Page 129 of So Wild

Tabby had been walking nearby and dutifully pretended to puke into a box of Cheezels.

Back at the studio, the boys and girls separated to string up fairy lights, prep the ancient brick barbecue and make a punch that would delight and incapacitate their guests.

As Sam cut up strawberries and tossed them into the punch bucket, she couldn’t recall ever being so happy. The feeling was so pure and crystalline, it cut at her insides. In her dad’s favourite book, The Prophet by Khalil Gibran, there was a line about love and how experiencing it fully was to feel tenderness to the point of pain. She’d never understood how that could be a good thing until now.

“I wish dad was here,” Tabby said, as she squeezed a box of chardonnay into the bucket.

“Me too,” Nicole said. “The punch won’t be the same without him.”

“I wish he was here, as well,” Sam said, but she knew that if their dad was there—if he’d never left—then Scott’s father wouldn’t have doubled down on his attempt to buy the house, giving Scott no reason to come and see her. Nicole would never have come to Melbourne to help her with the business, meaning she never would have entered Ink the Night and been accepted into Fadeout. Tabby wouldn’t have met Toby and conspired to save the six puppies currently scampering around their heels.

None of it would have happened.

With a rush of that same golden energy that had pulsed inside her during Fadeout, Sam saw for the first timewhyher dad had left. His absence had created space for her and her sisters to comfort and challenge one another. His lack was like the blank places that made a tattoo more than just a mess of shape and color. It made it art.

Sam closed her eyes and listened to her sisters bicker over whether to add grapefruit juice or orange liquor to the punch. She wanted nothing and she thought of nothing, she just felt her painful, all-consuming love.

Thanks to Tabby’s social media presence, their victory party quickly swelled from a manageable fifty, to almost a hundred people within an hour of starting. Gangs of hipsters stood in packs drinking and patting the puppies and cheering whenever they saw her or Scott. Sam was pulled aside for intense conversations about Fadeout, almost all of them ending in tattoo requests. She told the partygoers to call or email the store in the morning, knowing if half of them booked an appointment, Silver Daughters would be at capacity for months. Gil showed up toward midnight, carrying a bouquet of roses and wearing an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for bolting when that nutter showed up with the petrol bombs. I didn’t mean to, I just shit myself and ran. I’ve got kids, Sammy, you understand, don’t you?”

Sam couldn’t quite understand, but she couldn’t be mad at Gil, either. Not when everything was so good. She put the roses in a vase and steered him toward the punch. The party continued on, everyone cheering and drinking and dancing in her living room.

Everything was perfect, and yet now that she was alone in her bedroom with Scott, Sam felt her mood dip slightly.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Scott asked, putting down the puppy. “You look sad all of a sudden.”

“I’m fine, I’m just thinking about your dad and what happened yesterday.”

Scott took his face in her hands. “What are you thinking about?”

“That I can’t believe it was yesterday, for one thing. And that I hope your dad’s okay, as messed up as that sounds. I’m so happy it feels, I don’t know…cruelto wish bad things for him, especially since I know he’s probably sick and has been for a long time.”

Scott nodded. “I understand the sentiment, but you don’t need to think on it right now. He’ll be in the hospital for at least another fortnight and if and when he’s released, he’s going to live with my great aunt and uncle in Seymour—they’re both tough as nails. They’ll know how to handle him.”

Sensing the pain rising in him, Sam put her hands on his shoulders. “It’s okay, you know that, right? It’s all going to work out. I’m not happy about what your dad did, but I know he’s not well and I know he’s not you.”

He smiled sadly at her. “You’re the most exceptional woman I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, well I always said you haven’t met enough women.”

Scott’s hands slid down to grip her waist. “Is that right, Samantha?”

“I think so.”

“That’s interesting.” His hands dipped even lower and he squeezed her ass. “You know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to bring up with you.”

“Oh?”

He leaned in closer, a malicious glitter in his eyes. “Yes. It occurs to me that I never punished you for attempting to auction off my virginity on eBay.”

“And Gumtree.”

“And Gumtree,” he agreed.

“Also, you could place bids on buy­scott­sanderson­aroot.com,” Sam reminded him. “I made sure that was a thing.”

At this Scott picked her up and walked her back toward her bed. He tossed her down onto the mattress, his face set in a way that was both deeply attractive and worrying.

“Um, what are you doing, Galahad?”

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