Unstitched (2 page)

I headed to the bar: long and made of sleek marble. A showcase of spirits on mirrored shelves sat against the wall behind. I sidled in between Rachel and Roslyn. Their hips were rocking to the beats, arms pumping in the air. I threw my arms around their shoulders and yelled, ‘Who’s up for shots?

Rachel grinned devilishly.

‘Hellz yeah,’ said Roslyn. She threw her attention left and right, behind her, weighing up the quality of men in the room. Her eyes landed on one at a table behind us, tall with brooding brown eyes. ‘And then I’m going to find me some action,’ she said grinning at the man. He smiled back and winked, a cheeky dimple flashing.

I often wished I was more like Roslyn — able to conjure a strong sense of detachment from love and romance, and simply feed one’s healthy appetite for mind-blowing sex. I thought of the singer back at the other bar, how he managed to fuck me with his eyes. Did I have it in me to do away with this ridiculous ideal of love and commitment and take the chance on a one-night-stand? Could I simply give in to my body’s basest needs, no strings attached? Just like Leith did.

My heart ached with that familiar sensation and I pushed my hand to my chest. Longing, as deep as a bottomless lake, crashed into me and caressed me roughly with chastising hands and sharp teeth. I wanted to scream. I was sick of this, the always not-so-subtle reminder that I was built differently, and the constant yearning for that
something
I could never quite place.

I could ignore it, but look what happened the last time I ignored these feelings. Leith — his hands running over my bare skin, body grinding against mine, grunting and panting in my ear as he pushed himself hard and deep inside of me, like he was an animal and I was nothing. Filling me with his bad intentions, over and over until he pulled out and pumped his pungent evidence of conquest all over my belly.

Acid frothed again in my stomach leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. I didn’t want to be thinking about this anymore. About Leith. But these thoughts were insidious.

My hands trembled. I buried them deep in my pockets. Brendt’s words from this morning as he told me the news, rang loud again in my head. ‘Leith was bet one thousand dollars that he’d be able to fuck you… He filmed the entire event on his phone… I broke his nose and his phone, but he’d already sent the video to others… I’m so sorry I didn’t know about this sooner.’

Tears tightened the back of my throat. I shook my head and motioned to the bartender. ‘Four tequila shots. Hurry. Please.’

The shots were lined up on the bar, along with a wedge of lime and shake of salt on the back of our hands.

‘One, two, three,’ said Brendt and we each licked, shot and sucked. Warmth slid down my throat, burning, followed by a chaser of jaw-aching sour lime.

I winced and squirmed as I slammed the shooter glass back onto the bar. ‘Another,’ I said to the bartender. He slopped more tequila into our glasses. I threw it down, then another, and another, until I felt Leith finally slipping away.

***

Lucas

I was packing the band’s gear into the van I’d parked out the back of the bar. As I mindlessly rolled electrical cord, I thought about seeing Anthea earlier — how I knew she was there before I saw her beautiful brown eyes staring up at me, as though we were connected by an ethereal cord that tingled when in close proximity. She was breathtaking. I could barely
remember the chords I needed to strum, the words I had to sing, despite her being their inspiration.

My heart paced, veins surged with adrenalin and hope.

‘Fuck, man, what’s with the goofy grin on your face all night,’ said my bass guitarist, David.

I shook my head and looked at him, forgetful that there was anyone else even around. ‘Um…’

David laughed, loud and deep. ‘Hasn’t got anything to do with that chick you were eyeballing during the set?’

A smile danced across my lips as I shrugged and threw the cord into the back of the van. ‘Na, just…you know…’

David laughed again. ‘Man, you’re losing it. And if it was, maybe, about that girl, then you might wanna go talk to her.’

I narrowed my eyes. ‘What?’

‘She’s standing over near the exit. Looks like she’s waiting for you.’

Heart at
presto staccato
, I struggled to control my reactions. But this wasn’t the time to be screwing up my plans well before they’d even begun to be put in place. Semi-composed, I lifted my eyes, captured hers, and smiled wide. She smiled back.

Wow, she was more stunning than the dim lighting inside the bar could do her justice: long, chocolate hair falling in waves down her back, silky white skin. The street light was pouring over her, highlighting every curve of her body.

She walked towards me, her features tense with concentration, trying not to sway, and I had to bite back a laugh. She was simply adorable.

‘Hello,’ she said when barely a metre away and looked up at me, her eyes sparkling.

I had to force-feed my lungs breath. I rested a hand against the van behind me for balance. ‘Hi.’

She grinned and looked down at her feet, then those brown beauties met my eyes again and she said, holding out her hand, ‘I’m Anthea. Anthea Lewis.’

I took her hand in mine, shook it. Should it feel this good to touch her flesh? Skin on skin — electric. I squared my shoulders back, tried to hide my breathlessness. ‘Good to meet you, Anthea. I’m Lucas Ryan.’

‘You probably hear this a lot, and I apologise if you have, but I think you’re an amazing singer. Just brilliant. And your band, they’re amazing, too.’

I grinned wider, her drunken lisp was outrageously cute. ‘Thanks.’

She was silent for a while, rubbed the toe of her shoe across the bitumen ground and swayed a little too far to the left.

I caught her by the waist and swallowed a gasp as her warmth swamped my hands.

Anthea giggled, reinstating her balance. ‘Woh. Sorry. I’ve had a few drinks and I’m…’ She looked down at my hands on her hips with parted lips.

I breathed her in, sweet as honey, and dizzied. With all my energy, I dragged my palms from her hips and swallowed a sigh.

She stood taller. ‘I…ah…work in public relations, and we need bands all the time for functions. I think you’d be perfect for me. I mean…um.’ Anthea gently pressed her teeth into her bottom lip, her cheeks colouring. ‘I mean, you and your band would be perfect for me…my…the company I work for.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Do you have a business card or something so I can give you a call maybe?’

I hesitated.

‘Only if you want to. It’s totally up to you,’ she said quickly, turning her body slightly away and shoving her hands in her jean pockets.

‘No. I do. It’s just that, you see — I don’t have a business card.’

Anthea frowned. ‘Oh.’ She reached into her clutch bag, rummaged through it until she found a card, pulled it out and handed it to me. ‘Take this. It has my work details. You can drop in, or call your info through.’

I smiled, took the card from her fingertips and pushed it into my pocket. ‘Thank you.’

She grinned. ‘I really look forward to hearing from you.’

I nodded, smiled, but deep inside my cells were jittering, ignited.

Anthea turned to walk away, stopped and spun to face me again. ‘By the way, what’s the name of your band?’

‘
Perennial
.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘
Perennial
? What? Like plants and flowers?’

I grinned. ‘No.’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know of any other definitions.’

‘It’s more of a message than a name,’ I said.

‘A message? For who?’

‘A girl.’

She released a breathy sigh through those sumptuous lips. ‘It’s always about a girl.’

She was spot on and I laughed. ‘For me, yes. It’s always been and always will be about this girl.’

‘Why can’t you just tell this girl the message?’

‘If I told her now, she wouldn’t be able to see it. She’ll only understand it when she’s ready to understand it.’

‘And what will happen when she understands it?’ Anthea asked.

‘She’ll know that I know more than she assumes I do.’

She stared at me for a moment, half her mouth curled with a grin. ‘Well, good luck with that.’

‘Thanks.’

‘And, enjoy the rest of your evening.’

‘You, too. It really was a pleasure to meet you.’

She smiled and lowered her head. ‘Good night, Lucas.’

***

Anthea

I flopped back against the seat and closed my eyes to the darkened city sliding past the window. My head spun, my stomach a churning cocktail of acid, disillusionment and white liquor. Rachel placed a hand on my thigh.

‘You okay, sweetie?’

I nodded.

‘Pretty boy must be insane to turn down a night of revenge sex with you,’ said Brendt.

‘Exactly,’ said Rachel. ‘Although, you didn’t have to phrase it quite so indelicately, Brendt.’

‘He didn’t turn me down.’ I opened my eyes and stared across at them, Rachel in the middle, Brendt beside her. My head was spinning and I had to really focus. ‘I chickened out. And I’m okay about it.’

‘Good for you,’ said Rachel, squeezing my knee.

‘I just couldn’t say the words to him. Even though he looked like a fucking sex god. Seriously, who looks like that?’

Rachel giggled. ‘He was way too attractive. That can only be a bad thing.’

I shrugged. ‘Bad, shmad. Who am I to know? My judge of character is obviously waaayyyy off.’

‘Don’t beat yourself up, Anthy. Leith had us all fooled,’ said Brendt.

Then the tears began — drunken end-of-night, woe-is-me tears creeping down my cheeks. I sniffed and wiped them away with my palms. ‘Who sleeps with someone for a freakin’ bet? Who tapes someone while you’re having sex with them and passes it on to his mates as though it were a cheap porno?’ I groaned and scrubbed my hands over my face. ‘I can only imagine how many people have seen that footage.’

Rachel winced, opened her mouth to speak, but sighed instead.

I closed my eyes again to stifle the spinning, to stem the stream of tears.

Who was I kidding? I didn’t chicken out with Lucas. Not exactly. He was simply too decent a guy to use for revenge sex. He seemed to glow so brightly with goodness, I felt but a shadow leaning towards him and wanting to drown my face in his light.

Anthea

Oh, my freakin’ God. What foul beast suggested I drown my sorrows on a Sunday night when I had to get up early for work the next day?

Oh, right. I did. When I stupidly, regretfully thought a bottle of tequila and table-top dancing would bury Leith’s betrayal. Note to self: don’t ever be so bloody stupid again. I ran to the toilet and retched up every last modicum of yellow acid from the pit of my stomach and then some. I rested my throbbing head on the toilet seat and flopped my arse onto the cold tiles. My head was splitting in two, my nerve endings wrought with dull, aching pain.
So this is what it must feel like when you’re dying.

There was no way I was going in to work today.

***

I strolled down the long grey hall flanked by countless square offices. With each breath inwards I smelled dust, carpet cleaning products and time.

‘Get your butt in here, missy.’

Sabine.

I stopped mid-step, smiled and stuck my head into her office. She was behind her enormous mahogany desk, her auburn hair pulled up into a high ponytail. Her lips were half scowling, half grinning.

‘Good morning, boss.’ Sabine was technically my boss, but also one of my best friends.

‘Good morning, indeed. And where was my good morning yesterday?’ Even with the light-heartedness of the conversation the pain was still too raw. My throat tightened. It must have shown on my face.

‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘Shut the door and tell me all about it.’

So I did. Every sordid detail.

Sabine leant back against her seat, clasped her hands behind her head. ‘Arsehole!’ she hissed.

I sighed. ‘Don’t I know it.’

‘So what are you going to do? What about the footage?’

I shrugged. ‘What can I do? There’s no way to stop it.’

Sabine lowered her palms to the desk and shook her head. ‘What a cluster fuck.’

‘It’s the constant thinking that’s making me crazy. I was kinda hoping I could take some time off work and get away for a couple of weeks until it all blows over.’

Sabine nodded. ‘That might be a good idea. I’m happy to give you time off next week, but I really, really, really need you this week.’

My shoulders drooped. ‘The fundraiser. I almost forgot.’

She grinned. ‘How could you forget the dreaded fundraiser? But, we’re so close now. Saturday’s the big night and then it will be nothing but a wretched memory.’

‘So next week?’

Sabine pushed her mouse and clacked her fingers over the keyboard. ‘I’m locking it in now. Two weeks starting Monday. But you need to give me your full attention until Saturday. I can’t have you getting distracted.’

‘My mind’s on the task. I promise.’

She leant back against her chair, crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Good, because I’ve got some bad news.’

I held my breath. I had no other methods left for dealing with more bad news, not unless I called in a complete mental breakdown.

‘That band you booked for Saturday night pulled out.’

I dizzied as her words drilled into my head. ‘What? Why?’

‘The lead singer overdosed.’

‘You’re kidding me. The singer overdosed?’ I pulled on my ear, my jaw tight. ‘How bloody…selfish!’

Sabine’s lips curled and I had to giggle, because if I didn’t I’d cry.

‘But seriously, how the hell am I supposed to get someone at this late notice?’

Sabine breathed in deeply and shook her head as she blew out her breath. ‘That’s what I need you to figure out. And fast.’

***

My desk was covered with paperwork and post-it notes. I couldn’t think straight with all this mess. Was it seriously only one day I had off? And this was what I had to come back to. I roughly ordered files, threw away the useless rubbish — morning tea notices, after-work social club news. I lifted a pile of business directories and a white square of paper flittered out and fell onto the carpet.