Chasing Storm (7 page)

I watch the scene behind the curtain as he makes his way out to the men. A large, stockish individual comes forward with hand extended, but Storm swats it away. He looks pissed.

They start talking in a highly animated way. Storm prods into Stocky Guy’s vest twice and the others close in around him, but Stocky Guy holds up a hand and they move away. He spits at the ground and prods Storm back.

He turns and they mount back onto their motorcycles, clouds of dust swirling up into the air as they take off at full speed from the property.

The front door slams as Storm enters the house. He’s furious.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Who were those men?”

“I said, don’t worry about it!”

I flinch back and he extends his hands, coming forward. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. He takes my elbows and guides my hands around his waist, pulling me close. “They’re just old friends of Dad’s, that’s all.”

“They didn’t look very friendly.”

“They’re not, but don’t worry, okay? It’s fine, really.”

I nod and he leans in to kiss me.

I can’t resist him.

The kitchen, the laundry – we mark almost every room with our bodies.

There’s a pervading sense of déjà vu when I wake.

The shower’s running again, Storm nowhere to be seen.

Automatically I reach for my cell.

The screen explodes with missed calls and messages, mostly from Mom and Dad, but the odd one from Dan to mix it up.

I scroll through them.

Want to come over?

Busy?

And from the parentals:

Where are you?

Why aren’t you picking up? Getting worried. Call us.

From Jemma:

Call me, hon. Your parents have gone mental.

I feel like I’m eighteen again sneaking off to be with Tim.

I place my phone back on the side table. I don’t have the energy to deal with them right now.

The phone buzzes again, but there are no new messages.

The same buzz comes once more. I realize it’s coming from the side table on Storm’s side of the bed.

I lean over and find his phone vibrating its way close to the precipice between the table and mattress.

“Storm,” I call out, “your cell,” but he can’t hear me over the shower.

I reach over and take the phone, but my throat tightens when I see ‘Lisa’ on the screen.

I can’t help it. My finger slides up and the message is revealed.

Wet and horny. Should I cum over? Xx

I throw the phone down.

Lisa.
There’s only one I know of in Rosie.

No. A fucking booty call, with the girl who tormented me all through high school?

I get up, pulling my jeans on. I get the hell out of there, unable to scrub the image of that stupid bitch spreading herself all over him.

I hold back tears as I turn the ignition of my car and take off, road blurring before my eyes as I try to shake the thought of her with him from my head.

Out of all the girls in Rosie, why her?

I’m halfway back to town when I see him in the rear-view burning up behind me in just his jeans.

He pulls up beside the car and I press the accelerator harder. It’s useless. He squeezes the throttle and keeps up easily.

He taps against the window. “Alice!”

I look ahead, wiping a tear from my eye.
Just go the fuck away.

“Alice, pull over!”

He pulls away ahead, hammering up the road and then suddenly swerving right in front of me, bringing the bike to a halt.

I hit the brakes hard, tires squealing as my car slides right up to him in a wash of smoke and burnt rubber.

I jump out of the car manic. “What the fuck!”

He stands and I slam him in the chest with both hands. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”

“I knew you’d pull up in time.”

“I should have run you over.”

“You saw the text. I get it, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Do you know who she is? The kind of hell she gave me at school?”

“No, I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

“You’re really screwing her, of all people?”

“No, and, like I said, I’m sorry, but honestly, I didn’t know. This is a small town, Alice. I have… needs.”

“Needs? Is that what you call it? Is that all I am, just another booty call, a wet pussy you can slip your dick into whenever you want?”

He runs his hand through his hair, his abs still wet from the shower. “It’s different with you. Lisa and I, that was just sex, and a long time ago. I ignore her texts now.” He holds his phone up. “I’ve deleted her, look, but you and me.”

“What?” I push him. “What are we?”

He’s flustered. “I don’t know, but not that.”

“Not good enough,” and I go to get back in the car until his hand comes around my arm and holds me back.

“You’re the first girl I can see myself being with long term.”

I pause. “That might not be enough. You’re not my type. You are wrong for me. God, if my parents found out…”

He laughs. “What are you, twelve?”

I punch him hard in the shoulder. It’s like granite. “I’m serious. Why should I be with you? Give me one good reason.”

He steps forward and kisses me, my lips parting to take his tongue and his arms snaking around my back to pull me towards him.

Good answer.

It takes everything I have to cleave myself away and get back in the car. “Look, I just need some time to process it all, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods.

I watch him walk back to his bike. His face gives nothing away. I’m more confused than ever, blood coursing hot through my body and the juncture between my legs tender with need and desire.

He starts the bike and hooks around me. I watch him go in the side mirror until he falls over the horizon.

I turn the key and drive off, mind filled to the brim with conflicting emotions, the ghost of his lips lingering.

Mom’s on my case as soon as my keys hit the kitchen table. “Where have you been, Alice? We’ve been worried sick.”

“I’m not a teenager any more, Mom. I don’t have to be in bed by eight, you know.”

“Were you at Dan’s?”

I make the mistake of drawing eye contact with her. She’s impossible to lie to. “No, Mom. I was not at Dan’s.”

I see just a hint of disappointment there. No doubt she’s mapped out our entire lives right down to the lime booties she’s going to knit our babies. “We just worry, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry, Mom, seriously. I can handle myself.”

She nods, it’s enough, and totters off.

Dad’s watching football in the den. He switches it off as soon as I come in, but he isn’t quick enough. The ghost of
him
still lingers on the blackness of the screen.

“Sorry, baby, I didn’t know you were home.”

“It’s fine, Dad. I can’t avoid him my whole life.”

“If he were here, I’d-”

“You’d what, Dad? Knock him out with kindness?”

“You know I’d do anything to protect you.”

I take a seat on the sofa with him, a little alarmed at the way it instantly morphs to my ass. “I know, Dad. You’re just looking out for me, but like I just told Mom, I can handle myself.”

He holds my shoulder, looking me right in the feels. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

*

Jemma arrives in her cockroach of a car just after morning tea. “Get in.”

“Where are we going?”

“Wait and see.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”

“We like surprises around here, Alice. It’s pretty boring otherwise.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it boring at all.”

We pull up at the old skate bowl we used to haunt as semi-alternate teenagers. We’d come out here to the outskirts of town and sit on top of the bowl, watching the clouds and odd boy that wandered down with deck in hand.

The place hasn’t fared well. Dust coats everything. The playground next door is more jungle than metal.

We sit together just like we used to right on the edge and dangle our feet down. In the bottom of the bowl a pool of water has collected that could well hold new lifeforms.

I lift my feet slightly. “Ew.”

Jemma laughs. “Yeah, not exactly the cool hangout spot I remember, but hey. I still come here, you know.”

“You do?”

“To think. It helps.”

I’ve been so caught up in my own drama I haven’t even stopped to ask Jemma about her life. She does have one, after all. “You want to talk about it?”

“I envy you,” she says, kicking her heels against a line of graffiti that reads
Cocksuck Idaho!
.

“Why in god’s good name would you envy
me
?”

“Your life is exciting. You moved away to the city, all Miss Super Writer and crap. I’d see you in the papers and magazines, and be like ‘wow, she has made it’.”

“That’s the thing about the media. It’s all a lie.”

“You weren’t happy?”

“At first. It was crazy, you know? I’d just come out of college and here was this big famous footballer buying me drinks at the bar. We dated. He was fun. It was exciting. Every door was open. It’s how I got the writing gig in the first place.”

I take a deep breath before I continue. “When I started piecing it together – the other girls, the drugs – it started to fall apart. It was just one lie after another, and when I called him on it…”

“Say it,” Jemma pushes.

“He hit me.”

“Say it louder.”

“He hit me okay! He fucking hit me and it hurt like hell.” My nose runs. I wipe it with the back of my hand, snot and salty tears and everything mixing together on my face. Fuck I’m a mess.

Jemma pulls me close. “But you got away. That’s the main thing. You’re here and you’re safe.”

“Am I? Every time I see Storm it feels like I’m stepping off a cliff again.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Is it? We all know what happens. You fall and then, bam, Humpty Dumpty.”

I sniffle, choking back sobs and trying to erase the image of that fist hurtling towards me, the crunch of it against my eye socket, the flash of camera bulbs, clubs, the coke… everything.

I take a deep breath. “He’s seeing Lisa, or at least he was. She sent him a booty call while I was over there.”

“Yeah.”

“You knew?”

“I know Lisa gets around. Is that really any surprise?”

“But of all the girls in Rosie, Jem. I mean, come on. It’s just cruel. He’s fucking the one girl who made my life hell.”

“
Was
fucking,” Jemma corrects.

“That’s not making it better.”

“What did he say about it?”

“What you’d expect, that I had the wrong idea, that he wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Maybe he’s telling the truth.”

“Maybe you’re defending him.”

Jemma holds her hands up. “Hey, I don’t think he’s as bad as everyone makes out. I don’t think a lot of Millertown people are. You can’t just tarnish them all with the same brush.”

“Perhaps.”

“How does he make
you
feel?”

I actually smile, a ray of sun breaking through the sun shower. “Amazing. Alive… Sexy.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

It’s a very good question. Am I overreacting?

Jemma’s nodding.

“I didn’t say anything.”

She taps the side of her nose. “But I know what you are thinking, and Dan?”

Dan and Jemma are good friends, which has always been a danger, but I know she would never go ‘there’ without speaking to me first, especially since recent events.

“Hmm,” I start, “Dan. He’s great.”

“Great? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Perfect, okay? He’s hot, he’s stable, he’s everything a girl could want.”

“But?”

“But, I don’t know. As good as it was with him that night, I can’t stop thinking about Storm. It’s insane.” I tap the side of my head. “You’d think I’d know how to use this thing by now.”

“Dan’s got issues too, you know.”

“PTSD, right?”

Jemma looks genuinely surprised. “How’d you know?”

“I found a letter at his place for an appointment with some vets association.”

“You were snooping around his place?”

“No! Not snooping. It was just there, right in front of me. Is it bad?”

“He’s made a lot of progress. When he got back he didn’t leave the house for months, but being back on the job’s been good, I think. It gives him something to focus on. He’s really started to clean things up.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”

“He’s really into you, you know.”

“Yes, I realize that.”

“So, you can’t string him on if you really want to be with someone else.”

I hold my head. “I know, I know. It’s killing me, Jem. It really is.”

The sky is a bright dome overhead. I swing my legs back and forth. “There was a picture of him with a girl, an army chick.”

“Amy.”

“Amy?”

“Yeah, they dated in Afghanistan. They were really close. I mean, about-to-get-married close.”

“What happened?”

“She was shot,” Jemma presses a finger into her chest, “right here. Died in his arms back at the base. He left a week later.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah, heavy stuff. I don’t know if he’d want me telling you all about it, but there you go.”

“I had no idea.”

Jemma nods. “I think that’s why he’s a little distant, you know? He doesn’t want to get hurt again.”

“I don’t want to hurt him. That’s the last thing I want to do.”

“But you might have to, and if you do I’ll be here for the both of you, whatever you decide.”

I still don’t know how I’ve managed to keep a friend like Jemma all these years, even after I ignored her calls and messages during those first few months with
him
. I barely remember any of it, snorting, VIP rooms… constant media scrutiny. How I managed to keep writing and hold down a job is a small miracle I was so buzzed.

I try to change the subject. “Anyhow, where’s your bad boy?”

“Oh, I’ve had more than my fair share, Al. Trust me on that.”

“Come on, give it to me.”

“I don’t think you can take it.”

“I went undercover for two months to investigate the New York swingers scene. I doubt whatever you get up to in the back streets of Rosie can come as any surprise.”

“As I said, we like surprises around here.”

“And what, no guy now?”

She rubs her belly and I cannot believe I didn’t pick up on it before. “You’re pregnant?”

She nods timidly. “Found out yesterday.”

I hug her, pulling her tight to me. “Wow, that’s amazing. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“You’ve got a lot going on.”

I hold her firmly by the shoulders. “I’ve always got time for you, Jem, you know that.”

She nods. “I do.”

“The father?”

She shrugs. “Just a blow-through. I didn’t even get his name.”

I can’t believe it. “Fuck him, we’re going to celebrate anyhow.”

“We are?”

“Oh yes.”

“I’ll probably have to cut back on the cowboys, huh?”

“Ah, yeah. You’re drinking and eating for two now.”

“Well, maybe three.”

I throw my hands up, mouth agape. “Twins!”

“Oh man.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

I’m happy for her. Jemma’s always been so good with kids, always wanted one to call her own. Father in the picture or not, I know she’ll make a great mom. I tell her this and she breaks down, both of us crying and blubbering until there’s not a single tear left in our systems.

“So,” Jemma says, wiping her face with the bottom of her T-shirt. Her belly is bared and I still cannot believe she’s carrying another two lives in there. “There’s this great band playing in Longsville tonight.”

I do the calculation. “That’s like, two hours away.”

“Plenty of time to talk.”

“It’s not Storm’s band, is it?”

“Hell no. I wouldn’t be so cruel. They’re from Chicago actually. No idea why they’re out all this way. Probably a pity stop.”

“Well, I’m in if you are.”

We place our hands on top of each other, Jemma smiling back at me. “Done. You’re driving.”