New Kid In Town (Bryant Rockwell Book 1) Page 7

  “Thank you.” She sipped, feeling quite daring as the bubbles made her nose tingle. Her mum wouldn’t approve, but this was the height of adventure, and she felt quite sophisticated playing pool with an older lad.

  With a grin, he introduced himself as Jim. He seemed vaguely familiar, but she didn’t want to seem like a school kid by asking which school he went to. She couldn’t believe someone so good-looking and charming was not only paying her some attention, but actually seemed to enjoy her company. That kind of fortune never happened to plump, mousy girls like her. Beginner’s luck added its magic and she potted two balls in a row.

  “Great shot. Someone’s taught you well.”

  “That would be you. You’re a fantastic teacher.”

  He bowed low. “At your service, milady.”

  She bobbed down in an awkward curtsey, wobbling as she got up.

  “Whoa, steady on, girl.” His hands shot out to support her.

  “Oops. Just running these shoes in for a friend. Putting in for my licence next week.” She modified one of her dad’s old jokes to cover her embarrassment, highlighted by fiercely flaming cheeks.

  Throwing his head back, he laughed out loud. “You’re quite a wit; you should be on a stage somewhere.”

  He’d chuckled at several of her wise-cracks, but she wasn’t good at receiving compliments and took a large swig of cider to cool herself down.

  His smile held the genuine warmth of a guy having fun. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  She nodded, unable to remember ever feeling so at ease with a lad. He was such good company and so attentive; she felt wonderfully special.

  “It’s your turn again. I recommend the five ball. That’s orange.”

  Sizing up the options, she realised he was right; all the other spots were hugging the cushions as though their lives depended on it. Unfortunately, the white ball was at the other end of the table; she’d need to use the rest.

  Jim anticipated this and demonstrated how he would take the shot, not an onerous task with his height and long arms. But when she tried it, she couldn’t reach, no matter how far she stretched over the table.

  “Bless you, what a bummer. Your best bet is to cock a leg over the table.” He showed the move, apparently innocent of the double meaning of his words.

  As her eyes widened, he cottoned on fast.

  “Sorry, that came out wrong.” His blush was unexpected and endearing. “I didn’t mean any offence.”

  “None taken.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, egged on by her slightly squiffy state. “I’m perfectly used to guys talking about cocks and leg-overs.”

  She sashayed up to the table and bent over it, lifting a leg to extend her reach over the table. Picking up the cue and rest, she closed one eye, as he’d taught her, to line up more accurately. Aware of his intent gaze, she jabbed the cue and the orange spot trickled nicely into the pocket, the white ball somehow peeling back to line up the blue spot over the middle pocket.

  His applause and emphatic, “what a player,” buoyed up her confidence. Until she tried to get up.

  Her other foot had left the floor as she made the shot, and she was balanced awkwardly on the edge of the table, with her legs splayed and her butt poking up in the air. In her desire to look skilful, she hadn’t realised her skirt had ridden up to reveal an expanse of black nylon. His expression said he was enjoying the view.

  What must he be thinking of her? Particularly after her suggestive comment. The word “slapper” resonated round her head as she struggled to dismount, the antithesis of elegance.

  “Here, let me help you.” He held her hips, pulling her off the table.

  Heat from his hands burnt through her clothing, but as soon as she regained her balance, he stepped away and sipped his drink while she straightened her clothes, attempting to attain respectability.

  “Still your shot. The blue will put you ahead.”

  How could he be so polite and courteous after she’d virtually offered herself on a plate? She snatched at the next shot, reluctant to adopt the proper stance after such a wanton display. The blue missed by a mile.

  It left him in a good position to pot three balls with smooth efficiency.

  Liv had regained sufficient composure for her competitive genes to come online and she wanted to win. She had a couple of options, and lined up on the yellow, shifting her hips slightly without the full-on wiggle.

  “Hold on, you’ll miss.” He bent over, correcting her angle.

  She was ridiculously aware of the subtle citrus smell of his aftershave and the loss of his body heat as he stepped back. Somehow she potted the ball and, amid his applause, she moved to the next spot.

  Voices preceded a crash as Vicky and Laura stumbled into the room, giggling. “I told you they had a pool room. Oh, hello, Liv.”

  She introduced Jim, who kissed both their hands with the same old-fashioned courtesy he’d shown her.

  After winning by one ball, he stopped on for a game of doubles. It wasn’t the same; the intimate camaraderie was spoilt as they giggled whenever anyone missed a shot. Liv played well, and he didn’t have to correct her stance or arms at all. By the time she potted the black, the girls had achieved the grand sum of one ball down, and he left shortly after.

  Being a cool older sister, Vicky didn’t mention anything to their parents, and her only advice was to make sure there were always plenty of people around before she ever fraternised with an older lad. Liv had to look up the word, and rather liked the brotherly notion of socialising.

  Liv saw him at school a few of times in the next week, always with a tall blonde girl who had her arm possessively through his. On Friday, as she walked to the technology block with Jude and Kat, they passed a bunch of lads hanging out on the steps. They started wolf-whistling and the girls sped up to get past when a voice called out, “Hey, Liv.”

  She stopped to see who it was and he walked toward her saying, “Played any good games lately? Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friends?”

  Jude grabbed her arm, keeping her voice low. “Come on, Liv. We have to get to class.”

  They rushed inside to the accompaniment of cat calls and a loud, “Great little pool player, that one.” Someone whispered a comment and dirty laughter broke out, following them up the stairs.

  “What on earth do you want to get mixed up with them, for? Don’t you know who he is?” Jude’s tone scorched.

  “I think he said his name was John or Jack or something.”

  “That’s Jimmy Proud, you idiot. His brother’s gang is the one causing all the trouble for Kat’s brothers. And he turned Luke to the Dark Side.”

  Ignoring Jude’s Star Wars fixation, Liv frowned, trying to reconcile the boy she’d met with the monster Kat had described. The two images did not stack up. “He behaved charmingly and really helped with my pool game.”

  “You watch yourself, there.” Kat seemed unduly anxious. “He’s going out with Sonia Wolvey and she’s a real nasty piece of work. Makes Diana look like the tooth fairy.” This was indictment indeed, coming from the most tolerant of them.

  “Tall, blonde and vicious-looking?”

  “That’s her.”

  “Ok. I’ll take care.” Liv felt confident she would not be intimidated by this bully, but took pains to keep her head down and avoid the tech block where the gang hung out at breaks.

  A few days later, Luke stopped her, asking how she knew Jimmy.

  She’d instinctively flinched; not that she was afraid of him, but his temper was notorious and there was no one else around. “Met him at a wedding reception. We played a few games of pool together, why?”

  His scowl said he’d noticed her flinch and wasn’t happy about it. “Nothing, he just mentioned you. I wouldn’t have thought he was your type, that’s all.”

  Curiosity got the better of her. “What did he say?”

  “Not a lot.” Shutters blanked his expression and he stalked off without so much as a word of explanation.
>
  She figured it probably wasn’t very complimentary and wanted to delve deeper, but after the way Luke had treated Kat, they thought of him as public enemy number one.

  11 Boy Trouble

  Liv fanned herself with the book; she’d grown quite hot at the poolroom memory, but it was mostly her imagination running away with her, and probably best forgotten. She glanced at her watch: ten past eight. Where were they? Waiting had to be her least favourite activity of all time. After physical exercise. She put the kettle on to boil, the surest way of enticing them. Sure enough, it worked; they arrived as she poured the third mug of tea.

  Jude was still buzzing from the ice-rink and trying to fit all her homework in. As they settled in Liv’s cosy den, aka the separate dining area off the kitchen, Jude apologised for making them late, gesturing at her still-damp hair.

  Lending half an ear to the familiar excuses, Liv studied Kat’s face. Something bugged the one girl who could be relied upon to be sunny and sweet. In fact, being reliable was almost Kat’s super-power. If you discounted the singing like an angel and painting like Picasso abilities. “Are you ok, Kat? You seem rather quiet.”

  “Yeah. Sorry guys, my head’s still reeling from all the stuff Luke told me.”

  Taking charge, Liv smiled at Kat as her attention returned to the room. “Right. We’ve got a lot to get through, so we’d better try to limit it. Mum says no later than ten because of school tomorrow.”

  Kat nodded. “Ok. Rory’s picking us up at ten.”

  “Did he get a car, then?” As Jude asked, Liv resisted the instinct to curb the small talk, being fully aware most normal people saw it as a necessary part of a social gathering.

  “No, Dad’s letting him borrow the Audi, to see how he gets on.” Kat sipped her tea with a grimace.

  “Brill! Nice to have an older brother who can drive.” Jude’s only sister was a lot younger and needed a lot of looking after.

  Liv tried again. “Ok, then. We’ve got two immediate problems, both of them male and nothing but trouble. If it’s all right with you, I want to start with Ray, and see what we can do about Luke later.”

  “What about Diana?” Jude’s expression bristled with rancour as Kat trotted over to the counter, searching for something.

  Liv frowned at the continuing delay; her friends never understood her sense of urgency, let alone shared it. “What about her?”

  “She’s problem number three.”

  “Why, what’s she done to you?”

  Jude’s tone was a step toward anger. “Stop being obtuse, Liv. We’re a team. Just because she happened to pick on you today, doesn’t mean you’re her only victim. She’s long overdue a taste of her own medicine.”

  “All right, but she comes a very poor third in my book. We’ll see if there’s any spare time left at the end, but personally I wouldn’t waste a nanosecond discussing the little rat. Dirty Diana will get what’s coming to her one day, and hopefully plenty of it.”

  Kat returned with the sugar bowl and added another spoonful. “Can we forget DD and get onto Mr Drop-Dead Gorgeous, please?”

  “Yes-sir, Miss Flynn. First of all, we have to bring Jude up to date with the lunch thing with Luke.”

  “You mean about the spilt coke? All done on the way over.” Kat stirred her tea, exactly seven times clockwise. It was a thing.

  Surprisingly, Jude hadn’t picked up on it, like the way she teased about Liv’s compulsive hair-twirling and paper-folding. Liv blinked to focus. “Good. But I never got the chance to say, earlier; while you guys were finishing off the hockey game, I walked Ray home.”

  “You did what?” Jude’s face did a cartoonish double-take.

  Kat gave a knowing wink. “I thought you took a while getting back to the netball. How come?”

  Liv told them about the run-in with grotty Green, and pretending to be a nurse, and West Side Story. She left out the dodgy bit about the quote, and how broad his shoulders were when he flexed his pecs. “He reckons he hates sports and he’s got a little sister he calls munchkin.”

  “You were singing in the middle of the park? What are you like?”

  Liv’s tone quivered with pretend hurt. “I know I’m not much of a singer compared to you, Kat, but I didn’t crack any windows.”

  Kat’s face did a perfect, Ha-blooming-ha. “You know I didn’t mean that. How did you have the nerve? I’d die.”

  “Rubbish, you got up last Christmas and did a brilliant solo ...”

  “Totally different.”

  “Can we get back on track, please?” It was Jude’s turn to focus. “I’ve just had a thought: You two were talking about coming skating one weekend. We could invite Ray along.”

  “Oh, yeah. I can proper see him gliding along the ice in his wheelchair.”

  Jude stuck her tongue out at Liv. “He could keep you company on the benches. That’s where you spend your time, when you’re not on your butt.”

  “Ohhh, put those claws away.” Liv’s first duty was always to the snark, even as she recognised the truth in her friend’s view of her incompetence.

  Kat tried to calm it down. “Now, now, girls. Stop bickering. It’s actually not a bad idea. I could invite Luke along as well. The chances are, Ray wouldn’t be on his own for very long because one or the other of us would be taking a break.”

  “Yeah, and if we went at the start of the eleven o’clock session, we could finish off by having lunch there.” Jude nibbled a choc chip cookie.

  “Except Luke and Ray don’t seem like a particularly good combination, not if their track record is anything to go by.” Kat shrugged. “They’re both as bad as each other.

  Liv nodded agreement. “True, but I think they’d be good for each other.” Her eyes narrowed. “If only they could get past the testosterone, they’ve actually got quite a lot in common.”

  “Like massive chips on their shoulders and short fuses?” Jude’s assessment made them grin, but Liv had to outdo it.

  “More like massive shoulders and short hair.”

  “Very funny. They’ve both had a raw deal, but they’re basically nice lads.” Kat sipped her tea, this time with a smile of pure pleasure. “I was very impressed with the way Luke opened up this afternoon.”

  Jude offered the plate round and finished the last cookie. “Go on then, what did he say?”

  Kat briefly summarised what he’d said about the car incident, the police station and Mrs Timons’ involvement.

  “Wow, that sounds awful.” Liv scribbled a few notes on her pad.

  “Yeah, but it gets worse.” Kat told them what her brothers had said and how she’d picked up the distinct vibes all was not well with his father.

  Jude frowned. “Oh dear. Did you ask him about it?”

  “I couldn’t. He sussed I was trying to get him to open up and although he was grateful for the gesture, he just wasn’t ready to talk about it. Yet.”

  Liv glanced up from her notes. “Funny, that’s exactly what Ray said. But we know how much it helps to share troubles, so we simply have to persuade the pair of them to talk and then they’ll be fine. Simples.”

  “In a perfect world, maybe.” Jude quirked her lip. “But I think you’re right. If we could bring them together, maybe they’d realise they’re not the only one with problems.”

  “Either that or we’d be picking up little pieces of them off the ice.” Liv shot a sly grin from under her fringe, but Kat didn’t step up to defend Luke.

  “Ewww. Gross.” Jude pulled an accompanying face. “And you’re always accusing me of being bloodthirsty.”

  Kat’s turn to bring the other two back on topic. “If we include them in the group’s activities they might trust us to the point where they can get it off their chests. But we have to be a wee bit canny about it.” She tapped the side of her nose. “I got far more out of Luke by asking oblique questions than by direct ones.”

  Jude borrowed Kat’s trick. “Katrina Flynn, girl psychologist.”

  “NOT!!!” They
all joined in, followed by gales of laughter.

  Liv sobered up first, thinking how much better Kat had handled Luke than she had Ray. “The trouble is, we aren’t trained, and if we don’t handle it carefully, we could do some real damage.”

  “Oh, no. Liv’s been mean to Ray. What did you say? Or was it him?”

  “How did you know?” Liv was frequently impressed by Kat’s intuition.

  “Your face went all squidgy when you were talking about coming off the rugger pitch with him.”

  “Take a tip, Liv. Never play poker; you’d be lousy.” Jude grinned, her sporting abilities and competitive streak extended to any sort of board game; she never lost on the rare occasions the three of them played cards.

  “Come on, tell all.” Kat nudged Liv’s arm.

  “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “That can only mean one thing. Tell me it’s not what I think it is.” Kat was obviously remembering when Liv had tried out some great put-down lines from Mel’s book. “Liv, you wouldn’t.”

  “Wouldn’t what?” Jude hadn’t been there. “Explain.”

  “I’d rather not.” Liv hung her head.

  “Come on. What’s the first great rule of JKLM?” Jude folded her arms.

  “No secrets, no lies.”

  Jude inclined her head. “So, spill the beans.”

  “If you say it very fast it will be easier.” Kat had a fair Latino accent.

  Liv smiled at the great advice from West Side Story. Either Kat had a good ear for a line or she’d made the poor girl watch it so many times she knew the entire script. She soon stopped smiling as she related the scene with Ray.

  “So, let me get this straight, Liv. This poor guy’s been at school for less than a day and you called him a …” Jude couldn’t even say it.

  “I know. I don’t deserve to live.”

  “Oh, stop being so melodramatic.” Kat glared at both of them. “You know she’s only winding you up. And anyway, he used the word himself.”

  Liv couldn’t meet Kat’s eyes. “Yeah, but he’s allowed to say it.”

  Jude perked up. “Oh, yeah. When was this?”