I smile as I look across at him. “How’d you get so clever, Jackson Bell?”
He smiles back at me, his blue eyes shining, and he shrugs, “I dunno, living here changes ya. There’s no bullshit here. What’s the point? It’s a small place, everyone knows everyone else and if you bullshit, well, then there’s a good chance that at some stage, it’ll come back and bite you on the arse.” He tilts his head up slightly and says, “Lies will get ya nowhere, George, especially if you tell them to yourself.”
Chapter Five
“Go and splash your face and put some make-up on; Roman’s back in town, and he’s playing in the bar for a couple of hours. He’s good, you should come and listen. Give us your professional opinion of the local talent.”
I pull my knees up so the heels of my feet are on the edge of the chair and smile across at him. “I don’t have a professional opinion, Jax. I was married to a musician; I’ve never claimed to be one.”
He frowns as he looks across at me. “Your brother and your husband are members of one of the biggest bands in the world, and you don’t think you’re qualified to give a professional opinion? Bullshit, you’ve been around music longer than any so-called professional out there. Go and pretty yourself up, and don’t worry about giving an opinion; just come and listen. Emily’s gonna meet us in about twenty minutes. We’ll get some tea and then listen to the music. I’m not leaving you up here on your own tonight.”
I actually don’t feel much like being on my own, so I do as he says. It doesn’t take me long to change and be ready. Getting ready to go anywhere in Australia is actually quite hard for me; I’m so used to heels, make-up and designer labels, whereas here, it’s more vest, denim cut-offs and a pair of flip flops. The girls here always look pretty and very girly, but in an effortless kind of way, and coming from my background, it takes a lot of effort to make my look, look effortless. After thirty minutes, I think I’m there.
We head downstairs to the bar, which is pretty busy for a Sunday night; my aunt and uncle are both working tonight, which is why I got the day and night off. Jackson had reserved a table earlier right at the front, and he tells me to sit while he goes and gets drinks and orders our food. While he’s at the bar, Emily arrives. She is just gorgeous. She, too, is a surf instructor and an Elle Macpherson lookalike. She is possibly the most laid-back person I’ve ever come across.
“Hey, Georgia, how’s your day been so far?”
“Good, Em, how are ya?”
She nods as she looks around the bar. “Where’s Jax?” She sits herself down in a chair and smiles serenely at me. I know she and Jax smoke a lot of weed between them, but Emily just seems to float through life on a fluffy cloud; at least, that’s the aura she gives off. Obviously, because of the work they do, they aren’t really permanently stoned; that’s just the way Em always is, away with the unicorns, with or without the weed.
“He’s at the bar getting drinks and ordering food; he said he knew what to get you.”
She nods. “Yeah, my baby knows what I love.” She winks at me but says no more. I would love just five minutes inside her head; rainbows, unicorns and pink fluffy clouds are what I would probably find. Jackson arrives back at our table with a bottle of wine in an ice bucket with two glasses and a beer for himself. He places it all on the table and then leans down to Emily, who looks up at him expectantly.
“Hey, beautiful.”
She smiles serenely again, “Hey, baby.” He leans in and kisses her full on the mouth, at the same time cupping her boob in his hand and brushing his thumb over her nipple, not giving a shit about anyone who might be watching. A little pang of jealousy spikes through me at what they have together, but I deal with it by pouring Em and me a wine. Life goes on, and the rest of the world is entitled to love and be loved. An amazing man loved me exceptionally for most of my life; I need to focus on that, rather than what I’ve lost, I tell myself. It doesn’t work, and I blink back tears and gulp down my wine. Jax and Em finally return from their rainbow-coloured cloud of love just as my aunt comes over to the table.
“Hey, George, Em.” She kisses us both on the cheek, pulls up a chair and sits down with us.
“You’re in for a treat tonight, George. Roman’s back in town, and he’s a right spunk.” I spit my wine at her term, remembering the word spunk means something completely different here.
“Mum, Georgia’s English, remember? That place where you come from, where spunk means sperm, semen, jizz? I don’t think Rome would appreciate being referred to as any of those things.” Jax shakes his head as he talks to her, and Kathy turns back to me and winks.
“Shut up, Jax, I just forget sometimes. Georgia, Roman is well fucking fit and his singing ain’t bad, either,” she says in her best cockney accent, which isn’t bad considering she’s lived in Australia for over twenty years. “We only get the pleasure of him during peak season; he works in the mines the rest of the year, but takes four months off and sings all around the local bars while he’s home, ours being his first port of call. Should be a good crowd tonight. I’ll have to introduce you to him. He’d be just your type.”
I smile back at her, I know she means well, but it’s far too soon for me. I’ve not even thought about other men since Sean, and I’ve not had a single stirring of desire in me. I wasn’t sure if that was to do with having my womb removed, or if it was because I was still grieving, but either way, I hadn’t felt the need for sex once, not even with myself.
“Oh, yeah, George, Roman is definitely hot,” Emily agrees. Jackson raises his eyebrows and looks at her. “But not as hot as you, baby. I just meant for George, not for me. You’re all I need.” I’d actually heard different to that. Brooke had told me that Jackson and Em have a pretty out-there relationship and often have threesomes with both other men and women. Oh, well, they seem happy enough; let them live the way they want to.
Kathy stands from the table as the waitress, Zoe, brings our food over. “Enjoy, my lovelies. I’ll send some more drinks over in a bit.” She heads off back to the bar as we tuck into the house special, a world burger.
When I can’t possibly eat another thing, I head off to the ladies room, and as I return to our table, I see him; he’s talking to Jackson. I continue walking towards our table, then he turns his head, his eyes meet mine and it’s instant. I don’t know what it is, but something moves inside me very slightly and my step falters. It’s such a minor sensation, but I feel it and I don’t like it; it unnerves me. He stands up straight as I approach, and his eyes don’t leave mine for a second; they are the most amazing ice-blue, almost grey, and I can’t help but hold his gaze. I reach the table and finally look away from him, and down at my chair.
Before I can sit, Jax says, “George, this is Roman Peterson, a good mate of mine and a bloody good singer.” I look back up and he’s still staring at me. I suddenly worry he knows who I am and my heart rate increases marginally. “Roman, this is my cousin, Georgia. She’s come to stay with us for a while, all the way from London.” He puts his hand out to me across the table, and I look down at it for a few moments before taking it.
“How ya going, Georgia? This would be a little bit different to London at this time of year; a bit warmer, too, I bet.” My smile is automatic, not fake, it just automatically appears on my face and I try to tone it down a bit.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cold there right now, and everywhere would be busy with the build-up to Christmas.” He continues to smile, making the corners of his eyes crinkle; his skin is fairly tanned and quite weathered. ‘Rugged’ my mum would call it.
“Yeah, I studied in London for a couple of years, about ten years ago now. Christmas is manic over there. What brings you to Australia?” I realise he still has hold of my hand, so I very gently slide my fingers away. He puts up no resistance.
“She just needed a break away from it all and decided to visit her favourite cousins. She’ll be helping out around here and the surf school, so you’ll probably see her around.” Jackson spea
ks for me, for which I’m grateful.
Roman’s smile widens and he nods. “Cool, look forward to it, Georgia; nice meeting ya. I need to go set up; don’t want Big John after me on my first night back.” He turns his head to Jackson. “Jax, Em, keep sending the beers over, would ya.” He winks and walks away. I realise after a few seconds that I’ve remained standing, watching him as he jumps up onto the small stage and undoes his guitar case. I flop down into my chair.
“Told ya he was hot, George,” I hear Emily say, but I keep staring at Roman. His hair is blond and long, pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck. He’s slim, but not as slim as Sean, and he’s muscular, but not as muscular as Cam. He must be around six-feet tall. Why I’m comparing him to Sean and Cam, I have no idea. Jackson says something from beside me, and I drag my eyes away and look at him.
“What?” I ask. He frowns at me. “What did you say?” I ask.
“I never said a word, darl, not a word.” He smiles and I narrow my eyes.
“You did in your head and I heard it. What’s that look for? What were you thinking?”
He gives a little chuckle. “So, you can read minds now, can you, George?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t say I read your mind. I said I heard it. You were thinking something about me, and you were thinking it so hard that I heard it.”
He shrugs. “Okay, I’ll tell ya what I was thinking, but you’re not gonna like it.”
I stare back at him for a few seconds. Dare I ask, knowing how direct and to the point Jackson is? Dare I ask what he was thinking? I drain the last of the wine from my glass.
“Come on then, tell me, for fuck’s sake; what little analytical observation have you made or think you’ve made?” I feel like a science project at the moment, a case study.
He laughs again. “Just go with it, George; that’s what I was thinking. Don’t fight it; if you’re feeling it, then the time’s right. Don’t fight it and don’t beat yourself up over it. Just let it happen and see where it goes.”
I play with the stem of my wine glass as my eyes fill with tears; I don’t want to hear this. Jackson’s hand shoots across the table and stops mine from worrying the glass any more.
“Hey, look at me.” I shake my head and try to stop my bottom lip from trembling.
“Look at me, George.” I raise my eyes to meet his and tears fall from my lashes onto my cheeks. “Stop that. Stop feeling guilty, stop beating yourself up. Like I said, if you’re feeling it, then the time’s right.” He gestures towards me with his chin. “You felt anything like it before, since Sean, I mean?” I shake my head. “But you felt something then, between you and Roman?” I nod very slightly. If I nod less, will it make my guilt less? “Then the time’s right; something might happen, nothing might happen, but just go with it and just see. The worst thing you can do is try and fight it. The biggest lies we tell, George, are the ones we tell ourselves.” I nod, understanding what he’s saying but not agreeing. It’s too soon. It’s not even been a year yet. It’s wrong. I’m a bad person. A bad wife. And it’s wrong.
My uncle John appears at our table with another bottle of wine. This is how I get my wages. I refuse to let them pay me; I don’t need their money and I’m more than happy to help out, so they let me stay in the apartment and eat and drink at the bar for free. I get a kiss and a cuddle from John before he heads back to the kitchen. The place is now packed. Every table is full and people are eating at the bar. Every bit of standing room is taken and the place is noisy.
Roman strums his guitar a few times, makes some adjustments and the noise from the crowd fades.
“Good to see you all, people; another year older, but none the wiser, I see.” He looks right at me and starts singing “Drops of Jupiter” by Train.
It’s perfect.
His voice, the way he plays his guitar, the way he stares at me, the way he closes his eyes every now and then. Perfect. The song seems to end without me even hearing it, and the crowd roars with applause. Roman takes a swig from a beer bottle, then continues with “Follow Me” by Uncle Kracker, and I realise he’s singing it to me. He’s looking down at my hand as he sings, down at where I still wear my wedding ring, and it all suddenly becomes too much. I feel angry. I don’t care what Jax thinks; I’m not ready for this. As I stand from the table, Jackson looks up at me, his eyes wide with surprise.
“I need to go. I… I’m not… I need to go.” I kiss Jackson and Emily on the cheek and turn to leave, but Jackson grabs my arm.
“Do not go up there and beat yourself up over this, Georgia.”
I pull my hand away. “You’re not my fucking shrink, Jax, so stop trying to analyse me.” I turn and leave.
Chapter Six
By the time I get upstairs and shut the door, my heart is hammering in my chest. I stand leaning against the door for a few seconds, listening to the sound of Roman’s voice as it carries from down in the bar, up to the apartment. He’s picked things up with Blink 182’s “All The Small Things” and I’m so angry. How come he gets to sing his shitty cover versions in a bar in Australia, when my husband doesn’t get to sing the songs he wrote, on a stage in front of thousands of screaming fans anymore? Why? I want to know why. I just want someone to explain to me why. I bang my head back against the door and scream at the top of my lungs. I don’t care if anyone hears. I don’t give a shit. I’m angry, angry at life, the world, myself, and at the moment, I’m especially angry at back-street bar singers who make me feel. I march through the apartment, out to the balcony and smoke a cigarette, then another. I don’t know how long I stand there staring out into the darkness, hearing the music coming up from below but not listening to a word of it. It’s only when the music stops that I notice the quiet. I shiver and turn to go back inside when someone bangs on the front door. I stand and stare at it for a while, then jump when it’s banged on again. I pull it open and Roman is standing there, each of his arms spread wide, leaning against the frame. His gaze meets mine head-on.
“Georgia, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I just went to play a Carnage song, and I realised who you are. I forgot… I forgot that Jax’s cousin was in the band and that his other cousin had married the lead singer, then I remembered and it was too late. You’d already left. I’m so sorry.” I don’t speak. I can’t. I’ll choke if I try; the lump in my throat is so big, It’s filling my chest, stopping my heart from beating and my lungs from functioning.
I drop down onto my knees, look up at him and say through gritted teeth, “He’s dead. They’re both dead. They’re never coming back and there’s not a fucking thing I can do about it.” I pant as I breathe, trying not to let the sobs rise out of my chest. Roman looks down at me, that horrible look of pity that I hate so much on his face.
“You made me feel.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this. “It’s not even been a year, and you made me feel.” He frowns as he continues staring at me, then very slowly he nods.
“I felt it, too.” He wipes his nose on the back of his hand.
“What is it?” I ask him.
“I don’t know, but I felt it.” He shrugs. “Chemistry. You’re beautiful, but it’s not just that.” He looks past me, like he’s looking for something. An answer?
His ice-blue eyes meet mine. “Whatever it was, whatever it is, it’s there, and it’s here now.” He gestures between us with his hand. “It’s here right now, in this room; it’s here between us.” My mouth is slightly open as I try to take in air; my lips and mouth feel dry.
“What do we do?” I whisper.
He shrugs again, shaking his head. “I don’t know… I have to go and finish my set; can I come up after?”
I shake my head. “No, that’s… no.”
His eyes roam over my face. “Tomorrow then, can I come around tomorrow?”
I nod. “I’m working the breakfast shift in the morning. I finish at eleven-thirty, come around at about twelve-thirty.” He takes a deep breath, steps inside the door and kneels down level wit
h me.
“Are you okay? I mean, if I go, will you be all right?” His voice is so soft, barely a whisper, and it sends goose bumps across my skin.
“I’ll be fine. Go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
His right hand comes up and he runs his knuckles backwards and forwards across my cheek, and I shiver. He leans in and kisses my forehead. “I really am so very sorry, Georgia. I hope I’ve not ruined the chance for us to be friends. I… I’m sorry.”
“I know,” I whisper. He gets up and leaves. He doesn’t shut the front door behind him and he doesn’t look back. I stay on my knees, wondering what the fuck just happened.
* * *
I go straight to bed after Roman leaves; I have an early start and I feel completely drained. I vaguely remember hearing “Wonderwall” start playing, but I must soon drift off and it seems like moments later when I’m woken by my phone ringing. I grab it from the bedside table; it’s Jimmie.
“Jim,” I croak into the phone.
“Sorry, George, did I wake you? You did say to call at any time.”
“Yeah, yeah, na.” I’m not making sense so I sit up straight and try to get my shit together. “Yeah, you woke me, but I had to get up anyway. What’s happening, what’s Lennon have to say?”
“It’s, erm… it’s all good, George. It’s pretty disgusting, but it’s not… he’s not done anything wrong.”
“You wanna dish, or do I not wanna know?”
She’s quiet for a few seconds. “Well, I said to ya that he’s been really busy, didn’t I? Well, it seems he’s been missing me as much as I’ve been missing him. Anyway, he was driving home the other night and he called me and we had a bit of dirty talk on the phone, ya know, what he was gonna do to me when he got in, what I wanted…”
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