Max (10 page)

Chapter
Eighteen

Max

So Melanie Sheehan didn’t have a boyfriend.

That was pretty obvious with her drunken slip-up last night.
She had lied. How interesting.

A small smile lined my lips and it was an unexpected thing
to feel, a certain smugness, thinking that she had created an illusion. For
what purpose I couldn’t be sure, but it sure did open up a fascinating
possibility.

From all reports Amy and Mel went out conveniently just
before my shift began. A shame really. I would have enjoyed a little dig; Chris
said she was hung like a wet towel. Served her bloody right—take my yes for her
for one night and what does she do? Writes herself off. She better not have
been sick in my room. I glanced at the wall clock, thinking that the two would
be back any minute to begin their shift. I felt myself watching the clock more
often these days, always waiting or on the watch. I had tried to give Mel the
benefit of the doubt, entrust the fact that Amy had taken her under her wing
and give her some space, but after last night’s antics and the lies she seemed
to so effortlessly come out with, it was just a bit too unnerving. If I was to
do anything of note for Bluey, snapping her out of her lying ways would be a
community service. If there was one thing that didn’t sit well with me was
people lying. My sister was the biggest liar of all and Mel was turning into a
close second. The fact I had listened in on their kitchen conversations didn’t
count, I told myself. I was just watching out for Bluey, that’s all.

I lifted the tray of freshly cleaned pot glasses from the
washer, carefully placing them back into the cool recess near the ice bucket.
One at a time I set them down in deep thought. “Hey, Greg, why do you suppose
someone would make up they have a boyfriend?”

Greg, being a seedy, seventy-year-old man with no teeth and
questionable hygiene, lifted his bloodshot, sunken eyes to me with an air of
surprise. He even glanced behind him as if to make sure there wasn’t another
Greg around. There wasn’t, he was the only person in the bar. He had been
cocked up in the corner of the bar, his usual daytime haunt to enjoy a quiet
beer in the air conditioning and watch
The Bold and
the Beautiful
at 4 p.m. I never had the heart to change the channel, he was emotionally
invested. What he wasn’t emotionally invested in, I thought, was my random
question, although some people are just full of surprises as Greg finished his
wheezing coughing fit, worthy of a painful grimace, and took a deep sigh.

“Maybe she just wants to fit in.”

I nodded, that made sense, big note herself in front of
people who didn’t know her. “Do you think it’s something someone would do to
make someone jealous?” I asked, thinking if someone who had lived for seventy
years didn’t know, buggered if I could ever find the right answer.

Greg shrugged. “I guess.” Geez, a real pearl of wisdom.

I scoffed. “Typical; immature bloody game playing.”

At this point, with the usual daytime bar with few
stragglers I was starting to take Greg’s words as the Bible.

“Love trouble?” Greg croaked with his aged, raspy voice.

“What?! Oh God, no, no way,” I said a bit too quickly.

Greg looked at me as if he wasn’t buying it, or was it due
to the cataract operation he needed? It was hard to tell.

Ha! Love life. I don’t think so. It was Mel, my kid sister’s
friend, Bluey’s daughter. There was no way I would even think about acting on
it.

“Not gonna happen,” I voiced, mainly to myself.

Greg didn’t look so convinced. “So, are you going to call
her out, let her know you know … about the boyfriend caper?”

Ha! Old Greg was paying attention after all. Good on him.

I smirked, the cogs turning in my head. “Oh, I’m going to do
better than that.”

Greg’s white caterpillar eyebrows disappeared up beneath his
fuzzy, overly long hair.

“She likes to play games, I’ll play. I’ll make it so she
confesses the truth.”

“And how you going to do that?”

By morphing into her Prince fucking Charming.

“Oh, I’ll think of something, old mate, don’t you worry
about that.”

I would make Melanie Sheehan blush more fiercely before the
week was out; in fact, I bloody well looked forward to it.

Chapter
Nineteen

Mel

The pebbles under my thongs crunched as I ran along the
drive, horrified how late I was to start my shift.

Melba was going to kill me.

Amy didn’t seem too stressed, she didn’t have a strict start
time like me. I guess dating the owner gave her some leeway, she simply propped
herself on the picnic table out front, stretching her legs out to tan in the
sun, as if she had all the time in the world. I skipped every second step,
running along the porch and slamming my palms against the door and pushing into
the main bar, breathless, and my hair wild and tangled around my shoulders. I
grabbed for my elastic band around my wrist and worked on securing it into a
low ponytail, still quickstepping past the bar.

“Your boyfriend rang.”

I skidded to a halt, my head snapping around so fast to
where Max stood casually behind the bar, flicking the TV over. He didn’t look
at me; he simply just looked bored. Did he just say what I thought he did?

“S-sorry?”

Settling on the news he tossed the remote aside as he
deadpanned, “Your boyfriend called. Eric, is it? He said for you to give him a
call back.”

What the actual fuck.

Be cool, Mel. Just be cool.

I swallowed. “Oh, thanks, yeah, I’ll give him a call later
as I’m already late.”

Max shrugged, and as if he wasn’t that emotionally invested,
he turned his eyes upward to watch the TV. I took the moment to quickly
sidestep away and dart through the restaurant to the kitchen where I hit the
door at run, not so much worried about being late.

“You are soooo lucky,” said Penny, glancing up at the wall
clock. “Melba isn’t back from visiting her sister in the hospital yet.”

I grabbed for my apron, working to fill the sink up quickly
and get into position. “Oh, please don’t tell her I was late.”

Heather laughed. “Your secret’s safe with us, honey. You put
Melba into a bad mood we all cop it.”

“Where were you anyway, did you get lost or something?”
Penny laughed, dumping a stack of dirty dishes in my filling sink.

“Yeah, or something,” I said, my thoughts far away.

Come on, Amy, stop sunning yourself and get to bloody
work.

Nine plates, twenty-four forks, eighteen knives, eleven
spoons, three frying pans and an oven tray later, Amy glided in through the
door on a sigh and a smile. As if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Melba still not in?” she asked, grabbing for her apron near
the door.

Drying my hands, I moved to grab her arm, stilling her from
walking in the kitchen. I pulled her through the door into the restaurant.

Amy seemed disoriented, maybe because I had waited all but
two point five seconds to pounce on her.

“Hey, you didn’t ring the pub pretending to be Ben?” I asked
lowly.

Amy looked at me like I was crazy. “Are you for real? Do you
honestly think I could pull off a masculine voice? Gee, thanks.”

“You didn’t get Sean to, or anyone else? Like, no one else
knows, right?”

Amy eyes narrowed. “Where do you think I had the time to do
this? I haven’t told anyone, you asked me not to so I haven’t.”

“But someone called the pub pretending to be Ben Erickson.
Max told me to give him a call as soon as I got in.”

“He actually said Ben Erickson?”

“What difference does it make?

“It’s probably just someone being a dick, we get prank calls
all the time.”

“ Maybe,” I said, but it still didn’t make me feel any
better.

“This is not a summer camp, ladies!”

We both jumped at the unexpected sound of Melba’s voice
filtering out over the restaurant, as we watched her waddle her way toward the
kitchen.

“A group of twelve have just wandered in looking for a feed
so less talk more work.”

She cut us an acidic look as she pushed past us through to
the kitchen door. Amy didn’t need to raise her brows at me; I knew exactly what
that look meant. It was going to be a long shift.

Chapter
Twenty

Max

After Greg nodded his farewells and good lucks I was left
alone in the bar; a slow shift meant for a spotless bar and a fully stocked
fridge.

There was nothing on TV, but who needed that when there was
such live entertainment as watching the look on Mel’s face.

Priceless.

I might have felt a little bad, if she hadn’t slammed down
her mere moment of surprise and lied in response—lied so effortlessly.

As cool as you like she said she would call him after her
shift. Now I know she was lying directly to my face it made my resolve even
clearer. I would have to up the ante.

Before I had a chance to start thinking too deeply on how I
could make Melanie Sheehan squirm, the phone rang.

“Onslow Hotel, this is Max.”

“Max, Bluey, mate, how’s things?”

“Ha! Can’t complain.”

“I was just checking in to see how Mel’s settling in.”

My mind flashed back to Mel being in the foetal position on
the staircase landing, a small smile lining my lips as I scratched the back of
my neck.

“She has made herself quite comfortable.”

“So she’s behaving herself then?”

“Yep, no dramas. She’s helping out in the kitchen, doing a
pretty good job by all accounts, too.”

“Yeah, nah look, mate, she’s a goer, not afraid of hard
work, that’s for sure.”

“Just like her old man, hey?”

“Ha! You know it.”

“Listen, do you want me to go and get her she’s just …”

“Nah, nah, nah, it’s okay. Just let her know I arrived safe
and I’ll speak to her tomorrow.”

“Will do.”

“Hey, Max. Listen, I really appreciate you looking out for
Mel.”

“No worries.”

“Nah, I mean it, mate. I know I kind of dumped it on you, not
giving you much of a choice in the matter.”

Yeah, no shit.

“But there aren’t many I would trust to look after my
daughter, and I knew without a doubt that you would look out for her.”

I shifted, Bluey’s words making me squirm.

“Don’t mention it, that’s what mates are for.”

“Yeah, well, I owe you one.”

My face twisted as if in a world of pain, and I kind of was.
Bluey’s words made me feel like shit. Here I was plotting at ways to pay back
his deceitful daughter and here Bluey was praising my services. If only he knew
what kind of care he left his daughter in.

“Listen, mate, I better go, but if there’s any dramas just
give us a bell,” Bluey said.

“Will do. Oh hey, Bluey, before you go.”

“Yeah, mate.”

I couldn’t believe I was going to go there.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a Ben Erickson by any chance,
would you?”

Silence.

“Ben Erickson? Ben Erickson?” Bluey repeated the name over
and over as if doing so would jog his memory. “Nope, don’t know him, should I?”

Oh, just your potential future son-in-law. No, why would
you?

“Oh, never mind, doesn’t matter.”

I hung up the phone thinking myself pretty fucking
ridiculous. Listening in on kitchen gossip, being overly interested in whether
Melanie Sheehan, who was going to be out of my life in less than a week, was lying.
Why should it matter if she had a boyfriend, or not? If she wanted to proclaim
to riding a unicorn then who was I to care? But I
did
care. There was
this insistent, rather annoying part of me, knowing what I planned to do, that
made me no better than a deceitful eighteen-year-old girl. I still had this
burning need to know, that by somehow knowing the
why
behind her lie, it
would in some way pacify me. Yeah, it was all kinds of fucked up and I
seriously needed to get a life. But if by some chance I would learn more
tonight, and that’s all I was giving myself—one night to discover what was
going on in that pretty, blonde head of hers—then it would give me a bit of an
idea of how the rest of the week was going to pan out.

And that would be it, no more fucking thoughts about Melanie
Sheehan.

Chapter Twenty -One

Mel

It was such a brilliant ploy of Amy’s.

I would simply walk straight past Max, pick
up the phone and ring my fake boyfriend. My fake boyfriend being Amy’s mobile.

As I neared the bar I felt a wave of nausea
sweep over me; how did this all get so out of hand? It was hard to believe that
this little white lie had gotten so out of control, but now I had to keep it
going. I had to make out that Ben was real. What kind of psycho makes stuff
like that up? I had done it to maybe get a reaction out of Max, which was
laughable. He hadn’t even so much as given any hint of surprise so it really
was just a waste of time. As I turned the corner, there he was, the very boy I
was completely invisible to leaning near the very phone I needed to use.

I had imagined me walking a determined line
behind the bar, chin lifted, my hips swaying in confidence as I picked up the
receiver and dialled my boyfriend’s number like a boss. The reality of that, of
course, was much different as I loitered near the edge of the bar, my hands
pressed in the back of my pockets, wincing at the fact Max was blocking the way
to the phone.

“Oh, um, hey …” I croaked. “Listen, do you
think I could use the phone for a minute? I better call Ben back.”

Max’s brows rose as his eyes shifted to me,
as if seeing me for the first time. “Sure,” he said, straining from his casual
lean on the bar and reaching for the phone. “What’s his number?” he asked, his
hand hovering over the keypad.

Fuck.

“Oh, I’ll ring it, I can’t actually
remember unless I am looking at the numbers,” I said, quickly moving to step
around behind the bar in case he held it out for me to do. I needed to take
that bloody phone off him.

“Thanks,” I said really quickly, almost
snatching the receiver from his hand.

A small smile lined his lips as he looked
at me, an air of surprise at my abruptness. God, he was gorgeous, and he smelt
so good, too. How depressing had my life become that I spent my time pretending
I had this great love in my life, when in reality, the only boy I had ever
really felt anything for was standing in front of me, completely oblivious to
how my heart slammed against my chest. How I could literally feel the prickle
of goose flesh across my skin simply just standing by his side, how the green
tinge of his eyes could do such strange things to my belly. If only he knew.

“Excuse me,” I said, moving past him to
turn my back to him as I dialled Amy’s number that I had discreetly penned on
my palm. Max stayed in the bar, casually leaning on the bench top like he had
been, gaze affixed to the TV, but even though his attention was elsewhere I
still didn’t fool myself to believe he wasn’t within earshot and as the phone
rang once, twice, three times, finally Amy answered.

“Hello, Sugar tits! God, I’ve missed you.”

I juggled the phone to my opposite ear,
praying that Amy’s animated greeting hadn’t escaped the receiver.

“Hey,” I said coyly, turning my back fully
away from Max now.

“Oh, pookie, your voice is like butter,
your kisses are a whisper on a summer breeze, my loins throb at the mere
mention of your name.”

I clenched the receiver with a
white-knuckled intensity. “Oh, not much, it was pretty busy tonight. I think it’s
going to make the week go fast,” I replied without missing a beat.

“You know this is all kind of ironic
considering you said you weren’t going to be lying anymore,” mused Amy, who was
not helping me in the slightest with such statements that jarred my thoughts.

“I miss you too,” I managed, at a loss of
what else to say.

“Oooh, you’re winding it up, are you? Make
out the reception is really bad.”

“What’s that? You’re breaking up.”

“Oh, excellent.”

“Ben? Ben you there?”

“So long, baby girl, until we are reunited
where we can make sweet monkey love.”

I slammed down the receiver, doing my best
to make sure the smirk was completely wiped from my face before I turned to
face Max who was watching on with great interest.

“Bad line?” he asked.

“Ah, yeah, he is out on a property, bad
reception.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “He works for your
dad, yeah?”

“Yeah, but he’s not working the next shed
with him, but there’s a job ready for him whenever he wants it.” I brushed past
him, thinking I really didn’t want to talk anymore on the subject.

“Hey, Mel.”

I paused at the bar exit, turning with
interest at my name; I wasn’t used to Max actually acknowledging me at all.

“Do you want me to put any drink on the ice
for you for when you knock off?”

“Oh, umm … I …”

“I usually put a couple of cruisers on ice
for Amy.”

“Oh, okay … sure.”

“Too easy,” he said, with a boyish smile.

A smile that had my heart skipping a beat
at the complete unexpectedness of it.

I made my way back to the kitchen like a
zombie, pushing my way through the doors with what could only be described as a
dumbfounded expression plastered across my face. Amy must have read as much.

“What? What’s wrong?” she asked, moving to
stand before me.

I blinked twice before focussing on her. “Max
… was nice to me.”

Amy smiled. “You know something, maybe this
fake boyfriend thing has some merit.”

“Shhh.” I frowned, glancing toward the
kitchen to where Penny and Heather fluttered around.

“Oh, relax, I haven’t said anything.”

“No, well I will when the time is right.”

“Don’t you dare. You totally have a
boyfriend.”

“But I thought you said to be single and
ready to mingle.” This was all getting so confusing.

“Yeah, well, you know the old saying.”

“What?” I asked sceptically.

“You always want what you can’t have.”

Ha, wasn’t that the truth. For as long as I
had crushed on Max, there was always the utmost certainty that I could never
have him, that he was way out of my league, and tonight was the first time he
actually engaged with me. It was different, it was like the façade had melted.
Here I was thinking that I would return back to the hotel with him being moody
and sleep deprived, no thanks to me, and yet he seemed … nice.

I felt a sudden sense of giddiness inside
of me. “I wonder if he is going to stick around for the lock-in?”

“Well,” Amy walked over to the stove,
retrieving the empty jug and turning back to brush past me, “there is only one
way to find out.”