Behind the Tears (Behind the Lives) (41 page)

“And you’ll help yourself to Jess again if I don’t do anything,” Ash said, glancing at the knife in Tama’s hand.

“I’m not interested in her anymore.”

“You’re lying.”

“Believe what you want,” Tama said, raising the knife. “But if you attack me like that you’ll lose.”

“I don’t care!”

“Then rot in hell, fucker!”

Ash ducked as Tama threw the knife at him, the blade nicking his arm, then rushed at Tama, who took off, running for the back of the house. Ash chased after him, yelling at Tama he was going to fucking die! Tama burst through the back door, propelling himself over the steps and landing on the lawn in a crouch. Ash launched himself after him, but got yanked back by the chain, making him fall on the steps. Tama pushed up, his eyes wild, his breathing heavy.

Ash got to his feet. “You’re a fuckin’ coward! Come here and fight me!”

“Fuck no!” Tama hollered back. “You’re a crazy motherfucker.”

“Pussy, pussy, pussy,” Ash taunted, hoping Tama would lose it and attack him. Even with his hands tied, he knew he could take the bastard down.

“You fuck up!” Tama took a step forward.

“You’re still outta my reach, pussy. Not so tough without a knife, are ya?
Meow.
”

“I helped you!”

“Is this helping me?” Ash raised his arm and licked the blood off it, enjoying Tama’s freaked out reaction. “It tastes like you tried to kill me.”

“You threatened me! I wuz defending myself.”

“Do ya think Sledge will think that when I tell him you tried to kill me?”

Tama clenched his hands, the look on his face furious, but he remained out of head-butting reach like the coward Ash knew he was. Tama had always run from him, never sticking around to fight.

“Sledge will believe me!” Tama shouted.

“
Puuussssyyy
, come and
geeeeet
me.”

“Fuck you, I ain’t goin’ anywhere near you, you crazy motherfucker. EVER!” Tama flicked him the finger, then turned and disappeared into the pine trees.

“Coward!”

“Faggot!” Tama shouted back, but he was long gone, only his voice filtering back through the forest.

Shaking his head, Ash returned to the bedroom, heading for the knife. Tama had definitely intended on killing him, because the blade was wedged into the wall like Arthur’s sword in stone. He started see-sawing the rope along the knife’s edge, freeing himself. He then went to his stepfather, wanting to make sure that Chaz was dead. He reached for the man’s wrist, but pulled back, afraid to touch him. Cursing himself for being a pussy, he reached out again and fumbled for a pulse, relieved when he couldn’t find one. He got up and sat on the bed, still not believing his stepfather was dead—that his nightmare was just as fallible as he was.

He didn’t know how long he sat staring at Chaz, but the sound of cars arriving broke the spell. He got up and pulled back the curtains, watching as two police cars came to a halt. Cops piled out with guns in hand, not the usual police, but the armed division swathed in black from head to toe.

Ash let go of the curtain as he heard them enter the house, shouts of warning accompanying them. He looked down at his body, then snatched up the duvet, covering himself before they burst through the doorway with their guns raised at the ready. The first cop lowered his weapon and headed for Ash while the other moved to the foot of the bed to check on Chaz. “We need ambo now!” the cop yelled into his radio, making Ash nervous, the urgency in the man’s voice suggesting that Chaz was still alive, that he could be saved.

The sound of more vehicles entering the property came from out the front. Ash ignored the cop talking to him as he watched paramedics enter the room with a stretcher. They lifted Chaz onto it, their bodies crowding over him, then a few seconds later they were carrying him out the door. No, Chaz had to be dead, because he didn’t feel a pulse, plus Tama had stabbed him twice and the blood, fuck, there was so much blood. Ash looked down at his hands, noticing some had gotten onto him. He started wiping it on the duvet, frantic to get it off.

The cop took his arm. “Ash, sit down.”

Ash sat down, wondering how the man knew his name. The cop pulled off his headgear and goggles. He had shorn brown hair with a large nose and stunning green eyes, which reminded Ash of someone, although he couldn’t remember who.

The cop touched Ash’s forehead gently. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Ash shook his head.

“Did you do that to your stepfather?”

Ash shook his head again. He wanted to ask how the man knew Chaz was his stepfather, but was unable to speak. He also wanted to tell him about Tama, but all he did was stare at the man’s stunning eyes.

“Then who stabbed your stepfather?”

Ash’s gaze flicked to the doorway as two new paramedics entered.

The cop stood up. “He’s in shock with trauma to the head. Put him on a stretcher.”

The paramedics laid the stretcher on the floor, then the first one, a tall blond male reminding Ash of Chaz, approached him. Ash yelled at him to back off. The man held up his hands and took a step back.

“Ash,” the cop said, getting his attention. “He’s not gonna hurt you. He wants to help.”

Without a word, Ash lifted the duvet, showing him the chain.

The cop’s eyes went round. “Jesus Christ,” he gasped.

Feeling ashamed, Ash re-covered himself. He didn’t care about what Tama thought, but having other people know what he’d been through made him feel repulsive.

“Lift the duvet, I’ll unlock it,” the cop said.

Ash did as instructed, watching the man open the lock with ease, using something similar to a Swiss knife.

“Ash, go lie on the stretcher,” the cop said, re-pocketing the knife.

“How do ya know my name?” Ash finally asked.

“Your brother phoned through, told us ’bout this place.”

“Which brother?”

“Dante, but I still would’ve recognised you. You look so much like your uncle you could be his son.”

“Uncle Luka?”

The cop nodded. “Yeah, he’s one of my best mates, known him since high school. That’s the thing about small towns, we know everyone here.” He frowned. “I remember seeing you at your mother’s funeral, but you probably don’t remember me.”

Ash closed his eyes, the memory returning. The cop had been one of six men who’d carried out his mother’s coffin. Bright green eyes had looked at him so sadly, almost as though the man’s heart had been broken.

Ash opened his eyes. “Did you love my mother?”

The cop looked surprised. “Yes, I did, but she didn’t return it.”

“She made a mistake.”

The cop smiled sadly. “Thanks.” He removed his sunglasses from his pocket and held them out for Ash to take. “It’s bright outside, you should put these on.”

Ash did as instructed, only just realising he’d been crying.

The cop patted his shoulder. “Now, onto the stretcher.”

Ash lay down on it, making sure the duvet covered his body, then the paramedics lifted him and carried him out.

35

Dante

Dante drove over Dargaville Bridge, the water below a pale brown and blue mix. Farmland stretched for miles behind the car, the Northern Wairoa River separating it from the sleepy township of Dargaville. The pastel bungalows, the colonial homesteads and other weatherboard houses were spread out—the quarter-acre-dream still preserved—taking Dante back to a different era, a time before he was born.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” Beth said, breaking the silence that had lasted since they’d left Auckland. “I shouldn’t have told you ’bout my fantasies. Considering everything that’s happened, it wuz insensitive and totally inappropriate, but I just wanted to let you know you didn’t do anything wrong, I just wish I’d said it better.”

Dante nodded. “Apology accepted.”

“Thank you.” She went silent for a moment, then: “Can I ask you sumpthin’?”

He glanced at her. “Yeah, what?”

“Did Chaz sexually abuse you too?”

“No, why would you ask that?”

She appeared uncomfortable, like she didn’t want to reply.

“Beth?”

“It’s how you behave sometimes.” She cleared her throat. “Ash does the brooding thing, whereas you’re wild. You two may act differently, but you’re both similar in your extremes, plus you’re promiscuous.”

He grunted, a little annoyed. “You’re onto that shit ’bout me being a slut again, aren’t cha?”

“No, this is not about me calling you names; it’s about the way you act around both women
and
men. You flirt with everyone, and almost everything you do or say has a sexual overtone. You can be eating perfectly innocently in a restaurant, then when someone catches your eye, you purposely lick the spoon or knife in a sexual manner—or even worse, that time with the breadstick. That poor waiter at my birthday lunch looked so embarrassed.”

“That’s cos he came in his pants,” Dante laughed.

“It’s not funny, and you shouldn’t treat people like sexual objects. It’s as though you’re working out in your mind how you can do them.”

“I haven’t fucked a bloke before, well, apart from their faces, but if I go whole hog I’ll let ya watch,” he said, wanting to goad her.

“Dante!”

He started laughing. “Don’t have a hernia, I wuz having ya on, I’m not interested in that shit.”

“But they don’t know that with the way you flirt with them, cos if I didn’t know your sexual preferences I wouldn’t be able to tell either.”

“So what? It’s fun, and some of them bring it on themselves. That waiter wouldn’t stop staring at me, and why are you so wound up about it, cos everyone else thought it wuz funny.”

“Me and Juliet didn’t.”

“Cos you both don’t have a sense of humour,” he said, stopping at a give-way sign.

“He gave you his number, which meant you would’ve hurt his feelings when you didn’t call.”

Dante laughed again. “Sucker.”

“This is
not
funny. That wuz mean. You’re like a sexual predator, stalking your prey.”

“Stalking my prey? That’s just spastic. And
he
slipped me his number, not the other way round.”

“You do stalk people. You did it to me in the dining-room. You were so scary. I’m not saying it didn’t turn me on, but at the beginning I thought you were goin’ to hit me—”

“I would
never
hit a woman!”

“I know that, but you gave the impression that you would, and you were so sexually aggressive, which makes me think you were sexually abused.”

“I guess you’re right ’bout me being sexually abused.”

“I knew it.”

“Cos that naked photo you took of me could be counted as sexual abuse.” He glanced to see her reaction, and as expected her face dropped.

“I apologised for that.”

He started driving again. “I know, but I’m still pissed with you over it, cos it bloody went viral. After that photo, people started seeing me as public property.”

“What do ya mean?”

“I got groped more after that. Free to touch and use as they please—public property. I even had a few chicks ask for my autograph like I wuz some sort of porn star, while another one tried to have her friend film us while we were having sex. I caught her in the closet.” He glanced at Beth.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking horrified. “You should report them.”

He shrugged. “Nah, I’m used to it now, plus sometimes it’s my own fault.”

“Why’s it your fault?”

“You already know why: I lead people on. It gives me a boner knowing how much they want me, but they can’t do anything about it, which is why it’s even more fun doin’ it to gay guys, cos I’m never tempted to go with them. Though, it’s gotten me into shit a few times, cos guys don’t like being cock-teased.”

“What happened?”

“I’ve had a few get aggressive. Mix alcohol with being turned down after being turned on and you get trouble.”

“They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“Don’t worry ’bout it, I’ve been hurt worse than what any of those twats tried to do.”

“Like with Chaz?”

“S’pose so. He ripped into me really bad.”

“He raped you too!”

“No, he only beat me up.”

“Why did he beat you up?”

“Cos I tried to stab him when I caught him raping Ash.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, Dante.”

Dante shrugged, not feeling comfortable with her sympathy.

“Is that the reason?” she said.

He glanced at her. “The reason for what?”

“Why you did me that way. You were mimicking what Chaz did to Ash.”

He planted his foot on the brake, making them both jolt forward. “What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t have a right to ask me that!”

“Maybe not, but I think you’re continuing what Chaz did, but in your own way.”