A Pretty Pill (19 page)

He recognises the reference immediately.

“My sister’s the Jade that fucking broke you?” he asks.

I nod.

“Oh...” and right about now I’m preparing to take him down if he comes at me, but he doesn’t... he just walks straight to the bedroom and doesn’t bother knocking, because he’s storming in and slamming the door behind him.

There’s a whole lot of shrieking then, and “get the fuck out of my room!” thrown about.

I hear Silas tell her she’s a fucking idiot and to wake up to herself, and then he tells her if she doesn’t get her arse on her bike in the next fifteen minutes, he’s going to hammer her bike into a ball of scrap metal.  He comes out the door slamming it so hard the whole house seems to rattle.  Then he’s over at Shae with his head on her shoulder and groaning.  She just smiles and smoothes his hair down, she’s a calming influence I guess... she’s his rock!  I hope it lasts for them.

Jade emerges five minutes later.  She’s wearing black skinny jeans and really nice looking black
Fox
motocross boots; in addition she has a black fitted leather jacket that I haven’t seen before.  She looks totally badarse!  She’s pulled her hair into a ponytail on top of her head and she’s carrying a new all black Nitro helmet.  Seriously, she looks like she could kick all our arses and hand them back to us on a platter.  I think if she just goes back in and puts eyeliner and mascara on, she’ll go from looking totally badarse to totally fucking awesome badarse!  It takes all my strength not to say it.

We all go and get on our bikes and I notice Jade looking at my bike with a look somewhere between admiration and respect
; yet she still has to say something malicious about my totally kickarse bike.

“I hope you know how to operate that transformer
, because otherwise there won’t be enough of you to scrape off the road; and there isn’t a bed in the world that I’d be able to place you!” she says.

“Transformer?” I ask.

“It looks like a transformer.” Silas explains, “Nice one Jade; I totally agree, but at least it’s a fucking awesome looking transformer with 998cc of power to back it up.” He gushes.

“Like I said
, hope he knows what he’s doing. I’m not wearing my nurse’s uniform today, and I might conveniently forget how to do first aid in a crisis!” she grumbles.

I know what to do with almost a 1000cc’s of power
; I ride a 2011 Ducati 1198SP at home in LA.  I smirk at Jade as she’s placing her helmet over her head.

“He’ll be fine.” Silas says, placing his helmet on his head and starting his bike.

Jade starts her bike, and I follow suit by first placing my helmet on and then starting my bike.  The bubbling chug-a-long of the uneven firing of the engine is comforting, knowing that no matter how much speed Jade’s likely to throw at me; I’m easily going to match it and then some.

Game on!

For the first ten or so kilometres, we’re riding through traffic and sticking together.  If a light looks like it’s changing, we either slow down or speed up depending on whether there’s a red light camera attached to it.  Jade is the one leading us at present, and I’ll let her for now.  She’s been riding with Silas for years, and I can only assume she is knowledgeable about what he’s capable of, and if I go too hard, she’ll pull back because of him; and then I’ll be off by myself, which is not what I want, yet!

Once we make our way through to the beginning of the Newcastle link road at Wallsend, everything changes.  She’s
quick; because she drops a gear in the 70km zone and within a split second, she’s taken off, obviously oblivious to the fact that the zone we’re encroaching on is a 90km zone.  She’s gone, I can see her as a speck of dust up ahead, way up ahead; but she’s about to be completely out of sight, because there’s a measured bend in the road that is gradually winding away out of our vision.

I look over at Silas, who has just given me a salute and begun to speed up himself, and then I drop a gear for some extra power and leave him behind.

She’s gunning it, because it’s taking me ages to catch up to her; and I admit, I’m a little fearful of losing my licence because now I’m hitting speeds over 180km/hr; which is instant loss of licence territory; but the adrenaline rush is way too addictive, and I can feel the bike wants more!

I have to slow down at the round-a-bout
s near the colliery and at Minmi Road, but I’m out the other side of the second one, right on her tail. I fly past her and then not long down the road realise that I have to slow the fuck down, or I’m going to shoot past the exit.  I pull to the side because I consider I’ve proved myself, and I want to wait for Silas now.

She pulls up immediately behind me, and tears her helmet off.

“What the fuck was that?  You trying your hardest to kill yourself?” she screams.

I slowly lift my visor and look at her triumphantly.

“I wasn’t the one that threw down!  I’m also not the one that was off in triple digits before even getting out of the residency zone!” I shout back.

“Why are you torturing me?” she shouts.  “I’m sorry about your Mum
, but do you have to make my life so fucking miserable?” she shouts.

Oh
, so not happening right now...
NOT when I’m on a God damned bike in the middle of a motherfucking highway!

“You care to rephrase that princess?” I
shoot back at her.  “I make you miserable?”

“You called me out on it
, I’ve already apologised to your mum, what the fuck do you want?” she shouts.

I can see Silas coming up
, he’s slowing down to pull in next to us. I haven’t got any time to discuss anything right now, and it makes me so fucking mad that I want to throw my bike down, go over to her and shake some sense in to her!

“If you can’t work out what the fuck is wrong between us
, then you’re so fucking stupid, you make Georgina look intelligent!” I shout abusively at her.

Silas has now pulled up and is taking his helmet off.

She draws air in rapidly, like a bellows getting ready to add to the strength of the flame burning.

“Your fucking dick didn’t take long before it was sniffing around for
a new fucking pussy! I can’t believe you’d fall for some stupid ridiculous bimbo of a woman who probably thinks tuna is a type of chicken!”  She fumes, but I just can’t keep it up; she’s so fucking funny right now, especially since Silas is looking at the two of us like we’re the ones with mental health problems, and I’m remembering seeing that reference on YouTube and I can still recall Nick’s expression when the question was raised.

Still chuckling, I concede
, “I wouldn’t let my dick get anywhere near that woman’s thighs, just in case her brand of dumb is contagious!” I chuckle.

Now
I’m laughing, and now Jade is struggling to keep her mouth from smirking, and then she’s chuckling and then laughing too.  It’s a surreal moment, because it should’ve ended in a total smack down, but it’s ended in us laughing our breakfast up.  It’s a tension release of a laugh... and I’m hoping it means we can start mending things.  Like I said, she knows where to find me; I’m hers if she wants me.

Silas calls us both fucking dickheads, and places his helmet on and goes, leading the way this time. 

The rest of the day runs smoothly, and we return to the Tayte household via Edgeworth, Cardiff and Lambton.

Jade.

I go back to doing afternoon gym on Thursday.  I have two days of morning shift before the weekend, and I have to get over the Ben bullshit soon.  He’s going out with us on Silas’ 18th birthday; since we have dinner reservations with Sebastian, Beau, Shae and her parents; me of course too, and now Ben.  That’s a week and one day away, so I need to get over myself and not do a Sabrina.  That doesn’t mean I’m ready to give up. I still have to get past my whole issue of letting someone into my inner sanctum hang up. 

Actually I’m not really sure what I need to do to get over my
issues. Getting over my issues has never really been an issue!  Usually being my brand of angry and forward propels me to get things right!  In this instance I think it fucks with things monumentally!

I change out of my uniform in the locker room. 
I’m wearing light pink today... pink three quarter tights, pink bra, pink sports tank bra, pink singlet and pink zippered hoodie, except I have white almost there socks, and white joggers.  I wanted to look girly and soft for Ben, if he turns up.  The shock might kill him, and that would be worth it all!  I’ve even placed my hair up in pigtails.

When I got here
, he wasn’t here.  When I walk into the cardio room after changing, he’s over on the treadmill we both hate, already jogging.

I give him a small smile when I catch his eye
, and he gives me a full beaming dimpled grin in return.  It makes my stomach flip.  Then he opens his mouth.

“Hi
, my name’s Ben; I just thought I’d warn you, there’s a chick that comes here sometimes, and if she catches you on her treadmill, she’ll kick your arse and call you a bitch!” he explains cockily.

“Did she call you a bitch?” I ask innocently, going with the banter.

“Nah, she called me a stud and tried to suck me off!” he laughs.

“Oh dear
, there’s no accounting for taste with some women!” I throw back in return, beginning my jog with a quick swig of my water.

“Oh no sweetheart... I taste pretty good, or so I’ve been told.” He says genuinely.

I can’t help but guffaw at that remark, which causes me to choke on the water I just tried to swallow.

I’m off the treadmill
, coughing, and trying to regain control of my airways, when I feel Ben’s heavy hand smacking my back... hard and repeatedly!

“Stop!” I croak.  Holding my hand up in protest of his hard handed ways.

“You okay?” he asks worriedly, leaning over into my space; rubbing my back and smelling too good to be someone sweating on a treadmill.

I’m nodding and regaining my breath.

“You can stop putting your hands all over me now!” I croak.

He grins, “I thought you invited me over, like your coughing was some sort of damsel in distress ruse!” he argues, before placing some distance between us.

“I was choking on the thought of me tasting you...” I say at first and then attempt to correct myself, “I mean... that you reckon you taste good!” I falter. 
Oh God... fubar... fubar... fubar!

His eyes are as big as
saucers; his whole body is struggling not to erupt into a fit of laughter... I totally screwed up that sentence!

“Well you’ll
... never know... till you try?” he struggles to say.

“You know what I meant!” I groan.

He just breathes deeply in and then out through his nose, shaking his head and holding his mouth in a tight smirk.

He returns to his treadmill and begins to jog, giving me time to regain my composure.  It’s a kindness of sorts
, because he was at a serious advantage on the innuendo scoreboard, and he didn’t push it.

Ben.

I’m watching her do her work out today
, as I do mine.  I don’t even care when she catches me checking her out. We occasionally have a bit of banter, a little jibe here and there, but after hearing her fluster over the tasting me remark, I can’t seem to get the rhythm again, because seriously... she’s never fucked up her lines before.

S
he’s usually deadly precise with her delivery and quick with her wit.  It’s a serious drawcard for me.  But this momentary Freudian slip has me salivating over her.  I need to adjust myself every time I get that image of her...
whoa... time to adjust again!

She’s looking so pretty today
, so feminine!  That pink really makes her look cute and sweet and totally fucking gorgeous.  I want to make her all dirty!  If I kissed her right now, you’d need the police to come and taser me to get me off of her!

She keeps throwing me these fucking insanely sweet smiles
; she’s torturing me!

I know I said I wouldn’t chase her
; that she knows where I am and stuff, but this slow burning feeling that has been smouldering for what feels like forever now is hard to keep trapped inside; and she keeps waving her brand of lighter fluid near it.  If she takes one more step towards me with that inflammable shit, I’m going to burst into a ball of flames and totally jump her!

Jade.

It’s the countdown week for Silas till he turns 18 on Friday.  I’ve paid for a voucher at a tattoo parlour in Newcastle, with a well renowned artist.  It’s a $2000 gift voucher; however, since the artist charges $250 per hour, I’ve only really bought Silas two
four hour sessions.  He’s been discussing for years how he wants to have a theme of biomechanical tats all over himself, as if he’s been through a wringer, and wherever his body has been battered, the skin torn through; his real mechanical self peeks back through from torn flesh.  I like the idea, and I’m happy to pay for his first series of tats.