Discovering Stella (7 page)

Todd
laughed.
“You?
Not
wanting to be a nuisance?”

I fired him a playful glare.
“Yes,
me. The last thing I want is to cause any
trouble.”

“It
really is no
trouble
at all,
Stella,”
Lawson said, leaning back
on
his chair.

“Okay,
but
please let me know what I
owe
you.”

I emphasised
my
point
with a stern
tone,
because the last thing I needed —
or
wanted,
for
that matter — was to be indebted to him,
or
anyone.
My sole
reason
for
coming to Pittstown was
for
a fresh start. A new chapter in
my
life. And I planned
on
doing
it on my
own. I would
owe
nobody anything.

*
 
*
 
*

A week passed
quickly,
and I settled in quite well. Pittstown was quiet and lived up to its name — a
pit
of
not
much at all. Like the majority of
rural
towns
on
the Murray River
border,
it
comprised the bare necessities: a school,
doctor’s
surgery, supermarket, post office,
mechanic’s
workshop,
community
hall
and
some
eateries. That.
Was.
About.
It.

To
be honest, the serenity was nice. Peaceful, even. The locals meandered about town, pleasant yet
sombre,
getting
on
with their
day-in, day-out
activities. I liked the subdued atmosphere, except
for
the fact that small towns meant
word
travelled fast. And
word
surrounding the arrival of
Todd’s
long-lost
sister was currently winning the land-speed record.

Despite the gossip, I felt comfortable in Pittstown. Safe.
To
the
point
of considering a permanent
move.
This
thinking
was rather abrupt
on
my
part
for
I had only been in town a short time.
However,
in hindsight, the possibility of staying
on
had always been at the back of
my
mind, mainly because I had
nowhere
else I wanted to go. Pittstown just felt right. Meg,
Todd,
even Lawson
...
they
all
just felt right.
We
seemed to get along quite well, and
for
the first time in a
long
time I felt free.
Content.
Distracted
.

At first, the three of them had been highly inquisitive about
my
sudden appearance, and to be honest, I
didn’t
blame them. I was deliberately curt with certain
topics
and knew these evasions gave a mysterious vibe. Whether intended
or
not, people tend to wear the fact they have secrets like
an
elaborate coat.

So far, avoiding their curiosity had been successful, if tricky.
However,
I knew
it
was only a matter of time before something gave. I was
walking an
extremely taut tightrope and, unfortunately
for
me,
my
balance was awry.

It
was
now
Friday
night, and the four of us decided to spend
it
eating pizza and chilling
out.
Over the past
couple
of days, I’d gotten used to drinking a beer
or
two with Lawson and
Todd
during dinner.
It
was strange,
but
I
enjoyed
it. And I
couldn’t
exactly explain
why,
but
during that short
moment
in
my
day when the four of us were sitting around the dining table, eating dinner and sharing whatever was
on
our minds, I felt
happy.
And I forgot. I forgot the bad. I forgot
my
past.

“I love
this
song,”
I said, enthusiastically bouncing
on
the spot
as
‘Take Me
Back’
by Noiseworks played
on
the stereo.

Todd
and Lawson were sitting
on
the living room sofa, eyes glued to the television, watching the football.
“Hey,
Stel,
you
still sing?”
Todd
asked, breaking his stare.

I shook
my
head at him and then continued concentrating
on
the CD collection before me.
“Nope, not
really.”

“That’s
a
damn
shame. I
loved
hearing
you
sing when we were
younger.”

“Pfft,
you
had no
choice.”

“Hey,”
Meg interrupted from
her
perched
position on
Todd’s
lap,
her
voice
at
an
enthusiastic high-pitch.
“Bone
Dry is looking
for
a female lead singer. Pity
you
don’t
live close
by.”

Keeping
my
back to them, I asked, “What’s Bone Dry?”

“The local band that plays at the
pub
on
Saturday
nights.”

Not
really interested in the local band, I kept scanning the music catalogue and tried
not
to sound disinterested. “What happened to their former lead singer?”

A second of silence ensued, prompting me to turn around with curiosity.

“She
...
um
...”

“She
opened
her
legs
more
than
her
mouth,”
Lawson added, interrupting Meg and
making
Todd
nearly
spit
his
beer.
“Then again, she opened
her
mouth quite a
bit
as
well.” Lawson’s
attention
didn’t
waver from the
TV,
but
I could tell he sensed we were
all
staring at him. “What?” he muttered.
“It’s
the
truth.”

“Sure
is,”
Todd
murmured in
reply,
shrugging his shoulders.

I widened
my
eyes then turned back around,
not
wanting to get
into
the drama that was the local band
break-up.
“Well,
I
don’t
know
how long
I’m
staying.
You
may be sick of me by
tomorrow.
Plus, I
don’t
sing any
more.
I just
don’t
have the heart
for
it,”
I explained.
Truth
was, I missed singing so much that
it
hurt.
Music
and the ability to convey a story through song was a part of me, a part that had been torn
away,
leaving a gaping
hole
I did
not
know
how
to thread back together.

Quickly wiping a tear while
my
back was turned, I pushed aside my feelings of loss.

“How
about SingStar? Do
you
do SingStar?” Meg asked,
her
voice
sounding hopeful.

I turned to face
her
and laughed half-heartedly, shaking
my
head.
“No!
I
don’t
do SingStar!”

“Good!
Not
that shit again,” Lawson added, finally looking up from watching the
TV.

Practically jumping off
Todd’s
lap, Meg headed
for
the
Play-
Station console which sat under the lowline unit against the wall. “Sure
you
do.”
Sure I freakin’ well don’t.

Watching in
horror
as
she set up the
stupid
karaoke game, I grew nervous at the prospect of singing. I
hadn’t
sung in
front
of
anyone
for
so
long.

“I
really
don’t
think I
can
do
it,”
I explained,
as
heat swept across
my
face. “Is
anyone
else
hot?
It’s
so
hot
in
here.”
I
removed
my
short-sleeved cardigan, exposing
my
strapless lemon-coloured dress, and fanned
my
face with
my
hands. Maybe
it
had
some
thing to do with
my
drinking
beer.

Todd
laughed.
“You’re
really
not
used to this
weather,
are you?
It’s
probably
still thirty-odd degrees
outside.”
Okay, so it’s not the beer.
It
really is quite humid.
“Really? Bloody hell, I think I need another drink.”

Lawson stood up and started to make his way toward the kitchen. “I’ll grab
you
one.”

“Yes! Here
we are. What would
you
like to sing, Stella?” Meg asked, passing me the
microphone.

I handed
it
back to
her.
“Nothing. I really
don’t
think I
can.”

“Sure you
can,
it’ll
be
like
riding
a bike.” She s
hoved
the
microphone
back
into my
hands
with
an
eager
smile.

The tell-tale signs of a panic attack began to wash
over
me:
the tightening of
my
chest and shortness of breath, the flushes of heat and trembling hands.

I needed air. I needed space. I needed to get
out
of the room and away from Meg.

“Are
you
a ballad-type girl
or
a rock chick?” she queried
as
she slowly dragged
her
finger down the songs listed
on
the back of the disc
cover.

“Ah ...
ah
...
I’m
not
anything,” I answered, placing the micro
phone
down.
“I’m
sorry.”

Spinning around in a rush to go
outside
and get
some
air, I bumped
into
Lawson who was entering the room with our beers,
some
of which ended up down his shirt.

“Shit,
I’m
sorry,”
I apologised, turning once
more
and heading
outside.

As
I made
my
hasty
retreat, I could hear Lawson, Meg and
Todd
calling
out
to me.
But
I
couldn’t
stop.
I
couldn’t
go back. I
couldn’t
sing.

The princess and the toad

“What did
you
say to her?” I asked, narrowing
my
eyes at Meg and
Todd,
trying
to
pinpoint
the culprit.

Meg shrugged
innocently.
“Nothing. I just asked
her
to sing. I
didn’t
know she’d flip
out.”
She
turned to face
Todd
and whacked him
on
the
shoulder.
“It’s
your fault.
You
said she used to
sing.”

“Hey,
steady
on,”
he said, raising his hands in defence.
“She
did,
all
the time.
She
was in a choir and the lead in every bloody school production we
had.”
He
let
out
a miserable sigh and gave
Meg’s
leg a light tap, indicating she get up off his lap.
“Something’s
not
right. This
isn’t
the Stella I
know.”

Meg stood and leaned back, appearing to
try
to catch a glimpse of Stella down the hallway.
“You
haven’t
seen
or
spoken to
her
in a
long
time, babe.
People
can
change.”

“Nah, this is
different,”
Todd
muttered, shaking his head.
“I
can
see
it
in
her
eyes.”

“I
agree.
She’s
very
touchy.
Almost afraid,” I added.

Meg acknowledged
my
words with a slight nod before returning
her
gaze
back to where Stella had disappeared. Screwing up
her
face in confusion, she
lowered
her
voice
and spoke to
Todd.
“When she called, did she say anything to you? Why she was coming? If anything had happened back at
home,
that
type
of
stuff.”

He
shook his head
again
and rubbed his eyes.
“No.
She
just said that she had a heap
of
holiday time and wanted to get away
for
a while. I
didn’t
question it. I was just so happy to hear from
her
after so
long.
Our parents’ divorce was a little messy and, because of that, we drifted apart.
Well,
I drifted overseas, so that
didn’t
help.”

“Here,”
I offered, passing Meg and
Todd
the beers. “I’ll go and see if
she’s
all
right.
Try
and loosen
her
up a
bit.”

“I’m
not
sure
that’s
a good idea,
mate,”
Todd
said sceptically
as
he accepted the bottle.

I gave him a reassuring pat
on
the back.
“It’s
good.
She
likes
me.”

“You
sure ‘bout that?”

Meg grabbed
Todd’s
hand and lured him to
sit
back
on
the couch.
“She
likes
him.”

He
narrowed his eyes.
“How
do
you
know that?”

“I
can
tell,
it’s
a girl thing,” she responded with a laugh, placing herself
on
Todd’s
lap.

He
shrugged and slid his hands up
her
shirt.
“Hmm ...
if
you
say
so.”

Meg giggled.

“Do
you
mind?” I asked, raising
an
eyebrow in annoyance.
“That’s my
sister
you’re
fuckin’ groping in
front
of
me.”

Todd
laughed like a greedy prick while Meg swiped at his hands.
“Yeah,
I
know.”

Turning
toward
the
kitchen,
I
shook
my head
and
took
my
cue
to
leave.
I was
more
concerned
about
Stella
than
with
Todd
and
Meg playing
touchy-feely
in
our living
room.
When I’d said
that
Stella
liked
me,
I was
actually
being
a
cocky
smartarse.
Truth
be
told,
I
didn’t
think
she
liked
me
at
all,
and
that
had
to
change
...
fast.
“I’ll just go see if
she’s
all
right.
Talk
about the
weather,
that kind of
shit,”
I mumbled
as
I left the room.

“Yeah,
well if she does like you, she
won’t
after
that,”
Todd
called
out.

“Whatever,
dipshit.”

Heading to the
liquor
cupboard, I pulled
out
a bottle of tequila and two
shot
glasses, then prepared
an
accompanying bowl of lime wedges and a shaker of salt.

I
hadn’t
forgotten
her
comment about
not
drinking much. Then again,
over
the past week, she’d seemed happy enough to have a few beers
over
dinner. So
let’s
just say
my
dismissal of the
‘not
drinking much’ was justifiably deliberate.
She
needed to loosen
up,
open up
...
drop
her
protective guard. And
my
good
old
buddy ‘the devil’s water’ was going to
help
that process along.

*
 
*
 
*

The flywire door creaked noisily
as
I pushed
it
open with
my
elbow,
my
hands
full
of ingredients.

Stella was sitting
on
the loveseat swing we had
on
our back porch,
her
gaze
directed outward.
Meg’s
and
my
house backed
onto
one
of the red
gum
national parks in the area, which if
you
walked north through
it for
approximately five minutes led to the Murray River. Our yard had no fence.
It
didn’t
need it.

As
I approached Stella, who sat with
one
leg pulled close to
her
body and the other resting
on
the porch,
her
foot gently
propel
ling the swing, she looked up and wiped a tear from
her
eye.

“Are
you
really that bad?” I asked
confidently,
overlooking
her
tears and opting to ignore the awkwardness by
taking
a make-fun-of-her approach.

“What?” she sniffed, scrunching
her
cute
button
nose and looking confused.

I kicked at
an
empty milk crate by the back
door,
moving
it
with
my
foot until
it
was
positioned
in
front
of the swing, then sat down next to
her
and placed
my
items
on top
of it.
“At
singing. Are
you
really that bad?”

She
gave me a small smile that indicated she knew what I was doing.
“Yeah,
you
could say
that.”

“You
want to
talk
about
what’s
makin’
you
sad?”

“No,”
she responded
resolutely,
“but
thank
you.”

I winked and continued to arrange
my
ingredients. If she
didn’t
want to talk, I
wasn’t
going to push
her.
Besides, I had other plans to
help
make
her
feel better.
“Don’t
worry, you
can’t
be
as
bad
as
Meg.
Her
voice
has the ability to make
you
wish
you
were born without any fucking ears.”

Stella burst
into
laughter and the sound, coupled with the glint in
her
eye, made me feel
all
nice and shit.
Even
with a red,
blotchy
face she was bloody gorgeous.

“That’s
terrible.”
She
giggled while eyeing the items I was positioning. “What’s
all
that?”

Unscrewing the bottle cap, I took a quick swig and then cricked
my
neck. “This, Princess, is
how
we country folk temporarily forget bad
shit.”

“Please
don’t
call
me
that,”
she jokingly scolded while pulling
her
phone
out
of
her
dress pocket and becoming distracted by what was showing
on
the screen. Stella frowned and pushed the off
button,
placing the
phone
back in
her
pocket before turning
her
attention to me and giving a small smile.
“I
am
not
a
princess.”

“I
think Princess suits you.
I’m
gonna stick with it. Unless
you
want to be called
Towel
Girl.”

Quickly glancing in
her
direction, I noted
Stella’s
eyebrows practically hitting the
roof,
her
stunned expression hilarious.
“I’m
kidding,
I’m
kidding,” I said playfully,
not
really knowing if
bait
ing
her
was the right
move
considering
her
current state.
It
was,
however,
apparently
taking
her
mind off whatever
it
was that had made
her
upset in the first place. “Princess
it
is.”

She
let
out
a mild grunt, which was enough to stir
my
dick.
“Fine. But you
have to have a
stupid
nickname
as
well.
It’s
only
fair.”

“How
‘bout Prince?” I suggested
as
I tapped salt
onto
my
wrist.
She
laughed sarcastically.
“No.
Definitely
not.”

“Gee, thanks,” I responded, half-heartedly.

Stella shifted in
her
seat and shifted
closer,
her
interested eyes fixed
on my
actions.
“I’ve
never really
done
tequila shots
before.”

“Really?
Oh, you
are most definitely a princess
then,”
I sniggered.

She
narrowed
her
eyes at me, snatched the salt shaker from
my
hand and tapped
out
a small pile, studying the granules carefully. Suddenly desperate to see
her
tongue slide against
her
skin, I stupidly opened
my
big mouth. “Lick
it,”
I instructed,
my
voice
now
uncontrollably
low
and gruff, and if I
didn’t
know any
bet
ter I’d say I sounded like
Barry
fuckin’ White.

Stella met
my
eyes and then stared at the salt again, so I placed the
shot
glass and lime wedge
on
the plate nearest
her.