White Lady (17 page)

You’re not in the outback. Just buy more,
I say to myself.

I quickly grab two or three more pills off the floor, secure them in my palm with three fingers, and stand up. I drop them into my purse, snap it shut, flick my hair behind my shoulders, and walk out of the airport as if nothing at all has happened.

Breathe. They
will
love you again. Even if it’s just pretend.

After a detour to a chemist’s with my rented dark-blue Mercedes, and half an hour squabbling with the pharmacist before bribing him with an amount of cash the man wouldn’t dream of earning in one year, I head towards my old home with a full bottle of tranquilizers. I have no idea what I’m going to do when I arrive, but I’ve decided I’ll take this one step at a time. If the courage to make an appearance escapes me, I might spend the night staring at my old front lawn. But that’s okay. That’s one step closer to my goal. What matters now is that I’m here, and I’m on the road to getting my life back on track, to normal, to the way it was before I appreciated how wonderful my life was. Well, in hindsight, at least I wasn’t lonely.

What more does a woman need in this day and age? It’s all about keeping up appearances, and everything on the surface of our life was shiny and clean.

When I reach the corner of my old street, I stop the car.

“Just take a quick look,” I say to myself in the rearview mirror. “Then go to the hotel.”

I roll into my street and head towards my house at 5km an hour. I notice a girl walking with a backpack in the same direction. She’s unhealthily overweight and dressed in a black tracksuit, decent, but a little tattered around the ankles. The kind that reminds me of the pot-smoking days with Nash and Ibrahim. I smile at the thought, but then with a touch of pity towards the girl.

Poor thing. She could really do with a personal trainer. Maybe I can offer my services when I move back into the neighbourhood.

But wait. The girl opens the gate to my old house. And walks to the front door!

I frown. She doesn’t look like the type of girl Mia would hang out with. At all. But there’s something familiar about the way she moves and rummages in her schoolbag. I retrieve my mini binoculars from my handbag and lift them to my eyes.

Gasp!

She’s pulling out her key, still attached to that ridiculous dog chain.

Mia? Oh my
God
. Nash, what have you done to her?

There’s no way I can sit back and allow my daughter to ruin herself a second longer. Just look how ugly she has become! I must get back into their lives. Right now.

I unhook my iPhone from the hub in the dashboard, and with the edge of my right index finger text Nash.

I’m in Melbourne. Meet me at Roxy’s in two hours. Or I tell her.

Chapter 41

Mia: I never would have guessed.

I’m lying flat on my back staring at Mick’s collection of boobs and arses on his bedroom ceiling.

“I think Kimi’s just scared,” I say. “We could use this to your advantage, babe.”

Babe? Where did that come from?

Mick pulls all the knives out of his box and lines them up at the base of his bed. He hasn’t seemed to notice what I called him. It’s practically saying that we’re officially together.

Are we? We haven’t talked about it. Is it possible to be an item without declaring it to each other? Or is that too “high school?” I can’t deny feeling like it has to be announced. Could I really assume that we just are?

The thought gives me tingles all over, and I imagine sliding under his bedcovers.

With him following me.

Kissing.

Mick doing to me what I did to Kimi.

I have the same burning feeling in my crotch as I did with Kimi. I slide my feet up to my bum and let my knees fall to the side. I notice that the skin over my knees isn’t pulling as badly as usual. Could I have lost a bit of weight?

Mick shrugs and says, “I dunno.” He hooks his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans and looks left to right at all the knives on the bed.

“What do you mean, you dunno?” What I really want is to ask Mick if he’s my boyfriend, but I force myself to stay on topic. “It makes sense. We tell her who she’s really living with, how much danger she could be in, and get her on our side to help you find some coke, and, you know, give her a cut from it to sell instead of your knives. We already know she can get speed.”

Mick pauses and looks up. “How?”

Shit.

“Uh,” I hesitate for a moment, but then realize there’s no harm in telling him the truth. “She was giving me some so I could lose weight.”

“What?” Mick laughs and nods. “Now, I geddit.”

I sit up and shrug. “Yeah. But it’s not like that. I’m not addicted to that shit or anything. And I stopped. I feel totally fine.” Just as I say that my eye twitches. “Can we talk about that later?”

Mick shrugs and frowns. Could that actually be a sign of concern for my well-being?

“Okay,” he says. “But can we fuck’n’ trust ’er?”

“Don’t you think it’s worth the risk? It’s either that or her trying to get your knives. And I’m not sure I can keep pretending I don’t have anything to do with you because—”

Mick smiles at me. “’Cause?”

We stare at each other with smirks on our faces. Mick walks to the side of the bed, sits next to me, and wraps his right hand around the back of my neck.

We kiss. With a lot of tongue.

I can hardly catch my breath by the time we stop.

Mick stands up and continues the conversation as though it wasn’t interrupted. My heart is beating as if I were still on speed.

“Maybe we can ask ’er, but I still think she needs to prove herself.”

Maybe we are an item. Would he behave so comfortably if we weren’t?

“How?” I say.

“Get his contacts for us?”

“You want her to snoop through his shit?”

“Yeah.”

“What if she gets caught?”

Mick leans his back against his set of drawers. “If she needs the fuckin’ dough to save ’er own life, then she’ll do it. If she wants to get outta here so bad, she’d take whatever op she could get.”

“Why would her life be in danger? She’s living like a queen—she said so herself. We’d have to offer her something better than that, babe.”

This time I didn’t say
babe
by accident.

“Dad is a fuckin’ cunt. He doesn’t give a fuck about Kimi. Trust me. If she’s in the way of his business, he’ll just kill ’er. Slaughter ’er like a fuckin’ lame horse.”

I glare at him. I don’t know how to respond to that. Really?

“I’m fuckin’ serious,” he says.

“I don’t think she’ll go for it.” I massage my temples.

Mick half sighs and
tsks
. “Fuck. I’ll just say it.”

“Say what?”

“She’s toying with ya.”

“What do you mean?”

“What if she’s actually workin’ with me dad? What if he’s havin’ her steal the weapons
for
’im?”

“Why would he do that? I don’t understand how—”

“Mia. Fuckin’ think.” Mick whacks the side of his head as if it’s somehow going to jump-start mine to function like a gangster’s. “He hates my mother’s fuckin’ guts. He wants revenge because she’s the one who worked with the cops to try ’n’ nab ’im in the fuckin’ first place. Maybe he’s trying to fuck up this whole deal I have goin’ with him. It makes sense. Then he gets
everything
he wants. He doesn’t give a fuck that I’m his son, or that me mum is his wife. All he gives a fuck about is money. And blood.” He points his finger at me and makes a popping sound like it’s a gun.

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

I squint out the window trying to think of a solution. As if I’m even qualified to come up with one. All I can think of is to go to the cops. But if Ibrahim really is as crazy as Mick makes out, I can’t see how the cops are going to be able to do anything anyway. Clearly he’s escaped them plenty of times before.

“We gotta hide these somewhere else.” Mick juts his chin towards the knives on his bed.

“Where?”

“I have a mate that could help.”

“A mate.”

“Yeah, a mate.”

I don’t wanna feel like this, but I think this is freaking me out a bit. I move my hair out of my eyes, and my hands start to shake. I grit my teeth, stand up, and cross my arms, so Mick doesn’t see.

“I don’t get how telling someone else about this is gonna help us, babe. You won’t even tell your mother. I mean, she’s the one in danger here, right? She deserves to know.” Okay, maybe I yelled a little too loud. But I had to. The air was building up inside my chest.

Mick cranes his neck, his jaw hanging slightly open. “Will ya keep your fuckin’ voice¬—”

Mick’s bedroom door swings open and ricochets off the dresser.

“What are you two yelling about in here?” Sonia leans against the door frame and puts her hands in her pockets.

We stare at her.

Speechless.

I can’t be the one to say anything. It’s not my right.

“I thought ya said ya locked the fuckin’ door,” Mick says through gritted teeth.

“I thought I did.” Honestly. I really thought I did.

“She obviously didn’t,” Sonia says.

“Shut the fuck up, Mum, it’s got nothin’ to do with ya.”

“Hey!” I don’t know what makes me stick up for Sonia, but Mick is way too mean to her. I really don’t get it. I mean, sure, I get it, but I think he goes overboard sometimes. Sonia interrupts, flicks her hand as if it’s nothing, and remains calm.

“Don’t worry about it, Mia. I’m used to it. He gets it from his father.” Though she’s speaking to me, Sonia says this while staring directly at Mick.

Mick clenches his fists and punches the air with a roar.

“But he loves you.” I whisper. I can’t help it. He does. She should at least know that.

Mick shakes his head as if to tell me to stop talking.

“What’s up? Spit it out,” Sonia says.

“He doesn’t want me to tell you.” I’m getting in deeper here. And I’m probably screwing up our relationship as well. I mean, we just got started and I’m already trying to play the martyr. Am I insane? I hope he doesn’t hate me after this. I hope we can still be a thing. Because I really like him. I mean,
really
like us being a thing.

“Don’t. Please,” Mick says, shaking his head and holding a sideways fist over his mouth.

“He doesn’t want you to tell me what?” Sonia says dryly.

Silence.

Sonia’s trousers ruffle as she switches the weight from one foot to the other.

Mick grabs my hand. We sit on the edge of his bed. He squeezes the back of my neck and winks at me. He’s letting me know it’s okay. He’s not getting angry. The relief flushing through me is like shedding thirty kilos and slipping into a bikini for the first time in forever.

“Why should I be worried?” Sonia says and steps inside the room properly.

She stares at the knives. Her expression doesn’t even change. It’s like she’s looking at a set of silver spoons.

Is she for real? This is my teacher. My dad’s girlfriend. And she doesn’t even bat an eyelid over illegal weapons splayed all over her son’s bed?

I frown at Mick in question. Mick stares at his feet. His right leg jerks up and down. Fast.

“You’re working for him, aren’t you?” Sonia grips the iron foot of the bed. Her knuckles go white. But her face doesn’t reflect the same feelings as her hands. It’s … freaky.

She picks up a push dagger and runs her forefinger over it, as if tracing the letter
T
. She smiles. Looks up. Lets the push dagger slip from her fingers. It clunks against one of the other knives. “Tell me.”

I notice tears in Mick’s eyes. He stops moving his leg and stares at her. He clutches my hand and pulls it into his lap. His squeeze is gentle but firm. Like he’s telling me that everything is going to be okay.

“He wants revenge, doesn’t he?” Sonia whispers.

Silence.

This is intense.

All I can do is sit and listen.

Mick’s touch is the only thing holding my emotions in check. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if this was happening to me and Dad.

“I want you to stop, Mick,” Sonia says. “Whatever it is you’re doing. It’s got to stop. Whatever happens, happens. I just want you to be safe. You hear? I don’t want you doing this anymore.”

“Whaddaya mean,
anymore
?” Mick releases my hand, stands up, sticks his chest out in defense.

“I’m not stupid,” Sonia says, hardly reacting to Mick’s behaviour.

Mick sticks his tongue into the side of his cheek. It looks like he’s biting down on it.

Sonia shifts her gaze towards me and smiles, tight-lipped. “Mia, I’m really sorry about this, but I think you should go home.”

I nod and stand.

“No. Stay,” Mick whispers, and touches me lightly on the elbow.

“You can’t get Mia wrapped up in this mess, Mick. Use your brain. Don’t be an idiot.”

“Mum, ya don’t get what’s goin’ on.”

“I know a lot more than you think I do.”

Sonia glares at Mick like she has the power to stare him into submission.

This is off-the-charts insane. I want to say something. I can’t pretend to not be involved—it just wouldn’t be right, and I can’t keep secrets very long anyway. They just come out.

“Mrs. Shâd,” I say. “I can’t stay out of it now. It’s impossible.”

Sonia takes a deep breath and glares at Mick, as if this whole fiasco is his fault. “Why can’t she stay out of it?”

Mick stares at me for a moment. Then nods. “Why can’t you stay out of it, babe?” It’s my cue.

There’s no turning back now. Mick and Sonia make eye contact. For a short moment, it feels like Mick is finally letting go of the stress. There’s relief in his eyes. A sad yet much needed relief.

“Well,” I say, “there’s this girl at school. Her name is Kimiko.”

Chapter 42

Nash: Plastic invader.

The last thing I need right now is Celeste. Storming into my life again. What is she doing here so bloody early? Is she planning on telling Mia? If she does, things are going to get complicated. Mia turned to drugs. To escape the shit. It’s stupid teenage shit, but I remember exactly how big all the shit seemed at that age. The past few days, though, despite her shaking hands and odd twitch of the eye, she doesn’t seem as uptight. I reckon that’s a sign she’s come to her senses. And that would’ve taken courage. Courage I’m certain she had to dig to the very core of her soul to find. If Celeste goes behind my back, there’s no telling how Mia will react, how she will deal with the stress next time. Maybe she’d turn to more serious drugs. I can’t let that happen.