Ridge Creek (11 page)

“Right,” I smile at her as my eyes follow hers to Jake.  He
lifts his eyebrows at me and smirks.

Continuing her inspection of Jake, Emma continues, “I taught
him to say Arianna on the way here.  He’s a fast learner.”  I watch as Jake’s
eye move to the parrot and Emma swings back to face me.  “Fuck he’s good
looking, please tell me he’s single.”

“Um, well… yeah… sort of, in a complicated way I suppose he
is,” I mumble not sure how I feel about announcing this to my best friend who
is now sporting a look of unadulterated carnal lust.

Narrowing her eyes at me, I watch as activity blazes behind
her eyes.  “Right.  Gotcha.  Off limits yeah?” 

Unable to develop words at the speed at which she assumes
something is going on between Jake and me, I find myself chewing my bottom lip
as my eyes swing back to Jake.  He’s grinning now, staring at me with a
devilish smirk that makes his green eyes flash and shows his perfect white
teeth. 

“You got a brother?”  Emma continues without hesitation,
swinging her attention back to Jake.

Swinging his eyes to Emma his lips quiver slightly but he
remains silent.

“Talkative aren’t we,” Emma announces as she suddenly
realizes she is still holding the big ass knife.   I say this because she
glances down at her hand, startles and then grins.  “I’ll take it!” She yells
with enthusiasm.

Glancing to the knife I ask, “What do you need a huge
hunting knife for?”

“To stab that mother fucker ex-boyfriend of yours up the ass
of course.  If he gets within a kilometer of you, I’m gunna hunt his ass down
and tear him a new one with my new big ass knife.”

That’s when Jake finally breaks the silence.  “That knife’s
a collector’s item.  It’s meant for shelf display.  It’s not really intended
for ass ripping,” he rumbles with clear amusement.

Snapping her eyes back to Jake, Emma asks, “Is the fucker
sharp?”

Jake nods and grins.

“Then I don’t give a fuck.”  Looking back to me she starts
grinning too.  “Now all I gotta find is a trendy knife sheath thingy that will
work with my new look and not get in Jambo’s way.  I’m going for a badass biker
slash pirate look, the knife will add character.”

*****

It’s my first Friday night in the communal room and it’s
packed.  Whether this is normal for a Friday night, I don’t know.  Whether it’s
a ripple effect of Emma being here, I don’t know.  I do, however, have my
suspicions. 

Suspicions based on how fast a bunch of badass bikers got
over the female invasion to their inner sanctum once they laid eyes on Emma. 
Me, they appeared to accept because they were under threat from Jake not to
upset me.  Emma however, they were all falling over themselves to impress,
because they
wanted
to.

Sitting at the bar between Eva and Emma (Eva returned as
promised), we are working our way through a bottle of tequila together.  Emma
was quick to embrace the biker woman ethos of no wine and tonight she plans to
test our limits on tequila shooters.  Always one to accept a challenge, she had
made a fast decision that we would learn to shoot the most disgusting, vile,
top-shelf alcohol there was. 

Tequila.

It tastes like crap and it burns like sin as it goes down. 
It also doesn’t take many shots to get a buzz.  Perfect.

So we are buzzing, I am relaxing and we are having a great
time.   This is partially because of the great company (Eva and Emma) and
partially because of Jake’s close proximity.

Jake is once again sitting on the other side of the bar from
us.  He is freshly showered and his silky black hair is still damp and clinging
slightly to the sides of his face.  He is wearing dark blue jeans, a plain
black t-shirt and a kickass, black leather motorbike jacket with an offset zip
down the front. 

The jacket is
cool. 

So cool that I plan to order a female version online as soon
as I can.

Slightly distracted by Jake, my attention draws back to Eva
as she shrieks, “Jambo!  Here it is.”  Eva has been Googling the meaning of
Jambo.  The parrot says his name constantly.  To everyone and everything.   

Looking across the room to watch as Jambo struts himself up
and down the edge of the pool table she announces, “It’s Swahili for hello!”

Glancing at the annoyed glares Jambo is getting from the two
bikers using the pool table, I turn back to Emma grinning.  Emma grins back at
me for a beat and then we start our latest wave of riotous laughter.  I laugh
so hard that my ribs hurt.   Trying to control my laughter I take a huge breath
while I announce, “You called your parrot ‘hello’?”

She stops laughing for a moment, pushes out a huge loud,
“Hah!” and starts laughing again.  I can’t help myself and follow suit, banging
my hands on the bar as I let rip.

It is not long into this latest round of roaring laughter
that I hear a familiar loud, rumbly, “Jesus,” grunted from behind us.  Flicking
my eyes to Jake, I grin as I watch his eyes move over the top of my head before
his face breaks into a wide smile as he greets his brother. 

“Brother, seriously.  You sticking to the story you found
her lying on the side of the road?” Zane continues as he rounds the bar and
settles himself on a stool next to Jake.  Settling his vivid blue eyes on me, I
grin at him as he flashes me a warm, friendly smile. 

And then I watch as his smile fades to confusion when his
eyes slide to my right and settle on Emma.  Scrunching his brows together he
says, “And then she phoned a fuckin’ good-looking friend?”

I hear Jake chuckle as he leans over to grab his brother a
beer from the bar fridge behind him as he says, “Yeah.”

Sliding the beer in front of his brother, I watch as Zane’s
eyes stay locked on Emma.  Picking the beer up slowly and taking a long pull I
can see a
lot
of activity happening behind his eyes.  It is at this
point that I realize that Emma and Eva have silenced.

Flicking my eyes briefly to Eva on my left I see she is
staring at Emma.  Slicing my eyes back to Emma I find myself grinning.  She is
sitting stock-still, staring openmouthed at Zane. 

Speechless.

I grin because I have only ever witnessed one other event in
Emma’s life that left her lost for words.  It had been when she was having her
photo taken with Chad Kreuger at a Nickelback concert.   She had been babbling
excitedly as we waited in line for her turn.  She had even been babbling
excitedly as she moved into position in front of the background poster like all
the other people had done before us.  It was only when he’d slid his arm around
her waist for the photographer that she’d finally gone into shock and clammed
up.  The photo turned out hilarious because the look of shock on her face was
similar to the one I was seeing now.    I have never let her live that one
down.  Her one shot at a great photo with Chad and she poses in a stupid,
openmouthed gawk.

Leaning close to her ear I whisper, “The brother.”

Startling suddenly, I watch as she breaks from her stupid
looking trance and swings her eyes to me.  “That’s the fuckin’ brother of the
guy who picked you up off the side of the road?”

I nod. 

She grins.

Jake laughs.

Zane mutters, “Fuck me,” and then takes another pull on his
beer.

“
Please...
” Emma murmurs as she swings her eyes back
to Zane.

Zane smiles. 
Big.

Eva cuts in loudly.  “Dingo, get your ass over here and show
me some lovin’.  The sexual tension at this fucking bar is setting me off.”

We start laughing as Dingo looks up from a table where he is
sitting with Bill.  He’s on the move towards Eva within a heartbeat.

*****

It’s late. 

I’m drunk.

Not just a bit drunk.  Blotto drunk.

Leaning forward with my head on the bar, I am facing to my
right, staring into Emma’s stormy gray eyes.  She’s drunk too.   Her head is
also on the bar, turned to her left so she can stare back at me.  Neither of us
can sit up.  We are definitely not able to walk to our rooms. 

We’ve been communicating this to each through short bursts
of conversation interspersed with long periods of drunken staring.    A short
while ago, we both decided that this could be a problem.

I am vaguely aware the place is much quieter than it was
earlier.  Many of the bikers have gone home.  Eva left over an hour ago after
passing out at the bar.  Dingo carried her out  the door firefighter style,
slung over his back. 

“This is more fun than feeding starving children in Sudan.” 
Emma mumbles softly as she continues to stare at me through half shut eyelids. 
“I think.”

I consider her words slowly wondering why she is referencing
starving children in Sudan.  And then I remember.  She explained earlier that
she told her parents she was off to Sudan for a two-year stint as a volunteer. 
A volunteer setting up computer networks and feeding starving children in
refugee camps.  A rather farfetched excuse for packing up everything and
vanishing off the face of the earth.   

Funnily, for most people, this excuse
would
seem
farfetched.  But not for Emma.  Raised as a spoiled rich kid with an enormous
trust fund, she has lived her life at full throttle, doing as she pleases.  
This has meant that she has tried numerous experiences over the years including
backpacking across Europe, mountain climbing in the Himalaya’s and living a
commune lifestyle with a bunch of hippies in America. 

Her family, used to her hair-brained ‘life experiences’,
usually just sit back and wait for her to burn her latest fad out.  As long as
she sends an email now and then, they stay cool.  My guess is they didn’t even
blink twice at her announcement she was flying out to Sudan and would return in
two years.  Nothing shocks them anymore. 

Not since the first shock that their Mensa minded child
planned to deviate from the proposed course of following in her father’s
footsteps to become a neurosurgeon.  Her decision to study a Bachelor of
Computing at University and then spend her days programming had only been an
early sign of the many shocks that were yet to come.  I guess one day she might
even tell them she’s a hacker, not a bona fide programmer.  There’s a fun day
to plan for.

“You might not think that in the morning,” I return in my
own muted voice. 

Or perhaps I should say today?

Why did I let her do this to me?  I thought I already vowed
my drinking career was over earlier this week?

“Do you think if we start crying, someone will come help?” 
She asks hopefully.

“Maybe,” I murmur back.  “You’re gunna have to ditch Jambo
though.  The last three men who tried to approach you didn’t appreciate Jambo’s
angry parrot, kung-fu with bitey beak maneuvers.  He’s better than a guard
dog.”

And he is.  He hasn’t left her side since she lay down on
the bar with me.  He’s been strutting up and down the bar announcing a stream
of unintelligible Swahili rubbish while also throwing in some good renditions
of ‘You Are My Sunshine’ (in English).  

He’s a bilingual parrot with attitude.  I like him.

“That’s easy,” she mumbles and falls silent for a while.

I am still trying to figure out what she means when she
finally breaks the silence to say, “Jambo, cage.”

To my amazement I watch him take off from the bar near her
head and disappear.  I silently wish I had the energy to lift my head and see
where he went.  Luckily I don’t need to.  This is because I hear Jake’s voice
calling out from somewhere behind me, “Zane, the fuckin’ thing just climbed in
its cage and shut the door behind itself.  Let’s roll.”

Huh?

Moments later I feel strong hands gripping my hips as I am
lifted and turned.  Watching Zane flash past my peripheral vision, I suspect he
is doing the same to Emma.

Jake is muttering.  “You have to be shitting me.  We’ve just
spent the last ten fuckin’ minutes trying to work out to catch the little green
bastard so we could put you both to bed.”

Rolling my head back, I tip my eyes up to his for one brief
moment before I find myself slung over his shoulder in the same fireman’s hold
I watched Dingo use for Eva earlier.  “Ouch,” I grumble halfheartedly at the
twinges in my back as I flop like a rag doll.

“Should have thought of that earlier when you started on
that second bottle sweetheart.”

“Mm hmm,” I murmur as I accept my fate and let my hands hang
loosely down his back. 

As we move towards the door, I watch my hands as they dangle
closer and closer to his mighty fine ass.  As I muse about the fineness of his
ass, I find myself unable to resist so I give it a quick tap and whisper,
“Yeehah!”

“Woman,” Jake growls from beneath me.

“You have a great ass,” I inform him as I find myself
bouncing along on our way to the bedroom.

“Do you need to piss or can I just throw you on your bed?”
Jake rumbles as we start negotiating the maze of rooms on the way.

“Piss please.  Can you do it for me?” I grunt as I take
another swat at his rump.

“Fuck me,” he mutters as he heads for the toilet.

Arriving at our destination, I look up to see Emma’s boots
heading towards me hanging over the front of Zane’s chest.  Seemingly she’s
being carried to the toilet as well.

Good times.

“Ems, Jake’s got a
fine
ass.” I call out to my
friend.

“So’s Zane,” I hear a muffled reply as I am tipped back
upright and planted on my feet in front of the toilet bowl.

“Piss,” Jake growls as he tries to steady me before backing
out of the small room.

Swaying on my feet, I fumble with my pants as the door bangs
shut in front of me.  I then go about my business, while loudly groaning,
“Aaahhh”, for all to hear.