Stan (14 page)

I rubbed my
stomach, grimacing at the tenderness of it as my insides twisted.

Breathe, Bel.
Just. Breathe.

Everything was
well enough planned. I was going to the movies to watch God-knows what with
freaked-if-I-knew who, but it was a double feature and probably best not to
wait up. It was the diciest plan I had ever thought of, but I was so utterly
desperate to head to Stan’s, I had almost contemplated pointing in the opposite
direction and saying ‘look’, all the while running away from my distracted family;
that was plan B.

Oh, God, I
hoped he was home.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Stan

Want a beer?

Sean shut the
cabin door behind him as I made my way to the fridge, assuming the answer would
be a resounding yes.

“Ah, no, thanks,
mate, I won’t take long.”

I did a double
take, wondering had Sean taken ill. I knew he had come to see me about business
which would no doubt in my mind involve a few cheeky beers.

“You feeling all
right?”

Sean refused to
even sit, nodded readily. “Oh, yeah, fine. I just, ah, will make this short and
sweet.”

“Okay,” I said,
warily taking a seat on the edge of the lounge. “You’re not going to need a
kidney or anything, are you?”

Sean laughed,
seeming to relax somewhat. “Not at this stage, mate, but I know you’re good for
it.”

“I am.” I saluted
him with my beer.

“Listen, it’s a
pretty simple thing, and I’m going to cut to the chase.” Sean delved his hands
in his pockets and looked at me pointedly. “I want you to work with me.”

I slowly lowered
the beer from my lips.

“Work for you?”

“No. I want you to
work
with
me,” Sean repeated.

“I’m not a
builder.”

“No, but you have
a brilliant work ethic and you know how to run a business. When I thought about
coming home and starting up here, there was only one bloke I knew would fit the
bill, and that’s you.”

I sat stunned into
silence, as Sean continued with his pitch.

“I’ll pay you a
full wage, none of that apprentice crap; you’ll be my equal and we’ll do it
together. It’s not just something new for you, it’s new for me too, and I need
to work with someone I can trust.”

I rubbed the back
of my neck, Sean’s words whirring through my head. “Shit, mate, I don’t know.
It sounds bloody tempting.”

“That’s because it
is.” Sean strode across the floor taking the seat opposite me, leaning forward
with his elbows on his knees, eyes wild with excitement.

“Cut the umbilical
cord, Stan, grab the independence you want. It will be hard work, I’m not
denying that, but your life will be your own.”

Everything he was
saying was hitting a nerve in me, a nerve I didn’t want to admit to. How could
I leave the park to my parents to manage on their own? I felt this sense of
duty towards them, towards this place. My emotions would always be torn when it
came to them. It wasn’t as simple to just jump at his offer and ride off into
the sunset.

“Look, think about
it, will you? Just think about it for me. There’s no rush.”

I nodded, looking
at Sean. Despite his words, a sense of urgency radiated from him. I would think
about it, but one way or another, I wouldn’t keep him waiting. I wouldn’t do
that to him.

“Can I let you
know in the morning?”

Sean’s brows
lifted in surprise. “Sure, yeah. God, whenever.” Sean stood, meeting adjourned.

I stood too,
offering my hand. “Thanks, mate.”

Sean took my hand.
“No worries.”

It was as deep and
meaningful as it would get amongst us mates, but the truth is Sean’s offer
meant more to me than I could possibly say. Sean was a perfectionist, a master
in his profession, and the fact he wanted me to go into partnership with him,
well, that would take some seeping in. I had a lot of thinking to do.

Luckily I had the
rest of the night to think it over.

“Well, I better
get going,” Sean said, heading for the door.

“Sure you don’t
want to stay for a beer? I know you said short and sweet, but Jesus.”

Sean opened the
door, stepping out onto the deck. “Yeah, well, speaking of short and sweet …”
He coughed and stepped aside.

I paused in the
doorway, words escaping me as my eyes locked onto Bel standing on my front
steps.

Sean slapped me on
the shoulder, speaking lowly into my ear. “I would say sleep on that offer, but
something tells me you’re not going to get much sleep tonight.” He winked,
grinning as he went to stand next to a blushing Bel.

“Thanks for the
lift,” she said coyly.

Sean nodded. “You’re
welcome.”

Bel wrung her
fingers, and bit her lip in nervous anticipation. It was a side of her I hadn’t
seen before. It was almost painful to watch how uncomfortable she was.

“Your parents are
giving you next weekend off,” she blurted out so quickly, it took me aback.

Sean groaned. “Oh
that’s just great, just pretend you didn’t hear that, Stanley. Don’t let your
sense of duty make you all gooey inside,” he said, pointing at me as he
descended the steps toward his car.

“See ya, Sean,” I
said, waving from the deck as I moved to stand beside Bel on the steps.

Sean honked a
series of obnoxious toots as he spun his Ute into a cloud of dust, gunning it
down the dirt road and out of sight long before the dust cloud settled.

Now with the fading
light, and Bel by my side, my head full of confusion, it was my turn to be
speechless.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Bel

I probably
looked a sight.

I had all but run
up the crest screaming out to my parents not to wait up. One thing in my favour
was this was my last night in Onslow; my parents didn’t dare ask too many
questions of my plans.

Plans that
involved getting into a stranger’s car and being driven along a desolate, dirt
track in the bushy scrubland. Yep, nothing creepy about that.

If Sean wasn’t singing
Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Brilliant Disguise’ and slapping the steering wheel to the
beat of the music in joyous wonder, I probably would have felt uneasy, but I
relaxed somewhat. Until, of course, Stan’s shack came into view.

There it was - a
mission brown weatherboard shack on the edge of an open field with an awesome
view overlooking the water in the distance. Completely secluded from the
tourists of the park. It was simple and neat with a verandah not unlike the
self-contained units in the park, with a couple of chairs and a little table. I
tried to imagine what the inside of Stan’s house would look like and wondered
even if I was going to see it? Would he invite me in? Would he be completely
creeped out by me coming here? Was this overstepping the mark? Self-doubt
rattled my thoughts; I was on the verge of asking Sean to take me back to the
park when he pulled the car up and shut off the engine.

“Wait here for a
sec. I just have to talk business with Stan for a bit.”

“Don’t tell him I’m
here,” I blurted out. Sean looked back at me with an air of amusement.

“Not a chance, I
need him focused.” He laughed, sliding out and shutting the car door.

What was that
supposed to mean?

Now I think I
knew. Standing beside Stan, he seemed anything but focused; he seemed confused
and unsettled by my presence. Maybe it wasn’t too late to chase after Sean’s
car.

Silence hung heavy
between us. He didn’t invite me in, he just stood there, leaning against the
verandah post with his hands in his pockets, his eyes cast down on me on the
lower step. I tentatively stepped up so as to meet his eye.

“I’m going home
tomorrow.”

A new emotion
flickered across Stan’s face as he leant off the post, straightening. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, my dad has
been called back to work early so I guess we’ll be spending Christmas in
Maitland after all.”

I searched his
face, desperately wanting to see an air of disappointment, a glimmer of
something more, that very something he had shown me yesterday when I swore he
was going to kiss me. But I saw nothing, just a stony resolve and a slow nod of
his head.

A lump rose in my
throat, the overwhelming feeling of disappointment churned in a way I couldn’t
disguise as I broke from his gaze, my eyes shifting down briefly to gather
myself.

“Yeah, so I just
wanted to say goodbye,” I said, lifting my chin and praying for an inner
strength.

Damn you, Stan
Remington, damn my traitorous heart, and damn Onslow.

The sooner I got
as far away from here the better. I had had enough of this town, of everything
in it. I would go back to the van, my parents would do a double take at the
time and how early I was, while I disguised my tears and turned in early for
the night avoiding their questions.

But I still needed
to make my legs work, make my move down the long line of steps, down the road
and through the scrub before dark. I remembered the weight that was in my
satchel. Smiling slightly to myself, I recalled the trouble it had been to get
Sean to make a pit stop before heading to Stan’s place. He had done it under
sufferance, but it was my plan B should everything go pear shaped, like it
already had.

“I, um, got
something,” I said, flipping the canvas flap open at my side and delving into
my bag. I was concentrating so hard to disguise the tremor of my hands as I
searched for what I was looking for.

Grabbing onto the
pack I pulled it out and handed it Stan. For the longest moment Stan looked at
my hand, the still unchanging stare set in the hardness of his eyes until he
slowly reached out and took the packet of mints from my hand. His fingers
accidentally brushed mine setting a tingling jolt through me, which only made
my heart ache all the more. But nothing killed me more than the slow smile that
lifted the corners of his mouth as he studied the packet then looked back to
me. It killed me because somehow over the last few days, I’d become addicted to
his smiles. They were beautiful. They were stunning. They were Stan. And I now
knew I would probably never see them again. My heart stuttered at the thought.

“Thanks,” he said,
turning the packet over in his hands.

I nodded, somehow
finding the willpower to turn and miraculously make my legs move. One step in
front of the other, I told myself. Just. Go. I breathed out, cheering myself on
not to lose it until I was out of sight, until I was far away, then I could
fall apart, howl at the moon if I wanted. I just had to hold it together. The
vast space ahead seemed like a mountain range, so I tried not to think of that.
Instead, I readjusted my bag and left the stairs of Stan’s shack behind.

“Bel, wait!”

I froze so quickly
I thought I might stumble. I heard the sound of footsteps descend the stairs. I
slowly turned to see Stan, walking a long, determined stride toward me,
throwing the packet of mints aside with abandon. My eyes widened at them
landing in the dust, splitting, and spilling over the ground. I had barely
enough time to voice my shock before Stan reached me, cupped my face, and was
kissing me so passionately, my hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt. His
kiss captured all my breath and caused my heart to thump against my rib cage.
His mouth was like a hot brand, as if someone had sparked a match against me.
My hands moved to divide the folds of his hair, my mouth opening for him, only
for him to break away all too quickly. Gone was the unreadable gaze, here was
the fire I had seen before, the same Stan I knew wanted what I wanted as he
pressed his forehead against mine, his ragged breaths blowing across my face. “That’s
not enough.” He spoke against my lips. “I was waiting for you to say something,
anything, but not walk away—not again.”

“I was going to
say something,” I said.

Stan pulled away,
looking down on me, his eyes taking in my face in a silent question.

“You’re not with
Ellie,” I breathed out.

Stan’s brows rose
in surprise. “Ellie?”

I could almost see
the cogs turning inside his head as he was trying to piece the mysteries of the
universe together. “Surely you didn’t think that—”

I cut him off,
pressing my lips to his, feeling the tension of his shoulder melt as his arm
swept around my waist, drawing me near him.

I spoke against
the softness of his lips. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“But …” I pressed
my finger to his lips. I didn’t need an explanation, or the long story about
the history of him and Ellie. I just wanted to erase it from my memory and be
lost in this moment. Just Stan and me, in the here and now. His beautiful,
inquisitive eyes flicked over my face causing my smile to broaden.

“You’re a terrible
host, Stan Remington.”

He arched his
brow, looking down on me with slowly forming smirk as he reached up to slowly
pull my hand away from his mouth.

“I just kissed you
until your legs buckled, and I’m a terrible host, really?”

I giggled, taking
in the genuine mystified expression lining his face. I just shook my head.

“Aren’t you going
to invite me in?”

***

I walked around
Stan’s small living room taking in the sight of his bachelor pad. An old, brown
suede couch that looked like it folded into a sofa bed, the small L-shaped
kitchen and dining table and chairs made it the epitome of open living, none
more so than the bed I stood at the foot of at the other end of the room. I
turned, curving my brow.

“Ah, yeah, there’s
not much to it, I’m afraid,” he said sheepishly.

“I love it!” I
beamed, taking in the sweet effort of how he had attempted to make it a home,
the matching lounge cushions and the colour-coordinated rug on the floorboards.

“Will your parents
be wondering where you are?” Stan sat on the edge of the sofa.

“I think they are
allowing me one last night of freedom,” I said, choosing to sit on the end of
Stan’s bed; the subtle gesture had Stan looking down into his hands, as if his
palm was the most interesting thing in the world.

Was he
blushing?

“So Cinderella has
no curfew then?” he mused.

“Nope,” I said,
sliding my shoes off and criss-crossing my legs on the end of his bed, patting
the space beside me. My heart spiked with approval, the way the deep set of his
eyes flicked from me to the space beside me, a mixture of shyness and
amusement. I don’t exactly know where this newfound confidence had come from; I
mean, I wasn’t a saint by any means, I had had boyfriends before, but nothing
and no one made my heart beat the way Stan did when I was with him.

His eyes lifted,
the corner of his mouth pinching involuntarily. He stood, delving his hands
deep into his pockets, something he tended to do when he was nervous. He walked
over to me, stopping just before the end of the bed. He shook his head, almost
in disbelief.

“I’ve got no TV,
you know.”

I shrugged.

“No stereo.”

“Thank God.”

“No pool, no games
room, no vending machines.”

I couldn’t help
but grin bigger. “What will we do then?”

Stan leant down,
placing his arms on either side of me, caging me in, as his mouth hovered
against mine and he slowly pushed me back.

“Oh, I think we
can think of something.”