Max (4 page)

Chapter Six

Max

Watching Bluey’s car disappear down the
long slope of ‘Coronary Hill’, I felt a deep onset of unease.

Standing there with the dying remnants of a
dust cloud left in the wake of his car. Just me and a girl, standing on a hill,
a girl that was as good as a stranger to me, a girl I was responsible for.

With no time to prepare or even think about
how I was going to go about this new responsibility I had, I didn’t know
whether to play the good cop or the bad cop. I had seen the way Chris treated
his younger cousin Amy, with a stern, no-nonsense attitude that seemed to have
daily, heated arguments breaking out at the Onslow between the two equally
stubborn Hendersons. That wasn’t my style. I was more a lover not a fighter,
but seeing the very intent look Bluey had given me, and the very dominant
squeeze of his handshake, I didn’t think he would look too kindly of me being
the former. So bad guy it was. Who didn’t like a challenge, anyway?

I turned to Melanie, ready to lay out some
ground rules like I was Brad Pitt in
Fight Club
… but I paused. I could
see the light welling of tears in her eyes as she looked down the road; she
glanced at me and quickly turned away, pretending to be looking out at the
lake.

Shit. Tears. Anything but tears.

I took in a deep breath and scratched the
back of my head. I guess laying down the law would have to wait.

“Do you want a drink?”

That was the best I could muster. It was an
occupational hazard. When in doubt, offer a drink; it seemed to work for the
most part.

Her head turned, her gaze wary, as if she
was surprised by the fact I had spoken. It did nothing but make me feel like
shit. Regardless of us knowing each other in our younger days, it still didn’t
take away from the fact she had been as good as dumped here. If I felt uneasy
about my part in all this, surely she was not tap dancing about it either; her
expression in the bar said as much. Maybe for the next week we could form some
kind of alliance: don’t cause me any trouble with my job and I would cut her
some slack … just a little; I didn’t have a death wish.

“A drink?” she repeated as if
double-checking.

“Yeah, I can show you my mad skills,” I
said, trying to lighten the mood as I made the first step in moving back toward
the Onslow. She followed, curving her brow with interest.

“Mad skills?”

I smirked, forcing myself to bite my tongue
at the obvious smart-arse retaliation of there being an echo surrounding us,
but I thought better of it.

“Yeah, you know that movie
Cocktail
with Tom Cruise?”

Melanie’s head canted, as if to say
‘Ha-ha’.

“What?” I breathed out, trying to contain
my smirk. “It’s true.”

“Now this I have to see,” Mel countered,
taking the steps by my side, one by one.

“Ah, bugger,” I said grimacing. “I’m off
duty now.”

“You make it sound like you’re a police
officer,” she said, laughing softly, genuine. It was a nice surprise to hear it
as I pushed the door to the hotel open for her.

“Well, not too far from it actually. What’s
the saying? To protect and to serve,” I said, sweeping my hand in front of me
with an ‘after you’ gesture.

Aside from my life being turned upside down
within a few hours, I was relieved to find some things would never change, like
the heated standoff unravelling right before us. In the blue corner stood Chris
Henderson, co-owner and chief barman, broody, bossy, hard worker. In the red
corner stood Amy Henderson, younger cousin. Her father was the former publican,
and she was girlfriend to Chris’s business partner, Sean Murphy. I know we all
resided in a small town, but sometimes it was too bloody small.

“So that’s your final answer?” Amy sneered.

“Yep!” Chris said, lazily poking the ice
bucket with his spoon.

Amy scoffed, “You’re a real piece of work,
you know that?”

Chris sighed, as if completely bored by the
conversation, which only served to infuriate Amy more. It was like watching a
stick of dynamite hover near an open flame. In what wouldn’t be the first time,
I liked to infiltrate the scene, almost like the bucket of water. I learnt very
fast not to ask, “What’s wrong?” or “What are we talking about?” It just was
not worth it. So instead I played the ignorant card.

“Hey, Amy, have you met Melanie? She’s
going to be staying here for a bit.”

Amy blinked out of her murderous glare and
almost did a double take toward us, her brows lifting in surprise as if seeing
us for the first time. Once her eyes flicked between us, a small, genuine smile
spread across her face.

Bingo!

“Hi, I’m Amy.” She beamed, sticking out her
hand so fast it made Mel flinch before she tentatively took her hand to shake.
Mel’s slight uncertain glance my way was not lost on me, I knew what she was
thinking. Was this really the same girl who looked like she was about to stab
the barman with an ice pick?

Yep! Welcome to Onslow.

“So how do the two of you know each other?”
Amy’s eyes sparkled with speculation, as they danced between us with a certain
romanticised meaning. I worked to hit that on the head quick smart as I
laughed, shaking my head.

“It’s not like that. Mel’s a friend of the
family.”

“Oh.” Amy looked somewhat disappointed.

I went to share in the humour with Mel, but
my smile quickly faded when I took in the deep set of her brow, looking much
like she had when she found out she was staying here. Bloody hell, this was
going to be a long week. I inhaled, motioning for Chris behind the bar.

“Two Cokes, thanks, mate.”

“Actually … I’ll have a Lemon, Lime and
Bitters, thanks.”

I pushed down the urge to roll my eyes. I
was betting that if I said the sky was blue she would argue that it was green;
it was going to be like that.

“So, Mel, what brings you to Onslow?” asked
Amy.

I plunged a straw into her drink before
passing it to her, before working to take a long draw of my pot of Coke,
turning toward Mel with interest.

Yeah, what does bring you to Onslow,
Mel?

Waiting with the utmost intrigue, I
wondered how she might explain herself? I was dumped here by my old man because
of his inability to trust me seemed like a long shot.

Mel shrugged, glancing down and stirring
her drink. “I’ve never been to Onslow before, seems like a nice place for a
holiday.”

Her unexpected shyness made me feel less
smug about her being uncomfortable. Jesus Christ, I even found it quite …
endearing.

“I’d give it a week,” joked Chris from over
my shoulder.

Mel broke into a broad smile at Chris’s
words.

It wasn’t that funny.

“Well, we’ll have to show you the sights,
won’t we, Max? A beginner’s crash course to Onslow,” chirped Amy.

The unnerving glimmer of excitement in Mel’s
eyes was offset by the memory of her father’s parting death stare: the latter
would win every time.

“Oh, I don’t know if we’ll have time for
that,” I added. “Melba’s going to be showing Mel the ropes in the restaurant.”

“Whaaaat?” Amy breathed out in horror. “The
poor girl is here on holiday and you baboons have her working?”

“Baboons?” repeated Chris, an offended
scowl lining his face as his angry eyes flashed toward me.

Bloody hell, here we go.

Chapter Seven

Mel

In no uncertain terms I could tell that
Max wanted to strangle Amy; she had clearly hit a nerve, not only for him, but
very much for me too.

Bullied into staying (kind of) but more so
into ‘helping out’; I had never agreed to that, it was just an assumed thing,
lined up by the caveman who put me here.

So Max had made it oh so clear; he had been
pretty quick smart in clarifying ‘friend of the family’. As if the very thought
of anything else would be so horrifying. I tried to not let myself care, but in
the span of a few minutes he had managed to order me a drink, clarify my
standing, and volunteer me for work. Who the hell did he think he was, my
keeper? Oh wait, yes he was!

I could feel the anger churning my insides;
if I didn’t speak up now this was going to be an indication of what my time
would be like here. Regardless of how daunting all this was, I decided that
enough was enough.

“I would love to see Onslow with you, Amy,
that’s really kind of you,” I smiled sweetly.

Amy straightened her spine, seemingly
delighted in my appreciation. I could also tell she took the same amount of satisfaction
in putting the boys back in their place.

“Excellent! I gather you’re staying here?”
she asked.

“I am!”

“Cool, my room is at the end of the hall,
last door on the left; whatever you’re in, we’re practically neighbours,” she
said with a winning smile.

I could sense Max shift next to me. I could
almost envision the eye roll he was throwing to Chris over the bar as Amy and I
exchanged pleasantries; it gave me a certain amount of pleasure.

I continued my girly chitchat with Amy
while still ignoring Max by my side and instead enjoying the one thing I had
missed more than I realised.

A real-life female conversation: it was
something I hadn’t had since Miranda, my best friend, had been sent to boarding
school; I missed her. I had spent the last twelve months with my dad,
surrounded by shearers and farmers and it wasn’t exactly my idea of a good
time. I needed to just …
be a girl.

“So that’s settled then!” Amy said, jumping
off her stool triumphantly. “Tomorrow, I’ll give you a guided tour of Onslow.”

I wanted to clap my hands in excitement;
Amy was so adamant in her intent I don’t think Max dare deny her the right. I
didn’t look at him, but I could sense his displeasure in the stillness of his
frame next to mine. The one thing I could see was the way Chris stared past my
shoulder, his eyes deep set and serious, probably mirroring what Max looked
like right now, although it was hard to tell; I think Chris might have just
looked like this
all
the time.

Even if tomorrow turned out to be my one
and only opportunity to break away and hang with Amy, it would be worth it. I
already had a list compiling in my head in finding out the dynamics of this
little town of Onslow. Get an idea of what might have brought Max here, or more
importantly what made him stay, aside from the obvious aesthetics. The
glimmering mass of long stretching water nestled against an expansive lush,
green setting of hills. It was a far cry from the dusty, flat nothing of
Ballan. Maybe it was the draw of the town, or the friendships he had made, or
the job he kept, or maybe a girl he liked? Regardless of whatever the reason,
one thing that was for certain come tomorrow … I was going to find out.

***

Now I knew where I actually was, I dragged
myself up the stairs and toward what I now assumed was my room. Amy was the
very girl that had been on the landing, pressed up against a tall drink of
water I assumed was her boyfriend. They had disappeared in the room at the top
of the stairs and yet she had said her room was the last room on the left down the
hall. Who else lived up here, I wondered? I walked past the several doors that
were all closed; it was anyone’s guess what lay beyond. Who flanked me on
either side of my room? I wondered. The half-hearted tour Max had given us this
morning didn’t exactly go into the specifics which really ticked off my curious
nature. I felt like doing some detective work. I could always innocently, if
not quickly, open each door. If anyone was inside I could just do the old, “Oops,
sorry, wrong room”. The upstairs was deathly silent, it was my hope that
everyone would be out and about anyway.

I ever so gently wrapped my fingers around
the first door handle, pressing my ear to the wooden panelling. If there was
any sign of life inside I couldn’t hear it, at least I couldn’t hear over the
pounding of my heart; the tension was so intense I felt like I was about to
defuse a bomb or something.

Twist-twist-twist – push …

A room, granted, but this was a boy’s room,
definitely a boy’s room, not because it was messy or anything: the bed was made
with a military-style precision. There was a poster of Bruce Springsteen on the
wall and an overpowering smell of cologne in the air, but it wasn’t Max’s
cologne; nothing about this room felt as though it was his, not that I knew
exactly what to look for when it came to Max. I hardly thought his name would
be spelled out in wooden block letters on a door or anything, but still.

I shut the door quickly and quietly and I
moved past my room to the one down the very end of the hall on the right, the
one opposite Amy’s. The door was slightly ajar so all I had to do was merely
push it open, causing it to open up with a pained, unoiled hinge. This room
wasn’t so tidy. Clothes pooled around the edge of the bed, there was a
cluttered desk with keys, hair gel, sunglasses, opened envelopes and a packet
of gum. It was the exact opposite to the first room; surely this wasn’t Max’s
room, I grimaced, not that I exactly knew what kind of living arrangements he
would keep, but anytime I stayed at Miranda’s house I would always manage to
sneak past Max’s room toward the bathroom, ensuring a casual peek, and it was
never messy, not like this. I backed away from the room, thinking I had seen
enough. I didn’t need to inspect Amy’s room, and I didn’t dare inspect the room
at the end of the hall, where I guessed Amy’s boyfriend stayed. Instead, I just
headed for my room.

Ha! My room.

I actually had a room, no swag under the
stars of a dodgy, insect-infested cabin in a caravan park, or chain hotel. Sure
my room was in a pub, not much more glamorous, but one thing was looking up as
I closed the door behind me and circled slowly in the room that had nothing
more than a double bed, corduroy green chair in the corner and a sink in what
was a windowless room. All I could think of as I caught my smirk in the
reflection of the murky mirror was for the first time in a very long time:

I was very much alone.