Many hours later, he stumbled down the main drag with Nate and CJ. They’d been kicked out of the pub when the eagle-eyed barman spotted Nate’s older brother, Jed, plying them with beer. Nic felt slightly toasted after several schooners and a belly full of pizza. They’d played pool with CJ’s girl, Emma, and a bunch of her friends, only recently departed.
The fun and light-hearted hassling had been the perfect remedy and Nic found it difficult to recall the wrath of earlier. Just in case, he planned to stay in town at Nate’s, whose parents weren’t such rigid sticklers for legality. It helped they very handily decided to take his sister to the coast for the weekend, gifting the boys a house to themselves.
“Speed Weed,” CJ crowed. He burped long and loud. “That’s got to take the prize.”
“The burp or the name?” Nate looked confused. “And you’d choose that over Dork for a dorky name? Besides, Speed Weed is kind of a cool name.”
“Come on, Nate. We need verification. Nobody’s last name is Dork. And the rules are quite specific. It must be a real name, you’ve actually seen somewhere. Like Nanna Nanoo.”
“I still think Kerfuffle beats them all. What about Smellovich? And I can quote you where they’re from so you can check yourselves,” Nic said.
“I’d rather check that!”
Nate pointed to a bank of lit windows on the second floor across the street. The trio bumbled to a halt, caboose style. Music playing on a piano floated into the night, along with clapped hands and the curt orders of the ballet mistress. Centre stage in the large studio, Mira spun and swayed like a willow on the wind, captivatingly graceful. A black leotard highlighted her jaw-dropping proportions. Nic silently convinced himself he didn’t care.
“It’s ten o’clock Saturday night. I can’t imagine old Mrs Benson volunteering to take a student at this hour,” CJ said.
“The Arkady’s are inclined to the over-generous. She’s probably earning the year’s rent in one evening.”
Nate humphed, disgusted. “You two are discussing logistics? Are you men or lace hankies? Look at her. She’s surface-of-the-sun hot. I think I’ll hang around and see if I can escort her home.”
“Not a fabulous idea, Nate,” Nic said.
Nate raised palms. “Hey, I’ll step back if you’ve changed your mind.”
“No! It’s not that. I’m telling you, her cousin is deranged. And Mira’s not the type to require an escort.” The image of her vaulting onto the truck and commanding humungous flesh-eating felines came to mind.
“I’ve dealt with pissed-off brothers and fathers. Even a few husbands. I can take one snivelling douche.” Nate rifled the pocket of his jeans for the house keys, lobbing them at Nic.
“I’m serious. Sasha is dangerous.” And armed. Nic toyed with revealing the loss of the Colt. Surely, the nutbag wouldn’t shoot someone? If anyone provided a justification, it was usually Nate. “Leave this one alone, Nate. What’s wrong with Alison? She seems to have it bad for you. She’d definitely be up for a booty call.”
“You certain you haven’t got it bad for Mira? You’re working awful hard there, Nicky boy.”
“Listen to what I’m saying,” he sighed, knowing it was hopeless. He held out his hand to reveal the teeth imprint. “Mira’s a world of trouble.”
“Oh, man!” CJ’s features screwed-up in indignation. He’d observed the exchange in tennis fashion. “That bastard pulled a Mike Tyson on you?”
“I reckon I’ll take my chances,” Nate maintained stubbornly.
“Don’t say you weren’t warned.”
Funnily, Nic experienced not a scrap of jealousy. He was certain Nate would fail with Mira. It was not intuition, simply an established fact. And he had no idea how the infallible knowledge came to be, conveniently disregarding why he would ever be jealous, one way or another.
“Nic’s judgment is pretty credible, Nate. Otherwise, he’d go for her himself. Why don’t you give it a rest, just this once? The guy bit him!”
“Exactly!” Nic could have kissed CJ.
“Cut the melodrama,” Nate snapped. “She’s just a bloody girl. What’s up with you two? Sasha’s not here, is he? What’s he going to do? Eat me? Maul me to death?”
Nic peered about the street, ideal camouflage behind trees in bloom at matched intervals and slim, dreary alleyways between boutiques. A bus shelter further down the road and recessed shop entrances were also probable choices. Had he imagined it? Were eyes gleaming from the dark? A tabby shot across the bitumen and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“I wouldn’t put it passed him.”
“You’re being ridiculous. And adding to the thrill of the chase, if I’m at all honest.”
“I give up,” Nic said. “Come on, CJ. Let the fool find out for himself.”
“You’re a dick, Nate. Is a back alley grope worth it? What if Nic’s right?”
“For her?” he answered incredulously. “Without doubt, CJ. You’ll be jealous when I relate details.”
“You disrupt my sleep with a conquest story and I’ll personally murder you,” Nic said, moving off with CJ in tow. He shirked the crawling sensation of hostile eyes at his back.
Both his friends lived in town, a small country epicentre where almost everyone knew everyone else. Nate and CJ occupied the same suburb, several streets apart. Bidding his friend farewell, Nic eventually let himself in the back door, after an inordinate amount of fiddling the key in the unfamiliar lock in the dark. He’d tripped over pot plants, up stairs and almost landed in the garden. Nate’s abandonment earned generous cursing and a throbbing shin. Nic fooled himself the wobbly-boot had nothing to do with the booze sloshing his belly.
Feeling his way through the house, Nic eventually stripped off his jeans and collapsed face-first onto the guest bed made up for him in an enclosed veranda. And that’s where his father shook him awake several hours later, the red-and-blue strobe of Police cars jagged through water droplets on the window pane.
***
Chapter Thirteen