off.

  “It pays to stay light when you want to be fast.” She watches me add each item, no doubt calculating the exercise required to burn it off in her head.

  “I thought you weren’t competing anymore?” She gave up motocross after breaking her leg in three places. As far as I know, she only does it for fun now.

  “I’m not.” Cate adds a small bottle of spring water from the open fridge. “Dad’s got me chasing the calves that get out.” Her eyes light up. “They can be sneaky, you know.”

  “Yep.” Well versed with how nimble a runaway calf can be when it wants to stay feral. “How is the farm doing?” Her old man bought twenty yearlings off us the year before last, but Dad thinks he went elsewhere last season.

  “Okay.” She shrugs, indicating with a nod of her head that it’s my turn to pay. “Mum and Dad are in dispute with environmental authorities about where our irrigation system draws from, so things are a little dry for now. But we’re coping.”

  “Cool.” I hand cash over to the lunch-lady and get my change.

  It feels rude just to walk away from Cate, but I don’t have anything else to say to her. She’s always kept mostly to herself—a lot like Beau—so one-on-ones like this are rare.

  I ditch the tray, swiping my sandwich and slice off and into my hands. Never one to give a fuck about proper etiquette, I down the sweet treat first in three huge bites and then take a seat at a nearby table to wrestle the plastic outer for the sandwich open.

  Cate slides onto the seat opposite. Shit.

  “What’s the deal with you and Lacey?”

  It seems she sure knows what else to talk about. “There isn’t one.” I pop the plastic, cutting my finger on the edge in the process. “Fuck.”

  “They should smooth those, eh?”

  “Probably get some perverse pleasure out of maiming kids,” I joke, glancing over my shoulder at the lunch lady.

  She’s busy serving another student, setting fire to my theory.

  “I thought you two were a thing.” Cate promptly fills her mouth with salad and given the blasé look on her face I don’t know if she’s playing dumb, or too blind to see what’s right under her nose.

  “Why do you care?”

  She stops chewing.

  I didn’t mean to sound like such a jackass but
come on. What the fuck is it to her? “Did she say something about us to you?”

  Cate shakes her head. “Just a vibe I got off her this morning.”

  “Such as?”

  Mandy walks into the cafeteria behind Cate, crossing the floor to where we sit.

  “She seemed afraid of you.”

  I don’t get a chance to question what the hell she means. Mandy drops loudly into the seat beside Cate.

  “What the fuck is going on, Tuck?”

  “Hi, Mandy.” I can’t eat my damn sandwich fast enough. I could take it with me.

  “I thought we’re supposed to be getting our people back together by getting rid of Amber.”

  “Keep your damn voice down.”

  She slumps on the seat, blowing out an exasperated breath. “Get off it. There’s, like, all of ten people in here.”

  And any one of them could be looking for the next piece of juicy gossip to get them noticed.

  “Amber’s gone, isn’t she?” Even if that was by her own doing.

  “Ninety per cent. Yeah. But you guys are all avoiding one another like the plague.”

  I scowl at her, popping a large chunk of bread and meat in my mouth to make a point.

  She folds her arms and shifts focus to Cate. “Custard.” Mandy grins. “Should have known that’s why you were missing.”

  “What?” Cate says around a mouthful of greens. Her eyes lift, showing her amusement.

  “I should keep a stash of the things on hand,” Mandy teases. “Make a little breadcrumb trail whenever I need to draw you out of hiding.”

  Cate snorts at the jest.

  “Johnson wants space,” I answer her previous question. “So, I’m giving it to him.”

  “Why the hell are Beau and Ed avoiding you then?”

  “They’re not avoiding me,” I snap. “I ride in with Beau in the morning.”

  “Circumstance.” She blows it off. “And Ed?”

  I sigh. “If I stay out of his way, Johnson won’t suspect anything.”

  Mandy narrows her eyes, leaning forward in her seat to rest her elbows on the table.

  “He’s digging for info on the weekend,” I cede.

  “Fuck’s sake,” Mandy mutters under her breath, head turned away. “If you want to know what they have planned, you could just ask me.”

  I frown. “But you aren’t thick with Dee anymore.”

  “So what?” She leans back again. “We’re still friends, even if she is a bit …”

  “Hard to get through to,” Cate mutters.

  “Mmm,” Mandy agrees. “Now that she doesn’t have Amber to boost her, she’ll be back to us soon enough.”

  “Boost her?” I thump my chest; the last bite of sandwich stuck in my throat. “All that bitch does is drain her.”

  “Not if you ask Dee.” Mandy sets her lips in a tight line. “She thinks Amber makes her brave. Gives her the confidence to do things she normally wouldn’t.”

  “Right,” I say, dragging out the word.

  “I know. But who are we to say anything, right?”

  “People don’t like to admit to their faults,” I reason.

  Our table falls silent, the truth of that striking a chord within each of us.

  “I don’t want Lacey anywhere near that party this weekend, Mandy.”

  She meets my gaze, staying mute. Her hard-edged stare says so much.

  “What good reason could there honestly be for her to go?” I press.

  Mandy pulls a deep breath, glancing to Cate. Our silent partner chooses to remain so, picking at the edge of her custard tart.

  “If she stays away, then they win by default, Tuck.”

  “It’s not a fucking competition,” I growl. “Why the fuck does she have to try to ‘win’ anyway?”

  “To prove she isn’t afraid of them.”

  “Jesus Christ.” I lean back and drag a hand down my face. “What is it with you girls?”

  Mandy snorts. “Rich coming from you, isn’t it? Mr ‘I-used-to-solve-everything-with-my-fists’.”

  “Past tense.” Although the itch is getting harder not to scratch lately. “Plus, at least us guys know how to just deal with it and be done with it.”

  “You want us to have a punch-up about it?” she taunts.

  “Obviously not,” I drone.

  “Then, the answer is more complicated, Tuck. If Lacey lets them believe they scared her away, it never ends. It doesn’t matter where Amber ends up; she’ll always have that over her.”

  I sigh, glancing around at the thinning lunch crowd. “She turns up,” I humour. “Then what?”

  Mandy shrugs. “Don’t know.”

  “She’s not overly forthcoming about that,” Cate adds. “That’s pretty much why I was asking you about her, to try and figure out what her end game is.”

  “She wants revenge,” Mandy says softly. “But to what extent? Only she knows.” Her eyes widen a fraction, and she leans forward. “We were hoping you two had been talking about it.”

  “Only that I don’t want her to go,” I mutter. Slamming both palms on the edge of the table, I scuff my chair back. “She won’t even talk to me anymore, so save your breath.” I rise while they both stare at me wide-eyed. “I can’t help you.”

  I can’t help anyone, it seems.

  LACEY

  “Where have you been?” Cate gestures for me to get my helmet on, already astride her bike.

  I look in the shed and find no sign of Mandy or her ride. “I got held up.”

  More like, I waited at the edge of the playing fields in case I saw Tuck after his last class for the day. But either he’s changed his route to the stables, or he skipped out early for the day.

  I didn’t have the guts to walk past where Major stays during school hours. Not when a deviation that far out of my way would be glaringly obvious.

  “Mandy wants us to catch up.”

  “Why?” I tug the skid lid over my hair and get to work on the strap.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Cate frowns, a small wrinkle between her eyes the only indication she does from what I can see through the open-face helmet. “You don’t have to be anywhere else, do you?”

  “No. I’m free.” Dad won’t be home until after five, and to be honest, I’d rather not hang around at alone after yesterday.

  “Good.” She twists the key and then leans on her left foot to kick the bike over with her right.

  I wait until the two-stroke fires to life with a nasal ring, and then quickly scoot on the back after Cate resumes position.

  I keep my eye out for any sign of a huge bay horse, or even Black Betty, yet come up short the entire ride. My fingers bite with the chill of the afternoon wind over my skin, my cheeks flushed when we slow and turn into a long tree-lined driveway.

  “Whose place is this?” I shout over the engine noise.

  “Mandy’s,” Cate calls back.

  Figures. It did make sense, but it never hurts to be too careful when half the kids your age are out to get you in one way or another.

  We pull up out front of the sprawling acreage home, beside where Mandy’s bike sits on the wide gravel driveway. She emerges from around the side of the house when I dismount, wheeling a faded Yamaha.

  “What do you think?”

  I look at the girl as though she speaks gibberish. “About what?”

  “Your first bike,” she announces. The stand moves with a squeak under the weight of her boot, and she rests it for me to inspect. “It’s my old competition one. I switched when my sponsor changed, but it still runs fine.”

  “You want me to have it?”

  She laughs. “Fuck no. A long term loan, if you like.”

  I run my eye over the death machine on two wheels. “I don’t know how to ride.”

  “I know.” Her eyes go wide, her words slow. “Which is why we teach you.”

  Cate giggles.

  “Oh, hell no.” I back up, hands raised before me. “Nope. Not happening.”

  �
�Come on,” Mandy urges. “Live a little.”

  I narrow my eyes on her, dropping my hands to my sides. “What’s the catch?”

  It’s lessons today, and tomorrow I’ll be the newest member of the Motohoes. I’ve seen this before. Girls get itchy when one of their own walks from the clique. They find safety in numbers, so when the flock thins, they go looking for replacements.

  I’m not ready to be a part of a hierarchy again. Not yet.

  “No catch.” Mandy smirks. “I thought watching you fall on your arse would be some fun while we have that chat of ours.”

  Great. I’ve been kidnapped out to the country to maim myself on a motorbike while the social queen of Arcadia grills me on why I shouldn’t attend the party Saturday.

  “You have a very messed up idea of fun.” I take a step closer to check out a gouge on the rear fender.

  “Some of the bitches can be a bit pushy during a meet,” Mandy explains from behind me. “I promise I won’t be that harsh but, all the same, we’ll kit you out in some protective gear.”

  “Help me,” I implore toward Cate who just smiles.

  “You’ll be fine. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

  She’s not convincing me, but I can’t deny that I did think it would be a neat skill to learn. “I can’t believe I’m going to agree to this.” My fingers trace the emblem on the side of the tank. “If nothing else, we should get a good laugh out of it.”

  “Come on.” Mandy skips toward the front door. “I’ll see what I have that might fit you.”

  ***

  She needn’t have worried. A whole room in their house is dedicated to Mandy’s gear. Stiff boots in all colour combinations line one wall, one-piece riding suits hanging in a wardrobe on the other. Her separates—the jackets and matching pants—hang on an open rack to the right of her trophy cabinet; helmets displayed in a line on the top.

  A set of weights and plyo-bands lie on the floor beside a well-used yoga mat and an enormous treadmill.

  “You’re really serious about all this, huh?” I inspect a tiny gold woman beside a tiny gold motorbike that sits atop an enormous gold cup. The plaque reads “Regional Junior Champion”. A royal blue ribbon lies draped around the base.