Authors: Darren G. Burton
Ryan still couldn’t believe he’d walked right into her
verbal trap.
“But what sort of a future is there working in a clothing store?” he said.
“Probably more of a future than you have working as a pretend cop. Half the time you’re unemployed.”
“I’m not unemployed. It’s a business. Sometimes business is slow. It can happen to any business.” He selectively chose to ignore the ‘pretend cop’ remark.
“The way your business is going, you’d make more money on the dole.”
“I just finished a job that made a few thousand.”
“Well, that’s a first.”
“Hardly.
Do you hate living here with me that much?” he asked her earnestly.
“Until now I haven’t really had a choice, have I. But that may change now that I’ve got a fulltime job.”
He changed the subject. “The house might be selling soon. I spoke to the agent today and she sounded pretty confident about some leads she has.”
Chelsea’s features darkened. “I still don’t know if I want to sell Mum and
Dad’s house.”
“We need the money.”
“No,” she said firmly. “
You
need the money. If it wasn’t for you that house wouldn’t even be on the market. Mum and Dad and me would still be living in it.”
“What’s that supposed to me
an, ‘if it wasn’t for me’? Surely you’re not blaming me for their deaths now?”
“Now?” she
was incredulous. “I’ve always blamed you. I’ve just never said it to your face before.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” Ryan started to pace the room out of frustration.
“I’m just as devastated by their deaths as you are. How could you possibly blame me for what happened? They had a car accident, pure and simple.”
“Yeah, while rushing down here to see you, Ryan. That’s why they were driving down in that storm, because you’d conned Dad into getting involved in some half-arsed business idea
, and you needed his signature on that bank loan application in such a Goddamn hurry. Why couldn’t you have just waited another day?”
“I had to get in quick or we’d miss out,” Ryan said and hung his head.
“Well, we all missed out in the end, didn’t we, Ryan? We lost our fucking parents, crushed under the weight of an eighteen wheeler truck.”
“It was an accident, Chelsea.”
She eyed him with absolute contempt. “Yeah, it was an accident, but one they would have avoided if it wasn’t for your impatience.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“The hell I don’t!” She picked up her handbag and a cold sausage from her uneaten dinner. “I’m going out, big brother. Why don’t you do us all a favour and go jump off that balcony over there.”
With those words she
stormed out, making sure she slammed the door hard behind her for emphasis.
Ryan shook his head in utter bewilderment. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He felt on the verge of tears and wasn’t sure if it was from frustration, or guilt, or the fact that his baby sister - someone he’d been so close to while they were growing up - hated him that much that she wanted him dead. Bleary-eyed, he looked out at the fuzzy lights of Surfers Paradise and felt them beckoning
to him, drawing him outside.
Ryan stepped
onto the balcony.
Chelsea was determined to put the issues with her brother aside tonight and have some fun. Maybe she’d been a bit harsh just now, but who the hell did he think he was? A replacement for her Mum and Dad?
As s
he walked into town she received countless whistles of approval from males driving past in cars. Even guys walking by on the footpath couldn’t help but openly ogle her. The attention made her smile. She really enjoyed men finding her attractive and sexy. It gave her chills of excitement and made her feel alive. Not to mention the confidence boost.
She never glanced back at her apartment building as she headed up Elkhorn Avenue. With all the attention she was getting, her altercation with Ryan was already forgotten about. From her handbag she took a pack of cigarettes, lit
one with a cheap plastic lighter and inhaled with satisfaction. Chelsea puffed away all the way to Cavill Mall before flicking the butt into the gutter. The plan was to meet up with her friends at Macca’s, so she made a beeline for the top end of the mall near the beach.
Town was fairly quiet on a Monday night, but there were still quite a few people around; especially in the restaurants and fast food outlets. Chelsea stepped around a group of little kids and skirted a crowd of onlookers enthralled by the antics of a street performer. The man was currently juggling three swords whil
st precariously balancing on a unicycle.
“The things people do,” Chelsea quipped and strode along the mall.
When she neared
McDonald’s
she spied her best friend, Emma, standing outside playing around with her mobile phone. Chelsea’s own phone buzzed. When she checked it she saw that it was a text message from Emma saying:
Where are you?
“I’m right here
!” Chelsea called out to her friend.
Emma grinned when she saw her, her pale green eyes lighting up. The girl was dressed scantily just like Chelsea, only her top and skirt were both black, as was her nail polish and lipstick. Her shoulder-length
, raven hair added to the overall dark theme. However, her skin was naturally very pale and contrasted rather starkly with the black. Emma always looked underweight, even though she ate more than most of the guys they hung out with.
As Chelsea gave her friend a quick greeting hug, Emma’s phone beeped. When she checked it a rather forlorn look crossed her features.
“Rachel’s not coming,” she reported. “Has to work the night shift at Pizza Hut.”
“What about Dean?” Chelsea said.
Emma shook her head and Chelsea felt tinges of disappointment seep through her. She’d been looking forward to seeing him tonight. They’d been friends for years, but just recently she’d started to develop romantic feelings for him. The feelings weren’t strong, but they were definitely there.
“Don’t look so devastated,” Emma told her. “Dean’s a mate. He’s like a brother. I really don’t think you should go there. If you want a boyfriend, find someone fresh and new and exciting. Dean’s just, well...Dean. Do you know what I’m sayin’, girlfriend?”
Chelsea shrugged and reluctantly decided that her friend might be right.
Emma said, “Let’s get some food. I’m starved.”
They went into
McDonald’s
and lined up in one of four lines behind about five other people. When they were served, Emma opted for a Quarter Pounder Meal while Chelsea got a Chicken Caesar Wrap and a Coke. They found a free table outside right on the edge of The Esplanade. The sound of the nearby surf pounding on the beach could be heard when there was a break in the slow-moving traffic.
“How come you weren’t at school today?” Emma asked between bites on her burger. She washed it down with a mouthful of Coke, then immediately took another bite while waiting for Chelsea to reply.
“I’m thinking of quitting,” Chelsea said, contemplating her wrap, but not yet having taken a bite.
“You’re what?”
Chelsea went on to inform her friend of the offer of a fulltime job at
Threads
.
“I want to earn money. I’m sick of school.”
Emma made a face. “But we’re almost finished. There’s only a month to go.”
“You sound like my brother.”
“Well, if that’s what he told you, then he’s right. Ryan’s not such a bad guy.” She grinned wickedly then. “And he’s kinda cute.”
“Don’t even think about going there,” Chelsea warned.
“He’s single, isn’t he?” She was still grinning.
“Emma. That’s gross. He’s my brother.”
“But he’s not
my
brother.”
“Emma!”
“Okay, okay. I get it. Ryan’s off the menu. I’m just stirring you, anyway. But back to the school thing. Can’t you just hang in there for one more month?”
Chelsea shrugged and ate some of her dinner. She spoke with her mouth full. “I don’t feel like I can go through all those end of year exams. Just thinking about it gives me a headache.”
“Then don’t think about it.”
“How can I not think about it?”
They ate the rest of their meal in silence, their wandering eyes checking out the guys that walked by solo, in pairs, or in groups.
“That one’s cute,” Emma said after swallowing her last mouthful of fries.
“Nah.” Chelsea shook her head.
“You and I have different taste, girlfriend.”
“Yep. I don’t fancy Ryan for starters.”
“That’d be a bit hard in your situation,” Emma pointed out the obvious, “but if he wasn’t your brother
, you might think differently.”
“No I wouldn’t,”
Chelsea was adamant. “He’s twenty-five. That’s like middle-aged, almost.”
Emma laughed, almost choking on her Coke. “Bet he’d just love to hear that.”
Chelsea was still peeved with Ryan. “I don’t wanna talk about my brother anymore.”
“Okay.” Emma stood up. “Then let’s go for a walk and have a smoke. We can talk about my
eighteenth birthday party.”
Leaving their rubbish on the table, the girls walked across the street and onto a pathway that followed the line of the beach. Floodlights lit up the sand at the end of the mall. A few people sat down there. Others wandered around at the water’s edge. The sound of the surf was quite loud, but soothing at the same time. The girls lit a smoke each and leaned on a
handrail to gaze out over the beach.
Emma said, “Friday night at the Broadbeach Community Centre. Make sure you’re not working. We start at eight. My parents will be there obviously, since they organized the thing. I’ll be allowed to drink, but if you want alcohol, you’ll have to sneak a drink outside. Maybe afterwards a few of us can come into town and go to a club.”
“Sounds really good,” Chelsea said. “I need something to look forward to.”
Toby Matthews squinted his eyes against the rancid smoke as he placed more wood on the campfire. Twigs crackled and snapped as they burned, the flames painting Toby’s face and arms in hues of red, orange and yellow. He hung a can of water from a stick he had propped up over the fire, the ends of the stick resting in the forks of two other sticks he’d jammed into the earth. The water sizzled quickly from the heat and would soon be boiling. Then he could have himself a nice cup of tea.
Camping was prohibited where he was and fires were strictly forbidden. But he didn’t care. He’d been on this earth for quite a while now and all the modern rules and regulations were a personal pet hate of his. He actually enjoyed bending and breaking the rules, at least in small ways like he was tonight.
Behind him he’d hitched up a small, two-man tent. The nylon was blue in colour with mesh closing in the doorway. He lived in nearby Canungra and he’d walked to his location. He needed to get out into the wilderness once in a while and he enjoyed the exercise it gave him. At sixty-two he was still very fit, but only because he made a concerted effort to stay in shape and not get lazy. Strangely, since his wife passed away two years ago, he seemed to enjoy solitary time more and more. In recent months he’d become a real loner. Some would say it wasn’t a healthy existence, but Toby relished it. Times like this invigorated him and it also made him somehow feel closer to Margaret; like he was connecting with her on some kind of earthy level. It was hard to explain, but he knew what he was feeling.
He checked on the water just in time to see it start to boil. Holding a grimy rag in his leathery hand, Toby removed the c
an from the flames and dropped a Lipton teabag into it. Then he sat back and jiggled the draw string, releasing the succulent aroma of fresh tea.
The night was clear and the stars w
ere like a carpet of fine jewels against the blackness above him. He scanned back and forth, admiring the heavens and wondering what it would be like to be up there in one of those space shuttles. Those astronauts had the life. Big money, exciting journeys into outer space. How did one get a gig like that? he pondered.
When the tea was brewed he added half a sugar for taste and just a dash of milk. The mix was stirred with a stained spoon, then he held the cup in both hands and brought it to his lips for a sip. It was delicious.
From his pocket he removed a rather crumpled cigar. He bit off the end, jammed it between his yellowed teeth and lit it with a stick from the fire. He tossed the burning stick back into the coals and puffed tenaciously on the cigar to get it burning nicely. The flavour was strong and pungent, but he liked his cigars that way. Some people just puffed on them. Toby preferred to draw back on cigars like a cigarette. To him that was the only way to smoke them. He took a long drag, then chased it down with a sip of tea.