Perry looks angry for a moment, then schools his expression and says, “Having him close isn’t good for you. I can see that.” He touches a piece of my hair, running the dark strands between his fingers. “Don’t be like this,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss my forehead. “I love you, Shoshy. I’m going to ignore this tone of yours. Lots going on. Lots going on in here.” He taps my temple with his index finger, and I want to slap his hand away, but I don’t, so used to the feeling of being patronised now that I’m not even sure if that’s what he’s doing. I’m not sure when this started happening. Or maybe he was always like this and I’m the one who has changed. Maybe it’s having Bronson close that reminds me how love can make your heart skip and fly and scream with bliss.
I nod at him, smiling tightly. He smiles softly in response before turning to grab his car keys.
As he opens the door for me, he says, “So I can’t imagine that guy has much going on upstairs. Whatever did you two have to talk about?”
Grabbing my clutch and elbow-length gloves, I rush out into the hallway, laughing the question off.
But the answer, of course, is . . .everything.
* * *
On the drive to the theatre, Perry talks about his conference as I stare out the sheet of glass separating me from Friday night city life.
Akilashouldbe fast asleep now.
Yeah, we’ll see how Brenda goes, Perry.
A soft glow illuminates the interior of our BMW. I push aside my concerns, eager to enjoy tonight. To feel like myself again. Perry isn’t perfect, but he isgood.Honest. Hard-working. Respectable. And he took my sister in and made her his own. Who does that?
I reach for his hand, entwining our fingers on the gear stick. He smiles at me and then returns his gaze to the road, continuing to share his most recent insights.
Out the window, the world is alive. I love the almost organic movement of the city at night. Couples walk hand in hand on their way to an event or restaurant while suited men leaving work late head for the bus stop. Lights from cars flash and glow, their horns beeping in this strangely living environment.
Emptiness settles in my abdomen.
I miss The District; Darwin is tiny, barely a city at all in comparison.
The high beams of a motorbike closing in on us catch my eye. I stare in the side mirror at a black helmet, an ominous vision, a man with no face. He edges closer and closer to our back tyre. I cover my mouth as my breath halts at the back of my throat. He’s going to hit us.
The rider flashes his headlights.
I frown at the bike.
What the hell?
“What a moron,” Perry snaps, glaring into his rear-view mirror. “Organ donor right there.”
Cars fill up the dual lane, so our black BMW moves out of the fast lane to let the red bike past. While it slowly moves to overtake us, my heart begins to flutter. When it gets to Perry’s window, it slows to match our speed. The growling of the engine seems to penetrate the car.
A warm pool moves down to the place between my thighs, forcing me to press my legs together and ease that beckoning ache. My blood heats as the rider stares through the driver’s window at us.
No, not us. . .
Me.
I have no idea how I know this, as I see nothing but a black visor twisted over a shoulder. . . but I can feel the eyes within its dark casing scorching a fiery trail across my face. As my pulse vibrates in my throat, I part my lips to breathe harder. I dart my eyes to the road and back again, silently yelling at him to watch the fucking traffic. Then, I’m too lost in the black helmet. The shiny surface fixed on me and I on it.
The rider turns back to the road.
Breaking my trance, he speeds off, filtering through the cars up ahead until I lose sight of him all together.
“What a loose cannon. You okay, Shoshy?”
No.I stare blankly for a few moments at the road before forcing a smile and nodding stiffly.He wouldn’t.Slowly, I pull my phone from my clutch. When I see a message from Katie already flashing at me, my pulse moves from my throat to my ears.
Katie:He left. He signed an early discharge form.
Fuck.