Boy Next Door (Parkside Avenue Book #2) (15 page)

“And you will.” I kissed her on
the nose and grinned. “Listen. I have an idea.”

Her eyebrows pushed together. “What
kind of an idea?”

“A really bad one.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of
that.”

“Do you own a pair of jeans?”

“What are you going to do, make
an effigy of John and burn it on a bonfire?”

Now there was a thought. “Um, no.
I’d like you to wear them when I pick you up tonight. I have to go home to
check on Paps and make sure he gets a decent meal in him, first, but I’ll be
back around eight.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

My jaw almost hit the porch floor
when Cora opened the door. “Wow. You’re stunning.” I’d asked her to wear jeans,
thinking dressing down would help her blend in more, but add the fuck-me heels
and tight tank, squeezing her tits into perfect mounds at the neckline, and you
had a homing beacon for every schmuck with a pair of eyes and a dick. “I’m not
sure my knuckles are primed enough to beat off the competition.”

“Is it too much? Do I look like
mutton? Should I change?” she asked, fondling one of her huge, hooped earrings
and glancing down at her outfit. “Yes. I’ll go and change. I don’t know what I
was thinking.” She turned to go back inside.

I snagged her arm. “No. Don’t.
You look fantastic. Nice t … top.”

“It’s Amy’s.”

“It’s hot.”

“Thank you. Are you going to tell
me where we’re going now?”

“You’ll see.”

***

The light was fading by the time
we walked the short distance to the Pocket Scratcher. Cora began fidgeting as
soon as we passed through the door.

“I’m not sure about this. It
looks a bit rough,” she said.

“It’s a lot rough, and way out of
your comfort zone, I’m guessing. That’s why I brought you. You said you wanted
to live a little.”

She coughed. “Live. Yes. Not die,”
she said, holding tightly to my arm and walking a pace behind me all the way to
the bar.

Her eyes darted nervously into every
smoky corner, as I ordered a couple of Buds, before studying the bottle I
passed her. “What’s this?”

“Beer. Don’t tell me you’ve never
tried one?”

“No. Actually, I haven’t”

I shook my head, laughing. “Then
here begins the first lesson.”

“Don’t I get a glass?”

“Nope. Just wrap those pretty
lips of yours around the rim and chug it down your throat.”

After a small hesitation, she did
as I instructed, and I watched, mesmerised, switching my weight from one leg to
the other, when my dick registered the movement of her mouth around the
bottle’s neck. Receiving a blow job was definitely on the agenda, tonight. She
wasn’t even breaking to take a breath.

I gestured to Pete for another
round, as the track on the jukebox changed, and Cora’s knee dipped to the beat
of the music.

She placed her empty bottle on
the bar. “This takes me back,” she said. “I haven’t heard this song in years.”
She swayed, and flung her head from side to side, her blonde locks swishing in
time to the tune. I’d never seen anything so sexy in my life.

I gestured for another round. Then
picking up the drinks in one hand, I grabbed her hand with my other. “Come on.”
I’d spotted a free table in the corner, and you had to get in quick when
opportunity struck.

“Where are we going?”

“To start living.”

I spent the next hour trying to
teach Cora how to play pool, and I wouldn’t be adding it to my list of
successes any time soon. Still, it was worth it. The feel of her ass, wrapped
tight under denim, nestling into my crotch as I bent over her to guide her
shots, drove me wild. I couldn’t wait to get her home and do it minus the
denim.

Towards the end of the lesson,
the familiar face of a local policeman appeared at my side.

“Missed you at the cemetery
today, bud,” he said.

“Yeah, sorry. I had another job.”

He took a sip of his beer, and
cocked his head, eying up Cora’s cleavage as she lined up a shot. “No worries.
It’s almost done anyway.”

I waved Cora over, after she
almost jabbed the tip of her cue into the baize. “Babe, come and meet a friend
of mine.”

She straightened up and smiled
weakly. “Hello Matthew.”

He greeted her with a nod.
“Cora.”

“You two know each other?”

“A long time,” Cora said. “Matthew
is Sheila’s son. He dated Vanessa for a while.”

My brows shot up. “Is that right?
I reckon you deserve a medal for that one, mate.” I slapped his shoulder
playfully.

An uncomfortable silence grew, as
Matt’s eyes flicked from me to Cora and back again. “So you two are … um …”

“Together? Yes,” I said.

His head bobbed as the
confirmation registered.

Cora picked up her purse from the
edge of the pool table. “Excuse me. I need to powder my nose.”

She’d have been better off
holding it, if the ladies’ smelled anything like the men’s. The stink of stale
piss was usually only endured by patrons wishing to powder their nose from the
inside.

“She scrubs up well. I almost
didn’t recognise her,” Matt said, watching her head bob down the corridor.

Without warning, a huge meat hook
of a hand slammed onto my shoulder. “Well look who decided to show his face.
Either you have a death wish or you’re here to return my cash.”

Fuck
. In my hurry to show
Cora my idea of a good time, the consequences of returning to the club hadn’t
even crossed my mind.

Steeling myself, I turned to face
the tattooed hulk who’d spoken. “Haven’t you already taken it in kind from my
brother?”

His top lip curled. “Sloppy job
that. They should have finished him off.” A finger jabbed into my chest. “Twenty-four
hours, three grand, right here, or that piece of ass,” he cocked a chin towards
Cora entering the bathroom, “gets to visit your grave instead of the piss pot.”

Matt leaned back, bracing himself
against the pool table, totally unfazed. “That sounds suspiciously like a death
threat to me, mate.”

“What’s it to you?”

“It’s against the law. Couple the
threat with a GBH and you’re looking at ten to life, if memory serves.” He held
eye contact and took a slug of his beer.

“Dumbass cops don’t give a shit
what goes down here.”

“There’s a badge in my pocket just
itching to test that theory, so I suggest you leave my friend here alone, and
crawl back into your den, or I’ll know where to send the boys.”

Tattooed Guy assessed Matt and
turned to me snarling. “Fuck this bullshit. Your poxy pot and piss-ant brother
ain’t worth the hassle.”

I let go of my breath, as he knocked
my shoulder on his way past, and I watched him disappear down the same corridor
as Cora had.

Matt pushed back to standing. “You
never told me your brother had taken a beating. When was that?”

“Um … a week last Tuesday.”

“Why didn’t you report it?”

“He’s fine. It wasn’t a big
deal.”

“Want me to ask around? Add it to
our list of enquiries?”

“Nah. That’s okay, dude. It’s
better left.”

“Fair enough.” Matt cocked his
head in the direction Tattooed Guy had gone. “You owe that scumbag money?”

“No. I won it fair and square.”

“Ah, an unlucky victim of the
back room. You lose even when you win.”

“You know what goes down here?”

“Sure. This club’s been on our
radar for months, but we’re more interested in the drugs racket that your mate and
his gang are running. We got a tip-off a while ago about it. I came here
tonight to poke around a bit, check word hasn’t got out of what’s coming.”

“Which is?”

“Let’s just say, if all goes to
plan, they won’t be throwing their weight around for much longer.” He placed
his bottle on the wall ledge. “Take my advice and stay away from this place for
a while.”

Cora returned to my side. “And why
would you be advising that, Matthew?”

“Health hazard,” he improvised. “Too
much time here, not good for the lungs, you know.”

She nodded. “I do feel a little
woozy.”

I took that as my cue, and
smacked her ass playfully. “Better get you home to bed, then.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Following Matt’s advice, I played
it safe and stayed away from the club. Life settled into a pleasant routine,
and with my leaflets generating a few more phone calls, I was kept busy most
days. Cora stuck to her daily activities, and when I got the chance, between
jobs, I joined her on her daily run—more for peace of mind than fitness. Letting
her out of my sight became harder every day. It often turned into a race which
I even let her win, occasionally. Our evenings were spent slobbing on the sofa;
with me channel hopping the TV and Cora with her head nestled on my lap and her
nose stuck in her latest literary find. Life was good.

I saw Kendrick only a handful of
times. College term was over, and even though I had no idea how he was spending
his days, he ensured me he was keeping out of trouble, and took pleasure in
telling me, more than once, that being with Cora was turning me into an old man
who should butt out of his business. Unless I caught wind of his desire to
pursue his interest in the street racing scene, that was precisely what I
intended to do.

My only worry was Pappa. He’d
made it out into the garden, one cloudy day, to deadhead a few flowers, but
inside the house, a layer of dust was creeping over the surfaces, and because
it appeared not to bother him, it bothered me. A lot.

Everything changed when Nessie finally
made an appearance.

I heard her before I saw her. The
argument with her mother was louder than the electric saw I was using to cut
the wood for the pergola. I downed tools and listened, undecided if I should
intrude on their mother daughter reunion. Considering the decibels emitting
from the kitchen, it wasn’t a happy one, and if I thought Kendrick had given me
an ear bashing over our relationship, it was nothing compared to the one Cora
was receiving.

“It’s embarrassing, Mum. It’s bad
enough that you’ve shacked up with the gardener, but he’s young enough to be my
brother. How would you feel if I started seeing one of Dad’s friends?”

“That’s hardly the same thing,
Vanessa. And we’re not … shacking up.”

“You could have fooled me. He’s
here more than I am.”

That part was true, even if the
shacking up wasn’t. I flicked the switch on the extension lead and stepped over
it onto the path. My feet hit the steps two at a time, and I stopped short of
the door with my fingers lingering over the handle, half of me needing to sick
up for my woman, the other half imagining Nessie’s nails scraping down my
cheek.

“Speaking of which, I don’t
appreciate your disappearing without a word,” Cora said.

“I needed space.”

“You may be eighteen, but I still
deserved to know where you were.”

“I was angry.”

“Clearly, your break doesn’t seem
to have changed that fact.”

“What did you expect? You’ve made
us the laughing stock of the neighbourhood.”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. If
people were talking, I would know.”

If people weren’t already
talking, they would be soon. There was probably already a bunch of eager
eavesdroppers gathering on the front street, popcorn at the ready.

“No, you wouldn’t. You live in
your own little bubble of perfection. Life exists outside of there, you know.”

“I realise that, but I’m happy
with my bubble, and like it or not, Johnny is part of it now. Can’t you two
just get along, to please me?”

“Yeah, because that’s what I live
for.”

Cora shouldn’t be spoken to like
that; she deserved more respect. Nessie was being a brat. Fuck it. I had to
face her sooner or later. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. “Hello,
Nessie. It’s nice to see you home.”

“Home? Home?” She whirled around
and slammed her hand on the kitchen table. “This is not your home. This is my
home. Don’t think for one minute you’re wheedling your money-grabbing self into
this house.”

I held up my hands, readying to
defend from the nails. “It’s not like that.”

“Okay then. How is it? Tell me.
I’m all ears.”

“I can’t explain. Your mother and
I … well … none of it was planned. It just happened.”

“Someone like you wanting someone
like her doesn’t just happen. There’s always a motive, and the only one I can
come up with is money.”

Realising Nessie’s aggression
only came from her mouth, my hands slowly lowered. “Other than being paid for
the work I do, your mother’s money has never entered my mind.”

“Sure, it has. I’ve heard the
rumours.”

“What rumours?”

“You’re a gambler.”

“So?”

“So, you’re trouble.”

“Since when did enjoying a game of
cards make me trouble?”

“Since you got your brother
beaten up.”

“Says who?”

Cora laid a hand on her daughters
arm. “Vanessa, what are you saying?”

“Mum, you have to get rid of him.
He’s bad news.”

Where did Nessie get off, lumping
me in with the troublemakers in town? I had no desire to cause Cora any more
stress, but I had to defend myself. “You’ve got it all wrong. I haven’t done
anything.” I hoped.

“Oh, really. That’s not what I
heard.”

“Yeah? What exactly have you
heard?”

“Do I have to spell it out?”

“Actually … yes.”

“Fine. Jess’s friend, Lisa, is
friends with another girl called Yvonne, and her boyfriend, Rhys, hangs around
the racing scene with Barbie. Apparently, Barbie doesn’t like your brother too
much, since he started spending time with his girl.”

Geez, did she ever take a breath?
“Wait. Barbie’s a guy?”