Perfume Therapy
KIRSTY MCMANUS
Copyright © 2017 Kirsty McManus
All rights reserved.
For everyone at PerfumersWorld.
THANKS TO
Thank you so much to everyone who helped me out with this book…
Tamyka, for your awesome insight, as usual.
Diane, for being the first person to read the book and give me some much needed reassurance!
Sofie, for your kind words. I am so grateful to have you as a friend in the author world!
Kristina, for doing such a great critique at short notice.
Kathryn, for your practical advice and entertaining stories!
Natasha, for always listening to me, even when your own life is crazy busy!
And Moira, for your continued support of my writing career.
Also, I want to acknowledge the members of both ChickLitChatHQ and For Love or Money. You are all so lovely, wise and helpful. I am glad I found such supportive people in what can sometimes be a harsh world.
And lastly, thank you to Kesh for always being amazing.
ONE
“Uh, Mia? Please don’t tell me this is our ride.”
My sister looks up at the car pulling into her driveway and laughs. “Well, this was the closest Uber to us, and there weren’t any XL ones available.”
“We don’t need an XL,” I say. “But we do need somewhere to put our suitcases.”
Mia shrugs, clearly not fazed. “Maybe it’s bigger inside than it looks.”
I scrunch up my nose, doubtful of her statement.
The Uber Mia booked for us to go to the airport is a tiny Fiat, a toy car with shiny red paint and chrome door handles. I wouldn’t be surprised if I opened the door and a dozen clowns piled out.
I say as much to Mia and she playfully slaps my arm.
“Stop being silly. It’s cute. We’ll make it work.”
The driver winds down the car window. He doesn’t look old enough to own a licence.
“Are you Mia?” he asks me.
“I am,” my sister corrects him. “She’s Chloe.”
“Cool.” He pops the boot. “Just throw whatever you can in there and the rest can go in the back.” He then seems to realise we have more bags than will comfortably fit in his vehicle. “Oh, you might need to put some stuff in the front passenger seat.”
Mia studies the few square inches that are supposed to pass for boot space, and wedges one of her carry-ons in there. That’s all that fits. I open the passenger door and find myself reminded of a puzzle at the science museum, where there’s only one magical way to fit a bunch of blocks into a box. Sighing, I help Mia set her main suitcase—which is the size of a baby elephant—in the front seat. I then fold myself into the back and pull my own suitcase, carry-on and handbag onto my lap. To say it’s a tight squeeze is an understatement.
Mia climbs in beside me, a small satchel in the shape of a strawberry ice-cream cone flung over her shoulder.
“Just to the airport, please,” she says cheerfully. “The international terminal.”
“Rad.” Our teenage driver pulls out onto the road.
“Here, let me hold that,” Mia says, taking my handbag. I want to tell her that it doesn’t really help relieve my burden, but I know she means well.
“Agh! I can’t believe we’re finally on our way!” Mia squeals. “Two whole weeks in paradise!”
I smile weakly. I should be excited. This will be my first holiday in two years—and maybe even the first time I’ve left South East Queensland in that time too—but the prospect of spending two weeks with my sister and her narcissistic friends in Thailand doesn’t exactly fill me with joy. I’m pretty sure I was only asked to come because Mia wasn’t convinced anyone else would follow through when she originally invited them. Up until a few weeks ago, they’d been hesitant to commit in case the upcoming Splendour in the Grass festival had a good line-up. I’m assuming it didn’t live up to their expectations, because she had three people agree to meet us in Bangkok at the last minute. And even though I’m only four years older than Mia, it often feels like much more. I worry that those feelings will only intensify if I’m also surrounded by her friends.
Another reason I’m not looking forward to this trip as much as I should be is because I have a ton of work I’m abandoning, and I feel uneasy leaving it in someone else’s hands. I certainly can’t trust my boss to keep things under control. Keith is like an overgrown baby, needing everything done for him. He doesn’t even know how to use the coffee machine in the break room. I’m half expecting to return in a couple of weeks and find a malnourished little man curled up in the corner of the office, buried under a mountain of paper. I just hope the temp covering for me knows what she’s doing.
“Do you have your passport?” I check with my sister. Mia isn’t the most reliable of packers. Once, on a weekend away, she forgot to pack underwear, shoes and her toothbrush.
“Yes, of course. I’m not dumb, you know.”
“Sorry. I was just asking.”
“Actually, I probably would have forgotten if you hadn’t texted me this morning to remind me,” she admits.
I know she hates it when I’m right, so I wisely stay quiet.
“Where are you two chickies off to?” our driver asks.
“Thailand!” Mia says, her voice full of excitement. “It’s my twenty-first in a couple of days, so we’ll be partying in Bangkok!”
“Nice. Have you been there before?”
“Nope. Have you?”
“Yeah, a couple of times. I like it.”
“Any recommendations? You know, for going out and whatnot?”
“Just the usual. Khaosan Road is still good for a night out. And Patpong, if you’re into the sex shows and stuff…”
“Uh, no thanks,” I answer for Mia. And surely this kid isn’t old enough to know about Patpong sex shows!
“Just ignore Chloe,” Mia tells him. “She’s a bit uptight.”
“Uptight? Because I don’t want to go to a sex show?”
“It’s not like you have to participate or anything…”
“Yes, I know, but going with my sister would be weird. And anyway, I wouldn’t feel comfortable if Aaron was going somewhere like that without me, so I shouldn’t expect him to make that allowance either.”
“Chloe’s boyfriend is a bit of a douche,” Mia tells the driver in a mock-whisper.
I stare at her. “Mia!”
“I’m sorry, but he is. And you’ve known how I feel about him for a long time. My words should come as no surprise.”
“Yes, but just blurting it out like that to a stranger…it’s not nice.” I don’t remind her that she only hates him because when we first met, he showed interest in me, rather than her.
The driver laughs. “And you two are going to be spending a whole holiday together, huh?”
“Yeah, but a few of my friends are meeting us there,” Mia says, totally missing the point.
“I take it you’re sisters?” he prods.
“How can you tell?” I say, deadpan.
“Well, you don’t really look alike, but the banter is a bit of a giveaway.”
It’s true that Mia and I don’t look anything alike. Mia takes after our mum, all skinny and olive-toned, with those thick eyebrows that most people can’t pull off, but of course Mia can. In contrast, I am pale and pear-shaped with mousy brown hair that I dye blonde. People say I’m attractive, and I don’t feel like Mia is prettier or anything, but sometimes I’m jealous of how easily she tans.
I guess I got my genes from my dad, but he left when I was four, so I find it hard to remember him most of the time. And Mum destroyed all photographic evidence of him when he ditched us just after Mi
a was born.
“Chloe and I are good,” Mia says, ruffling my hair. “She gets me.”
I duck my head to avoid her hand. “Stop it.”
My phone rings. Mia opens my handbag and pulls it out, looking at the caller ID.
“Ooh, it’s the boss man. Can’t he even cope without you for five minutes?”
“Apparently not.” I snatch the phone from her and hold it up to my ear. “Hey, Keith. What’s up?”
“Oh, Chloe, I’m glad I caught you. I take it you’re still in the country?”
“Ah, yeah. But not for much longer.”
“Do you think you’d be able to drop by the office before you fly out? That girl taking your place is absolutely useless.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Why? What happened?”
“She doesn’t know how I like my coffee and she has no idea where my reading glasses are! Honestly, Chloe, I don’t know where you found her, but so far I’m not impressed.”
“Keith,” I say, switching to my toddler-soothing tone. “Your glasses are probably in the second drawer. And did you actually tell the temp—whose name is Bethany, by the way—how you like your coffee?” I don’t bother mentioning the fact I wasn’t personally responsible for hiring her, because Keith doesn’t care about details like that.
I hear some shuffling around.
“Oh! Yes! Here they are! Thank you, Chloe! You are a genius! And sorry, what was that about the coffee?”
“I said, have you told Bethany how you like it?”
“You know I’m too busy to relay that kind of thing myself. Why didn’t you tell her?”
“Because I didn’t hire her, and I’m not your assistant! Why can’t Imogen help out? Shouldn’t she be making your coffee anyway?”
“Oh, God no. Imogen is even more useless than me in the kitchen. Never mind. I’ll take care of it. I suppose I could get the temp to buy Starbucks every day, just until you get back. It might be a nice change.”
“OK, Keith. Well, I’m almost at the airport…”
“Wait! Before you go…that Robert Chang account, is it all sorted?”
“Yes. I’ll finalise the recruitment when I get back. The new employees have been approved, and they won’t be starting for a few weeks, so we have plenty of time.”
“Good, good. And one last thing: what do I do if there’s an emergency?”
Seriously?
“Keith, if it’s a genuine emergency, you should probably call the police. But if it’s a work-related emergency and Imogen or Bethany can’t help you, then I suppose you can call me.”
“Excellent. You have your laptop, don’t you? Just in case anything pops up?”
I hesitate for a second. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid, and I have to make a conscious effort to keep my voice steady. “Yes, Keith, I have my laptop. But please remember, this is my first trip in two years. I’d rather not work if possible.”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. “Alright, well, have fun,” he says absently. “I’ll email you tomorrow.”
He hangs up before I can protest. Why is he emailing me already? And on a Saturday? What’s the point of getting a temp if he’s just going to pretend she doesn’t exist? And why let me go on leave at all if he still expects me to work the whole time? If I wasn’t getting paid so well, and if I didn’t have such a strong desire to feel indispensable (even if the person who fulfils that need is infuriating), I might consider quitting about now.
I notice Mia trying not to laugh.
“What?”
“You’re like an old married couple. What does Lover Boy think of all that?”
“Aaron usually has more important things to focus on. Like not being shot at.”
“Yeah, I suppose. So how long’s he away for this time?”
“Two more months.”
She inhales through her teeth. “You’re a nobler woman than I, sis. There’s no way I could ever do the long distance thing.”
“It’s not going to be forever. He’s just trying to save enough money so we can buy a house in a couple of years.”
To be honest, it kind of works out well. My job doesn’t give me a lot of free time, and Aaron is pretty passionate about what he does, so it’s a win–win.
I glance down at my phone and see that I have a new notification on Messenger. I open it.
“And see?” I say, tapping the screen. “We still communicate all the time.”
I’m so busy reading Aaron’s message that I don’t notice Mia peering over my shoulder.
“Wow. He’s even more of a tool than I thought,” she says.
I pull the phone to my chest. “Mia! What the hell? I didn’t say you could read it! Don’t you have any boundaries?”
“No, but it appears that neither does Aaron. Did he just give you a list of dos and don’ts for while you’re in Thailand?”
“No,” I say protectively.
“Oh, so he didn’t say you shouldn’t be outside past ten each night, or go to any places where there will be hot guys?”
“He didn’t say anything about hot guys!”
“No, but he did say you shouldn’t go anywhere where there are large groups of people. To me that’s code for ‘don’t go to any clubs or even think about looking at another man’.”
“Come on, Mia. That’s a bit of a stretch. He’s just being a concerned boyfriend. When you’re in the army, you see a lot of violence, so naturally he thinks about the safety aspect of travelling overseas. I mean, they did have that bombing in Bangkok a while back…and then there were those other ones in Phuket and Hua Hin.”
“OK, well if that’s what you think it means, fine. But if you ask me, he’s being a paranoid freak.”
I look out the window and ignore Mia. I’m not going to let her get to me. Aaron is a good boyfriend. He’s serving our country and he deserves to have a loyal girlfriend waiting for him at home. He’s seen so many of his friends go through messy break-ups while deployed that it must play on his mind a little. I don’t blame him for being worried. I’ll just have to keep proving he has no reason to be.
***
Mia and I have a weird relationship. Maybe no weirder than other siblings, but to me it seems weird. I’ve always felt more like her mother than her big sister, because our actual mum kind of gave up the role a long time ago.
I don’t think Mum ever got over Dad leaving, and she coped by drinking as much alcohol as her body could tolerate. Sometimes more. Mia and I both visit her once a week, but I’m not sure it’s appreciated. Mum just stays in her living room, pretending to listen to what we’re saying while nursing a glass of what she always claims is water. (I don’t think my mother ever met a bottle of gin she didn’t like.) Her hair is thin and brittle, and her skin looks like an eighty-year old’s. She tends to repeat herself or zone out when we do attempt to talk to her, and it’s not pleasant for anyone. And when I remember what she put us through as kids, I kind of wonder why we bother at all.
I’ve tried to get her to seek help, but she won’t. Now I think Mia and I are just waiting for the day we visit and find her dead. I think that’s part of the reason we always go together.
I shake my head to clear away the negativity. This is a terrible frame of mind for the beginning of a holiday.
We finally arrive at the international departure hall, where I painfully unfurl myself from the back seat and go in search of a cart for our bags. Mia dances off ahead like a little kid while I wheel our stuff behind her over to the check-in counter.
We’re about to line up behind a family of four when a large man charges in front of us and almost knocks Mia over.
“Hey!” I say to the guy. “We were waiting next. You pushed in!”
He turns and looks down at me. “What’s the difference? We’re all on the same plane. It probably won’t leave without you.”
“Then going by your logic, you had no reason to push in!”
“I didn’t know what you were doing. There was a gap between you and the peo
ple in front, so I assumed you weren’t in line.”
“Why else did you think we’d be standing here?” I ask incredulously.
“Pfft. Whatever.” He turns the other way and ignores us.
“Excuse me!” I can’t help myself. I know most people in this situation would be annoyed, but I usually only get really angry when someone hurts Mia. I am super protective of my little sister, and I always joke that I’m basically Johnny from Dirty Dancing—nobody puts Mia in the corner.
“Chloe, it doesn’t matter,” Mia says softly.
The guy looks back at me and smirks. “Yeah, you should listen to your sister. Lighten up.”
I feel my blood boiling. I clench my fists at my side and take a deep breath.
“Mia,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m just going to go and freshen up. Can you mind my spot until I get back?”
“Sure.” She furrows her brow. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah, fine.”
I stomp off to the bathroom. Part of me contemplates finding security and asking them to move the guy to his correct place in the queue, but I suspect they’d get annoyed at me for wasting their time. The other part of me wants to smack him right in his self-righteous face. How dare he shove Mia! He has no idea of the crap she’s had to deal with over the years. I bet he’s never had a day of trouble in his life. And even if he has, it gives him no right to be a dick.
But then, I know better than anyone that life isn’t fair. I was part of that upbringing too. It’s not like you can get your quota of pain out of the way in one go and then never have to face it again.
I stand in front of the basin and splash water on my face, staring at my reflection. I need to get it together, at least for Mia’s sake. I want her to have a really fun birthday holiday.
After a few minutes, I figure the line must have moved a bit, so I head back out. The horrible man is nowhere to be seen, and Mia is frantically waving me over to where she’s standing at the front of the queue.
I race over.
“What took you so long?” she hisses. “I’ve had to let a whole bunch of people in ahead of me because I couldn’t check in without you.”
Perfume Therapy Page 1