The Silvia Saga: Boxset

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Dara

15 years later

I grip the bottle of vodka, pouring it into the five shot glasses across the bar before handing them to the group of ladies in front of me and then heading to the next person in line. I lean over the bar, throwing a tea towel over my shoulder. “What can I getcha?”

A guy in his mid-twenties rests his elbows on the counter and tilts forward, shouting over the noise. “Whiskey and coke, please. Also, what’s the time—my phone died?” He shows me his dead phone and I laugh. After pulling my own from my pocket, I flash it toward him. It’s eleven o’clock and I still have a few hours left.

As I mix his drink, I look around the crowded bar. Groups of people stand together chatting and drinking away the week. The usual Friday night crowd. I sigh. This place is starting to feel like a second home to me and not what I wanted to be doing with my life. But here we are.

The bar’s located in an old warehouse that has recently been done up. They kept the high ceilings with exposed wooden beams and the rustic design of the space; it really is beautiful. What gets me through working here is the people watching—the other staff members and I have always joked about and made up life stories for people in the crowd. The second is having a place to call home with people who feel like family. My chest aches at the word—something I always wanted. But through all of the foster families I had, none ever felt like family or a loving home for that matter.

My best friend, Kayla, breaks my thoughts as she smashes her empty glass on the sticky wooden bar top in front of me. “Dara, can I get another vodka raspberry, please?”

I laugh and grab her empty cup. This is typical Kayla fashion; she is already fucked up after two drinks. God, she is hilarious and kinda a pain in my arse, because this means I’m in for a fun night babysitting her. Instead of getting her another vodka raspberry that’s going to add more fuel to the table, I fill her cup with soda water and pass it to her.

Kayla’s sitting on the barstool, sandwiched between two good-looking guys. She looks down at her glass, shaking her head, but doesn’t say anything as she drinks it. “How’s your night going?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

“Oh, these are my new friends. John and Rex or Tex … I can’t remember.” She giggles and wraps her arms over both of the guys’ shoulders. Shaking my head, I pass both the guys a beer swiping the cash on the bar. It’s so Kayla to have two guys chasing her at once. She is stunning, with white-blonde hair cut into a short bob style, beautiful green eyes, and flawless skin. A total contrast to me with my long dark hair and bright blue eyes.

“Nice to meet you, boys. I hope you have been keeping Kayla occupied?” I ask, trying my best to glare at them.

John smiles. “Of course. When I saw this one, I couldn’t keep away.”

Rex or Tex takes his time checking me out from head to toe and gives me a playful wink when his deep brown eyes meet mine. He runs a hand through his dishevelled brown hair, the colourful tattoos peeking out from beneath his white top look intriguing, but he isn’t my type. He doesn’t do anything for me. I wish he would as it’s been way too long, but I’m not one to fuck just anybody. There’s gotta be that spark or at least something more to have a one-night stand.

“Hey, lady, stop ignoring everyone and get me a whiskey on the rocks,” a guy farther up the bar yells aggressively. Fucking prick.

“Yes, coming right up!” I wish I could say what I really want to—something along the lines of settle the fuck down, I’m coming.

After handing the jackass his drink, I continue getting through the other orders.

Usher’s song ‘Yeah’ starts blaring through the speakers. “Hell, yes! This is my jam,” Kayla yells over the music. She jumps up and runs to the dance floor. Rex and John follow her getting lost in the crowd.

Fuck this. I need a drink to get me through my shift.

Finishing my tequila shot, I glance out into the crowd when someone by the table in the back corner catches my eye. He towers over everyone around him. His muscles look as though they are about to burst through his tight black shirt. His blond hair pokes through his back-to-front cap and his gaze snaps straight to mine. I take a step back, bumping into the counter. He’s gripping a can of drink which he brings to his lips, and I can’t keep my eyes off him even though everyone around me is yelling at me for a drink in the faded background. My breathing picks up as I continue to watch him. Who is this guy? There’s something about him that feels familiar like I’ve seen him before, but I can’t quite remember where.

A loud clap breaks the spell and I find Rex staring at me with his hands on the bar and a lazy smirk on his face. “Hey there, gorgeous. We missed you on the dance floor.” He winks and tries to lean over the bar, but I pull back. Stepping to the side, I try to find the guy across the room, but he’s gone. Fuck. I must be imagining things.

Rex is still waiting for an answer, but I shake my head.

I end up blowing Rex off, telling him that I’ve gotta work and he should go have some fun. The night goes by, same as every other night dealing with drunk, horny guys and legless girls, falling all over the place. Finally, it’s 3 a.m. Closing time. Everyone starts to leave as the bouncers clear the area. I finish wiping down the bar and throw the cloth into the sink. “You okay with closing up, Marnie?” I call to my boss who’s just locked the double doors after escorting the last patron out. “I have a drunk friend to get home.”

“Yep, I got it! Get out of here and have fun with that.” Marnie chuckles, pointing toward Kayla who’s sitting on the floor leaning against the wall chatting with those guys. This is going to be fun.

After saying my goodbyes to the other bar staff, I head over to Kayla. My shoes stick to the floor with each step. It’s disgusting. The cleaners are going to have a field day scrubbing these floors.

Kayla jumps up, stumbling toward me, running straight into my open arms. Her body melts into mine, and I hold her upright.

“Dar, why did you have to work? I missed you,” she yells a little too loudly. Rex and John are close behind her.

“Okay, I think it is time for you to head home, sweetheart,” I say, hugging her to my side.

I overhear one of the boys say, “She wouldn’t be any good now. Let’s get out of here.”

They quietly slip out without even having the decency to say goodbye. Oh well, their loss. No way would I leave Kayla with them in this state anyway.

We walk back through the bar and Kayla gets heavier and heavier. The cool air whips through my hair as we step outside. After a long shift in a sticky, hot bar, this is a welcomed relief. Lightning illuminates the streetscape, followed moments later by a piercing crack of thunder. It’s about to bucket down. The street is loud with drunk people looking for a way home or moving on to the next place. Kayla rests her head against my shoulder, babbling on about something that I can’t quite understand. She won’t remember this in the morning. She does this each night out—gets ridiculously blind and blacks out. She wakes up unsure of anything that happened. That’s why I don’t like her going out without me. She could end up somewhere unsafe without even realising until the next day, and I couldn’t live with myself if something ever happened to her. She’s my best friend and the closest thing I have to a family. My chest tightens at the thought of family again. One of the bouncers hails down a cab for us.

“Thank you,” I say.

He nods, opening the car door for us. Kayla practically rolls into the back seat, and her soft snores fill the small space. After pushing her farther in, I jump in, closing the door shut. I give the driver our address and place Kayla’s head in my lap.

We live in a very small apartment, nestled in the suburbs of Melbourne in Australia. It isn’t much, but it is home to us. After growing up in different foster homes, you learn to appreciate the small things that most would just take for granted. I don’t need much to call it a home. I don’t even need a roof over my head. I would sleep with the stars every night if I had it my way. Being out in nature is a comfort blanket for me, a place where I can breathe clearly, and I guess that’s why I spend most of my spare time there.

I brush Kayla’s hair out of her face, and she groans. I’ve known Kayla since I can remember. Some people talk about having that one best friend who is like a sister to them. Kayla is mine, and I’m forever grateful for meeting her all those years ago. I met Kayla at school before I had to leave when I was sixteen. The foster family I was with at the time couldn’t afford to support me at school any longer. So, I had to pull out and start working to pull my weight. Kayla kept in contact and once she finished, we moved in together. She came from a well-off family, completely opposite to me. Yet somehow, we clicked and have been inseparable ever since.

The cab pulls to a stop outside of our apartment complex a short twenty minutes later. Leaning over, I pass the driver the fare and pull Kayla out, carefully trying to keep her in one piece. She isn’t light, so it is always a struggle to hold her. I stumble, carrying Kayla into the foyer of our building, and a shiver racks through my body. Is someone watching me?

My eyes scan the area, but it’s dead quiet. I have been having this same feeling the past few weeks. Which sounds completely absurd. I think I watch way too many of those crime shows and listen to too many podcasts about murder—it’s making me paranoid.

We make it to the elevator in record time since I am power walking all the while trying to carry a drunk, sleeping Kayla. I manage to get her into the elevator and ride up to our floor. After struggling, she’s finally inside our apartment and in her bed. She drops like a sack of potatoes and is out cold. I place a blanket over her before closing the door with a soft click.

After heading back out into the living area, I flick on the television and pour myself a glass of wine. Flopping onto the couch, I let out a heavy sigh. What a night.

I close my eyes, and straight away I picture that mysterious stranger again. There is just something about him that feels so familiar.

It is a big world, and I will probably never see him again, but I bloody hope I do. Next time, I won’t be so shy. I will walk right up to him and introduce myself.

Let’s hope there will be a next time.

Yeah, right, Dara. Keep dreaming.