The Lawson Boys: Marty (15 page)

“Yeah.” Marty
picked up the water bottle.

“What about
Belle?”

That question
didn’t need any explanation. “She’s gone home. Hopefully no one
will figure out where she lives or who she is.”

“They will if
that photo gets published.”

The bottle
cracked in Marty’s clenched fist and water started to leak through
his fingers.

“Okay.” Alan
eyed the water dripping from Marty’s cracked bottle. “I think it’s
time we ditched this joint and went to the pub for a drink.”

“Thanks, but I
think I’ll just go home.” Taking a deep breath, Marty eased his
grip on the bottle. “Sugar needs her dinner.” And he needed to calm
down.

“Maddy will be
home soon.” Mike grabbed a small hand towel and whipped it around
his neck. “So I’m going home as well.”

“Fine, I’ll go
alone.” Alan sighed, then glanced slyly at Marty. “Er…about that
blonde’s phone number…?”

“What
blonde?”

“Oh yeah!” Alan
crowed, doing a little dance shuffle on the spot. “You’ve fallen
for the big chick!”

Marty sighed.
“Can I pound him into the ground?”

“Sure,” Mike
answered.

~*~

Sitting on the
sofa, Belle stroked the small, compact cat that was sprawled across
her knees. “Well, Cleo, I’m glad one of us is content right
now.”

Holly placed
the two cups of hot tea on the coffee table and plopped inelegantly
down onto the sofa beside Belle, turning herself and tucking one
leg underneath her so she was facing Belle. “Now come on, Belle.
You’re home, you’ve got your cat, you’ve got me, what’s not to be
content about?”

“The fact that
I’ve had four phone calls since I arrived home.” Belle rubbed
Cleo’s ears. “All of them from nosey parkers wanting to know
details without actually asking.”

“Ah. It didn’t
take long for the welcoming committee to find out that you’re
hiding in your house.”

“I’m not
hiding.” At Holly’s knowing look, Belle muttered, “I’m just not out
in public.”

“You’re going
to have to come out of hiding soon,” Holly pointed out. “And it’s
better to go out in public while you’re still on holidays, rather
than face everyone for the first time at work.”

“But there’ll
be books and shelves between me and the public.”

“Belle,
really?”

“Argh!”
Throwing herself back against the sofa, Belle covered her face with
her hands. “Holly, how did this get into such a mess?”

“Hmmm, let’s
see. You ignored me telling you that Trevor was an arse, you went
to the city to surprise him - and boy, did you surprise him - and
then you walked into a high profile wedding and slapped him. In
front of the bride. Which, by the way.” Holly grinned widely, her
teeth a startling white against the black lipstick. “I absolutely
loved.”

“That’s just
great. I’m glad you had a good time.”

“It was way
more than old Trev had, for sure.” Holly took a sip of tea. “Or the
bride, come to think of it.”

Sighing, Belle
rubbed Cleo’s back. “Well, at least not many people know what I
did.”

“Only half the
town. The other half is still getting the news.”

“Oh, ha
ha.”

“Come on,
people will soon forget. Something else will happen and you’ll be
yesterday’s news.”

“Wish that
would happen now. I don’t suppose you could cause a scandal?”

“Not this
week.”

Taking the cup
that Holly handed her, Belle blew gingerly at the steaming liquid.
Having Holly around did help, she had to admit it. She glanced
sideways at her friend and smiled. She and Holly had become
unlikely friends in primary school.

Holly was tall,
lean and lanky, had a taste for tight black clothes and black
make-up, and wore black patterned stockings with black high heels.
Her hair was dyed black, she wore black jewellery, and she denied
being gothic or anything else resembling it, stating quite firmly
that she dressed how she liked and certainly did not follow any
fashion or sub culture.

Belle, for her
side, favoured pastel colours, and yet as soon as they’d sat beside
each other in primary school, the black-clad skinny girl and the
pastel-clad plump girl had become firm friends.

“So, how’s the
romance coming along with Lou?”

Holly grimaced.
“He wants me to meet his parents.”

“Really? That’s
a good thing, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Why on earth
not?”

“Because
they’ll undoubtedly want a prissy little girl for their darling
boy, and I’m anything but prissy.”

“You’re not
exactly the town slag, Holly.”

“Yeah.”
Glancing down, Holly picked a bit of cat hair off her black
stockings. “Might be easier if I was.”

“You don’t mean
that.”

Holly sighed.
“No, I don’t.”

Not really
surprised by her doubts, Belle studied her friend. Holly had no
illusions that she trod her own path but she always had a hard time
accepting that others would understand, mostly because her own
family were amongst those that didn’t even try.

Reaching out,
Belle lightly punched her in the arm. “Look at us. The town
wanna-be-slag and the scandal of the week.”

“The Other
Woman.” Holly looked up, grinning. “I’m so proud.”

“Glad one of us
is,” Belle replied dryly.

“At least your
parents are sticking up for you.”

“Yeah. But I
had to face them, Holly. After proclaiming to the world that Trevor
took my virginity, I had to go home and look my parents in the
eyes.”

Holly tapped
her chin. “Put like that, maybe meeting Lou’s parents won’t be so
bad.”

“Yeah, you just
dress weird. My reputation is dubious.”

“Ah, come on.”
Holly punched her lightly back. “Even good girls make
mistakes.”

“Thanks. I
think.”

Sipping at the
hot tea, they sat in companionable silence. Cleo sat up and
stretched, then turned and studied Holly for several seconds before
wandering over and flopping down onto her black-clad knees.

“Great.” Holly
stroked her back. “Just what I need. Cat hair on my black clothes.
Contrasts so nicely.”

“You should
feel honoured,” Belle said. “She doesn’t go to just everyone.”

“Oh, please.
This cat throws herself at any person who walks through the
door!”

“She’s just
naturally affectionate.”

“Talking of the
town slag, if she wasn’t already sterilised-”

“Don’t even
think it.” Leaning over, Belle rubbed Cleo under her chin, smiling
as ecstatic purring filled the room. “Cleo’s an innocent little
baby.”

“Unlike her
mother.” Holly crossed her eyes when Belle flipped her the
bird.

The phone
ringing cut through their laughter, and Belle stretched out one arm
to pick up the receiver. Resting back against the sofa cushions,
she placed the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”

“Belle?”

Not recognising
the deep voice, she took a sip of tea. “Who is this?”

“Marty.”

Her mouth fell
open. “Marty?”

“Marty
Lawson.”

Oh yeah, she
recognised that voice now. Deep, soothing, it rolled through the
phone and over her like warm liquid. Just like his kiss had rolled
through her like heated -
“Ouch!”

“Belle?” Marty
asked sharply. “What’s wrong?”

Swearing to
herself, Belle placed the tea cup onto the coffee table and used a
napkin to brush at the wet spot of hot tea she’d spilled on her
lap.

Holly raised
her brows in curiosity.

“Belle?” Marty
asked again.

“I - Hi, Marty.
I’m fine, I just - you surprised me and I tipped tea on
myself.”

“Are you all
right? You didn’t burn yourself, did you?” The concern was clear in
his tone.

Not as much as
the memory of his hands on her was burned into her like a brand.
She managed to muster a cool, polite tone. “I’m fine. What has you
calling?”

“Marty?” Holly
mouthed.

Belle
nodded.

“Have you seen
today’s paper?” Marty asked.

“No, why?”

“Well, you’re
not going to like this.” He hesitated, something she was sure he
didn’t do often. “Belle, your photo is on page four.”

“My photo?”

“Your
photo.”

“Why would my
photo…” Her voice trailed off as the implication hit her. “Oh,
no.”

“Oh, yes.”

“How did my
photo get into the paper?” Sitting upright, she clutched the phone
cord and started winding it around her finger.

Picking up
Cleo, Holly dumped her on the sofa cushion and charged from the
room.

“Unfortunately,
a photographer was taking photos at the pub that night-”

“The pub?”

“Where you got
drunk, remember?”

Oh God, what a
nightmare this was turning into, her parents were going to kill
her, grown-up or not. “There’s a photo of me
drunk
?”

“Not drunk,”
Marty said hastily. “Just listen. The photo was taken-”

“How did the
photographer find out about me?” Jumping to her feet, she wrung the
cord in her hand. “Did you know him as well? You must! He could
have only known about me-”

“Belle!” This
time his voice was curt, cutting off her tirade. “Don’t even go
there.”

“Marty,
you-”

“I did nothing.
Now just sit down and listen.”

Unthinkingly,
she plopped back down onto the sofa. “How could he have known?”

“Wherever he
is, Baker takes photos of everyone and everything in the hope he’ll
unwittingly capture something good. He happened to be at the pub
that night taking his usual photos and snapped us. Someone from the
wedding party identified you as...” Again he hesitated.

Belle swallowed
hard past the lump of humiliation in her throat. “The Other
Woman?”

There was
silence for several seconds before he answered. “I’m sorry,
honey.”

Holly ran back
into the room, ripping open the newspaper in her hand. “I bought
this on my way here, but I haven’t looked at it yet. What page? Is
it this paper?” Holly looked at Belle. “What page, Belle?”

Hand tight on
the receiver, Belle said, “Four.”

Sitting beside
her, Holly spread the paper out across her lap. Ignoring the voice
on the other end of the phone, Belle held it loosely against her
shoulder as Holly flipped the pages.

And then there
it was, the photo of her and Marty at the pub. She looked
uncertain, he looked confident, and the large typed words
underneath boldly proclaimed
‘The Other Woman!’

“Oops.” Holly
looked at Belle. “Guess everyone will know now.”

Belle could
only stare at the newspaper in horror. She lived in a large town,
only about half of the people really knew her, but now, the whole
damned town would know that it was she who had stormed the
wedding.

That she’d lost
her virginity to Trevor.

That she’d been
such a fool, and it didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime
soon.

Discarding the
phone on the sofa, she stood up and walked to the window, staring
outside half in expectation that every gossip in town would be
parked outside her house, waiting for a glimpse of The Other
Woman.

It was quiet. A
woman walked past pushing a pram, cars passed, but no-one else was
in sight. But for how long? Now that her photo was out there, now
that everyone knew…

Her throat
tightened, the hot blush prickling along her skin, and she wrung
her hands. Oh God, the shame to her parents.

“Belle?” It
took several calls before she became aware that Holly was standing
up with the phone receiver in her hand and a worried look on her
face. “Belle, are you all right?”

“What?” Nodding
and biting her lip, she turned around from the window.

“Oh shit,
Belle, don’t cry.” Holly gestured to the phone in her hand. “Marty,
he…”

Belle took a
deep breath, her gaze falling on the damning photo and words in the
paper at Holly’s feet, and she couldn’t stop the tears from welling
up.

“Damn it.”
Bringing the phone to her ear, Holly spoke quickly. “Look, she’s -
yes, she is upset, I - no, she won’t come to the phone.” Holly
glanced up and Belle shook her head. “She’s a little teary.” Seeing
Belle shake her head violently this time, Holly amended, “No, she’s
not. She says. I don’t know - no, she won’t come to the phone, I
just told you - look, Marty, I’ll look after her, she’ll be fine.”
Holly’s eyes widened as she saw a tear well over and slide down
Belle’s cheek. “Oh crap, Belle, don’t cry. Don’t - damn it, Marty,
no! She doesn’t want to talk to anyone - look, I have to go, all
right? Bye!” Holly dropped the phone back on the holder and rushed
around the coffee table to where Belle was standing, wrapping her
arms around her and drawing her close. “Hush now, Belle. It’s all
right.”

Clutching her
friend, Belle sniffled. “I don’t…oh God, Holly, my Mum and Dad will
see this!”

“Well, it’s not
as if they don’t already know about it.” Holly patted her back.

“But now
everyone
will know. Everyone will know it was me.”

“Half the town
knew anyway, sweetie. This just kind of confirms it.”

That was no
real comfort and Belle couldn’t stop the humiliated tears from
falling. The phone rang insistently but they both ignored it.

After several
minutes during which time Holly just patted her back in comforting
silence, Belle finally got control over her emotions and pulled
away, pulling up the hem of her t-shirt and drying her eyes on
it.

Hands on
Belle’s shoulders, Holly studied her face and nodded. “Okay, the
t-shirt does the job. Your cheeks are dry.”

Belle sighed.
“Oh, Holly.”

“Oh, nothing.
This is a storm in a tea cup.” At Belle’s indignant look, Holly
amended, “Okay, maybe not a tea cup, but a tea pot. Belle, worse
things have happened.”