Max (8 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Max

Ben Erickson? A shearer from Ballan, six
foot, toned, tanned with black hair, blue eyes, and was a twenty-three-year-old
non-smoker, a social-drinking Leo who drove a brand new Toyota Hilux and loved
camping, fishing and Aussie Rules football.

Never heard of him.

Adam and I shared the ear piece to a
surprisingly clear connection. Our stance was nothing if not awkward as I held
a tea towel around the mouth piece of the phone to prevent any noise coming
through on the other end.

The idea had been to see if what I had
interrupted before had been anything about me, but what I didn’t really suspect
was that it would be all about Mel, who by all accounts wasn’t the little
Melanie Sheehan I once knew. I wondered if Bluey knew about this bloke
Erickson, who seemed to be a bit old for her, if you asked me.

Spotting a customer at the bar I nudged
Adam and motioned him to serve him, which he did reluctantly. I pressed the ear
piece flat to my ear as Mel’s voice continued to filter down the line.

“One night, Ben took me to this really
flash property out on the old Miller Lane; he organised for this chef to cook
us this amazing three-course dinner by moonlight underneath this beautiful big
gum under the stars. He is so big and imposing you would never guess how
incredibly romantic he can be,” Mel crooned.

I rolled my eyes. The bloke sounded like a
wanker, probably just buttering her up to get into her pants. I knew the type.

“Oh, wow, he sounds amazing! Not even Sean
would go that far, and he is not bad on the romance, but this is like … wow,”
said Amy, accompanied by ooohing and ahhing from the others as Mel unveiled
more stories of her fucking boyfriend of the year. I was and I wasn’t ready to
hang up. I likened the experience to a traffic accident: you knew you shouldn’t
look but you couldn’t help it, plus on behalf of Bluey I thought I should
definitely be overhearing and analysing a character assessment on this Mr
Smoothy. It’s the least I could do.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Henry.

Initially I had felt bad by over-listening,
but now I had been satisfied that my paranoia was not granted, until of course
I heard my name.

“What about Max?” asked Amy. “When I heard
Max was carrying a girl from his home town to his bedroom I thought you might
have been his mysterious girlfriend from back home.”

The room went eerily silent, to the point
where I feared someone might have been

on to the intercom and they were all
motioning to be quiet, but then the silence was broken.

“Oh, um, no Max is um … just …”

“Mel, are you blushing?!” Amy cried out.

“No, I’m not,” defended Mel.

“Yes, you are. Isn’t she, Penny?”

“Bright as a beetroot,” said Penny.

“Wow! Spill, what’s the story there?”

“There is no story!” Melanie snapped.

“Yeah, yeah, no girl blushes like that
unless there’s a history.”

“I have a boyfriend, remember?”

“So what, is Ben the present and Max the
past?” asked Heather.

“No! There is nothing between Max and me.”

“Ah yes,” Amy crooned. “But would you like
there to be?”

And there it was once again, a long,
drawn-out, painful silence that had me wondering if the intercom had been
disconnected, and now I wished I could see what was happening, read the
expressions, see said blushing. And then the silence was broken by knowing
catcalls and taunts that echoed in the kitchen.

“Mel, that look just said it all!” laughed
Amy.

And just when I couldn’t think I could
press the receiver close enough to my ear, the line went dead, the teasing
calls and taunts for Mel were abruptly cut off, as if someone this time had
ended it.

I stared at the phone, a troubled, confused
expression no doubt plastered across my face as Adam sidled up next to me.

“How’d you go, any juicy goss? Does Melba
need a bunion cut off? Does the new girl fancy me?”

I looked up at Adam who was waiting with
good humour for me to reveal all.

“No, she doesn’t fancy you, but I think she
fancies someone else.”

“Really?”

I shrugged. “She has a boyfriend,” I said,
hanging up the phone and peeling away from Adam to get back to work.

“Is that all?” he called after me.

“Yep,” I said, grabbing for a glass and
pouring myself a drink of Coke. That was more than enough.

***

I stared at the phone, a troubled, confused expression no
doubt plastered across my face as Adam sidled up next to me.

“How’d you go, any juicy goss? Does Melba need a bunion cut
off? Does the new girl have the hots for me?”

I looked up at Adam who was waiting with good humour for me
to reveal all.

“No, she doesn’t have the hots for you, but I think she has
for someone else.”

“Oh, really?”

I shrugged. “She has a boyfriend,” I said, hanging up the
phone and peeling away from Adam to get back to work.

“Is that all?” he called after me.

“Yep,” I said, grabbing for a glass and pouring myself a
drink of Coke.

That was more than enough, I thought, as I skulled the
drink, wishing it contained something a little stronger than just the syrupy
fuzz and ice.

“Well, bloody hell. That’s the last time I organise an
elaborate scheme like that,” said Adam, who was now pouring himself a glass.

I lowered my now empty glass, affixing my deadpan stare on
him. “You pushed a button; hardly an elaborate scheme.”

“Yeah, well, next time you can go into the snake pit then.”
Adam twisted on the lid of the Coke, grabbed his drink, and exited the bar.

I scoffed as I tilted the remainder of the ice into my
mouth. “Thur whurnt bur a nurxt thurme,” I managed to say past a mouthful of
ice.

***

Anytime my mind wandered from the job at hand and instead
recalled the conversation from the kitchen, I threatened myself that I would
slam my fingers in the cool room door. Threatening self-harm did nothing to
stop my mind from wandering back to what I had overheard, a conversation I was
really regretting I had listened to. Who was I to care what the gossip was?
This place was filled with it, and if it wasn’t the kitchen, it was the bar or
the restaurant. It was a small town. I defied anyone not to have something to
say about business that wasn’t their own, just like this wasn’t mine. So what
if Mel had a boyfriend? It was nothing to do with me, and so what if she had
blushed at the mention of my name? She was a shy girl. I had seen her blush
myself—it was just her way. She wasn’t like the self-assured girls that would
wander into the Onslow, sashaying up to the bar and ordering a drink with
double-blinking, come-fuck-me eyes. No, Mel was just an innocent from bloody
Ballan who hadn’t experienced the outside world, save from one dusty town to
the next. So, the fact she had landed herself a bloke, and by all accounts a
shearer who I assumed worked for her old man, well, maybe it was an arranged
marriage or something? Again I mentally slapped myself from thinking way too
much about this; I seriously needed to get a life.

Chapter
Fifteen

Mel

I hadn’t been quick enough, even as fast as I could move
across the kitchen to slam my hand on top of the intercom button, cutting off
the mortifying topic of conversation over my reaction to Max’s name. Jesus, I
would be the worst poker player.

My hand remained on top of the speaker, my eyes closed as I
took in a deep, calming breath.

Oh God, please don’t let Max have heard that.

What had begun as the perfect ploy to make out as if I was
some kind of worldly creature with this amazing, manly, hot boyfriend had
seriously backfired, thanks to the schoolgirl taunts.

I slowly turned, only to be met with a curious gaze from
Amy. “What are you doing?” she asked, laughing.

“Oh, nothing. I thought I saw a fly,” I said, inwardly
cringing at my lame lie. That’s it. From now on I was only going to tell the
truth. Lies hadn’t served me well in the past. Besides, as if Max would even
give a shit if I had a boyfriend or not. As for them teasing me over him, I
would just pretend that never happened. He shouldn’t have been listening in the
first place.

“Come on, help me deliver these to the bar,” Amy said,
grabbing onto two plates loaded with Parmi, chips and salad.

“W-what?”

Two more plates of the same appeared as Heather slid them in
place of the meals that Amy picked up. Amy nodded her head to the two other
plates.

“These are for the bar, come on.”

My eyes shifted from the sink to Melba. “B-but I thought I
was doing the dishes …”

“The dishes can wait, the food can’t,” snapped Melba. “Come
on, move it, move it, move it. What do you think this is, a beauty parlour?”

I quickly untied my sodden apron and moved to grab the
plates, lifting them with a new dread as I followed Amy out of the kitchen door
toward the last place I wanted to go. Amy pushed the door open with her back,
holding it open for me to go first.

“No blushing now,” she teased, and I felt instantly sick
with every step that brought me closer to the main bar. Knowing there was not a
chance I wouldn’t—anytime I was near Max I could feel my cheeks flame, it had
been the reaction I had always suffered from around him. Now he would be
looking for it and so would Amy. This was exactly why I wanted to keep away. I
felt like an idiot, an idiotic girl suffering from puppy love. But then I tried
to shake it from my thoughts. Pfft, I had a boyfriend, remember? An amazing
hulk of a boyfriend, so what did it matter if I blushed over Max?

I lifted my chin with a new air of confidence as I walked
through to the main bar, waiting for Amy to direct me to where the meals were
to be delivered.

I turned to see a big goofy grin spread across Amy’s face,
but it wasn’t directed at me, it was directed toward a table of boys in the
corner of the bar. One I noticed straight away. Even with his back turned
toward us I could recognise the broadness of his shoulders. His imposing figure—even
when seated—certainly drew your eyes to him and by the expression on Amy’s
face, there was no doubt this was the same boy I had seen with her on the landing
this morning. Sean, I think she said his name was?

The boy sitting across was the opposite in every way. Sean
was golden with blue eyes, whereas this boy was bronzed, with dark brown eyes,
and in a word, handsome, like old Hollywood-style looks. I tried not to stare
at him as we neared the table. To Sean’s left sat a cute, fairer boy with a shy
smile and kind eyes that were the first to see us approach, I gathered, as he
straightened in his seat and moved his beer out the way, making room for the
plates. I came to stand near the boy to the right side of Sean who reclined in
his chair with an air of careless coolness; it’s amazing how someone’s body
language can give off that ‘I don’t give a shit’ element to their personality.
This boy didn’t move out of the way, the only thing that moved were his eyes—hazel
and filled with many mysteries as they shifted from my plate to my face—staring
with an amused curve to his lips that made my eyes snap away.

“Parmies, chips and salad: you boys are nothing if utterly
predictable,” mused Amy, who placed one meal in front of Sean, then moved to
sit one in front of the shy, cute boy. I quickly followed suit to place one in
front of the smirking-cocky boy and Mr Hollywood.

“So you must be Mel?”

The unexpected question from Sean caused me to flinch and
almost knock over Hollywood’s beer, before he quickly grabbed and rescued it,
offering me a smile.

“Whoa, almost,” he said, making light of my clumsiness.

“Sorry.” I blushed, deeper than ever, as I used his
serviette to mop up the slight spillage from his beer.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, grabbing the serviette and
taking over from me, “I’ve split way more beer than that in my lifetime.”

I smiled weakly, thankful that I had knocked his beer and
not his cocky, ever-watchful friend next to him. I glanced up, noting I still
had a captive audience.

“Yep, this is Mel. Mel this is Sean, Stan, Toby and Ringer;
they live here,” Amy said with a smirk.

“Pretty much,” saluted the cocky boy called Ringer.

“That’s a slight exaggeration,” piped up Stan, the shy one.

“Is it, though?” countered Toby, as he screwed up the soppy
serviette.

“Well, there’s nothing else to do in this town,” said Stan
with a shrug.

“Mel knows Max, she’s from Ballan too,” added Sean.

The boys all nodded with interest; well, except Ringer who
unapologetically hoed into his tucker.

“So, you’ll be able to let us in on all the sordid details
of Max’s past then,” mused Toby.

Blushing a deeper shade of red, I glanced toward the bar,
wondering where he even was.

“Oh, I don’t know about that, you can’t get up to too much
trouble in Ballan.”

“Everyone has secrets,” said Ringer, who munched
thoughtfully on a chip.

My eyes shifted to lock with Amy’s who curved her brow with
interest, as if she knew my deepest, darkest secrets, and I really hated that.
She had this uncanny ability to make you feel like she was looking straight
through you, that she was a human lie detector and that she was onto me.

I simply smiled sweetly. “Enjoy your meals, it was nice
meeting you.” I broke away from the group, making sure not to look in the
direction of the bar. Eyes down, determined path and back to the kitchen to
hide away from all knowing stares and judgmental eyes. As I turned the corner I
slammed into something hard, really hard. Reeling back with the unexpectedness
of it, I was stilled by two vice-like grips on my shoulders.

“Whoa! Look out.”

Max’s beautiful green eyes were looking down on me, his
brows pinched in a smoldery question.

Oh God, don’t blush. Don’t let the heat creep up my neck in
that telltale sign that happened when I was really out of sorts. What chance
did I possibly have? I felt the heat of his hands as they rested on my skin,
burning so hot, I thought I might catch fire. I should have stepped away, but I
didn’t want to, I wanted to stay like this forever, until of course, inevitably
and far too quickly, he let go of me and stepped back a little, saving me from
having to.

This was what I had wanted to avoid, the confrontation
knowing he knew certain things about me. I looked up at him with a feigned
confidence as I brushed the hair out my eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“Clearly,” he said, pushing his hands into his pockets as
his eyes bore down on me, silence settling itself over us in that old familiar,
awkward way it did. Never would I have ever thought I would be so happy to see
Amy round the corner only to still as she saw us standing there.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she stammered.

“Nothing to interrupt,” he said curtly, before breaking away
and making his way back to the bar without so much as a backward glance.

Amy turned to me, her brows disappearing into her hairline. “Geez,
what did you say?”

“Nothing!” I hadn’t said anything to him, nothing of note,
but as my mind skipped over what he might have overheard about my blushing
antics over his name, then maybe that was more than enough to make him run
away. If he were avoiding me before, he sure as hell would be avoiding me now.

Great. Just great. Way to go, Mel. How many more days of
this torture was there to go?