Fly In Fly Out

by Evie Snow

  “You alright there, mate?” a familiar voice asked, and Jo knocked her helmet to the ground as she shot to her feet, swaying unsteadily and gripping the seat of her bike for support. She needed it, considering who’d come to her aid.

  Standing less than two feet away with a worried scowl was Jeff Rousse.

  Jo wiped the water out of her eyes, hoping he’d be gone when she opened them again, but no, he was still there, looking older than when she’d last seen him face-to-face and a lot less scrawny too. He was still an inch or two shorter that she was, but he’d filled out in the chest and shoulders and had lost the god-awful red goatee he’d worn as a teenager. A charitable woman would say he looked handsome in Levi’s jeans and a black wool pullover that made for a striking contrast with his ginger-gold hair and dark tan.

  “Jo Blaine?” His ultra-pale blue eyes widened in surprise.

  “Yeah,” Jo said, bracing herself for the Rabies comments that were no doubt forthcoming. They sure as hell had been whenever she’d encountered him in the past.

  “You alright? You don’t look too good,” Jeff said, taking her by surprise. He surprised her even more when he picked up her helmet and handed it to her.

  “I’m okay,” Jo muttered. “Shouldn’t you be insulting me or something?”

  “I think I’ll leave my foot out of my mouth today. You don’t look up for a fight,” Jeff said gruffly. “You don’t look up to riding that bike right now either. You want a lift somewhere? Your bike will be fine here until someone brings you back. If you want, you can give me your number and I’ll pick you up even.” When Jo didn’t say anything, he scowled. “Don’t look so amazed. You’re making me feel like a right prick. Just bring your helmet and hop in the bloody car.”

  “That’s because you are a right prick,” Jo said faintly.

  “Yeah, well, I’m trying to not be one today, so feel lucky. Get in the bloody car before it starts raining again.” He seemed embarrassed instead of angry at her words. It was the embarrassment that had Jo following him to a new black Monaro.

  She stopped. “I’m saturated. I’ll spoil your seats.”

  “It’ll survive. It’s just water,” he said impatiently, opening her door for her when she didn’t move. “Hurry up,” he snapped, not meeting her eyes as she climbed in.

  In a few minutes, he was pulling the car back onto the highway and driving towards town. “Where’d you want to go?”

  “I wanted to go to Evangeline’s Rest. I’m looking for Stephen.”

  “Stevo?” Jeff raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know he was down here.”

  “He is. Came down this morning.”

  “Why didn’t you come with him? Clayton said you two were together. It’s a bit rough that he expected you to ride down in the rain.” Jeff sounded indignant on her behalf, and Jo looked at him, incredulous. Could things get any weirder?

  Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her she’d recently emptied it of its meager contents.

  Jeff looked at her sideways. “You got a tiger in there or something?”

  “I didn’t eat this morning,” Jo mumbled. “I was in a hurry.”

  “Yeah? Sounds bloody scary if you ask me. I was headed into town to get a burger at Bruno’s. Mind if we drop in there for a few minutes? Stephen won’t be going anywhere if he’s at the farm, and you look like death. Probably better if you get some food into you.”

  “Okay, stop right there.” Jo regarded Jeff with narrowed eyes. “What the hell is going on here? If you’re setting me up so you can have a laugh at my expense, you can bloody well drive me back to my bike and take a flying jump off a cliff, because I’m not up for it today.”

  When Jeff’s face screwed up, she braced herself for a fight, but instead of biting her head off, he snapped, “I’m trying to be nice, alright? You’re not making it easy.”

  He pulled into a parking space out the front of a small café with a large blue sign that read “Bruno’s” over the window. Jo hadn’t seen the place before. Not that she’d really looked around George Creek for the past fourteen years.

  “Come on. Before I change my mind.” Jeff got out of the car and walked into the café, not waiting for her to follow.

  Jo contemplated walking back to her bike, rain be damned, but her stomach rumbled again. She was hungry, and there was no way she wanted to confront Stephen with a light head and queasy stomach. She climbed out of the car, wincing as her wet jeans rubbed against her already raw thighs as she walked into the café.

  Chapter 19

  The café turned out to be a small, cozy room painted lime green and offering five red mosaic tables. As the smell of deep-fried fast food smacked Jo in the face, her stomach immediately began gurgling an approving symphony. Jeff was already talking to a tremendously fat, balding man behind the counter, and Jo was shocked to recognize him as Bruno Jones. He’d been a right little bastard when she was in school, teasing her about her weight, her height, her clothes, or anything else he could single out. That he had quadrupled in size didn’t give her any satisfaction. All she saw was more of Bruno to make her day miserable. She braced herself for him to say something, but Jeff spoke first.

  “Bruno, you remember Jo Blaine from school, right?”

  “What? Oh, hi.” Bruno looked Jo up and down with a blank expression. “No. Doesn’t ring a bell. Jo, right? Were we in the same class?”

  Jo stared at him in disbelief. “Yeah, we were.”

  “Oh, come on, mate, remember Jo Blaine? She’s the chick who decked me when I was sixteen,” Jeff said casually.

  “Oh.” Bruno’s eyes widened as recognition dawned. “You used to work at the feed suppliers, right? You were in my chemistry class too.”

  “Yeah.” Jo’s voice was a few degrees below zero.

  Bruno’s expression turned serious, and he rubbed his chubby hands over his stomach. “Long time ago, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. We were all dickheads then, weren’t we?” Jeff interjected.

  “Too right,” Bruno said fervently while Jo looked from him to Jeff and back again, feeling like she’d stepped into an alternate reality.

  “What’ll you have, Jo?” Jeff asked.

  “I don’t know. A ticket back to reality would be good.”

  “They're all out. Bruno, can you knock out two burgers and put ‘em on my tab? Thanks, mate.” Jeff turned to Jo. “Come sit down before you fall down. Might want to pick up your jaw before someone steps on it too.”

  “What’s going on, Jeff?” Jo demanded, sitting across from where he’d sprawled at a table closest to the window.

  “Nothing.” He shrugged. “Saw you needed help at the rest stop and I helped. You have a problem with that?” He was looking out the window at the one car slowly passing the café. It wasn’t tourist season yet, so the town was dead quiet. In a few more weeks, it would be impossible to move for all the city people on their summer holidays, soaking up the sun on the beaches around Margaret River and Dunsborough when they weren’t busy getting sloshed at the wineries.

  “I might,” Jo said. “It’s not like we’ve ever been friends. Actually, I’d say the opposite. Frankly, while I’d normally be up for having it out with you, today is not the day. I’ve had a horrible twenty-four hours. I’m starving and all I want to do is eat then find Stephen. If you’ve got something to say, get to the point.”

  “I do have something to say,” Jeff said slowly.

  “What?”

  Jo waited impatiently as Bruno brought over their food. While Jeff thanked him and talked about the weather and local grain prices for a few minutes, Jo dug into her burger. It tasted like gummy cardboard to her anxiety-cramped senses, but she ate it anyway.

  “You were saying?” she prompted once Bruno left.

  Jeff ignored his burger and resumed staring out the window. His face was all screwed up, ginger brows almost meeting in the middle.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Jo choked on a piece of lettuce. “What?”

  “
I’m sorry, alright?” He shot her a challenging look. “What I said to Clayton the other day after you got hurt . . . shot. I know you heard me. I thought about it after. Worked out what a bastard I’ve been since you punched me out when we were kids.”

  “Serious?” Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, Jo felt her whole world shift on its axis.

  “Yeah, but don’t rub it in.” Jeff scowled. “I know you had a pretty rough time as a kid, and I didn’t help. Thing was, I kinda liked you, and it was embarrassing. I mean, you were younger than me but bigger than me, in more ways than one for a while there, and I didn’t want anyone pulling the piss, you know?”

  “No,” Jo said flatly.

  “Jesus. Don’t make me spell it out,” Jeff snapped.

  Jo smacked the table with the flat of her hand. “Now I know you’re having me on. There is no way you liked me like that. If this is your idea of having a joke at my expense, you’re even more of a bastard than I thought.”

  A dark red flush traveled up Jeff’s neck to his forehead. “Nah. Nah, Jo, I’m not. Serious.” He sounded earnest enough for her to sit back in her chair, amazed. “Wish I was, because I wouldn’t be making such an idiot of myself now. Look, can you just accept my apology so I can stop feeling like a dick? This whole deep-and-meaningful shit is tiring. I was an absolute shit to you when I was younger, and I’d take it back if I could, but I can’t and I’m sorry. You can level another punch at me if it’d make you feel better. I’ll even get Bruno to film it for everyone to see if you want that too. If you just tell me what to do to earn your forgiveness, I’ll do it, but for now, the only thing I know to do is say sorry, so I’m saying it. Right?”

  Jeff’s unrelenting teasing had been a huge reason her school years in George Creek had been so miserable. By rights she should be shoving her burger in his face and telling him he could stick his apology where the sun didn’t shine, but she couldn’t do it. After all, she had knocked him flat when he was sixteen in front of all his friends. It had been a long time coming but she still remembered how good it had felt. That he wasn’t holding it against her now was a sign something was different. A lot different.

  It dawned on her that the man sitting across from her wasn’t the bully she’d known years ago. He’d changed. And if he’d changed, then maybe she wasn’t the same kid she’d been years ago. The small spark of hope that thought brought was enough to thaw some of her icy dislike.

  “Apology partially accepted. I’m considering the option of knocking you flat again,” she said grudgingly.

  “Thank god.” Jeff picked up his burger and began to inhale it. “Thought you were going to be a bitch and make me crawl.”

  “Now you’re pushing it,” Jo grumbled, but there wasn’t any bite in her words. For the first time in the last two days, she felt slightly better. It could just be the food, but she had a hunch it had a lot to do with the knowledge that her existence as “Rabies” Blaine in George Creek was over.

  She sat with Jeff in an awkwardly companionable silence until the urge to see Stephen became unbearable again. Gripping the edge of her chair, she ground her molars as he finished his burger.

  “You want to go?” he asked finally, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Yeah, that’d be good.” Jo stood up and was relieved to feel her jeans were a lot dryer from the warmth of the café.

  “Alright. I’ll drop you off with Stephen, and then we’ll sort out your bike later. Looks like it’s going to rain again soon.” Jeff pushed his chair away from the table and led the way to the door.

  “Bye, Jo. Good to see you again!” Bruno called from behind the counter. Jo automatically returned his smile with a brief one of her own before turning her thoughts back to what she’d say to Stephen about the last few days.

  * * *

  Clayton Hardy was standing on the lawn of his family’s house, smoking a cigarette, when Jeff and Jo pulled up. His curly brown hair was a mess, and his sun-darkened face was creased into a worried frown.

  “I didn’t know you’d taken up smoking,” Jeff called as he climbed out of the car.

  “I haven’t. Cadged this off one of the blokes working in the sheds. Thought it would help.” Clayton scowled. “What’s up? We’ve had the shit hit the fan here today, and I don’t have a lot of time or patience, mate.”

  “Picked Jo up on the highway. She wasn’t feeling too good. Her bike’s still there if you want to give her a lift later.” Jeff casually pulled the cigarette out of Clayton’s mouth and threw it down on the gravel before putting it out with his boot. “Stephen around?”

  “Jo? Jo who?” Jo got out of the car, and Clayton’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Jo Blaine? You gave Jo Blaine a lift? And neither of you are dead?”

  He appeared so shocked that Jeff thumped him on the back. “I know. It’s a miracle. The Second Coming’s next. Got a beer? I’ve been on best behavior the last half hour and it’s beginning to wear off.”

  “In the house,” Clayton said distractedly, not taking his eyes off Jo, who bridged the gap between them. “Jo. How’s the leg?”

  “Hi. Fine,” Jo replied with a grimace masquerading as a smile. She didn’t want to be talking pleasantries, she wanted to know where Stephen was.

  “You down here to see your mum and dad off, eh?”

  “I’m looking for Stephen,” Jo said at the same time, then registered Clayton’s words. “See Mum and Dad off?”

  “Ah, yeah, your dad gave his notice out of the blue yesterday. He had the old house all packed up first thing this morning. Don’t know if they’re gone yet, so you might catch them. I tell you, he’s left us in a right lurch. Thought you’d know about it, but from the look on your face, I see you didn’t.”

  Jo shook her head, dazed. “No, I didn’t, but that’s not important right now. Where’s Stephen?”

  “Haven’t seen him since he got in this morning. He only stopped to grab some breakfast then took off again.” Clayton’s brow furrowed. “You two have a fight or something?”

  “Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it right now. Any idea where he could be?”

  Hearing that Stephen’s mood was still bad injected Jo with a renewed sense of urgency. She felt an icy chill. What if he’d tried to confront her dad again? She was no longer worried about her mum; Shirley had made her choice. Jo was more worried what Ken would do to Stephen before her parents took off for wherever they’d decided to go.

  “If you want to go looking for him, you can take the dirt bike parked in front of the shed. It’s fueled up and ready to go,” Clayton offered, knowing when to get out of someone’s way.

  “Any idea which direction to take?” Jo asked. Evangeline’s Rest was huge.

  “Try your old place. He said something about wanting to speak to Ken, though that was hours ago. They’ve probably left by now, come to think of it. Finished packing around eleven this morning.” Clayton narrowed his eyes. “You have any idea why your dad quit?”

  Jo shook her head. Stephen was involved in her mum and dad leaving, she knew it, but until she found him and saw that her parents were really gone and no longer a threat, she didn’t have time to talk. She needed to find Stephen. “The key with the bike?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thanks.” Jo spun on her heel and headed for the shed before Clayton could ask anything else.

  A minute later, he watched her ride out, heading through the rows of grapevines towards her parents’ place at top speed. Shaking his head in confusion, he turned back to the house, where he could already hear Angie yelling at Jeff.

  * * *

  As Jo caught sight of the house she’d lived in for the first sixteen years of her life, the breath left her lungs in a rush. The place was devoid of human inhabitation, including any cars indicating that her parents—or more importantly, Stephen—were still around.

  The moment she skidded the dirt bike to a halt, she climbed off and walked towards the house, feeling like someone had just repa
inted her world without telling her.

  The dilapidated weatherboard cottage was naked. There were no faded curtains in the windows now to hide the warped frames, no bricks to hide the broken front step. The front door was open, and she could see the inside was completely empty, no creaking furniture, none of her mum’s collection of cheap porcelain ornaments. In a daze, Jo climbed up onto the porch and stepped inside.

  Immediately, the reek of decades-old cigarette smoke, beer sweat, and the sickly sweet scent of pine floor cleaner assailed her nostrils. It mixed with a new smell of mildew coming through the half-inch cracks in the floorboards, exposed now that the furniture and carpets were gone.

  Jo’s footfalls echoed as she walked through the house, looking around wide-eyed until she reached the tiny room she and Amy had shared for twelve years. No record of her and Amy’s existence remained; it was just a bare room with warped floorboards, a termite-eaten window frame, and a sagging ceiling with a gaping black hole in one corner. Jo scanned the peeling floral wallpaper, trying to feel something, anything, over seeing her childhood home vacant like this, but there was nothing other than numb incredulity.

  A tiny kitchen, a small living room, two postage-stamp-sized bedrooms, and a combined bathroom and toilet. That was it. The whole place could easily fit into her own apartment at least one and a half times, if not twice. This was the place that had once loomed so large in her past?