Page 93 of Just Come Over
“We’re planning to play better than they do,” Rhys said. “That’s about the size of it.”
“Oh, come on. You can share more than that,” Nils said with a sort of pale Norwegian version of joviality, like pickled herring and crispbread that somebody had warmed in the microwave. “Kicking off the turnover, now—I’m guessing you’ve addressed that.”
“Interesting point,” Rhys said. “I have a question of my own about concussion, since we’re all here, and you’re the expert. I’d like to know what you think of our protocols. I’m interested, for obvious reasons, but I don’t know the details. As I’m not a neurosurgeon.”
“Come on, then, darling,” her mother said, and stood up again. Candy rose, too, and Zora’s mum said, “You don’t mind if Zora and I have a mother-daughter chat, do you?”
Candy looked like a kitten who’d found the cream bowl empty, and Zora’s mum headed toward the toilets with every line of her determinedly slim back offering up an absolutely prison-matron-level promise of delights to come.
Zora followed her. Nothing else to do.
It didn’t take long. Her mum didn’t even go into the stalls. She reached for Zora’s necklace, turned it around, and said, “I’ve been itching to do that since you took off your cardigan. I know it may be in a magazine somewhere, but wearing it like that makes you look like you’re expecting cash on the bureau later.”
Zora turned the necklace around to the back again, then took her lipstick out of her bag, leaned forward, and applied a little more pink to her mouth while her mother’s hand rose, then fell, like she couldn’t believe this atrocity could be happening. “Rhys asked me to wear it this way,” she told her mother, “and since he bought it...”
Her mumdidhave her fingertips on her forehead. It was fascinating to be so right. She’d have to tell Hayden.
“The dress is almost too much on its own,” her mother said. “A pale pink or cream would’ve been a better choice than black, with those spaghetti straps and that neckline. A little discretion, please, darling.”
“Rhys bought that, too,” Zora said. “And my shoes. He liked the black ones best. So you see...”
“Youaresleeping with him,” her mother said.
“I imagine it’s pretty obvious. And because it’s what you’re wondering—yeh, that’s because he’s exactly as good as he looks. His rugby nickname’s ‘Drago,’ did you know that? Means ‘Dragon.’ Like ‘Rhys’ does. Rhys ap Gruffydd, most powerful prince of Wales ever. That wasn’t always a chinless bloke in a suit. Once, it was a warrior.”
She’d looked it up. She didn’t know how a man’s name could excite you, except that it did.
Her mother had her mouth open to say something. Zora couldn’t wait to hear what. A toilet flushed behind them, and her mother’s mouth snapped shut. After a minute, a blonde came out of the stall, washed her hands, and cast a quick look at Zora, then another at the necklace, and Zora knew that sometime after tonight, she’d be news. She told her mother, not bothering to wait for the woman to leave, “I’m pretty far gone, Mum, and so is he, so you may want to think about what you say next.”
Her mother said exactly nothing until the blonde had left, and then said, “You don’t let a man buy you clothes. It’s so inappropriate, I have no words. Nobody needs new clothes that badly.”
Zora had turned her back against the benchtop. Now, her hands clutched the black-and-gold quartz for stability. “As it happens, I don’t need to resort to prostitution. Dylan had money hidden away. Quite a lot of it. I found it last week.”
“What? You mean, he had an account you didn’t know about? That’s wonderful news.” Some of her mother’s tension relaxed. “So why are you letting Rhys buy your clothes?”
“No,” Zora said. “I mean he had an account hehidfrom me. An account he used to spend money he didn’t have to tell me about.”
“And your answer is to go out and find somebody with a secret child. One with even less polish than Dylan. One who wants you to wear his jewelry like you’re advertising. We won’t evendiscussthe fact that he’s Dylan’s brother, and everyone’s going to wonder when that started.”
“Yes,” Zora said. “That’s my answer. Do you know why? Because I’m so mad for him, I can barely see straight. And maybe because... because being allowed to be everything I am again feels like coming out of a cocoon. It doesn’t matter what happened before, or why. I’ve been in there long enough, I’m out here now, and I want tofly.And because of something Rhys said to me. ‘Judge me for the man I am, not the man I used to be.’ I know the man he is. Iwantthe man he is, because he’s pretty bloody wonderful.”
Her mother’s nostrils were flaring in what Hayden called her “wild brumby” look. That look could stop you in your tracks. “When he subjects you to this kind of scrutiny. That’s your idea of ‘wonderful.’” Her voice hadn’t even risen. That was another scary thing about her. “When he’s willing to have sex with his brother’s wife, and flaunt it like this to her parents, not to mention exposing her to the world. What kind of loyalty is that? What kind of care does it show for you and your reputation, or for his own wife, for that matter? How about Isaiah? How’s he going to feel when the boys at school find out? Does Rhys care about that? Consider this. If you do get him, in the end, what exactly will you have?”
For once, Zora wasn’t waiting for that hoof to strike. Her perfume was dark, rich, and sensual, and that was how she felt. Like a woman who knew what she wanted, and was taking it. “His brother’swidow.And Isaiah’s oblivious to what the other kids think, if they care at all, which they won’t—or they will, but not in the way you think. Do you know who Rhysis?He earned seventy-two test caps as a loose forward. I know you don’t know what that means, or the kind of discipline and commitment it takes, but I do, and so do heaps of other people. He’s the coach of the Blues. He won a Grand Final when he played rugby league, and a World Cup with the All Blacks. He’s a legend, I’m pretty sure he’s mine, and that gives me a thrill like you wouldn’t believe. And as for Isaiah? He cares about his family, his friends, and the ideas in his head, and he’s got all of those. I told you, you don’t need to worry about Isaiah.”
“He’s odd, and you know it. He doesn’t need to feel odder.”
Zora had a wild brumby of her own inside, maybe, because here it was in all its fury. “I know who he is. He’s Isaiah. He’s brilliant, he’s the hardest worker, and he’s so sweet to Casey, it melts your heart. He has all sorts of people in his life who love him as he is, and he loves us back. And that includes Rhys. I know who Rhys is, too, and he’s everything I want. I wish I could tell you all the ways that’s true. I also know who I am. I’m reckless. I could even be wild. That should be obvious by now. I know you care about respectability, and I know why. It’s because Nana wasn’t respectable. I loved her anyway, and I think I’ve got her in me. I think I always have had.”
Her grandmother, whose hair had been too improbably dark, who’d smoked too much and laughed too loud and probably drunk too much, who’d hugged hard and shared secrets and had a special play room under the stairs. Who’d been a single mum with no husband and too many boyfriends in her past, at a time when that mattered. Who’d made her daughter cringe.
“You could love her.” Her mother’s voice was tight, bouncing off the hard surfaces of benchtop and mirror. “You didn’t have to grow up with her. I protected you from that.”
Zora had been feeling exactly as wild and reckless as she’d said. Mai Tai, Rhys, necklace, dress, and all. Now, her heart did some kind of twist instead. The pit of emotion inside her that had been locked down for so long was opening up, and it was letting her see her mum’s rigidity for what it was. The fear of a girl who’d grown up feeling laughed at, feeling alone and trapped and embarrassed, and was so terrified to end up back there again that she’d do anything to maintain the façade, even pretend not to know what her husband was doing on those long golf dates and late nights at the hospital.
Zora and Hayden had grown up with too many lies and too much unhappiness beneath the smooth surface, and she didn’t want that for Isaiah. She didn’t want it forher.And she’d been so afraid, when she’d realized the truth about Dylan, that she was falling into the exact same trap.
Except that she wasn’t the one who was like her mother. Dylan was. Exactly as scared that somehow, everyone would know who he really was, because if they saw, he knew he wouldn’t measure up. That hecouldn’tmeasure up, ever.
