I swallow down the heartache that threatens to choke me and, despite myself, I meet her eyes. I want her to say it. Maybe some tough love is what I need to snap out of it.
‘Who?’ I bark.
‘Don’t make me do this,’ she whines, placing her bowl down to hug the couch cushion in her lap.
‘No,’ I argue, ‘you started this. And now you don’t want the smoke. Let me have it. Who?’
‘Ryker.’
God.Even his name sends my pulse on high alert.
‘It’s okay if you miss him sometimes, babe.’ Monique speaks softly. ‘It was shitty how he just up and left. I knowhe was your friend for a long time. I just don’t want you to be wasting time waiting for him or something.’
‘I’m not waiting for him. I don’t miss him. And he wasn’t my friend.’ I cringe, sounding depressingly defensive even to my own ears. ‘He was Jace’s friend.’
‘And it’s okay if you miss Jace, too,’ Monique murmurs.
I purse my lips and frown.
A few moments pass before Monique breaks our stalemate. ‘So, when are we going shopping?’
I blow out an exhale. ‘I’m in the thick of this job and it’s going to take another two hours to finish the sanding.’
‘Two hours? Isn’t there a machine you can use to hurry this up?’
‘No,’ I chastise. ‘A machine could burn the metal. I’m hand-sanding this one, it’s an SS!’
‘Well, that’s why you’re the best body paint technician in Booker Bay.’
‘I’m the only paint tech in Booker Bay.’ The best. The only. It doesn’t matterwhatI am when the fact is that I hate a time crunch. I’ll be looking at the time like a countdown clock and just the thought gives me anxiety. ‘How about we go shopping tomorrow? I know that cute new fabric store opens at nine. We can do a coffee run on the way, too?’ I raise my brows, gauging her reaction.
She flitters her fingers across the screen and says, ‘Fine … deal, I guess. But for today I’m going to snoop through your drawers and raid your fridge again. Love ya!’
She hangs up and I get right back to sanding.
The job doesn’t take as long as I thought – the clear coat is rubbed away but before it’s ready for primer, a few superficial dents need to be banged out. I head back into the office for a quick breather, and look over at Chuckie witha sigh. He rolls onto his back and I tap his tummy like a drum, feeling his thick skin jiggle.
‘You didn’t get the nickname Chunks for nothing.’ I stand and head for Chuckie’s teal leash hanging on the hook by the door. ‘C’mon, before you get antsy. Walk time.’
He leaps from the couch toward the open roller door, waiting for me while I shimmy out of my coveralls. I smooth out my skirt and throw on my Kings jacket. On the way out, I wave to one of the mechanics, letting him know I’ll be back soon. Probably by the time Renny and Mr Fernando make it in – they like their sleep-ins.
With Chuckie’s leash across my shoulders, he’s free to lead the way. He knows exactly where we’re going and cuts through the back alley of Paws on the Coast to the park.
Walking around Booker Bay sometimes causes old wounds to slowly rip open and tear up the centre of my chest. Lucifer’s Dream is one of those times, as much as I love the carnival. It’s been held in Coachman’s Park every year since my Pa’s time. It’s what brings in the tourists every year, and then they stay for what they think is a sleepy little coastal life filled with açai bowls and Pilates classes. But the moon knows all of Booker Bay’s secrets.
It’s humid today, the smell of damp earth and saltwater mixing in the air and sticking to my skin. An unusual undertone of sulphur makes my nose scrunch.
As soon as Chuckie sees the open green of the park, he runs for it, but he slips and slides along the ground. I rush over to him, but have to catch myself before I slip on my ass too. When he recovers, he’s streaked in mud, shaking it off in flying chunks.
I don’t expect to see any tents, rides or caravans set up yet, but I also don’t expect to see the mayor with a sour lookon his face and his arms folded across his chest. He hasn’t seen us yet, and I think I can avoid the interaction, but then Chuckie gallops toward him, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.
‘Oh, Mayor Arblaster!’ I warn. ‘He’s just rolled in the mud.’
He ignores me, squatting to give Chuckie a rough pat before glancing over his shoulder at me. When I make it to his side, he stands. ‘It’s just a little dirt, Gia,’ he huffs. ‘Like I’ve been trying to tell these guys in the hi-vis.’ He juts his chin at the three council workers with clipboards in their hands.
‘Everything okay?’
He grunts. ‘They’re saying the groundwater is shallow, so when it rains like it has been, the park turns into a giant pool.’
