White Lady (22 page)

I shift the weight between my feet and huff and puff overenthusiastically. Mia taps off a message, remaining between me and the door. She then stares at the phone until she gets the
ding
of her delivery report.

“You done?” I say, craning my neck. “I’d like to be in a good mood for my future wife.”

Mia sighs, spins around, and opens the door.

“Fine. I’m coming with you.”

Chapter 52

Celeste: It’s party time.

I park a couple of doors down from my old house—the smile on my face so wide that my lips feel like stretched labia in the midst of giving birth.

I never called to arrange it, like I said I would, but what the hell. What the hell! It’s a surprise visit. Who doesn’t like surprise visits? Everybody likes surprise visits!
Surprise!
Then everyone laughs and hugs and clinks champagne glasses, and chats all night long reminiscing about the past and getting excited about the future.
Aw!

I’m going to traipse in, cook dinner for them all with whatever ingredients they have in the fridge—surely Mia will enjoy something other than a meat pie and tomato sauce for a change—and then take Nash aside once Mia has gone to bed like the good little girl she always is—satisfied and joyful, of course—and tell him that if he takes me back, I will never—
never ever!
—tell Mia about him not being her father.
Ha!

I can hardly believe he fell for it. He fell for it! He’s as gullible as they come. That’s right. Gullible as gullible comes. I knew I could play him like Play-Doh.

But—and here’s the catch—if he doesn’t take me back, he’s going to be making a colossal mistake, because I won’t hesitate to pull my Ruger SP101 out of my purse and subject them both to suicide.

One quick gunshot to my temple.

Over and out.

What’ve I got to live for anyway if I can’t get my old life back?

Nothing. Nothing at all.
Nothing at all!

I smile, wink at my purse, and jiggle in my seat.

This is perfect.
Perfect!

Nash loves Mia more than the footy—of course he’s going to choose the only way to avoid hurting her. And what a kind offer, really, offering to put a family back together again.
Yes!
I should be awarded mother of the year.
I should, I should!

I turn off the ignition, and Nash and Mia step outside the house.

No! This is not the way it’s supposed to go!

For a second I contemplate saving it for tomorrow. But stuff it. I’m all geared up for a good night out. Stuff it stuff it—stuff the chicken with weed.

I swallow another Xanax, my fifth today—and I’m still standing!—and wash it down with a swig of vodka from my tiny gold flask.

Stupid doctor. I do not have a paradoxical reaction to sedatives, thank you very much. “What utter bollocks,” I say to myself in a bad British accent. “I’m just a jolly old lass!”

I drop the flask back into my bag. It lands on my handgun and clunks like a plastic bullet hitting a metal target.

I wait for Nash and Mia to turn the corner at the end of the block before starting the car again. Wherever they are headed, I am headed too.

It’s time to get the party started.

As I pull away from the curb, my vision becomes a little blurred, and I misjudge the distance between the front bumper and someone’s street bin. It tumbles over with a crash. A light turns on in a window. Curtains flutter. A set of eyes peek through a slit in the blinds.

I giggle and back up, correct the steering wheel, and tail Nash and Mia from a safe distance.

Tonight is going to be special.
Special!

Tonight will, in fact, be the best night of my life.

Chapter 53

Mia: Gotta love ya and leave ya.

When Sonia answers the door, all the feeling drains from my face. My stomach sinks in sync. Sonia is wearing a vintage wedding dress and dolled up with bright-red lipstick.

I open my mouth to try to apologize for not being able to keep Dad away, but I can’t stop staring.

Dad’s facial expression becomes very sad. He lifts his arm to balance himself against the door frame. With his other hand he reaches towards Sonia and brushes a thick floppy lock of hair from her eyes. I look at him with my mouth agape. Why isn’t he reacting to the dress? Did she know he was coming over to propose? I don’t get it. Did the big Ibrahim catch already go down?

Sonia opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She moves Dad’s hand away from her face instead.

“You can’t be here,” she says.

“Let me in. Let me help talk you through this … whatever it is you’re going through.”

Talk her through this? Talk her through
what
?

Sonia looks at her feet. And then at me as if to say, “Do something.” I have to find a way for us to leave without having to give a decent reason. Should I mime illness? Clutch over in pain? I’ve tried the appendix deal on Dad before—over a stupid exam. It won’t work a second time. I’m out of convincing ideas.

“Sonia, you look really busy,” I say.
Ugh
. “Dad, I think we should go. Sonia, I’m really sorry we just dropped in on—”

“Can you cut the crap, Mia?” Dad snaps, and squints at me, but I quickly disengage eye contact and pretend to look at something across the road.

Dad
tsks
, takes a step back, and fiddles with the box in his pocket. Something changes in his face, as if he’s just caught on that Sonia and I know something he doesn’t. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on? That’s not a question.”

Sonia looks upwards, to the left. I think there is a clock on the wall. She sighs. “I’ve got ten minutes. Not a second more.”

Nash frowns, swallows, and nods. We step inside. There’s a handgun resting on the table by the door. Dad notices it and stops walking. Stares at the gun. Rubs his hands over his face and whimpers like an injured animal.

“I’ll explain everything,” Sonia says, with a straight face. She takes Dad’s hands and leads him down the hallway. I follow. The swish of Sonia’s dress as she walks is weird, and for a second I lose all sense of place. Suddenly I feel angry. Angry at Sonia, a responsible adult, for making me go through this without being able to confide in my own father. Is she really going to explain everything? If she does, then why have I been lying to Dad for so long, and feeling guilty about it, and stressed? For whom? For Mick? Or for Sonia?

“Sit.” Sonia gestures for Dad to sit at the kitchen table.

He sits. I remain standing in the doorway. I don’t think I can bear to look either of them in the eye right now. I clench my teeth. I just wanna get out of here before the shit goes down. So, Sonia,
please
, just tell him what’s going on so that we can split and stay alive.

“Okay. I’m sitting.” Dad flattens his hands on the tabletop.

“I don’t have much time, so I’m just going to spit it out.” Sonia stares at Dad, biting her top lip as if trying to quickly think of an excuse. She’s not going to tell him the truth, is she?

Jesus Christ, Sonia. Who are you, really?

She spins around on a heel and flings open a cupboard, pulls out a few plates, and arranges them on the table. “Ibrahim is coming over for dinner, and you can’t be here when he arrives.”

No, no, no. Why can’t she just stop pretending, man? It’s over now.

I make a weird involuntary squeak of disapproval.

Sonia glares at me. I glare back.

Sonia sets the last plate in front of Dad as he cranes his neck.

“You’re fucking kidding me. And why does Mia know this?”

Sonia holds her hands out, palms facing upwards. “I can’t stop my son from telling Mia about his life. I’m sorry. And I can’t get out of it. You know how Ibrahim is. You don’t say no to Ibrahim. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. And neither did Mia. Mick slipped up. It was a mistake. It’s all a big belly-up flop.”

“Bloody oath I’m getting the wrong idea, Sonia. I thought you were done with this. You promised me you were done with this shit.” Dad’s last couple of words push through half-closed lips.

“Look … it’s not like that—” Sonia lifts the skirt of her dress, sits on the edge of the table, and crosses her legs. She glances at her wrist as if she’s wearing a watch. She isn’t. “We just need to discuss a few things. Set a few ground rules.”

“In a wedding dress?”

“Yes. It will keep him subdued.”

“What rules exactly?”

“Things like not entering the house in the middle of the night without my knowledge. Yada yada yada.” Sonia flicks her hand as if she were uttering something unimportant.

“I thought you said Ibrahim invited himself over.”

Sonia nods. “He did.”

Nash laughs. “Ibrahim wanted to come over for dinner to ‘discuss’ something so trivial, and something he probably had no idea you knew about, and you felt the need to wear your wedding dress to subdue him.”

Sonia coughs, looks up at the clock on the wall, and wipes the sides of her mouth with her forefingers. “Well, not exactly.”

“I didn’t think so. Tell me what’s really going on.” Dad clenches his fists so hard they tremble.

“It’s complicated. It’s safe. I promise. But I can’t talk about it.”

“It’s safe.” Dad repeating everything Sonia says is not helping.

We need to get out of here.

Now.

Sonia puckers her brow and nods quickly, multiple times. “Uh-huh. Yes. It’s safe.” She shifts position of her legs, and her dress swishes again.

“I find that hard to believe,” Dad says.

“I’m afraid I don’t have time to wait for you to believe it, Nash. It would be better for everyone involved if you weren’t here when he arrived. You especially need to get your daughter out of here.”

“I thought you said it was safe,” he snaps.

Dad and Sonia stare at each other for a few more moments. Neither of them flinch. Sonia reaches out and touches Dad’s cheek. A tear escapes and runs down her face, hangs at the edge of her jaw.

She mouths, “I’m sorry.”

Dad pushes his chair backwards and stands up. “Where’s Mick?”

Sonia nods again as if she’s got a twitch. “He’s at the supermarket.”

Dad’s nostrils flare as looks around the kitchen. It’s spotless. There’s nothing cooking. But I swear to God, he better be finished asking questions, because the last thing we need is to get caught up in the shit that is about to go down in this house. I did my part. I helped. But being here, right now, is beginning to freak me out. A lot. It’s like my organs are all huddling together to keep each other company. It’s all become way too real. Especially after seeing Sonia behaving like this.

Fucking-shit-in-holy-hell-this-is-beyond-mother-fucking-fucked-up. I’ll be so glad for tomorrow to come, for this to be over. Then we can all have a fresh start and move on with our lives like normal people do. I can finish school, go to Uni. Hell, I might even take that songwriting course I’ve had my eye on.

I bang my fist on the wall. “Dad. Let’s go.”

Dad looks at me with tears in his eyes.

I look at Sonia.

Sonia looks at the clock again and aggressively scratches at her elbow. Then under her chin. Then at the back of her neck.

“Nash!” Sonia screams. Tears stream down her face. “You need to leave. Right now.”

Dad takes a deep breath and clenches his fists. He steps a little closer to Sonia, as if he wants to give her a hug but doesn’t at the same time. But Sonia just shakes her head and cups a hand over her mouth.

“Please,” she says—muffled, distant.

Dad nods and gently touches my elbow.

We walk to the front door—in silence—holding hands.

Chapter 54

Sonia:

The instant Nash and Mia head towards the front door, I sniff in the snot and wipe away my tears as Kimiko bashes on the back fly wire door with a brick of cocaine.

“The White Lady is in the house!” I say, trying to act Kimi’s age to make her feel more comfortable. But my attempt at relatable social interaction doesn’t seem to take effect.

“I want more cash,” Kimiko pants. She looks me up and down with scrutiny as she steps inside and drops the coke to the floor. It lands with a possessive thud.

“Pardon?” I shake my head. “No. We had a deal. We stick to it. Sorry.” I wipe my eyes one last time. Memories of negotiations gone bad invade my thoughts.

I knew this would happen.

Negotiations never go as planned. Ever. They always want more.

“Yeah? Well, the deal changed, sistah. You have no fucking idea what I had to go through to get this. He led me on a fucking goose chase. I swear to God I thought I was gonna die by just walking through the freaking neighbourhood he stores this shit. And I could hear his footsteps. He was following my every single move. I was shitting bricks!”

“I never said it would be easy, Kimiko. You agreed to do it. A deal is a deal. So he followed you. That’s what we wanted, remember? How far behind is he? You did keep track, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I’m not an idiot. He’s parked right out front probably waiting to put a bullet in my head on my way out.”