I refused to admit the burst of warmth flooding my body was complete and utter pleasure at being called beautiful by Jared.
Two days later while I was out jogging I received a disturbing text.
J: Who is Asshole Kellar?
I stumbled mid-jog and stopped to ping off a message to Mac, suddenly fuming that Mac had told him. I was not proud of my spiralling years and didn’t want them advertised. To anyone.
E: What the hell did you say to Jared about Asshole Kellar?
M: Chill, tomato face. His name slipped out. I didn’t say anything.
I messaged Jared.
E: No one. Just an ex.
J: I’ve heard about Hairy Parry and Beetle Bob, but no one has mentioned Asshole Kellar before. Who else don’t I know about?
Wild Renny.
E: No one. It’s nothing.
Six days later, I received a photo taken from the top of the Giant Drop at the Dreamworld theme park located about an hour’s drive south of Brisbane.
E: Working hard I see.
J: Have friends up here with two teenage boys. Feel like a kid again.
Jared was only twenty-seven, hardly in his twilight years.
E: Yes, oh aged and wizened crone. I want a photo of you in the diary chair at the Big Brother house.
The house for the Australian version of the Big Brother reality show was located at the Dreamworld compound. I had a friend almost make the final cut on the show, but I couldn’t imagine being shut away from the world for so long. Mac had laughed when I told her this, assuring me I would have only lasted a week before getting voted off. I chuckled when later that afternoon a photo arrived of one of the teenage boys planking on the diary chair while Jared stood behind with an obvious look of exasperation.
J: I don’t get the whole planking thing, but they seem to find it amusing.
Three days later.
E: Mac has us booked at a place called the Florence Bar tonight.
Supposedly, It was an intimate bar somewhere along Darling Harbour. According to Mac, the place was a bit tamer than our usual wild atmosphere, so we worked at putting a set list together that Mac thought would fit in with the classy vibe.
J: Nice place. Am about to board flight home so save me a ticket, okay?
My heart fluttered at his words.
“It’s all useless crap,” Mac shouted from the bowels of my wardrobe while I sat on the bed busily messaging all and sundry. “You have nothing sexy and glamorous.”
“Jared is coming tonight,” I announced the words that a few weeks ago had me spiralling into a panicked frenzy.
“I know. I’ve already put a ticket aside for him. Right,” she muttered as she came out, dusting off her hands as though she was emerging from the murky depths of the great Australian Jenolan caves. “I need to go shopping, like right now.”
“Macface, I have plenty of sex and glamour in there. You’re up to something.”
“Don’t be silly,” she muttered, not meeting my eyes. “Right, I best get a move on. Won’t be long.”
Deciding not to make an issue of her subterfuge, I waved her off warily and went to have a shower. When I was done and my hair dry, I pulled on my favourite silky robe from Pretty Plum Sugar and popped a set of heated rollers in my hair. Then I descended the stairs, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and sat on the couch with Henry to watch the Saturday afternoon footy.
Henry watched it for the game. Me, I had no clue what they were doing running around tackling each other for a ball. As much as I could commend them for their athleticism and fiery determination to pound each other to the ground, I just watched it for the little shorts.
E: Go Melbourne Storm.
J: Are you serious? They have three injured star players. Manly Sea Eagles will kick their ass.
I didn’t reply because that was about as technical as I got when it came to football.
Half an hour later, a knock came at the door.
“Are you expecting anyone?” I asked Henry.
Henry took a break from shouting at the referee on the television to shake his head. “Nope.”
“I’m not answering it with freaking rollers in my hair.”
Henry gave my rollered hair a speculative look.
“You should. Then maybe whoever is at the door will see your freaky assed hair-do and think twice before knocking on the door again in the middle of a footy game.”
He didn’t budge and I sighed as we did a silent rock, paper, scissors, and I squealed in unconcealed delight when I pulled out the scissors to Henry’s paper. That was unheard of.
E: I just won my first RPS in like two years.
J: Woohoo. What do you win for that?
E: Not having to answer the door to whoever is knocking of course.
I snatched the packet of chips out of Henry’s hand and made for the stairway.
“Hey,” he grumbled, getting up to answer the door when the knock came for the second time.
I slammed the bathroom door behind me and began makeup preparations for Glamour Goddess. Glamour, as every woman knew, involved understated eyes with thick black lash extensions and full red lips. When I stepped back to view the results, I knew Mac would approve. I finished pulling the rollers out of my hair and pinned the long thick curls across to the side so they fell in a waterfall over my shoulder.
Hearing voices, I wandered back downstairs in search of Mac and my new and supposed sexy and glamorous outfit. Instead, I found Henry, Mitch, and Tate standing around the kitchen chatting and drinking beer.
Mitch was Mac's other older brother and a detective with the Sydney City police. Tate was his partner. Twenty-five to Mitch’s thirty-one, Tate had a short black buzz cut, pale blue eyes, and a penchant for playing online Halo, which was some kind of science fiction slash war type computer game. Apparently, it was serious business in his books and involved an online international team of like-minded individuals and a headset. I wondered if that meant he fit my geek requirements.
“Hey, beautiful,” Mitch exclaimed when I rounded the kitchen.
“Hey, Mitch.” I smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek.
“You remember my partner, Tate?” He motioned to Tate standing next to him.
“Of course,” I murmured and gave Tate my best smile when I leaned forward to take his hand. I’d met Tate at Steve and Jenna’s house once when we visited one weekend.
Tate looked a bit dazed, so I was pleased to know I didn’t look like complete ass.
He smiled back. “Nice to see you again.”
“Are you both right for a drink?” I asked, and they both nodded as I opened the fridge to grab another bottle of water.
“Hussy?”
“Nah, I’m good, Sandwich.”
“To what do we owe the honour of your presence?” I asked, unscrewing the lid and throwing it in the bin.
Mitch raised his eyebrows. “Mac didn’t tell you?”
I looked to him in confusion. “Uh, no?”
“I told her we’d come to your show tonight at the Florence Bar and thought we’d stop by for a drink first.”
“Oh, that’s so nice!” I said, my eyes sparkling excitedly.
“It’s purely selfish. Having all of you here is awesome, Evie. It gives us an excuse to go out and listen to music and pick up hot chicks.”
All three chuckled in a male bonding moment, and I rolled my eyes.
“Have either of you been to the Florence Bar before?” Henry asked Mitch and Tate.
Mitch nodded in reply as he took a sip of his beer.
“I have too,” Tate said and paused. “To arrest someone.”
I looked at him in horror. “Oh my God, seriously? What kind of dive is Mac sending us to?”
Tate laughed. “I’m just kidding. I have been to that bar before, though, and it’s really nice, classy.”
“Yeah, Mac did say that.”
Speak of the devil.
Mac came rushing through the front door, kicking off her
shoes and throwing all her shopping bags in the direction of the couch.
“Lordie, give me that drink,” she ordered, snatching the bottle out of my hand before I’d even managed a sip.
“Hey!” I went to grab it back but she danced out of reach, and I was not prepared to wrestle her for it wearing nothing but a robe over my silky underwear.
I grumbled and went to the fridge to get another one.
“Hey, Mitch, Tate,” she said, giving them both a kiss on the cheek before guzzling down the water. “Christ, the shops were bloody awful. You owe me big, Evie.”
I whirled around with the new bottle in my hand. “Excuse me? This is all on you. You’re the one that bitched about my clothes and insisted on the shopping expedition.”
“God, you’re a bloody whinger. Wait till you see what I got you!” She smiled wickedly and I felt my hands grow clammy with fear.
Three sets of male eyes glazed over at the talk of shopping, and they rapidly evacuated the kitchen for the greater comfort of the couch and the last quarter of football.
“Where is it?” I asked.
She picked up all the bags off the floor, where Henry had flung them to make couch space, and came back over just as the Rice Bubble trio put in an appearance from next door.
I scanned the pile of bags on the kitchen bench, eyes wide with disbelief. “All that is my outfit?”
“As if!” She snorted.
She picked up a tiny little bag out of the massive pile and thrust it at me. “This one’s yours.”
“You two been shopping again?” Jake asked as he entered the kitchen to inspect the contents of the fridge. This went on for several moments as Jake appeared to be willing something magical to appear from the barren shelves. When nothing did, he grabbed a beer.
“Mac’s been shopping. Has she ordered all of you about what you have to wear too?”
He rolled his eyes as he twisted the top off the beer and threw it in the bin. “Yep. Honestly, I have to wear a shirt.” He shook his head in disgust.
“A shirt?” I squealed in mock horror. “No!”
He flipped me the finger as he escaped to the lounge room.
I put down my drink and had a peek in the bag. It didn’t look like much, just a couple of black scraps. I sighed.
“What time do we have to leave?”
She glanced at her watch. “Shit. Half an hour!”
Mac grabbed an armload of the bags and raced up the stairs.
I chatted with the guys for a few minutes before Jake, Frog, and Cooper headed off to the bar early to help with the setup. Just before we had to leave, I hit my room with my little bag of scraps to get dressed. Mac was ready in record time because she was just leaving her room when I got to the top of the stairs.
I stopped to admire her form. “Wow, Macklewaine!”
She winked and did a posh twirl to show off her gorgeous red dress. It was short, showing off her long golden legs, with a high neck and long sleeves, but the back dipped dangerously low, like to the top of her ass crack low. Mac was the master of deceptively modest clothing.
“Don’t be long,” she called over her shoulder as she headed down the stairs. “We need to get going soon.”
I went to my room and threw the two black scraps on. The top turned out to be a little bustier, nude underneath with black lace over the top. It was strapless with a sweetheart neckline and built in underwire so I didn’t need a bra. The skirt was a black leather mini and not fully fitted. It had a band around the top, little pleats that helped it flare out at the hips, and lovely pockets, but it was short. It probably wasn’t meant to be that short, but I had long legs, and they were definitely on display.
I wondered what the hell Mac was thinking.
Opening the bedroom door, I shouted down the stairs.
“Macface!”
“Yeah?” she shouted back up.
“Can you come here a sec?”
“No. Just hurry up and get dressed. We need to get going!”
“Mac! I can’t wear this. There’s too little of it!”
“Christ, Sandwich, stop shouting nonsense and hurry up downstairs. There’s no time to bugger about trying to find something else to wear. It’s too late.”
I could hear the smugness in her voice. I wanted to stomp all over that smugness. Instead, I went to my wardrobe, grabbed my bag and my big black trench coat so I could cover my almost naked chest, and stomped angrily down the stairs to the lounge room.
“Jesus,” Henry muttered as everyone looked my way.
“Evie,” Mac exclaimed innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You look fine. Right, guys?”
Mitch and Tate were eyeballing my cleavage with equally glazed expressions.
“Christ,” Mitch muttered.
“It certainly does show off your chest to advantage, doesn’t it?” She smirked with satisfaction.
My glare at Mac was a frosty promise of retribution. She raised one eyebrow to tell me that she didn’t really give a shit.
I started to shrug on my coat before she ripped it out of my arms and tossed it away. “You’re not wearing that thing. It’s too bloody hot.”
“Mac,” I wailed in exasperation.
“Nope. Come on,” she bossed. “Mitch has ordered us a cab, and I just heard it tooting out the front.”
Mac wrestled me out the door and into the warm night air, piling me into the cab that would take us to the Florence Bar.
“I know you’re up to something, Mac, and I don’t like it.”
“Rubbish.” She snorted. “I’m not up to anything. There’s nothing wrong with one friend wanting another to look her best.”
“I don’t think almost naked is the way to do that, Mac.”
Mac ignored me and started up a conversation with Tate the whole way into the city.
The bar turned out to be gorgeous, really dark and intimate with an old Hollywood style feel. There were old fashioned button leather booths that surrounded the walls, and the bar was a black painted timber affair which currently boasted a crush of people all trying to order a drink while our band took a break mid-set.
I was standing at the bar with Tate, and we chatted while waiting for the attention of one of the bartenders. I found out that Tate’s brother was a drummer in a Melbourne band that I’d seen a few times, so we talked about their music, and I made him promise to let me know next time they made their way to Sydney for a gig.
“Yo, Evie,” the bartender shouted.
I smiled. “Hey, um…”
“Vince.”
Vince was cute with his tight black shirt and skinny black jeans and gay when I saw him give Tate a sexy wink.
I ordered a round of beers for the table and a bottle of water for myself. The boys usually had a beer or two before or during a show, but I preferred to keep a level head when it came to the serious business of singing.
“Liking Sydney so far?” Tate asked.
“Are you kidding? The beaches are amazing. I’ve already been burnt to a crisp.”
“Soft Melbourne skin.” He grinned. “Have you seen all the sights yet?”
“Sorry?” I shouted over the noise of the bar.
“I said have you seen all the sights yet?”
I shook my head. “Not really. We moved up here and got sucked straight into work, so there hasn’t really been a chance yet.”
He leaned down to my ear so I could hear him better.
“Maybe I could take you out some time?”
I cautiously agreed. I didn’t know him all that well, but he certainly didn’t seem to fit the type that would cause me any heartbreak. A few casual dates might be nice. I would just be sure to tell him I wasn’t looking for more than that.
Tate grinned. “Can I have your number? I’ll ring you and we can set something up.”
I held out my hand. “Sure. Give me your phone.”
He handed it over and I punched my number in before giving it back. “There you go,” I said with
a flirty smile.
He winked. “Thanks.”
My eyes flicked to our booth near the front door while we waited for Vince to finish our drinks order, and I saw Jared had arrived. He was wearing a pair of dress pants so black they had a blue tinge and a fitted white and grey pinstripe dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing tanned muscular forearms. I also saw that every woman in the room was eyeballing our booth, flicking their hair like the whole bar was participating in a Clairol commercial.
Skanks, I muttered to myself.
I also saw that our table, including Jared, Mac, Mitch, Coby, and Travis, was watching the two of us with avid interest, though Mac’s interest was an unhappy one, and Jared appeared troubled.
Our drinks arrived and Tate leaned in. “Do you want to go put these on the table and have a dance?”
“Maybe later? I need to get back to the band in a minute. Our final set is gonna start soon.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he replied and put a hand on the small of my back as he guided me over to the booth. We put the drinks down, and Jared immediately took my hand and pulled me aside.
He glanced at my chest and then cleared his throat awkwardly. “What is that you’re wearing?”
“Hello to you too, Jared.”
He folded his arms. “Well?”
“Blame Mac. She made me wear it.” I bit my lip. “Does it really look that bad?”
Jared swallowed visibly. “No, you look sexy as hell, Evie, but every guy in this whole bar is eye fucking you. I can’t say I like it.”
“I don’t really care if you don’t like it.” I saw his eyes flare unhappily and attempted to soften the blow. “Besides, I haven’t been approached by anyone.”
“That’s because you’re a hot singer with a sexy voice in a shit hot band. You’re too good for any of them.”
Jared glared at a couple of guys who were heading our way, and they quickly changed direction.
“Not to mention Tate has been hanging off you since you got to the bar,” he muttered.
“Tate is a nice guy,” I offered. “He’s going to teach me how to play Halo.”
Jared’s look turned to one of amusement which confused me because I didn’t recall saying anything funny. “What?”
“Saying a guy is nice is the kiss of death from you, Evie.”