“What about Davis?”
“He’s not a raging asshole.”
I raise a brow. “No, Gossip Girl, he’s not. But what he probably is, is sick of my shit. Even if he liked me—” Ada and Jake both open their mouths, and I hold up a hand to stop them saying anything. “Even if he liked me, I’ve blown that now. I’ll be lucky if he hasn’t handed in his resignation when I get back to Auckland.”
“Do you want him to?” Jake asks.
“Of course not!” Heat crawls up my cheeks. “I don’t want to lose him! I mean…” I fumble over my words, the day’s emotions taking their toll, “… I don’t want the bar to lose him.”
“Cece.” Ada hits me with a hard stare, which is impressive considering she looks like an Italian Elizabeth Taylor right now, all big hair and big eyes under a strategically placed sheet. “It’s time to be honest. You don’t want to lose him foryou.”
“Okay. I don’t want to lose him for me,” I whisper. “But I don’t see how I can keep him when I’ve spent the last month banging on about wanting someone else. I’ve royally fucked it up.”
“Interesting,” Jake mumbles, but he’s typing shit on his phone while he says it, so he’s clearly not interested.
“But this isn’t aboutDavis. It’s about Will.” I shake away the cloak of shame that surrounds me every time I open the Davis-shaped door in my head. “But it’s not what you think.” I reach for my clutch lying discarded beside me on the bed, and pull out my phone.
“I’ve brought you a present to apologise for not listening.” I press play on the recording. Will’s voice fills the room:
“And of course, they’re happy to be here. Gives the business a bit of a write-off too, which has been good because, like I said, Dad is breathing down my neck, now Jenny and I have called it off. But he can’t afford to lose our contract with the farm. They upgrade to every new model, y’know?”
I click pause and hand the phone to Ada. “I didn’t have the details you did, so I just asked as many questions as I could. I hope there’s something helpful on there.”
“You recorded Will for me? About Thompson Farms?”
I nod. “I don’t know if it will be any use, but you said he was in it up to his neck. Maybe there’s something you can use.”
Ada and Jake share one of those couple’s looks, which thrills me, until she says:
“We sort of have a plan in place already about Thrasher. And Grace. And the farm.”
I leave Ada’s hotel room two hours later, having agreed to join them in the morning when they meet up with everyone else now involved in this bizarre, super massive revenge plan.
My head is spinning from everything they’ve found out. Everything I’ve found out. Everything Betty is compiling into a dossier that’s going to rock not only Thompson Farms, but all of Pukekohe. As I climb into the shower to scrub off what feels like a lifetime of grime, I find myself overwhelmed with relief and something like gratitude. That I have a friend like Ada. That Jake came when she needed him and that he’s been here for her ever since. Without him… I shudder to even imagine what could have happened.
I saw Ada’s flute on the bedside table. I didn’t say anything, but I noticed. And Ada noticed me noticing, a pink flush colouring her cheeks as she smiled at Jake. He smiled back, and I realised they’reperfect for each other. She’s found The One, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for her. That, and for her to make music again, both of which seem to have happened tonight. Knowing that should be more than enough to make me happy, but when I climb out of the shower and finally tumble into the blessed softness of bed, my final thoughts are of Davis Sanderson, and where in the world he might be.
My racing mindwakes me before the sun does. I shower again, more out of a desire to scrub any remaining traces of Will Sharpe from my skin than any real need for cleanliness. I throw on a pair of ripped jeans and my old Pukekohe High sweatshirt and head to Ada’s hotel door. From the sounds coming from inside, she and Jake might be a while, so I head down the street to Penny’s Café alone.
Pukekohe wakes up early. The sky is still pink-streaked, but Penny’s is slinging takeaway coffees and venison pies to a steady stream of customers in hi-vis and work boots, even on a Saturday. I watch them closely, more alert than I’d normally be after everything I learnt last night. But I don’t see anyone I recognise, and nobody gives me a second look.
My phone pings with an email on my second cup of tea.
Dear Ms. Taylor,
Thank you for your interest in the primary care position at Pukekohe Family Health. Please find attached an information packet and the link to apply. We look forward to hearing from you.
Kind regards,
Jobseekers
I close the email and sip. The possibility of moving home is still there; it has to be given Afterglow’s circumstances and Tristan upping the rent. But one thing is clear: if I do move back to Pukekohe, Will Sharpe isn’t going to play anykind of role in my future. That golden bubble of hope has well and truly popped. Not only is Will a duplicitous creep, but the whole situation with my family has also soured. Coming home won’t mean Sunday dinners and white picket fences.
I’ve been killing myself trying to prove my worth to people who will stand by and let my own brother undercut me. When everyone who truly cares—Ada and Aggie and Davis—has been helping me in every way they can. New tea towels and cutlery. Flaming crepes and dinner specials designed to appeal to the locals. A safe working environment and an unsolicited, but incredibly sweet plan to turn my drunken dreams into reality.
And I almost fucked them all over for a ride on Will Sharpe’s community dick. He clearly never saw the two of us together. He just thought I’d be an easy lay.
The hindsight rubs me raw, a blister in my heart, pointing out that the biggest commitment I’ve made over the last year has been to denial, and putting off decisions hasn’t helped me any. But this nursing thing will have to wait until Monday.
