Still Life with Strings (11 page)

Shane and I remain
silent. I never considered the fact that his parents might not approve of our
friendship, and let’s face it, I’m sure I’m aeons away from the women he
usually sees. Not that we’re seeing each other. I’m definitely nothing like
Mona Campbell, anyway. I bet she and Mirin got along like a house on fire.

While his mother talks
on and on in the background, Shane takes a few steps towards me and discreetly
laces his fingers through mine. He gives my hand a tight squeeze and whispers
in my ear, “Don’t let her get to you.”

I pretend not to know
what he’s talking about. “What do you mean?”

“I know how she is. My
mother has this knack for sucking the life out of people. I have first-hand
experience.”

My eyes are drawn to
the woman as he tells me this. Now she’s arranging a vase of flowers on top of
a chest of drawers. They’re bright and purple, but they wither away when she
touches them, until they’re all black detritus.

“She does have a
certain…way about her,” I finally agree.

Shane huffs a breath,
like I’m putting it way too mildly, and let’s face it, I am.

“My mother is a fucking
snob, Jade. I promised myself I’d stop caring about her opinion a long time
ago, and I have. Do you know when I discovered Mona had cheated on me, I was
more anxious about what my mother would think than anything else? How fucked up
is that?”

I stare at him, my
mouth open. “Jesus.”

“Yeah. I knew that
she’d blame me for it, and of course she did. She thought the sun shone out of
Mona’s too shiny and perfect-to-be-true arse. In fact, she still does. She
thinks it was somehow my fault our engagement didn’t pan out.”

God, this poor man. He
says he’s stopped caring, but the way he’s talking right now tells me he’s far
from over the hold his mother seems to have on him. Perhaps that’s what his
whole “teach me how to live” thing is about. He wants me to teach him how to
get free from the emotional bondage.

Our hushed conversation
is interrupted when Mirin calls, “Oh, Shane, come over here and stand by the
door. I think it will make for a good background.”

I smirk when I notice
the photographer giving the stylist an eye roll. Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s not
thrilled about Mommy Dearest coming in and taking over. Shane kisses me lightly
on the cheek, sighs heavily, and goes to his mother. When I see Mirin looking
at me in a puzzled way, I realise she saw the kiss and is none too happy about
it.

My phone rings in my
pocket, a welcome distraction. I pull it out to find Pete’s number flashing on
the screen. I can only imagine what this is going to be about. I always make
sure to call both April and Pete at least once or twice a day if I’m not in the
house to make sure they’re okay. When Pete’s the one calling me it’s usually
because he’s in trouble or needs money. He hasn’t called for money in a while,
though, which is worrying, since he’s a fifteen-year-old boy with no form of
income. It begs the question, where is he getting his cash from?

“Hey, Petey, what’s
up?” I answer, walking into the next room of the suite to take the call.

There’s an audible
sigh, then, “You need to go to my parent teacher evening.”

Jeez, is it that time
of year again already? “Oh, yeah. When is it?”

“Uh, tonight.”

“Okay, you could have
given me a few days warning.”

“This is me giving you
warning, Jade. It’s two-thirty — the whole thing starts at seven.”

“Yes, but I would have
liked some time to organise a decent outfit and all.”

“Fuck, are you going or
not?” he grits out.

“Don’t swear at me. I’m
not one of your pals on the street. And yes, of course I’m going. I’m your
guardian, after all.”

“Good. Hanging up now.”

“I’ll be home to make
dinner. I love you.”

All I get is an
embarrassed, “Jesus Christ,” before he makes good on his promise and hangs up.
I don’t care how much it annoys him — I’m going to keep telling him I love him
until it finally sinks in.

A word to the wise,
fifteen-year-old boys are perhaps the most emotionally stunted individuals on
God’s green earth. And, I’ll add, they do not do well with compliments, affection,
or any form of kindness, especially when given by older sisters.

Walking back into the
room where Shane is being pictured, I mentally calculate how much time I’ll
need to go to the shop for groceries, get home, cook dinner, find something to
wear, and be at Pete’s school by seven. Yeah, I should probably get going soon.
I hate to leave Shane since I said I’d stay with him for this, but his mum’s
here now, so he won’t be entirely alone.

Though from our brief
conversation earlier, I’m guessing he’d probably prefer to be alone than to
have his mother here.

The photographer is
sorting through shots, so I walk up to Shane to tell him I’ve got to go.

“That was my brother
Pete. He decided to spring it on me that his parent teacher evening is tonight.
I hope you don’t mind if I leave early?”

Standing from his seat,
Shane replies, “No, of course not.” He pauses and then randomly volunteers, “I
could go with you if you like?”

Giving him a funny
look, I respond, “To the parent teacher evening?”

“Yeah, why not?” He
lowers his voice. “That way I can pay you back for the moral support.”

I rub my forehead.
“These things can be pretty stressful, especially when you’re dealing with a
kid like my brother.” I go quiet for a moment, considering it and thinking
about how the snobbish teachers sometimes look down on me because of my age and
the fact that I’m only Pete’s sister. Having someone like Shane by my side
could definitely make me look more respectable…they might even think he’s my
husband or something. Okay,
so
not going there.

“You can come, but are
you even done here?”

He quirks an eyebrow.
“They’ve taken enough photos of me to last a lifetime, Jade. Besides, I don’t
think I can stand much more of this,” he says, casting his eyes in his mother’s
direction as she continues to pester the photographer.

A small chuckle escapes
me. “She likes to take the lead, I see.”

“A long career as the
CEO of an international charity will do that,” Shane mutters under his breath.

“She runs a charity?
That’s impressive,” I tell him, letting out a low whistle. Mirin Arthur might
not have been particularly nice to me, but I can respect a woman with that kind
of drive.

“Think of it more as a
business than a charity, but yeah, ‘impressive’ is one way of putting it.”

The tone of Shane’s
voice tells me he doesn’t exactly agree. Loosening his tie, he says he’s going
to go change. As I wait, I shove another tiny sandwich down my gullet to see me
through until dinnertime (and a few in my handbag for Specky), and then I play
with my phone for a bit.

Somebody clears their
throat, and I glance up to see Mirin standing in front of me.

“My son likes you,” she
states, all matter of fact, and I don’t know how to reply or if she even
expects me to. Instead I stay quiet and wait to see what she’ll say next. Her
eyes trail over me intently. Jeez, what’s she doing, taking my measurements or
something?

Unable to stand the
silence, I blurt, “Yeah, me and Shane are tight.”

Oh, God, did I just say
that to this woman? That was probably one of the most ridiculous sentences to
have ever come out of my mouth. Mirin gives me an almost imperceptible smile.

“Have you known each
other long?”

“Not long.”

“I see.” She presses
her lips together before continuing in a voice that’s not quite threatening,
but it’s not
not
threatening, either. “My son is a vulnerable man,
Miss…”

“Lennon.”

“Miss Lennon. He’s been
through a very rough year, and I wouldn’t like to see him being taken advantage
of.”

Vulnerable. What
exactly does she mean by that? I nod along to what she says before I realise
what she’s getting at. She thinks
I’m
trying to take advantage of him?
Fuck, if this is the way she talks to all the people who’ve ever been in his
life, then I get why he doesn’t have any friends.

“I assure you, Mirin,
that when it comes to your son, I have only the purest of intentions. You have
nothing to worry about.” Okay, so maybe I didn’t mean for that to come out
sounding so sarcastic, but I can’t help getting riled up by her. You’d think
her son was the King of England and I’m some hussy trying to sleep her way to
the throne.

“Listen to me, if you
think you can wheedle your way into his affections with your
obvious…attractions” —her gaze flicks briefly to my chest and then back up to
my eyes before she continues— “you are sadly mistaken. I will not see you hurt
him. He has already been hurt enough.”

“Maybe you should look
in the mirror and you’ll see who’s really hurting him,” I whisper, unable to
help myself.

“What did you just
say?” she whisper-hisses back at me.

“Is everything all
right?” Shane asks, just entering the room, his expression suspicious as he
takes in his mother’s fuming face.

“Fine and dandy,” I
reply. “Are we off?”

“Yes. I’ll talk to you
later, Mum,” he says, stepping forward and giving Mirin what seems to be a very
strained kiss on the cheek.

“You’re leaving? But I
was hoping we could do dinner at Marco Pierre’s?” she replies, affecting a
disappointed demeanour.

“Another time, Mum,” is
all he says before he’s putting his hand to the small of my back and ushering
me out the door.

All the way to the
elevator I feel like I’m holding my breath. Once we step inside the car, I let
it all out, slumping back against those aforementioned pesky mirrors.

“Your mother is a
character,” I say as Shane eyes me with some sort of intensity. His hand is
still on my back, right at the base of my spine, and he’s rubbing small circles
into the fabric of my shirt.

“My mother is never
happy, not with anything. She’s always striving for something better, and then
when she gets it there’s something else she wants.”

Even though he’s right
beside me, his eyes are faraway.

I turn to face him,
feeling far too close in the small space, yet I don’t move to put any distance
between us. “Don’t let her make you feel like you’re anything other than
perfect, Shane,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

His faraway eyes come
back to me. “What is perfect, anyway?”

“Whatever you want it
to be. Think of it more as a feeling. I think perfect is just feeling content
with your lot.”

The elevator doors open
just then, signalling we’ve arrived on the ground floor. Shane doesn’t respond
to what I’ve said, but from the look on his face I can tell he’s really
thinking about it. I ask him if he drove in, but he tells me no, that he left
his car at home. Parking in the city is shit and all that jazz.

“I have to go grocery
shopping first. Are you sure you still want to tag along?”

“Of course,” he replies
enthusiastically, like I just told him I’m going on a roller-coaster ride
instead of picking up a few things for dinner.

When we reach the
supermarket, I surreptitiously stand aside and pretend to be searching for
something in my bag, when really I’m toting up how much money I have to spend.
I think Shane notices what I’m doing but he doesn’t say anything.

I decide I’m in the
mood for something creamy, so I grab the ingredients for a spaghetti carbonara.
April always complains when I cook Italian, too many carbs apparently (cue
heavy sigh), but she’ll just have to put up with it for one evening. Shane
follows alongside me as I stroll the aisles, like a really well-behaved dog. He
watches me pick stuff up and mull over prices as though it’s the most
fascinating thing he’s ever witnessed.

To be honest, it’s
starting to weird me out. I’m beginning to learn that this man can be pretty
full-on.

“What do you normally
like to eat?” I ask to break his rapt attention.

He grins sheepishly. “I
usually order my food from this gourmet delivery service. I never really have
time to cook. They do a chicken and avocado salad that I’m seriously addicted
to.”

“Gourmet delivery, you
say,” I tease him while twirling my invisible moustache. “What, is Dominos not
good enough for you?”

“Dominos is fine, but
if I don’t want to put on ten stone, then I try to avoid fast food.”

“Hmm, what do you do to
keep in shape?” I ask, placing a bag of dried pasta in my basket.

“I run. I’ve never
bothered with gyms because I haven’t really been in one place for long enough
to justify a membership. Running is something you can do anywhere.”

He must run a lot,
because let’s just say his violin is not the only thing that’s finely tuned, if
you get me.