An Endless Summer(42)

“What’s going on?” Chris bit out.

“N-nothing,” I said, lifting my chin up defiantly.

I felt Sean shift behind me as if he was going to support my claim, but the tension was interrupted by the screeching of the bar door followed by the blast of music from within.

Tess popped her head out before locking onto us with a big smile.

“They’re gone. Toby and Stan had the pleasure of escorting them out back with a bit of friendly persuasion.”

“Escorting who?” Chris called from behind me.

Tess squinted beyond us. “Chris? What are you doing here?” Tess beamed.

I spun around, annoyed enough from his macho BS and the habit of him cutting me off and ignoring my questions. Same old Chris.

“Yes, Chris, what are you doing here?” I said.

This time it was Sean’s turn to interrupt. “I called him.”

“What?” I said. “Why?”

He shrugged in that casual, careless way of his. “I thought you might have needed an extra set of hands.”

Oh, did you now?

“Don’t give me that look,” Sean said.

“What look?”

“The look that tells me I am in serious trouble when you get me alone.”

Tess snickered and I could feel myself turning a deeper shade of red. Chris coughed and I broke contact from Sean’s knowing eyes.

“So does anyone want to tell me what’s going on?” Chris asked, clearly annoyed.

I sighed. “You better come in and pull up a stool.”



***



At midnight. it was time for the lights to go out and the doors to be deadbolted. I pressed my back against the last of the locked doors and blew out a deep breath. I heard the muffled chatter and the jukebox with the volume down low from the poolroom where only the select few still sat around the couches – not select in the fact that I had invited them, but that they’d invited themselves. Still, it was only Toby, Tess, Stan, Sean, and Chris so I didn’t entirely mind. After all, they had prevented me from scratching out Matt’s eyes; that would have been really bad for business. In the last hour before lock-up I had managed to enlighten Chris on what I had discovered upon my return to Onslow, including Matt the Rat and the fact that Dad seemed completely oblivious to it all.

Chris was living in the city and apparently had gone straight to the hospital to see Dad, but there had been no mention of my being at the Onslow until Sean had called him. When Chris mentioned that last part I couldn’t help but glare towards Sean who was playing pool with Stan, just like old times.

“Looks like I got here just in time.” Chris looked at me while taking a long drink of his beer.

“Why?”

He cocked his head. “You mean apart from attacking the patrons or finding you with Sean Murphy?”

My eyes flicked to him, alarm undoubtedly obvious through my suddenly tensed body.

“I assure you, there is nothing you should read into either of those situations.”

Chris placed his beer on the bar and crossed his arms as if he didn’t believe a word I had just said. Suddenly I wasn’t so eager to remain in the poolroom anymore to be judged by my cousin’s suspicious, brown eyes; instead, I had to face an entirely different situation.

I tossed the cloth into my bucket of soapy, hot water and grabbed an extra bottle of Spray ’n’ Wipe and a Brillo pad. My semi-punishment for bar room brawling was to clean the profanity off the walls in the men’s room. Even if Chris hadn’t told me to, I would have done it anyway. I couldn’t bear to have it there another second.

“I’m going in,” I called to the poolroom. Juggling my stash of cleaning supplies, I pushed my back against the men’s room door. The stench hit me first, an indescribable odour that was powerful enough to make my eyes water. Boys were so gross. As I propped the door open with a chair from outside, hoping to let some air in and dilute the stench somewhat, I thought, here I am on a Saturday night about to scrub the men’s room. Wonder what others are doing on their summer holidays?

The thought was wiped from my mind as soon as I looked at the wall over the urinals. Rage filled my insides at seeing the disgusting caricature of me in a lewd act with a boy, scrawled onto the wall in black texta. If I had had an inkling of just how degrading the image was going to be, I would have done more than throw a drink on the creep. Now the stench wasn’t the foulest part of this room, and I didn’t want that drawing on the wall another minute. I sprayed the wall and scrubbed it within an inch of its life. I paused only every now and then to wipe a wayward tear that fell down my cheek. I heard footsteps approach the men’s room.

“I’m in here …” I yelled out, mainly to prevent any embarrassment and possible exposure of boy parts, when I broke off mid-sentence. Sean stood in the doorway.