Page 34 of Just Say (Hell) No
What color was she? Whatever color spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E. And it looked like he was jumping straight in.
“I’ll help Ella find some bedding, for today,” she said. “And a carpet, maybe. As a favor and as a friend, not for money. We’ll collect your kitten, and I’ll drive you home. I’ll take a look, and we’ll talk. And then we’llbothdecide.”
When Marko got to his car on Monday afternoon after training, there was a cat on his windscreen. It was white. Also fluffy.
He didn’t swear, because he was a disciplined man. Instead, he located Koti’s flash car in the players’ carpark and stuck the cat underhiswiper. Then he went back to his own car, found the bonus cat stuck in the roof rack, and put that under Koti’s other wiper.
They’d done both photo shoots together, which he’d reckoned would reduce his exposure mightily. But whose image had been on the front page of the Living section of theHerald on Sundaywith a kitten on his head, a grin on his face, and enough bicep in the frame that it looked like he’d meant to show it? Not Pretty Boy’s.
And whose cubicle had been filled with stuffed cats today? Not Koti’s there, either. Marko wasn’t being presented to Auckland as any kind of hard man, that was for sure. The SPCA had better get a few more animals adopted in return for his sacrifice, that was all he had to say.
On the other hand, he wasn’t driving home to an empty house. He may even have pushed the speed limit a bit when the motorway opened up. One thing he was certain of—he’d be moving furniture tonight, and he’d be hearing something that made him laugh and a couple things that confused him. Because Nyree was moving in.
That was two things he was sure of, actually. He was on St. Heliers Bay Road now, and somehow, instead of thinking how different Auckland was from Dunedin and how much worse the traffic was, he was noticing a huge pohutukawa on a corner, a tire swing tied to one of its giant limbs. An old-fashioned white bungalow glowed in the mellow early-autumn sunlight, its garden lush with palms, fern trees, and purple agapanthus. Below him, the sea sparkled with every shade of blue there was, and white sails scudded across the harbor; weekday sailors who’d got off work and taken the boat out, letting the wind blow away the cares of the day in time-honored Kiwi fashion. Marko buzzed his window down on the thought, stuck his elbow out of it, let the wind in, and felt twenty-two.
Not so bad. Not so bad at all.
He rolled up the driveway to the house, but couldn’t get into the garage. A certain yellow Beetle was in the way. And a gray Toyota SUV with a mattress tied on top of it, and an upside-down coffee table and tallboy on top ofthat.Nyree had the door of the SUV open and was standing on the edge and reaching overhead, tugging at the rope. Her shorts were… well,short.Also, she had a smear of sunny yellow paint on one upper thigh that extended all the way to her bum. Which he could see, because the shorts were riding up. That just-visible crease, and all that… roundness.
It took him a second to tear his eyes away enough to notice the tall redhead who stood opposite Nyree, tugging atherside of the rope while the precariously balanced load teetered overhead.
The whole lot was going to come straight down on Nyree’s head. He could see it happening now. He got there fast. “Hang on,” he told Nyree. “I’ll do it.”
“I’ve got it,” she said, still tugging at the knots.
“Well, no,” he said. “You don’t. That load’s going to slip and fall bang on top of you. And you stacked all these things instead of doing two journeys? Why? I told you I’d come help as soon as I got home from training.”
She’d hopped down, at least, but was still standing next to him, monitoring his unloading progress as if she’d resume her untying at any second if he proved unsatisfactory.
It wasn’t just the shorts, which were denim cutoffs, not the sort of thing to set a man’s imagination alight at all. No, that wasn’t enough. She was also wearing a little white blouse with some kind of ethnic-type embroidery on the front and a scoop neck. It fastened with a drawstring in the center. He wished she’d stop with the shirts that tied. Also with the shorts. And the hair that wasn’t in its ponytail this time, either, but was falling over one eye, so she had to brush it back.
She didn’t seem to notice that she was interfering with his concentration. She said, “You’re right, Captain Careful. We didn’t make two trips. And we made it here all the same.”
“We did have to stop once, though,” the redhead said. “To tighten the ropes,” she told Marko. “One of them started flapping in front of my windscreen. I practically had a heart attack. Had this vision of the tallboy and the table smashing into the car behind me. Multi-vehicle accident. Evening news. Police investigation. Et cetera.”
“None of which happened,” Nyree said. “Stop being a lawyer. And stop giving him fuel. He doesn’t need encouragement.”
Marko removed the last of the rope and told the redhead, “Hang onto the table while I take the tallboy off, will you? What I actually don’tneedis another concussion. I’m Marko, by the way.”
“Victoria,” she said, following his perfectly reasonable directions and holding onto the table. “Pleasure.”
“Vic owns the house where my garage is,” Nyree said. “My landlady, who’sveryexcited about the rent she is now sure of receiving for the next five months. She was dreading having to pretend to want more paintings or evict her favorite tenant. Two unpalatable alternatives.”
“Untrue,” Victoria said. “And you’re my only tenant.”
Marko set the tallboy on the ground and pulled the coffee table off the car’s roof, getting it balanced over his head before setting it down, the way acarefulperson did it. The table was painted. He hadn’t noticed that before. He’d been overwhelmed by the rest of Nyree’s décor, probably. Red poppies, huge and exuberant, on a black background. One guess who’d painted them.
Victoria took the mattress down from the car, so that was all fine, until Nyree had to say, “See? Five minutes and we’re unloaded, instead of forty-five more of driving back and forth, because that’s the lot.”
Marko straightened up, looked down at her, considered which answer would (a) adequately express his feelings, and (b) make her listen, and decided that there was no possible statement that would satisfy both conditions. So he just concentrated on not looking down her shirt. If she weren’t so short, it would be easier to avoid. Or possibly if her breasts weren’t so bloody pretty.
The front door banged, and Ella came out, moving fast. “Hey, Marko,” she said, grabbing a couple rubbish bags out of the Beetle’s boot. “You should see my room. Already so much better, because Nyree spent her whole day off helping me. Also I’m enrolled in school, or I will be once you and Mum sign the paperwork. New uniform’s hideous. Pity you didn’t buy a house on the other side of St. Heliers instead. Glendowie College has at least heard that there might be a wedge on the color wheel other than navy blue. Too late now, I guess.”
He’d have answered, but there was a dust bunny rolling along behind Ella. Or a tiny gray kitten, meowing for all she was worth, then charging straight up his leg. He grabbed her and said, “You’re an inside cat, Cat. Stay inside.”
“Sorry,” Ella said. “She must have heard you coming and sneaked out. She’s been pining for you all day.” Then she headed inside with her bags.
“She’s a cat,” Marko told her departing back. “Cats don’t pine. If they meet you at the door, it’s because they want their dinner.”
