Falling Away (5 page)

The café’s only half full, so Gemma and Emily take turns to wait tables. It’s quiet tonight, a pleasant change from the rushes we’ve been consumed by lately. Maybe the holiday-makers are finally clearing out. The summer vacation is nearing its frantic end. In a few short weeks tourists won’t crush the wharf and the locals will be drawn out. And maybe then we won’t feel understaffed.

By the time there’s only one couple left in the café I’m totally exhausted. My feet ache and my throat’s parched dry from the heat. The night’s dark and hot, stifling without the soft breath of a breeze. I glance across the bay from the balcony and see the faint glow of Hawks Nest luminising the sky in the distance, with tiny twinkling lights framing the far-off shore. The radiance in the dark is pretty in the night.

“So, are you coming out?” Riley asks as I’m closing the kitchen. “We’re all going.”

I peer through the internal kitchen window into the café where Emily and Gemma are wiping down tables. The last customers pay George at the register, thanking him and throwing coins into a bulbous glass bowl on the counter. He laughs with them until they leave.

“I s’pose so,” I say, shifting uncomfortably. When I look up at him he smiles like he’s won a game. Outmanoeuvred me into agreement.

“You’ll come?” squeals Emily, bursting into the room.

I roll my eyes at her. “Sure.”

“I brought you a top to wear, just in case,” she adds, handing me a sparkly grey racer-back singlet. “You can wear it with your black skirt.” She claps her hands together, her eyes twinkling with delight.

“This is a conspiracy,” I laugh, stalking off to the ladies’ toilets. At least with my havaianas on I won’t feel overdressed.

“You’ll enjoy yourself, Sam. You’ll see!” calls Emily as I disappear inside.

I change in the bathroom and wash the grease from my skin. I sweep make-up over my face, layering mascara over my lashes and generously re-applying pale pink gloss to my lips. Emily’s top’s a perfect, sparkly fit, and the grey looks good on my skin. In the mirror I realise I’m much darker than before. My surfing tan’s giving me a healthy glow and it’s nearly the end of summer. Running my hands through my hair I straighten it, then sling my bag over my shoulder and find Riley waiting outside.

Riley’s killing time at one of the tables on the balcony overlooking the dark crescent of the bay. He’s changed his shirt and put on a pair of jeans and I can see the muscles in his broad back under the finely checked shirt.

“Want a beer?” he asks, turning at the sound of my feet. “Emily and Gemma will be another five minutes or so.” A six pack of icy cold Crowns sits at his feet.

“Sure, thanks.”

He reaches for one, tearing it from the cardboard, and screws the top off before handing it to me. He watches me drink while he swigs at his own. Smiling. His gaze collecting mine. I finish it by the time Gemma and Emily emerge, giggling together.

Emily shoots me a look, raising a manicured brow at Riley and me. “Let’s go, you two,” she says, linking an arm with Gemma.

And we all head downhill toward the bay.

***

The party is crowded. A heaving mass of people. The weatherboard house is right on the bay, underneath palm trees silhouetting the grassy reserve edging the water. A full yellow moon sends a golden path shimmering to the shore. Collapsing onto rickety old deck chairs, the music’s so loud we can barely communicate. Amongst the shouting and gesturing, people are already spilling drunkenly into the reserve under the trees. Beer-pong sends hollers into the air with each winning shot, hoots of laughter spiking at various intervals. Gemma knows nearly everyone here from school and she drags Emily around, introducing her like a bouncy puppy on a lead.

Riley hands me another beer and I drink it. With raw hunger belting at my stomach it goes straight to my head. I catch him watching me, his eyes meeting mine in the almost-dark. Instinctively I look away because they’re too intense and I don’t know what I’d do with him anyway. He moves closer, and the heat of his leg burns against mine. I want to shift it away, but part of me likes it and I’m torn. This is
Riley
after all.
Chef Riley
. My
almost-boss.
Well, in the kitchen anyway.

The party’s a dead loss. To us, anyhow. We don’t know anyone and I’m too tired to try. Riley slings an arm around my shoulder and yells drunkenly into my ear.

“Want to go somewhere else?” His beer-breath feathers heat across my neck.

“What about Emily and Gemma?” I ask, turning to face him. And we’re close.
Really
close. And nerves shatter through me because I’m just not sure.

“I think they’re fine.” He gestures toward them with a loose arm, pointing a finger in their direction and squinting up his eyes. I wonder how many beers he’s managed to swill in such a short space of time.

For a moment I don’t speak, can’t speak above the music rioting inside my head. He’s waiting for an answer but I can’t give him one. Pulling twice at my arm, he shoves a Crown into the inside pocket of his jacket. I look at him while I’m standing at the crossroads, pale in my indecision. To go or not to go, that is the ...

He runs an arm around my waist and squeezes me closer. “
Come on
, Sam. Don’t over think it,” he slurs into my ear.

Perhaps it’s the beer that makes me brazen, but I agree. “Okay, but I need to say bye to the girls.” He nods in slow motion. I feel him watch as I weave my way through the buzzing crowd.

“Hey, we’re off,” I say to Em, finding her on a velvet couch hidden in a shadowy corner. She holds a fizzing champagne in one hand and lazily drags on a cigarette from the other.

Her eyebrows shoot up. “What? You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah, we’re tired. You know, after work. It’s been a long day.”

“
Please
stay for one more drink?” she pleads, her head held close to mine.

I shake my head no, because I need to get out of here. Out of this stifling, heaving mass of people I don’t know.

She makes a sad-face. “And Riley? You’re leaving with
him
?”

“Um, yeah,” I nod, looking straight toward the scratched-up floorboards beneath my feet. And I’m not sure whether to grin or grimace.

She raises one eyebrow and winks. “I thought so,” she says, as if rather pleased with herself.

“It’s not like that,” I say, embarrassed. “At all.”

“Maybe not for you,” she alludes with a smile, standing up and hugging me. “All right, then. See you next shift.”

“Say bye to Gemma for me?”

“No worries, honey.” And then suddenly her attention’s diverted, laughing with the raucous crowd surrounding her.

Riley stands near the water, hands sunk deep into the pockets of his low-slung jeans, bobbing up and down to the heavy beat booming from the house. He’s completely out of time, swaying slightly to the left. It feels strange to be leaving with him, but it’s a relief to be free of the noise and drunken revelry.

“So, come on. What are we doing?” I ask him at the shore, keen to escape.

“Let’s walk,” he says, pulling me into him firmly with an arm round my waist. “Want to go to the pub?”

“Sure,” I say, although I’m not actually feeling too sure, crushed up against Riley’s hard torso. It feels as if I’m wading through dark murky water. I’ve only had two beers but with the music and the jostling anonymous crowds I feel decidedly drunk. He slides his hand into the inside of his worn leather jacket and produces the final Crown, twists the top off with the palm of his hand, and gestures it toward me.

“Drink?” he offers. “Do you want to share it?”

I take it from him and sip, then hand it swiftly back. The pub is in the distance at the end of the Corso under intensely bright lights. He steers me toward it, and for a moment I question what I’m doing here. He’s my
boss
, after all. And I
do
have a strict no-mixing-business-with-pleasure policy. I mean, how do I work with the guy if this all goes horribly wrong? It would be
way
too awkward. But there’s just something about him …

He lights a cigarette and takes a long drag. “I have to say I was surprised you came out tonight. Out of character for you, isn’t it?” he says, the glowing ash dropping like fireworks onto the ground. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for a response.

Unfortunately my tongue decides at this moment to tie itself in knots. “Um ... yeah, I suppose so. But Emily and Gemma, they’ve been at me for ages. To go out nightclubbing with them.” I look across and his eyes meet mine, glowing amber in the dark. Like a lion in the night. “And I’m not a fan of nightclubs,” I add, steeling myself.

“No?” he drawls, shifting closer as we walk. “Why ever not, Samantha Norris?” He stops then and hauls me into him against his chest. Hard, like he needs me.

The air is robbed from my lungs. I push away and fiddle nervously with my hair. I straighten it neatly over my shoulders because I don’t know what else to do. “I just don’t like nightclubs. Too many fancy dressed-up girls and guys that stare.”

He tugs at me so we walk. “Well you can’t blame a guy for looking,” he says, glancing down at me. “So a pub’s more your thing?”

“I guess so,” I say, caught up in his last comment.

“Well at least I got something right,” he says, snaking an arm around me to draw me in closer.

He smiles his pompous smile when we reach the pub, glancing inside as if checking for people he may know. The bar is full to overflowing and the balcony seems to heave with the weight.

“Come on. Let’s go in.” He releases my waist and grabs my hand, guiding me through the crowded room. We head upstairs to the bar with the better view. He says hi to a few pretty party girls, and I notice the way they look at him and then at me with surprise in their heavily made-up eyes. Girls find Riley attractive and I’ve seen the way he flirts. But for some reason he’s here with me, so there must be something he likes, even if I’m not quite sure what that could be.

After a couple of drinks for me and several for Riley, I want to leave. It’s hot and airless even on the balcony outside. I glance across at him. His profile’s strong but his legs are giving him away. He leans into me heavily.

I prop him up against the bar. “Let’s go, Riley. I think you’ve had enough.” The music’s so loud I’m right in his ear when I speak. Which is far too close.

“
Nah
, Sammy. Never enough. I’ll get you another drink,” he slurs, attempting to pull a wallet from inside his jeans pocket.

I steady him. “Nuh-uh. Let’s go sit on the sand. You
really
need to sober up.”

His bleary eyes light up. “Aah!
Now
you’re talking. Sand sounds
very
good,” he says, trying on his flirty sleaze, while leaning over and pressing his body against mine.

I grab him around the waist. “Come on, Riley. Let’s go.” I steer him down the stairs, his weight heavy through my compressing spine and his spare hand gripping the banister, my companion in keeping him up. I help him down to the beach where he collapses heavily onto the sand. There are hordes of people around and it feels like a million eyes are glued upon us, even though we’re tucked away from the lights.

“Hey,” he murmurs drunkenly, grabbing for my hand and dragging me down next to him. Then in further, forcibly closer to his body. I feel the hardness of his chest and the softness of the sand, and his hand grips my hip, pulling me firmly against him in the dark. A breath catches deep in my throat.
Do I want this?
Do I want
him
? My body screams yes, but my mind shouts an unequivocal no.

He runs a hand softly through my hair, pulling it gently away from my face. Then with one swift movement he’s on top, kissing me, the beer and the cigarettes laced heavily on his tongue. His hands are all over me, everywhere on me, frenzied, awkward and big. Part of me wants him and part of me doesn’t.
But not here, and not like
this
. The ache ignites, and I’m flattered he wants me, because really who does? It’s just me with him, here on the sand.

His breath is heavy against my ear, hot and fast. He reaches clumsily under my skirt and my stomach flips, knowing what he wants. He traces a line from my knee up to my thigh, squeezing it, before it travels up further, circling me slowly for while, then yanking roughly at my underpants. My body jolts and I grab for it abruptly, pulling at his hand to end the ambush.
Not here, and not like this.
And then it’s on my breasts, and my neck, pushing me backward in the sand.

He rolls on top, his weight forcing air from my lungs. His face is close in the dark, but I can’t breathe, and I want to push him away from me, off me. To let me set the pace of this, here under the full yellow moon in the sky.

I place my hands on his chest and push.
Really
hard. “I can’t breathe,” I croak in a voice I don’t recognise.

Slumping backward onto the sand he immediately rolls sideways, trying to kiss me again. His tongue is in my mouth and he thrusts it behind my teeth. Exploring my mouth as his engulfs mine. Two amber eyes stare hard through the dark. Alcohol-filled and wanting. And I wonder if I know who he is. If I’ll ever really know. Just some guy in a café who cooks. A guy who’s whispering my name under a hazy full moon on the shore of a black sandy bay.

I grab both shoulders and feel the weight of him, pressing against my hands. “Not here. And not like this.” My voice is raspy in the cold silence. I don’t even hear the lapping of tiny waves, soft upon the beach.

“No?” He pulls back, obviously surprised. “Why not, Sam? You want to, don’t you?” he says, as if trying to convince me. “I sure as hell do.”

I was under no illusions there. My stomach lurches. “Riley ...”

He looks right at me, hurt. “Okay, okay. I get it. It’s not gonna happen,” he whispers hoarsely, pushing away from me. He pauses briefly before adding, “Raincheck?” and laughs drunkenly into the night.

A chill rolls over the beach and I fumble for my bag in the dark, shivering. I find it half buried in gritty sand and I leave him, lying motionless on the beach. I push myself up from the sand and wrap my arms protectively around my body. If I’m quick I might just make the final ferry home.