Max (18 page)

Chapter Three

"We're here!" Dad sighed.

I love it how parents stated the obvious,
as if pulling into a driveway and turning the engine off wasn't a giveaway. And
of all the houses, in all the streets to pull up in front of, I was oh so happy
it was this one. I unclicked my door, slowly sliding out of the back seat, my
eyeline following the impressive Colorbond roofline of the second storey.

Large concrete drive, double automated
garage, and trees that were actually manicured into balls. Now that was
luxurious. Somehow, parking behind Aunty Karen's shiny Volvo station wagon in
our dust-covered Patrol with a bucket of chicken in hand definitely screamed
intruder. I would have let the feeling of unease consume me if it wasn't for
the high-pitched screams that were closing in on us.

"Oh my God. OH MY GOD!" Aunty
Karen charged out of the front door, arms outstretched.

I didn't have time to process the incoming
crazed aunty before I was mooshed with a big set of boobs in my face and
engulfed in a backbreaking bear hug. I needn't have worried about passive KFC
fumes, my eyes literally watered from the overpowering scent of Aunty Karen's
expensive perfume, splashed liberally in the abyss of her cleavage, no doubt.
Her gold bracelets jangled as she rocked me from side to side.

"Oh, look how you've grown," she
cried, pulling back only to cup my face and mush my cheeks in between her
meticulously manicured hands. "Oh, Jen, she could be a model," she
said, turning to Mum, who managed a pained smile.

Aunty Karen's eyes fell to the bucket of
chicken Mum was holding. "Oh, you brought KFC, how hysterical," she
said, laughing.

I could tell Dad was trying to avoid the
theatrics by busying himself with the luggage.

"Oh, Rick, don't trouble yourself with
that. Peter! Peter, come out here and help Rick," Aunty Karen called out.

There were two things I remembered in
particular about my Uncle Peter: one, he was very tall; two, he was not a
conversationalist. He was kind of like Mr Darcy, without an endearing happily
ever after.

My dad, who was equally tortured by Mum's
family, at least had the tact to disguise his sighs and inner burning contempt.

Uncle Peter Burnsteen did not. He emerged
from his lavish abode with a deep sigh and a weary expression. "Hello,
Jen." He managed a head nod to my mum. "Rick." Handshake.

I wasn't exactly a kid anymore, so a hair
ruffle would have just been plain awkward, but somehow I would have given
anything for that head rub instead of the mistimed half hug he gave me, only
for the button of his sleeve to snag in my hair as he pulled away.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, um, it's, um, stuck, bloody hell,
hang on a sec." He unravelled my hair and sidestepped away to help Dad
with the bags.

Nope. Nothing awkward about that.

Aunty Karen linked her arm through Mum's.
"I'm so happy you're here," she beamed.

As if reading my mind, Mum looked around.
"Where's Amanda?"

Aunty Karen's smile dimmed. "Oh."
She turned around, looking up at the top window. I followed her gaze in time to
notice there was a slightly parted curtain, which quickly fell back into place
as we looked up.

"She's on the computer. Peter, did you
tell Amanda to come down?"

Uncle Peter merely scoffed in reply as he
took a suitcase and walked back into the house.

Aunty Karen laughed as a way to disguise
her husband's lack of social graces. "Come on, let's get you inside."

Aunty Karen never drew breath as we walked
up the curving concrete path, past the ball trees, the immaculately kept
ankle-high box hedge and manicured lawn. She sported black heels that
click-clacked along the walkway and a figure-hugging charcoal dress with a
black belt fastened under her ample bosom; her blonde, curly hair was pulled up
into a French twist with enough hair lacquer to put a hole in the ozone layer.
Her lipstick was bright, bold like her smoky eyeliner and bronzer. Okay, so
maybe describing her makes her sound a bit like a circus clown, but Aunty Karen
was very glam and I think my mum felt it, too, because she handed me the
chicken bucket to carry. I walked behind her as we followed Aunty Karen to the
house.

Mum pulled at her cardigan, adjusted it
just like she had waiting outside the principal's office. I felt sad knowing
that she was feeling uncomfortable being led into her sister's home for the
first time, wearing a denim skirt and Diana Ferrari sandals.

I looked back at Dad, who was carrying the
last of my bags. He shook his head in dismay and I had to look away, fearing I
would burst into a fit of giggles and earn not one but two filthy looks from
the women in front.

We stepped into a large entrance hall, with
glossed white tiles that flowed through the entire living space. The first
thing that hit me was the large staircase with its wood and wrought iron
bannister. The second thing that snapped us to attention was the shrill
screaming.

"Amanda Nicole Burnsteen, get your
toosh down here this instant," Aunty Karen yelled to the great above.

There was a faint ringing in my ears – my
aunty's voice bounced off the walls of the large space – and I swear I saw the
floral arrangement vibrate. Yeah, there was a floral arrangement.

Uncle Peter sat with his arms casually
resting on the back of the couch, the king of the castle, as he watched cricket
on their humungous flat-screen. He didn't so much as acknowledge us as he
hissed and jeered at the TV, sipping his Crown Lager. It was the most animated
I think I had ever seen him.

Mum motioned with a not-too-subtle nod for
Dad to go over and do the man thing and bond over sports. Poor Dad. I could see
he would have much preferred to hang with us girls, until Aunty Karen clapped
her hands together with joy.

"I'll give you a tour of the
house."

"Um, yeah, I think I'll just check the
score." Dad rubbed the back of his head, stepping away from the luggage he
left by the door, and headed for the black leather couch to bond with Uncle
Peter.

I sipped on my Coke, sitting at the large
breakfast bar in the kitchen, finding it hard to imagine that this was going to
be my new home, that notwithstanding whatever lay beyond these doors, I, Lexie
(no middle name) Atkinson, was going to be chillin' in a two-storey mansion
with its own pool, and sea views from the top floor. Okay, so it was from their
master bedroom; still, the views were there and the beach was near, and that
was good enough for me. One of the rooms we hadn't ventured into on our tour
was Uncle Peter's study, and the one place I had wanted to go to most of all –
to see Amanda. But as Aunty Karen gave my mum the lowdown on the wallpaper they
had imported from abroad for the powder room, and the price of the Axminster
carpet in the master bedroom (Aunty Karen loved to name-drop price tags), we
had simply walked past the one closed door upstairs, the one I lingered near in
the hope that maybe Amanda might emerge.

And almost as if my wishful thinking had
willed it, Aunty Karen's voice broke off as we heard the distant thud of
footsteps coming down the staircase.

"Finally," she muttered, moving
from behind the breakfast bar and out into the lounge. "Amanda!" she
called out.

I tried to lean back on my stool, craning
my neck to see a figure appear at the bottom of the steps, but Aunty Karen's
body blocked the way.

"Amanda, come say hello." But
aside from footsteps and then the loud slamming of a distant door, there was
going to be no welcome party.

Aunty Karen breathed in deeply, readying
herself before she spun around with a brilliant smile.

"Is she all right?" Mum asked,
her uncertain gaze looking toward the direction of the slam.

"Oh, yes, she's just tired."
Aunty Karen waved her words away before clicking her heels along the tiles and,
without skipping a beat, picked up her conversation, explaining to Mum about
the marbled kitchen tops.

Maybe I wasn't as easily distracted or,
more to the point, couldn't care less about imported Italian marble, and as I
continued to look toward the direction in which Amanda had disappeared without
so much as a word, I couldn't help but feel a little … worried.

Aunty Karen must have taken in my troubled
expression – chewing on my bottom lip was a bit of a giveaway.

"I know!" she said, curving her
manicured brow and sharing a devious look between me and Mum. "Why don't
you go see Amanda? She's dying to see you, you just need to break the ice; I
mean, it's been so long."

My eyes flicked to Mum, who seemed to nod
her approval.

"I don't know … "

"Here." Aunty Karen spun around,
opening the pantry and grabbing a giant-sized packet of salt and vinegar Samboy
chips. "Take these to her and she will be a friend for life."

"Go on," mouthed Mum.

I thought about it for moment, before
allowing the giddiness to take over.

Stop being such a sook, Lexie. It's only
Amanda.

She was probably just as excited and
nervous as I was. Of course I would break the ice. We had so much catching up
to do, and I had so much to learn about this alien planet I had landed on.

I smiled, grabbing the chips with much
gusto.

I'm going in.

The hall was more like a wing – a long
extension into a separate part of the house – and having been given the grand
tour, it was clear that upstairs was the parents' retreat and down here was the
teenagers' domain. Even that in itself was really cool. Amanda's older brother,
Gus, had long since moved out and was off at uni, which basically left Amanda
an only child. With so much at your doorstep, I doubt there was ever a dull
moment in her life. I was bursting out of my skin to find out. The muffled beat
of loud music pounded through the door at the end of the hall. I wondered if
she would even hear me. I knocked gently at first, and then harder a moment
later.

"Amanda? It's me, Le–" Before I
even had a chance to finish my sentence, the bedroom door was whipped open. My
fist lingered in the air, my eyes widening as my senses were assaulted with the
ear-piercing noise – I think it was music – that was pouring out her room. But
more than that I stood, frozen, my catatonic gaze etching its way up and down
the girl who stood before me: tall, slender, with long flowing hair, heavy eye
makeup and a lip piercing. She wore a midriff top, exposing her pierced belly
button, and yoga pants low on her hips. The only recognisable part of her were
her big blue eyes. The very ones that were glaring down at me as she stood
there, her hip cocked to the side and her arms crossed. She raised her brows with
impatience, as if to say, "May I help you?"

Did she not recognise me? I hadn't changed
at all, not a bit. Taller, yes, but that was about it. I couldn't fathom the
body snatcher that stood before me. What had this creature done with my cousin?

My mouth gaped, trying to speak, to
construct a single sentence, but all I could manage was to hold up my peace
offering and croak, "Chip?"

Amanda scoffed, before snatching the packet
from my hands, tearing it open and shoving a chip into her gob, crunching
loudly. She looked at me, shaking her head in dismay. "Tragic," she
said through a mouthful of chips, before she laughed and stepped back into her
room, kicking the door shut with her foot.

I let out a breath, one I wasn't even aware
I was holding. I moved away from the door, pressing my back to the wall,
blinking rapidly as I tried to process what the hell just happened.

This was a definite game changer.

Join
Lexie and Luke for a steamy summer on the pristine Aussie beaches of Paradise
City.

Pre-order
the ebook now or buy the print edition from all good bookshops

from
April 28
^th
2015

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Book
Two in the Paradise series.

PARADISE
ROAD

Coming
August 28th 2015