Max (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Max

Melba storming through the bar like a
nightmare was nothing out of the ordinary, but when a mumbled gripe about
Melanie bloody Sheehan comes to the surface, I listen.

“What’s up, Melba?” I tried for the
light-hearted approach.

Melba slammed a batch of folded serviettes
on the bar. “I’ll tell you what’s up: that little girly blow-in of yours, that’s
what. On the one night. The. One. Night. I need her to be on board she has a
‘previous engagement’ to see to and has to have an hour off during our busiest
part of the shift.”

My brows lowered, my mind shifting with the
edge of genuine confusion. “What prior engagement?” This was news to me.

“Oh, her lover boy is passing through town
tonight and she is simply desperate to see him, practically begged me to let
her have time off.”

I straightened my spine. “Lover boy?”

“Oh, her bloody boyfriend. Ben, or whatever
the hell his name is.”

“Ben Erickson?”

“That’s the one.”

A knowing smirk lifted the corner of my
mouth.

Well, fucking hell, the plot thickens.

“I wouldn’t be smiling if I were you, young
Max, I hold you partly responsible for this fiasco.”

“Me? What for?” I asked a bit too loud.

“You’re the one that recommended her to me.”

Oh, bloody hell, I didn’t have the energy
to get into a debate with the likes of Melba. When it came to Melanie Sheehan I
didn’t exactly have a say in anything, or any part of her being there, that was
for sure. Any other time I probably would have debated it, but now I had bigger
fish to fry. Like that of a certain someone using a fake boyfriend to get out
of work—this is where I drew the line.

I could have perhaps revealed all to Melba,
named and shamed Mel into her devious ways, but I also knew that the
repercussions were so not worth my time. No, I would deal with this myself.
Enough was enough. She was no doubt using this as an excuse to avoid me; well,
that was not going to happen.

“So you gave her the time off? So she could
meet up with Ben?”

“What choice did I have? The girl was on
the verge of tears.”

Oh, hell no.

“All right, I will have a talk to her,” I
said.

“Let it be known that I don’t know what
kind of things you Ballan folk get up to, but here we are trying to build up a
business.” Melba gave me a pointed look.

If there was one thing I would not tolerate
was lying to get out of work. Above all, I wanted to see what she had to say
for herself, see if she would lie straight to my face again.

I knew exactly what lengths my sister would
go to, and it seemed that Mel was cut from the same cloth. Well, no more Mr
Nice Guy about it, this was affecting my job; the last thing I needed was for
Melba to be pissed at me because of Mel’s inability to chip in.

“You right to watch the bar for a minute
while I go talk to her, Melba?”

Melba glanced around the empty bar. “I
think I can handle it.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

I made a determined line through the
restaurant, ignoring all that crossed my path. Grabbing the banister I swung
myself onto the staircase, skipping every second step up to the landing and
striding down the long hall toward Mel’s room, MY room.

I pounded my fist on the door in an
impatient series of thuds.

“Who is it?” called an uncertain voice from
within.

“Mel, it’s me. Max. Can you open up for a
sec?”

Or I’ll huff and puff and blow your house
down. I was so pissed.

There was silence, long, drawn-out silence.
I would have thought she was trying to escape from a window, but I knew for a
fact it was a windowless room.

“Um … okay, hang on for a sec,” Mel called.

A series of clinking and scurrying sounded
through the door as if she was having a mad spring clean. Whatever it was, my
patience was wearing thin and I was ready to hit the door again, until I heard
the handle twist and the door opened. I was ready to give her a piece of my
mind, a momentous lecture on work ethics and the fact I was onto her bullshit
lies and to get to work before I told her old man what a pain in the arse she
was being. But all those rambling, determined thoughts fell clear out of my
head when I saw Mel standing before me, and fuck me if she wasn’t the most
beautiful girl I had ever seen.

Her long blonde hair tumbled over her
shoulders in silken, curved folds, no longer in the wispy ponytail pulled back
from her face. The deep blue of her eyes was highlighted by the curve of her
darkened lashes, and lightened by natural eye shadow. They transfixed me with
how piercing they were. Her lips were lightly glossed in a pink sheen that
complemented the feminine blush to her cheeks. Mel wore a pretty white summer
dress that made her legs look tanned and long, and fitted to the curve of her
womanly shape, curves usually hidden behind denim and T-shirts. This girl
before me, no, this woman, was unrecognisable to me and furthermore this was
more than just getting made up to save yourself an hour’s work, this was
definitely to meet someone. Maybe not Ben, but someone. I felt my chest tighten
at the very thought of Mel having some kind of secret rendezvous in the shadows
and I didn’t like it, not one fucking bit.

Was this why she had run away last
night?

I was here to protect her from such things—that’s
what I told myself—but more than that I didn’t want anyone touching this girl,
and that very admission made me angry, a different kind of angry, one that
belonged solely to me and my weakness.

I reeled myself in from perhaps already
staring for too long, with my eyes betraying me in a roaming assessment.

“Going somewhere?” I kinked my brow, almost
in challenge; surely she wouldn’t be so stupid to lie to me now. Melba perhaps,
but don’t push it with me.

“I’m meeting Ben, he’s calling through
town.”

Oh no, you fucking didn’t.

I could feel the anger surging inside me;
it was one thing to lie to save face in the beginning, but now this was just
fucking insulting my intelligence.

“So do you often drop all responsibilities
to go run around with boys, do you? I couldn’t imagine that’s the kind of work
ethic your old man would have taught you.”

Something flashed in Mel’s eyes, something
heated that morphed into a searing anger that would make anyone want to step
back a little, but it only made me want to push more. This was not the young,
stuttering and blushing girl from last night. No, this woman had fire. And I
couldn’t help but be turned on by her. Fuck. Me.

“Look, I don’t care how you get your rocks
off but just make sure it’s on your own time.”

I went to walk away but was stilled by her
voice.

“My own time? This is my time! All of it; I
never asked to work here, to be imprisoned here. The way I see it is if I want
an hour to take from my sentence I will bloody well take it, and if you want to
tell my dad then so be it; I won’t be blackmailed by you or anyone.”

I was somewhat surprised she was being so
defensive to go see some made-up boyfriend—it held my interest. “Where are you
going?”

“I told you, to see Ben.”

“No, where are you really going, as in
literally?”

“That’s none of your business,” she
snapped.

I smiled, stepping closer to her, forcing
her to look up at me. “Well, you see that’s the thing, you are kind of my
business.”

Mel’s face was pure thunder. If looks could
kill I would be a dead man. “If you give me a speech about ‘while I live under
your roof, you will obey my rules’, I will scream,” she gritted. It was
obviously a sore point and something she had heard more than once.

I laughed, a devious smile creeping to the
surface. “No, I won’t say that, but as long as you sleep in my bed, you will
obey my rules.”

Mel’s eyes widened, her hatred of me
growing. “You done?”

“Not nearly enough,” I said.

“Too bad,” she said, stepping back into my
room and slamming the door in my face.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mel

I stood on the fire escape, hot tears
stinging my eyes. I was so mad.

Mad, and tired of being treated as a piece
of property to be kept as a little kitchen hand. I was at the point of not
caring if Max relayed to Dad that I had bedded the entire Onslow Cricket Club.
I couldn’t be eternally punished because of one mistake. Dad simply had to
forgive me; he had to learn how to move on. It was driving me crazy. Now, here
was Max acting all mightier than thou, and however ridiculous it seemed, the
more he wanted me
not
to take the time to see Ben, the more I wanted to.
Oh God, the more I wanted to see my make-believe boyfriend. This was absurd. I
can’t believe I was so angry about this, but it had turned into more than just
the fact. Now it was about principle. And in order to prove to Max I wasn’t a
liar, I actually had to commit the biggest, most extravagant lie of all … oh,
the irony.

I should have just bloody kissed him last
night, gotten it out of my system, but somehow I think there would be no
getting Max Henry out of my system. Instead there would only be feeding the
fire.

Amy had helped me get ready for my big
non-reunion; she said it seemed more believable that I would become a bit more
feminine catching up with my boyfriend. It was to throw Max off the scent of
thinking there was anything suss going on. What a disaster. The only thing I
had succeeded in was pissing him off for dropping the ball in the kitchen. This
sucked, and I was about to tell Amy as much when she arrived. I just wanted to
get back to work, see out my week, and forget about Max Henry.

A wolf whistle sounded from below, and
shifting my focus, I leant over the railing to see Amy waving from below.

What the?

I winded my way down, not the easiest
venture in a dress. It wasn’t the attire I was used to. Amy had loaned me a
sexy outfit and did my hair and makeup like I was her new little plaything.

“No one saw you go out this way?” she
whispered.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Cool, okay, we better move it as we have
limited time.”

“Time for what?”

It sounded like we were catching a movie,
grabbing some dinner, but somehow I doubted either of those things.

“Time to initiate Plan B.”

“Oh yeah, plan B. And what was that exactly
again?”

Amy was leading me out of the beer garden
by the hand; she flashed me a bright smile I could only see because of the back
door light. “Evidence,” she said.

She dragged me along so fast I nearly
tripped on the uneven ground.

Evidence?

I felt my stomach twist, not in a good way,
in an unnerved ‘I’m being led into the dark by a crazy woman’. Suddenly I had a
grave fear that somewhere in the car park there was a gigolo waiting for me,
where Amy would be lining up in order to take some Polaroid snaps of my sugar
daddy and me. Oh God, this is why she had wanted me to dress up. I put all my
weight into the back of my heels.

“Amy, wait. Where are we going?”

She stopped so abruptly I nearly toppled
over, then she spun around looking right into my eyes, as if she was trying to
brainwash me, or something. “Okay, do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Okay that’s fair, but can you at least
trust that whatever harebrained scheme I have, it’s for the bigger picture, the
greater good?”

I just stared blankly at her.

She sighed. “Okay, just trust me, if you
want to catch someone’s attention, you are going to have to do it in a way that
is going to get his attention. And seeing as the Ben Erickson thing is casting
doubt, it’s time to slap Max in the face with something that is going to make
him not have any doubt.”

“Why do I have this horrible, sinking
feeling inside me that you’re about to put my feet in concrete and throw me
into Lake Onslow?”

Amy laughed, yanking me forward, mercifully
not anywhere near the car park but out the back and over a grassy embankment. “Believe
me, this is the opposite of torture; in fact, you might even enjoy it.”

“I swear, Amy, if you have hired a gigolo
from Maitland I am going to be so mad,” I managed through laboured breaths as
we made our way up a grassy slope and toward what looked like a boat shed
outbuilding that was lit by a small exterior light. An eerie Brunswick-green
wooden shack that looked like it belonged in a horror movie. Maybe this was
where Amy lured people to kill; after all, I really didn’t know her at all.

“Amy, are you going to make clothes out of
my skin?” I asked nervously.

“What? What are you talking about? God, you’re
weird.”

Much to my relief we didn’t go inside the
creepy shack; instead, she led me along the side and around the back, hidden
from the world; the only thing visible was the shadowed outline of trees that
edged along the backdrop of the Onslow, with only the light of the moon casting
enough glow to make the very bare, minimal things visible, until something else
caught my eye: the single glow of a cigarette brightening as the cylinder was
inhaled, lighting up a familiar face, who leant up casually against the shack.

Ringer?

I spun around to Amy, trying to voice words
to question what the hell was going on.

“Come on, let’s get this show on the road,
I have to pick up Toby.” Ringer rubbed at his face, his disposition extremely
bored.

“Oh, Jesus, just hang on a second would
you, Ringer?” Amy snapped, before turning to me, and calmly grabbing my
shoulders. “Okay, here’s the thing, I’m going to need you to have an open mind,
okay?”

“An open mind?” I croaked, “How fucking
open does it need to be? What the fuck, Amy?”

A whistle sounded from the silhouette
leaning against the shack. “Whoa, kitty got claws.”

“Shut up!” Amy and I said in unison.

Amy pulled me aside, lowering her voice. “We
need people to believe that you met up with Ben, we need there to be no doubt
that he exists and in order to do that we are going to need … evidence.” Amy
extenuated the last word as if she was trying to hypnotise me.

“Evidence? Evidence-evidence-evidence, that’s
all I’ve been hearing; what the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, maybe, and it’s like no big deal,
but I think maybe just a little love bite?” Amy grimaced.

“A HICKEY?” I shouted.

“Shhh, God, you make it sound so bloody
sordid.”

My eyes, wide and horrified, flashed to
Ringer, who was leaning over in a fit of laughter, finding our plan B rather
hysterical.

“So, you know about this?” I accused.

Ringer straightened. “Amy came to me today
with a deal of a lifetime; I was happy to donate to a worthy cause.” He
shrugged.

“And what makes you think he is not going
to go running straight back to his mates and blab to them about this elaborate
plan of yours?”

As far as I could tell this was by far the
worst devised plan I had ever heard of.

Amy straightened, a self-assuredness
sweeping over her. “Because I have blackmailed him within an inch of his life.
Isn’t that right, Ringo?”

Ringer scoffed, throwing his cigarette to
the ground and obliterating it with his shoe.

“Yeah, you could say that again.”

“What about?” I asked.

“Oh, doesn’t matter,” Amy said, trying to
wave my question away.

“Oh no-no-no, if I am going to go through
with this, not that I am saying I am going to,” I pointed at Ringer, “but if I
do, I want to know exactly what you could possibly hold over his head to be
sworn to secrecy.”

Amy looked at me for a long moment, her
cogs turning in her head as she glanced from me to Ringer and back. “All right,”
she said. “Ringer backed into Sean’s car, and I am the only one that knows
about it.”

“So that’s a big thing, is it?”

“If Sean ever found out it would be a long,
drawn-out death,” added Ringer.

My brow curved at Amy.

Really?

“Remember you were talking about making an
outfit out of someone’s skin?”

“Ah, yeah.”

“Well, Sean really, REALLY loves his car.”

***

Oh. My. God.

I couldn’t believe I was really going to
be doing this. This was crazy. I mean, was I really going to do this? No, no I
couldn’t.

“Okay, I’m going to head back to the
Onslow. I should probably be sighted,” said Amy.

“Wait, what?” My eyes bugged out of my
head.

Amy paused, a small smile lining her face. “Relax,
Ringer promised he would be an absolute gentleman, right, Ringer?” Amy gave him
a pointed look.

Ringer picked up the stubby that was
sitting near his feet, saluting us with it before taking a swig. “On my best
behaviour.”

“Yeah, well just remember.” Amy mimed the
motion of him backing into something, while choking her neck.

A hickey as evidence. If I didn’t think it
was ridiculous, if I didn’t feel so ridiculous, this could almost be funny.
What, now Ringer knows I lied about having a boyfriend too. Could this get any
worse?

“All right, all right. Ixnay on the hombre,”
he said.

Amy turned to me. “Remember, for the
greater good,” she said, winking and making her way around the corner, leaving
me very much alone with Ringer.

I swallowed, turning around to see Ringer
was still leaning against the shack, looking up to the night sky, whistling a
light tune, nursing his beer in innocent wonder. I gradually edged my way
toward him, my intent very clear, surprising not only myself but Ringer, whose
eyes narrowed on me as I took the drink from his hand and took not one, two,
but three sips of courage. Ringer’s brows rose into his hairline. “How is it
that I have to promise to behave like a gentleman, when you didn’t have to
promise to behave like a lady?”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I’m
not a lady.”

A wicked glint sparked in Ringer’s eyes. “I
see.”

“Do this often, do you? Are you the go-to
guy for all sordid affairs?” I hiccupped.

Ringer laughed, pulling a cigarette from
behind his ear. “Sordid affairs, it’s what I do.”

“Please don’t light that, not yet,” I said,
cringing at the cigarette that he carefully placed back behind his ear.

“See, a total gentleman,” he said, smiling
wolfishly. “Besides, tradition dictates you usually light up a smoke after the
sordid affair,” he said with a wink.

As much as I didn’t feel threatened by
Ringer in any way and that gradually I was beginning to feel more and more
comfortable, I still didn’t trust him. Blackmailing aside, what kind of person
would agree to do this? Some kind of deviant, was my guess.

I took another deep swig of his beer, one I
had kind of confiscated from him. His watchful eyes looked down on me with
interest; the shadows over his face made him look eerie, and stoic. He was
probably wondering what kind of girl I was, stealing his beer, and needing a
hickey from a stranger.

I took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s just get
this over with,” I said, knowing that the wrath of Amy for chickening out would
be far worse. I also had a brief flashback to how angry Max had been, probably
brought on by doubt that Ben wasn’t real, but after tonight, there would be no
questioning the fact I had met up with my boyfriend, and I couldn’t wait to see
the look on his face.

I felt smug … until I felt Ringer’s hand
slide over mine. I blinked, confused, as I looked down and saw him pulling the
beer from my grasp. Smiling a little devilish smile, he took it from me,
placing it on the windowsill of the boat shed window behind my head, causing
him to step closer into me, until I was staring at his Adam’s apple.

Oh God, what was I doing? Loitering with
hot, strange boys behind a boat shed. What the fuck was I thinking?

Ringer’s eyes bore down on me, all humour
now melted into a deep, serious intent. He stood so close I could feel his
breath across my face. I could feel my cheeks burning.

His brows rose. “You ready?” he asked,
lifting his hand and gently sweeping my hair over my shoulder, his fingers
ghosting over the exposed line of my neck. “Do you want it here?” he asked, his
voice low and deeper than I had ever remembered.

I simply nodded my head, afraid that if I
voiced anything it would be for him to stop as I ran off screaming into the
night. It was what my gut was telling me to do.

Don’t do this, Mel. This is a step too
far, turning over a new leaf, remember? What’s with the whorish behaviours
behind the boat shed? I mean, really?

That’s why every pounding of my heart drove
home, but then as always the Devil on my shoulder laughed and as I closed my
eyes and careened my head to the side, my mind said
, Oh, fuck it!