by Max Henry
“Fuck me.” I run a hand over my head, seriously struggling to remember the last time an intervention by parents ever did any good. Speaking of which. I tug Dad aside to ask, “Hey, you haven’t heard where Alicia went, have you?”
He leans in at my whispered question. “I believe she’s back at the townhouse. Why?”
“Marion won’t stand for that. She wants her out of Riverbourne.”
“Not our issue anymore.” He folds his arms, one hand stroking the beard that gets some severe depth these days.
I barely recognise the guy anymore. He was all suits and proper weekend attire while we lived in Riverbourne. I never once saw the guy don jeans, let alone a pair of shorts other than Chino. It’s not until I’ve had a chance to see how comfortable he is now in casual get-up, his hair a little longer, and his face unshaven that I realise this is my real dad.
He must have been as miserable as the rest of us, leading my mother’s perfect life.
How one woman could dictate the lives of everyone around her, I don’t know. I used to envy that quality in her. Now, having seen the lasting effects of her manipulation, I’ve made a vow to extract that part of myself. I don’t need her influence over me. The callous and calculated persona she taught me got me nowhere in the end.
What do I have? A history of lies and deception. So-called friends that hesitate to trust me. And a reputation that makes everyone take a step back when I enter a room.
Nothing honourable. Nothing I could ever sit back and feel proud of at the end of my life.
Nothing except Greer.
I search her out where she watches the drama from beside Ingrid, perched on the arm of a wingback chair. Her head lifts as I approach, cautious, and unsure. The damn woman sits next to Ingrid purely to make sure the redhead doesn’t get any more up-close-and-personal time with me, I bet.
“Babe.” I extend a hand, inviting her to stand. “What’s on your mind?”
She accepts the gesture, linking fingers over mine and rising to stand chest to chest. “Plane rides and time differences.” Her gaze darts to where Lacey leans into Tuck, his arms reassuring around my sister.
Using forefinger and thumb, I gently return her focus to where it should be. “We’ll work the details out together.”
Greer rolls her eyes with a soft snort. “Right, Colt. As though it’s fair to expect you to stay true for me when I could be gone for years if my parents decide to fund a full tertiary education.”
“No, see, I’ve had some time to think about this,” I explain. Time staring into the mesmerising flames of the bonfire while she laughed and chatted with our friends, slowly drilling her warmth deeper into my heart with each smile and stolen glance. “Maybe we can’t change your parents’ mind on this.” Her face falls. “But,” I stress, “if, and I mean if, they send you overseas, who said I couldn’t go with you?”
“Colt.” She laughs my name, slapping a palm to my chest.
I wind my arm around her waist and trap her tight against me. “I’m serious, Greer. I’m done with school this year. No matter where you go, I’m free to follow. They could send you to all four corners of the earth, and I’d always be close behind.”
“Oh my, God,” is whispered from behind her. “That’s so romantic.”
“For fuck’s sake, Ingrid,” I groan. “Mind your goddamn business.”
Disregarding our rude friend, Greer presses up on her toes to settle warm lips against my ear. “I hope you catch me every time.”
“I’d have to let you go first.”
I’ve got no idea what happens around us anymore. Our friends and family cram the room, and I couldn’t care less. I’m finished with letting others dictate the actions of my heart. If this girl wants to be mine, then who the fuck am I to deny my dream?
I slide a palm to her throat, resting my thumb and fingers either side of her jugular in the way that makes Greer positively quiver in my hold. She lets slip a tiny moan, pushing up on her toes to meet my kiss.
Deep and with a solemn promise, I taste my girl. Her tongue connects with mine, hand creeping into my hair as I cinch my arm and pull us closer together.
A whistle erupts from who I presume is Christian, a cheer following soon after.
Greer pulls back from the kiss, her lips swollen, and cheeks flushed while the room erupts into a round of applause.
“Thank fuck somebody gets to enjoy tonight,” Christian drawls.
I turn, Greer still firmly held to me, to find my father’s eyes. He watches quietly from where he’s leant against the kitchen island with his arms folded high, a small smile across his mouth.
One little nod.
A tiny gesture to encourage me that I do the right thing here. My throat grows thick, and I duck my head back to Greer to bury my face in her hair.
“You okay?” she whispers with a lilt of amusement.
I nod, barely able to voice the word. “Perfect.”
For once in my life, I truly am. And all it took was letting go of all expectations and allowing my heart to rule over my head.
Trust your gut. Words Dad would say to me when I was young, curious, and keen to explore new things.
It may have taken years to heed his advice, but I’m thankful I finally did when it mattered most.
LACEY
Somewhere along the way, Charlotte not only found Johnson’s dad, but she collected Kurt as well. Tuck stiffens against me when his father walks in, taking slow, measured steps to cross the room and settle beside his son.
He mirrors Tuck’s position; arse leant against the kitchen counter and legs crossed at the ankle. “What’s all this about, then?”
“Amber is about to tell us all what the hell she was thinking hijacking Dee’s party,” Tuck whispers.
I ease out of his hold.
“Everything is under control out there, boy. I’m not sure if a lynch mob is necessary.”
Tuck barely has enough time to glance at his father as though he can’t believe what he heard before my dad decides to get things underway. He stands beside Mick Davis, probably having caught him up to speed.
“Right. As much as you’re all involved in one capacity or another,” Dad announces in his take-no-shit business tone. “This issue is primarily between my daughter and Amber. The rest of you are welcome to wait nearby if you feel you need to be present for support, but keeping these discussions small and personal would be best.”
“He makes a fair point.” Christian shrugs before ushering Barrett, Ingrid, and Willow out of the room with him.
Colt sets both hands on my shoulders, staring into my eyes. “Do you want me to stay?”
Times past, I would have laughed at him and asked if he honestly needed me to tell him the answer. But now? He’s happy. That very public display of affection just now showed us that.
“I’m okay. You keep Greer company.” I glance toward Amber, who stares down at the table. “It shouldn’t take long.”
“You’re welcome to be a part of this,” Dad offers, joining in our conversation. “You were involved in the drama too.”
Colt eyes Johnson where he stands with his father. “To be fair, my drama was with her stepbrother. I don’t need to be here if Lacey’s okay on her own.”
Dad nods, stepping to the side to let Greer and Colt past.
My bestie offers me a smile, hand grazing mine in a gesture of support as she moves by.
Ed’s already left with Gayle; Maggie and Beau stand outside on the patio with Mandy, Dee, and Cate. Only the parents, Amber, Tuck, and Johnson remain.
“I’d like to be here if that’s okay with you,” Johnson looks directly at me as he asks the question.
I find it curious he doesn’t run it past Amber, rather than me. But it warms me he’d consider my feelings all the same. “I’m okay with that.”
“You can’t get rid of me,” Tuck announces, taking Cate’s vacated seat at the table.
Amber shifts sideways to widen the gap between them. “Awesome.”
“Right.” Mick claps his hands together before placing them on the back of Amber’s chair. “Where should we start? What’s already been covered?”
“Well,” Amber says with a definite lilt of sarcasm. “Lacey is a goodie-two-shoes who thinks she’s—”
“I wasn’t speaking to you.” Mick’s hands squeeze her seatback. “Charlotte, would you mind mediating this discussion? I value your approach and fairness.”
Maggie’s mum positively blushes at the compliments from the ruggedly handsome man and nods. “Of course.” She takes a seat at the head of the table, adjacent to Tuck, and smooths her shirt. “Lacey, would you join us?” She gestures to the seat opposite Amber.
I gingerly take the spot, aware Dad moves to stand behind me the same as Mick does to Amber. Only I get a sense of comfort having him there; her, it doesn’t seem that way at all.
“Let’s start with what you girls would like to see come from this discussion,” Charlotte invites. “What is your ideal result? Amber. You start.”
Her calculating eyes scan across each of us, mouth cut into a disgruntled line. “I want people to stop treating me like the enemy.”
Tuck grinds his jaw.
“And you, Lacey?”
“I want to start over out here, without the weight of where I came from or who I’m related to.”
Charlotte nods. “I think those are both fair requests.” She settles her attention on Amber. “You invited newcomers to Dee’s party, correct? People from the city.”
Amber nods.
“Why?”
An amused smirk twists her lips. “Um, because parties are better when they’re bigger.”
“The truth,” Mick growls.
The humour slips from Amber’s face, replaced with a keen frustration. “I wanted the Riverbourne girls to get back at Lacey.”
“And,” Mick presses.
“And,” she leers, “I wanted to impress people.”
“Which people?” Maggie’s mum asks.
Amber stares at her hands as she answers. “Lacey’s old friends; the Chosen.”
“Chosen?” Mick frowns.
“It’s a bullshit name they gave their clique,” Dad explains with a sigh.
Mick’s gaze drops to me, and he simply jerks his head in understanding.
“Lacey,” Charlotte says softly. “I would like to be able to switch over to you now so that you may have a chance to explain yourself, but I fall short on how you’re at fault here. Perhaps you could let me know if there’s anything to admit?”
That Mandy wanted me to race? Hardly seems important now. Sure, I haven’t been kind to Amber, but it was out of self-defence.
“I can’t think of anything.”
“You stole my friends,” Amber snaps. “What was that about, huh? Getting Mandy to teach you how to ride a motorbike?”
“When was this?” Dad asks before it dawns on him. “When you had her bike at our house,” he deduces flatly. “Christ’s sake, Lacey.”
“She offered,” I explain. “Was I supposed to turn her down because she was your friend first?”
“Yes,” Amber says without hesitation, head jerking back.
“Grow up,” Tuck mutters.
“And keep quiet,” Charlotte warns. “This isn’t your debate.”
He slouches in his seat, arms folded.
“Why do you need to impress those jerks?” Johnson asks, taking over the questioning. “What’s wrong with doing what Lacey is, and using the move to Portside to start over?”
Amber’s gaze softens when it hits her stepbrother. Their relationship is an odd one, and something I’m sure Mick isn’t aware of. But it almost appears as though it’s been her lifeline.
Her comfort.
“You know what it’s like when you’re bottom of the heap. You’re weak, and the others prey on that. I didn’t want to start in the gutter and have to suffer my way to the top again.”
“What’s so grand about the top?” Mick asks. “Honestly? What’s so damn special about being the coolest kid in the school?”
She twists in her seat to look up at him. “It’s safety.”
“You were never at threat from anyone at our school,” Tuck advises. “You’ve always been wildly independent, Amber, and if anything, the other girls might have envied that, but they also respected it.”
“You don’t get it,” she mutters, dismissing his compliment.
“But I do,” I say. “I’ve been that girl, the one who wants to be at the top for safety and security. But it’s not from judgement or harassment, is it? I mean, we all know you’re on display for all to criticise when you’re up there, so why did you need to be there?”
“Why don’t you say if you think you know me so well?”
I hold her gaze. “I want to hear you admit it.”
She swallows, nostrils flaring before leaning back with a thud against the chair. “This is bullshit. I don’t owe anyone anything.”
“But you do,” Mick says, moving his hands from the seat to her shoulders. “Tell us what makes popularity pivotal in your life.”
She jerks free of his hold. “Because they give me what nobody else does.”
“What?” Johnson frowns, arms folded as he waits for her to fill him in.
She avoids his gaze. “Attention.”
“Jesus,” Mick mutters, stepping away with a grimace. “Are you honestly that vain?”
“I don’t think vanity is key here,” Charlotte offers.
“No.” I shake my head and then hold Amber’s gaze. “You meant that they make you feel less lonely, right?”
Something unlocks behind her eyes. A softening, or even surrender. “Exactly.”
We are the same.
“How on earth are you lonely?” Johnson blurts. “You’ve got heaps of friends, family. Why the fuck would you think you’re lonely?”
“Because nobody sees me,” she hisses. “You all see Amber, the troublemaker,” she mocks. “But nobody digs beneath that to wonder what drives the way I act.”
“It’s lonely,” I explain to Johnson, “because you spend so much time being who you think people want you to be, that the real you doesn’t get any airtime. And then when you’re on your own at home, that side of you comes out, but there’s nobody there to interact with.”
“Was this how you felt?” Dad asks, clearly concerned.
“Sometimes.” I shrug. “Mum always wanted this proper and demure lady for a daughter, and all I wanted to do was run around on the field with the other kids and get muddy. I denied myself pleasure in the name of making her happy for so long, that by the time I shifted schools to Riverbourne, I’d forgotten who that kid was.” I lift my gaze to Amber. “When we moved out here, I began to remember her. To remember the things that I used to long to do.”
“You know,” Amber confesses. “I used to be the opposite.” She speaks loud and clear, but I feel as though this conversation is only for me. “I wished I could be the girly-girl when I was little, but I acted out to get Mum’s attention, and the behaviour stuck.”
“Your mum pays attention,” Mick says.
“But she doesn’t let me know that,” Amber replies. “Perhaps she tells you how she feels about the things I do, but I can’t remember the last time we sat down, just the two of us, and talked.”
“Because she doesn’t know how to approach you anymore.”
Amber’s head falls, her face hidden behind the ends of her long hair where they’ve slid forward over her shoulder.
The room remains silent before Johnson steps forward. “Did the attention I give you not matter?” He treads a fine line here, and I’m sure Tuck holds his breath the same as me.
“It did,” she whispers. “But it didn’t take away the pain from lacking hers.”
Amber runs her bottom lip between her teeth twice before I realise what it is that she does: she bites away the tears that have tracked her cheeks. She’s too proud to show how affected she is by lifting a hand to
wipe them away, so instead, she uses her hair as a shield and silently eats her grief.
It’s beyond messed up.
“Hey.” I reach across the table and offer her my hand. “It’ll work out.”
She swats the connection away. “It never has before, so why should now be any different?”
“Because you’ve admitted the truth,” Tuck says gently. “Now that we know what it is that drives your bitchiness, we can give you a little more patience.”
“We’ll sit down with your mother,” Mick states. “This needs to be dealt with.”
“And in the interim?” Charlotte asks. “We, here, know the truth now. But what about the other kids? What happens when she starts at Portside?”
I shift my gaze between Tuck and Amber and wait for my eyes to adjust to the dimmer light before checking who still stands out the back. “Let me find where Willow went.”
“Why?” Amber finally wipes her nose on the back of her hand and lifts her head.
“Because if anyone knows how to survive at Portside without the need to be queen bitch, it’s her.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Amber bites.
“No.” I rise from my seat. “You don’t. But you do need a friend.”
TUCK
“I’m damn proud of you.”
Lacey ducks her head, a soft smile hidden by the shadows. “Things are far from over, Tuck. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
We sit on the back of my truck, bundled in three thick blankets I borrowed from Dee’s house. Willow offered to talk with Amber, and, as far as I know, they’re still at it. The idea was a good one from Lacey, but most of all, I’m proud of how she faced her fears head-on and demanded the answers she rightfully was owed—even if that hurt a little in the process.
“Things aren’t over,” I agree, sliding my arm around her shoulders. “But you allowed everyone permission to heal.”
“They didn’t need my permission to do that.” She stares up at me, adorably confused.
“Not yours specifically,” I explain. “But somebody had to show them that’s it’s okay to air the uncomfortable shit. That they’re no less of a person when they show weakness.”
“Maybe.” She settles against my side, where she belongs, one arm snaked around my middle. “And what about you, Mr Brallant?” Lacey gives me a little squeeze. “Ready to do the same?”