White Lady (18 page)

I park my car. Find the perfect spot right out in front of Roxy’s. As I step onto the footpath I see Celeste in the window, tapping away at her iPhone with her bright-pink nails, intermittently sipping a latté. I bet it’s a skinny decaf.

I stare.

The soles of my feet burn into the concrete. I can’t move.

How did she turn into this … this … object? She used to be so down-to-earth, opposed to materialistic reward, environmentally conscious, still sexy in a baggy pair of tracky daks, a T-shirt, and no makeup.

Now look at her.

A prissy plastic princess.

Celeste pauses as if she heard something, looks up from her phone, and smiles at me through the window.

Fake.

And way too white.

For some reason I’m surprised she notices me standing here at all. She stares like she can see through me.

The table she is at is small, and she bangs her hip against the edge of it as she stands up. She winces but seems to quickly overcome the pain and perform some awkward version of jazz hands—a gesture for me to hurry up and get inside so she can give me a hug. I don’t smile back, but she maintains her happy-go-lucky role regardless as I head to the entrance.

Celeste oohs and ahhs, squeezing my biceps, pouting with what seems like pride over the fact that I’m still in great shape.

She hugs me. My arms hang limp at my sides. Someone would have to threaten to kill me to reciprocate Celeste’s manipulative embrace.

“Oh, how much I’ve missed you!” Celeste pushes me away in jest, far enough to get a good look at my face,
tsk
ing in a way that I s’pose to mean “boy, does time fly.”

“What do you want?” I scrape the chair on the floor as I pull it out, sit down with a clank, and slap my wallet and keys on the table. “Get on with it. I have a busy day.”

Celeste’s smile fades just enough for me to notice she’s trying not to react. She raises her hand to grab a waiter’s attention without sitting down. A waiter waltzes over, cups his hands together in front of his clean black apron, and raises his brow at me.

“I’m not staying, mate,” I say.

The waiter nods, smiles at Celeste’s nervous laugh, and walks away. Roxy’s is one of those rich bitch places where not ordering anything is frowned upon. He’ll be back in a minute asking me to order a drink or “kindly leave.”

Celeste sits down slowly, as if the chair might break. “Nash, darling. I’m so sorry for just turning up like this.” She lays her hands flat on the table and slides them towards my clenched fists. I withdraw. So does Celeste with a dramatic sigh.

She looks out the window, breathing as if she’s trying to stop tears. “I miss you. I miss Mia.”

“Yeah, well, should’ve thought of that before you ran off.”

“I’ve left him.”

I scoff. “Brilliant. Good on you. Find someone richer?”

Celeste closes her eyes, and a single tear falls down her cheek—at just the right moment, like she planted it there.

“Save the act, Celeste. Look at you. You’re
not you
. You’re not the
you
I knew, anyway.”

“I can be. I can be anything you want.” Celeste opens her eyes and locks on my gaze.

“What?”

“I want another chance. I’ll do anything. I want my family back. Please. I’m—I’m lonely.” Celeste’s tears turn into theatrical gasping sobs, loud enough to turn heads and raise the eyebrows of every customer within earshot.

I slide my wallet and keys closer to my body. I want to get out of here, but instead I watch her cry. There’s something about her right now. I can’t take my eyes off her. Like underneath all the forged beauty lies a soul unaffected, as if her plastic mask has somehow shielded it from bad weather.

She’s still there. Under there. Somewhere. But no longer reachable.

I could try being nice and see what happens. She could be keen to change. And if she is, I reckon I can at least figure out a way to involve her in our lives again. In a way that’ll avoid a custody battle. Because if I really am not Mia’s father, we all know who’ll be the victor on that one: Mia. She would probably piss off to another state. I wouldn’t blame her. But even if we do work something out, that still won’t change the fact that I’m in love with Sonia. And there’s nothing Celeste can ever do to split us up.

I touch Celeste’s hand. “Please, don’t cry.”

Celeste wipes her eyes with her chiffon scarf.

“I’m seeing someone. It’s over between you and me. It’s been over since you remarried. I thought you had moved on.”

Celeste nods over and over.

“Oh, Nash, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

I draw my hand away. “What?”

“People leave their lovers all the time. She’ll understand that you still love your wife.”

I scoff. “Ex-wife. And I don’t still love you.”

Celeste smiles, sighs, and gulps down the last of her latté. She leans forwards and pats both my hands with hers. “I’m so glad we had this talk. I’ll be in touch, okay?” Celeste stands and clutches her handbag to her chest.

I stand up too. My chair scrapes and echoes through the café. “What the fuck? What do you mean? Where are you going?” My questions fire at her like bullets.

“To visit Mia, of course.”

“No, no, no. You can’t. And she’s at school anyway. Studying for an exam.” She’s not, but I don’t know what else to say.

Celeste smirks like she knows I’m grasping at straws. “I’ll take her out for dinner, then.”

I step backwards slightly, accidentally knocking my chair over. It hits the floor with a clang, and everybody in the café falls silent. But I don’t give a shit. I can’t let Celeste get to Mia and tell her I’m not her dad. This is nuts.

Why is she doing this to me?

“Celeste!” I grab her arm. “Stop. Leave Mia alone. She’s not ready.”

Celeste yanks her arm away from me, frowns, and glares. She’s lost it. What did Karter
do
to her?

“Sir!” calls a waiter, and sprints to our side. “We will not tolerate this behaviour on our premises. Please leave.”

“Me? Leave?” I yell. “I’m not the problem here. It’s her.” I poke Celeste between her breasts and she stumbles backwards melodramatically.

“I don’t know about that, sir.” The waiter puts his hands on his hips and gestures towards the exit with his eyebrows.

“It’s okay.” Celeste composes herself, flutters her eyelids, and pushes her tits out. “We were just having a slight disagreement. We’re both leaving now, anyway.” She smiles and hooks her arm around my elbow. “Don’t forget your wallet, darling.”

I take a deep breath, pick up my wallet and keys, and escort Celeste out of the café. With Celeste still on my arm, we walk silently to my car. My mouth goes dry and my throat is scratchy. I don’t know how to get out of this mess.

We reach my car and I remove Celeste’s arm from mine, unlock the driver’s seat door, and stand behind it. The only way I’m going to get her to do what I want is if I act vulnerable. It’s obvious that this is some sort of power trip. She has always shown traits of being a control freak, especially with keeping Mia fit, but it seems that now it’s well and truly reared its ugly head. She’s obsessive.

“Please don’t go to see Mia. She doesn’t know you’re here,” I say slowly, as if Celeste’s recent past seems to have sucked all the intelligence from her brain.

“Why not?” Celeste says. Calm. She tilts her head to the side. I watch thoughts of her next manipulative remark flicker behind her eyes.

“Because I don’t want you to say anything yet. For her. She’s having a tough time—at school. It won’t be good for her right now.”

“Why? Because she might bury her sorrows in junk food?”

I frown and crane my neck inward. “Come again?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“She told you?”

“She didn’t have to. I’m her mother. Mothers just know.” Celeste taps her nose.

“You hardly speak to her.”

“I know. Trust me.”

“You lost that privilege a long time ago.”

“Believe what you want to believe, Nash. And relax.” She sucks her cheeks in and traces her right eyebrow with the nail of her forefinger. “Fine. I won’t say anything to her. The last thing I need is a daughter who is even more overweight than she already is. I’ll wait until we’re all together again.”

I scratch my beard, tap the top of the car door, and gaze down the street. “I s’pose I’m going to have to take your word for it.”

“Fabulous. When would you like to do dinner?”

I laugh and shake my head. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“What is there to get?”

“I don’t want you back.”

Celeste’s fake possessed-looking grin surfaces again. She slowly scrapes a sharp pointy nail down my cheek and says, “Yes. You do.” She squeezes my cheeks together with one hand and pulls me closer like she’s about to kiss me.

But she doesn’t.

She whispers, “I’m staying at the Hilton. Expect a call.”

Chapter 43

Mia: I think he caught me.

I sit on the sofa. Turn on my iPod and scroll through all the Magic Dirt tracks. I press play on “Dirty Jeans” and rhythmically hit the side of my head on the wall to its 4/4 beat. A lawn mower spits into action next door. I turn the volume up. Bite the side of my tongue with my molars and wonder if I’ve still got any chocolate hidden in my room.

I realize it’s the first time I’ve thought about food in a week. Ever since I started thinking about Mick.

Kimi. Football field.

Revenge. Murder.

I burp in disgust, stop the head thump, and try to reach for my toes. I smile when I realize I can now reach a little further past my knees. And I’m not even trying that hard. I’d cut out the sugar and the booze. And voila!

The bright blue light from my mobile phone flashes just as the song launches into the chorus: “You’re an ordinary boy, and that’s the way I like it …” I yank the headphones from my ears and pick it up. It’s Dad.

“Hey.”

“Where are you?” He’s panting.

“Where are
you
?”

“You home?”

“Yeah … what’s—”

“Are you okay?” Dad takes a deep breath.

“Yes. Are
you
?”

Dad sighs and laughs as if he’s just heard a joke. “Yeah.”

“That’s uh, great then, Dad.”

“Yep. Look, what are you doing for dinner?”

I get up and look at my reflection in a picture frame. Picture frames are better than mirrors because you can’t see too much detail. I like that black kohl around my eyes makes me look gangsterish. I smile.

“Salad?”

“Again? But you’re doing so great. You should reward yourself. Let’s go out. Let’s go to that place on the other side of town you like. You know, the one with all the S&M stuff all over the walls.”

Dad speaks so fast I can hardly recognize where his sentences are meant to begin or end.

“Who said I like S&M shit?” Is he for real?

Dad pauses. His breathing is all erratic. Maybe he’s rubbing his beard. Or maybe he’s holding the phone to his chest. Or something. What the hell?

“Oh, maybe that was Sonia.”

“Uh … TMI, Dad!” Oh my God. He didn’t just tell me that. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to erase the image.

“Sorry, uh, don’t worry about it. How about the Docklands?”

“Dad, you’re freaking me out.”

More silence.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Mia?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

Long pause.

“Because I’m your father.”

“And?”

“Be ready at seven. I’m taking you out.”

“Okay, but—”

I finish my sentence to beeping. I put my phone down and frown at my reflection. And then it hits me.

Shit. He knows about the drugs. I’m screwed.

Chapter 44

Sonia:

I step into the staff room to retrieve my belongings. Nash is at his desk. Why is he back here? I notice relief on his face as he hangs up his phone. I don’t want to talk to him. I can’t talk to him. Maybe I can quickly grab my handbag without making any noise. He hasn’t seen me yet. I need to escape having to look into his eyes, into the soul I will have to constantly lie to until I decide how I’m going to incarcerate Ibrahim. The longer Ibrahim is a threat to my family, the longer I will be a threat to myself and everyone I love. And if Mick loses me, he’ll become just like his father. I cannot let that happen. He deserves a real future.

I can’t let Nash get involved in this either. I promised him I had stopped. And I don’t want to lose him. He is the only one holding me together right now.

Luckily all he knows is that I suspect Ibrahim is back in town. I can’t let him know it’s a fact. If Nash knows he’s here, he won’t be able to control himself. Ibrahim will pull him in. And that would be dangerous. For everybody. Nash had a hard enough time escaping Ibrahim’s sly manipulation the first time.

As far as Nash is concerned, it’s only Mick that might be involved with Ibrahim. And it has to stay that way. He’s worried enough as it is about the fiasco with Mia and Celeste. Imagine having to find out that I’m dragging his daughter into this mess too?

My heart beats heavily in my ears at the thought.

I tiptoe to my desk. Just as I lift up my bag, my mobile phone rings. Darn it. Nash flicks his head around. He smiles, looking a little confused. I drop into my seat and hang my head in my hands.