Headstrong (23 page)

Colin accepted the elderly man’s somber nod as a pact and abandoned his post to run up the stairs, through the flat to Reece’s bedroom. He knocked and pushed the door open without waiting for an invitation.

His brother was untangling hangers at his bedside, unpacking clothes from one of his moving boxes.

“What in the hell happened?” Colin demanded.

Reece frowned. “What are you on about?”

“Libby. She came running through the pub and out the front door, with her bag and her stereo. What did you do to her?”

Reece’s eyes widened. “I didn’t do anything. We were hanging out and she just excused herself.”

“Did you say something to her? She looked pretty bloody upset.”

“Whoa, calm down. We were hanging out and she said she didn’t feel well. Aside from that, she didn’t seem upset to me.”

Colin could tell there were some major details being left out of this recounting…probably for his own supposed benefit, which irked him further. “Well she’s run off now. You have to go after her.”

Reece smiled dryly. “I’m not going after her. She’s a grown woman.” He turned back to his unpacking.

Colin’s brow bunched. “Don’t you care that she’s upset?”

“No, not really. Let her be upset. People get upset all the time.”

Colin shot his brother a glare and repeated, “What did you do to her?”

He caught Reece’s eyes rolling almost imperceptibly. “Nothing she said she was bothered by.”

“You are so useless with women.”

“Hey, now—I can’t waste my time trying to translate everything that girl says to me. She’s never straight with anybody, ever. And this whole thing is more complicated than you know. Let her work through it on her own. If she wanted people knowing she was upset, she wouldn’t have snuck off.”

Colin’s fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides as he willed himself to be calm. “Watch the pub.”

“It’s my night off.” Icy.

“You’ve had seven years’ worth of nights off,” Colin snapped, stepping over a dangerous line. “I’m going after her, so unless you want us to get robbed blind or supremely piss off the few customers we’ve got left, you’ll get your arse down there.” He gave Reece no chance to protest, just left him alone with his hangers and cold self-possession. Then he turned back, gripping the doorframe. “What does Libby’s boat look like?”

Christ, was karaoke night always this freaking cheerful?

Libby sipped her wine and scanned the crowd. The din of the chatter and the amateur singing and the clinking of glasses was oppressive, but not nearly as much as the silence of her little boat had been. It wasn’t a refuge anymore. Wasn’t home. Never really had been. It didn’t have the welcoming feeling of the apartment above the pub. Didn’t have the lull of the bar or the comfort of Marjorie, the warm hilarity of Colin or the thrill of seeing… Well, anyway.

Libby’s pride was bruised, and it was too painful to go back now. Not tonight, maybe not ever. She couldn’t look at that man, not when she knew there wasn’t really anything substantive looking back. His kindness was nothing unique to her, and neither were his actions. She got more devoted exclusivity just sitting across the bar from—

As she stared across the club, Libby felt a chill run down her spine, precisely like the cliché.

Colin.

Patrons turned to watch as an orange bicycle cut through the crowd, held aloft on Colin’s shoulder by one tattooed arm. He made a beeline for the DJ’s table. Libby looked around for signs of Reece, but this reconnaissance appeared to be a one-man mission.

On stage, beyond the small sea of bodies, a drunken trio of girls were wrapping up a hair-raising rendition of a Destiny’s Child track. As they descended the steps, Colin and his bicycle took their place. He leaned his ride against the wall and jogged to center stage, raising the mic stand. Libby’s heart quickened, knowing this was going to be about her.

Colin squinted into the crowd though the blinding lights. The opening synthesizer of his song began. He put the mic to his lips and beamed his unfailing charisma around the room. “Sorry about jumping the queue, everybody. And my apologies if Libby isn’t here, but don’t pretend that you don’t love Phil Collins. Everybody loves Phil Collins.”

After this mysterious preamble, he launched into a remarkably spirited performance of “Don’t Lose My Number”, embodying all the early-eighties dire melodrama of the song.

Libby cracked a tight smile. There was something perfect about it, in a backward way—the tall, intimidating, tattooed man with the shaved head, belting out soft-rock. Libby couldn’t figure out what a song about a fugitive had to do with her, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen such an electric karaoke offering. Colin’s hammy performance was made acceptable by the fact that the boy could work a crowd like no one else. When he got to the chorus, he swapped Libby’s name in place of Billy.

Despite her best efforts to stay embarrassed and gloomy, Libby laughed. A nearby acquaintance nudged her in the ribs.

At the interlude, Colin spoke over the guitar solo. “Libby! I’m sorry my brother’s an idiot, but our family’s totally boring without you. Please come home. DJ?” He looked to the DJ’s table and tugged his thumb toward the screen displaying the lyrics and occasional drink specials. Tim did something with the karaoke software, and the projection flipped to a blank screen with just the pub’s phone number typed in.

“Cheers, mate. Libby, do what the song says.” Here the vocals kicked back in and Colin abandoned his entreaty, finishing the track off in exemplary karaoke style. When it wrapped he didn’t leave the stage. He spoke over his enthusiastic applause. “If that didn’t move you, Libby, I have something no woman can resist.” He raised his eyebrows at the DJ again, and the twinkly first notes of the famous duet from
Dirty Dancing
came on.

He sang Bill Medley’s opening lyrics and then, still partnerless, he sang Jennifer Warnes’s in falsetto. The audience laughed.

“Libby, don’t make me do this to all these innocent people.”

She was besieged by gentle shoves and words of teasing encouragement, hands pushing her forward. She didn’t think she’d ever resisted an invitation to make a spectacle of herself before. Giving in, she broke into a dopey grin, ran to the front and hopped her butt onto the edge of the stage.

“Thank bloody God,” Colin said into the microphone amid cheers, interrupting his vocals. He tugged her by the hand to standing.

She grabbed the other mic and fell into the song. The crowd shouted its collective approval.

Libby felt her body flush with a mix of relief and gratitude. As she stood next to Colin, singing and making a cheesy fool of herself—the thing she did best—she wondered how on earth this activity had ever seemed fun before she’d met him…or indeed his brother. She’d loved Wellington before the Nolans, but not the way she’d come to in the past month.

As the song wound down, Colin replaced his mic and jumped off the stage. He turned back to Libby and held up his arms, recklessly inviting her to complete their corny performance with a
Dirty Dancing
-style lift. She replaced her own mic and fake-rushed the edge of the stage. Judging from Colin’s huge eyes, he hadn’t been planning on Libby actually jumping. She halted at the last moment then bounded back to wheel his bike forward. He carried it aloft in her stead, cutting a path through the throng. Libby followed him, deafened by rabid applause. When Colin made for the exit, she didn’t hesitate to follow.

As they stepped outside, he flipped his bike onto the sidewalk and turned to her. The door closed behind them, and the relative silence was like stepping into an alternate universe.

He smiled. “Hey, Bigfoot.”

She looked to their feet. “Hi, Tiger. Why aren’t you working?”

“I made Reece take over. I hope it’s not supremely patronizing, but I thought someone should go after you. I’d have been quicker, but I wasted a bunch of time at the marina before I remembered it was Thursday.”

She bit her lip. “Reece knows I was upset, then?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was too thick to realize.”

“That’s okay… That’s what I get for running off like some bad, prime-time teen drama.” She swallowed the lump that had returned to her throat. “So is this my two-man pity-party?”

“Oh, this is purely selfish. Do you have any idea how miserable that place would be without you around?”

“I don’t think I can go back to yours anymore. It’ll be really weird.”

He shook his head. “Only for you. Plus it’ll only be humiliating for like thirty seconds, and then it’ll be okay again.”

“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe sometime.”

“I hope so. You fancy a walk?”

She nodded. The air was misty and cool, not quite raining, and it felt good after the fevery heat of the lights. They walked in silence for a couple of blocks, going in the general direction of the marina.

“Hey.” Colin patted the bike’s seat. “Hop on.”

“I didn’t think you’d let anyone ride your precious bicycle,” Libby said, smirking at him.

“Don’t get excited. I’m still driving.”

She climbed on, and Colin steered her with a strong fist on the handlebars. She gave his bell a ring and earned a stern glower.

Libby propped her feet on the crossbar and pushed out a cathartic breath, calm replacing her jitters. As they reached the pedestrian mall on Cuba Street, Colin grabbed the bars with both hands and sprinted them through the thoroughfare, scattering tourists and street performers, Libby screaming in delighted terror. When he slowed them back down, she hopped off and walked again.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I’ll drop you at your boat, if you want.”

“Maybe in a bit. Can we keep walking?”

“No worries. I’ve got all night.” He was quiet for a few moments. “I’m sorry he doesn’t know what he’s missing, Libs.”

“What’s that?” Libby asked unnecessarily.

“Reece. He’s an idiot.”

“He’s not.”

“He is. I’d give him a good smack in the head for you…if I thought I had any chance of landing it.”

“Well, thanks.”

“This is because you like him?” he asked.

“Yeah, it is. And you
cannot
tell him.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Good. Though he can probably piece it together now, anyhow.”

Colin nodded. “So, he’s not…into it? Or…?”

She shook her head, hopeless. “He’s just not into
me
. Can a person change their mind about that sort of thing?”

“Sure they can. People change all the time. It’s their only redeeming feature.”

“Even Reece?”

He blew out a long breath. “He’s a tough one, I know. He doesn’t bend much on things… It’s his best and worst quality. His opinions about people aren’t particularly malleable.”

“I feel like such a masochist.”

“Join the club.”

Colin’s candid smile made Libby’s heart melt and break at the same time, and she felt her composure crumble. “It really sucks.”

Colin’s free arm came around her shoulders and she finally let herself accept it—Reece probably wasn’t ever going to love her.

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

“I get that. I just wanted it so much. He’s the first person I’ve felt that way about in what feels like forever.”

“Feel like what?”

“With Reece? Safe. Like he’s not after something hidden. He’s so up front about everything. I trust him.”

“And he never let you think he had feelings for you?” Colin asked.

“No. That’s what makes
me
the idiot.”

“Well, not necessarily.” He cleared his throat. “I suspect you’ve had it up to here with shrinks.” He tapped her chin.

“That I have.”

“But indulge me a minute.” They waited for a walk signal as a light rain began to fall. “Why’d you pick the
one
man who gave you a guarantee that he’d never feel that way for you? It’s not just about the challenge, is it?”

“No. Probably not.”

“Maybe you picked someone who wouldn’t go there with you because then you didn’t have to really risk anything. He wouldn’t let you get close, so there was nothing available there that you might end up losing. Safe. You said it yourself.”

“Yeah.”

“That said, he’s still an idiot.”

Libby smiled in spite of herself and they crossed the street.

“You don’t have to give up, you know,” Colin said. “I know it sucks, him not liking you back, but you’re leaving anyway, right? In a few months? If it’s really important to you, there’s no law that says you can’t settle for what’s on offer, even if it’s not ideal. It sounds like you’ve waited a long time for this.”

“I have.”

“One-sided infatuation bites, don’t get me wrong. But maybe it’s worth the pain. As pathetic as it sounds, you might want to consider just taking what you can get.” His voice sounded tight. “Things don’t have to be permanent to be worthwhile. You might regret it if you just give up.”

The idea struck Libby as both hopeful and humiliating. “I might regret it if I keep trying.”

“It’s your choice to make.”

“My mistake, you mean.”

Libby realized a thoughtful half mile onward that they’d wound up on Hutt Road, the route that ran along the coast to the north of the city.

“You’re taking me back to Kaiwharawhara,” she said.

“Yeah, if you’re letting me. Half your shit’s still cluttering up our telly room, anyway.”

She slowed. “I don’t want to see him yet.”

“Treat it like a plaster, Libs—rip it off quick and the pain’ll be over before you know it.”

“I must have seemed like such a jackass,” she groaned. “Trying to sneak out. And now you’re going to make me walk back in there, looking like a drowned cat and have to see him, all calm and perfect.”

“Yeah. But it’s Reece. He’s not going to make you feel like a shit about it. He’s an idiot, but he’s not an arsehole.”

“I wish he was, sometimes. It’d be easier to not like him.”

“I suppose. He’s an odd one.”

Libby shrugged. “Is he? Or isn’t he more like the most
together
person ever?”

Colin shook his head. “Nah. He’s a regular old screwed-up human like the rest of us, no matter what he’s led you to believe. I know I complain about him being perfect, because he is, compared to me. But he buggers up his share of things too.”