Chapter 29
Ada
It’s no small thing getting publicly engaged to an All Black.
I’m trapped in a social whirl for what feels like hours, smiling, chatting and being asked to show my ring so often I start to feel like an asshole.
Mercifully, Cece swoops in and drags me into the bathroom for a private celebration.
The place has really deteriorated since I left Jenny in there.
It reeks of pee and white wine, and a dozen lipstick-smudged glasses are sitting in the sinks.
Despite that, Cece crushes me into a hug, and the two of us jump around on strips of discarded toilet paper like it’s fresh snow.
“Oh my God,” she screams. “You’re engaged. Engaged! To Jake! Ada, you’re gonna marry Jake Graves-Holland! And he gets to marry you!”
“I know! Insane, right?”
“Not as insane as that ring.” Cece grabs my left wrist and raises it high. “God, it’s so you. It looks like it belonged to Anne Boleyn.”
“Well I did always think I’d be beheaded for my whoreish ways.” I tilt my head and watch the ruby sparkle in the smudged mirror. “But anyway, fuck me. How’s your magical night with Davis going?”
Cece’s grabs my hands and jumps higher than ever, but before she can start gushing about Fake Fed, the bathroom door flies open. Betty strides in, and from the look on her face, she’s not here to squeal about my engagement ring.
“Congrats, Ada,” she says briskly. “But warrants have just been issued. Thrasher, Will, Shannon, Xavier. All of them. From what Vanessa Grey told me, the cops are gonna move fast on bringing them in for interviews and all those farm pricks are wasted. We don’t wanna be anywhere near them if it goes down tonight. “
My stomach drops. “Shit.”
“We need to clear out,” Betty says. “Colin and his wife just left. The rest of us need to do the same.”
“Should we go back to the hotel?” Cece asks.
“Go anywhere that isn’t here.” Betty casts a worried look at the door. “And I mean, now. Let’s grab your male co-conspirators and get the hell out.”
Gavin must have collected Jake and Davis already, because all three are waiting for us as we exit the bathroom.
“It’ll be impossible to get a car for all six of us right away,” Davis says quietly. “I’m gonna take Cece out the side door. Besides, I need to grab my stuff from your nan’s place, Jake.”
“Sure,” he says, his arm already wrapped tight around my shoulders. “You still got the key?”
“Yeah. I’ll give it back to you tomorrow.”
“But you and Cece are coming back to the hotel after that, right?” I ask Davis.
“Of course,” Cece says. Even the stress of the impending warrants can’t keep the sparkle from her eyes.
She gives me a quick hug and she and Davis head out a side door, promising to keep in touch.
Gavin, Betty, Jake, and I aim for the main entrance.
More well-wishers mob Jake, but he loudly announces he needs to call his nan and tell her the good news and they back off.
The four of us power-walk to the exit and enter the blissful semi-darkness of the grounds.
“Mum’s place is right around the corner,” Betty says. “She’s babysitting JR. We can walk there.”
“Want us to come with you?” I ask.
“Nah, we’re fine. You guys just get a ride out of here. I’ll keep you posted on anything that comes up.”
“Great,” Jake says as Betty and Gavin practically sprint to the street and disappear. My heels mean we can’t do the same, but I clop as fast as I can, Jake’s arm still wrapped around me.
“Do you actually want to call your nan?” I ask.
“Nah, she’s been asleep since eight. She’ll be rapt, though. I’ve told her all about you. Can’t wait for you to meet her.”
My nerves twang, but before I can ask how his nan feels about Italian immigrants, a man stumbles across the wine-dark lawn, crushing a small Hebe bush as he tries to light a cigarette. Tristan Taylor.
“Fuck,” I groan, as Jake tenses. There’s no way we can leave without Tristan seeing us. I squeeze Jake’s side. “Please let me try and handle this? We really do need to get out of here. We can’t waste time on Cece’s stupid brother.”
Jake hesitates.
“Please?” I repeat. “Beloved fiancé?”
His face softens. “Only for you, beloved fiancée. But Taylor and I are gonna have a talk at some point and—”
“Hey, now. If it isn’t the happy couple.”
Tristan strides toward us, and I can practically hear Jake restraining himself.
Tristan seems as fucked up as any of the farm guys.
There’s a beer stain down the front of his paisley shirt and the haircut Cece mocked back at the hotel does look like shit.
Normally, I’d tell him so, but I meant what I said to Jake. I don’t want any fights.
“Thanks,” I say firmly. “Jake and I are very happy. And we’re just about to leave, so have a great night.”
“I will.” Tristan weaves slightly as he sticks his cigarette back in his mouth and once again fails to light it.
His nose is as red as Rudolph’s, and if he hasn’t been sniffing fake coke, my name isn’t Adalasia Renaldo.
But before I can tell him to go ruin someone else’s night, his bloodshot eyes lock on Jake.
“Congrats. J-dog. You get to spend the rest of your life footing the bill for Ada’s daddy issues. But that’s what you always wanted, ay?”
I almost gasp. What the fuck is Tristain playing at? Is he looking to be beaten to a bloody pulp?
The air around Jake crackles with the threat of violence. “Say that again.”
“Don’t.” I lay a palm on Jake’s chest and glare at Tristan. “Since you’re committed to being a cunt, I’ll save us all some time. No one gives a fuck what you think about me and Jake, and you need to sign Stabbies over to Cece.”
Tristan flicks his lighter, and third time’s the charm. His cigarette ignites, and he blows smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Excuse me? What are you threatening me with exactly?”
I smile at Tristan, the proof that Betty found making the gesture not just easy but pleasurable. “Nothing. Yet.”
“What does that—”
“Cece’s the one who actually owns the pub.
You’ve been bullshitting her. I had a friend go into the records.
Mitch wanted you to help Cece manage the building, not lord it over her like a fuckwit.
And since that’s what you’re doing and I know you don’t need the money, stop making her pay you rent through a fucking shell company, you scumbag. ”
Tristan pulls on his cigarette and forces a laugh. “You’re outta your mind if you think I’m gonna let some sl—”
“You watch your fuckin’ mouth,” Jake snarls.
Tristan flashes him a grin, his expression snakelike. How I ever found him handsome is absolutely unthinkable.
“I don’t care what you think you’ve found,” he says to me in the London accent I’m sure takes over whenever he’s in lawyer mode. I give him my best smile.
“Is that so, Tristan?”
“It is. That building’s mine, and last time I checked, I’m a barrister, and you’re a fucking flute player.”
“True,” I say. “But last time I checked, we hooked up, and you don’t, and have never had, an open relationship.”
The colour drains from Tristan’s face. “You wouldn’t.”
“Fuckin’ try me.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Back off Stabbies, or I’ll call your wife. I’ve got screenshots. Texts from London, when you told me you were single. Texts you sent after that extremely unfortunate night confirming what happened. You were engaged back then, yeah?”
Tristan turns to Jake. “You listening to this? You hearing what your precious little—”
“One more word and I’ll deck you, Taylor,” Jake growls. “Let’s go, baby.”
I flash him a smile. “Sounds good. Tristan? Leave Cece alone, or I’ll burn your life to the ground.”
He tosses the cigarette onto the lawn and takes a step toward me. “You psycho bitc—”
Jake moves like lightning, his fist slamming into Tristan’s face with a brutal crack. Cece’s brother reels, stumbling backward, his hands over his nose. “You hit me!”
“I did.” Jake’s voice is cold. “I told you I would, and I did.”
“But we’re friends,” he moans, blood running through his fingers. “We’ve known each other—”
“Forever. So why were you making a move on the girl I love behind my back?”
“I didn’t know—”
“You did,” Jake says. “You fuckin’ knew. But you wanted to stick one up me, didn’t ya, Taylor? Because you’re a sore loser who couldn’t have made the grade if you’d paid your way in. And you probably tried, you weak-shouldered cunt.”
“Fuck you,” Tristan gasps.
“Fuck you right back. You’re a shit tackle and a shit friend, and you lied to Ada to try and take something that wasn’t yours.”
Tristan drops his hands long enough to smirk. “Didn’t have to try too hard. She’s a pretty easy—”
Jake lunges, fisting Tristan’s shirtfront and yanking him up. Their noses are almost touching, Jake’s curled in rage, Tristan’s streaming blood.
“Do you…” Jake asks with chilling calmness. “... wanna spend the night in A&E?”
“N-No. No.”
“You’re not acting like it.” Jake yanks Tristan’s shirt higher. “I think you might be lying to me again, T-Bone.”
I watch Tristan’s already blotchy neck turn redder from the pressure. “Jake?”
He turns to me, and to my relief, drops Tristan like a sack of garbage. He hits the ground, hard, blood spattering onto the ground.
“Lucky for you, I’ve got better things to do tonight than put you in Emergency,” Jake says. “You can still go fuck yourself, though.”
He nudges Tristan’s side with his foot. Not a kick but close.
Tristan curls into himself with a moan. “We’re friends, J.”
“I’d go with ‘used to be.’” Jake lays a hand on the small of my back. “C’mon, babe.”
I let him steer me around Tristan Taylor.
“Give Cece the building,” I tell him as we pass his curled-up body. “And maybe lay off the blow tonight? Bloody nose and all that.”
“Drink as much as you want, though,” Jake adds. “Not like you’ve got a woman to satisfy later.”
It’s too good an exit line to burst out laughing, so I wait until we’re at the curb before throwing my head back and cackling. “You’re such a bitch!”
“I know,” Jake says smugly, then he turns his face upward and exhales. “Why didn’t anyone ever tell me righteous anger feels this good? It’s like a drug.”
“It’s my favourite drug. Or it was before you, anyway.”
Jake’s smile is pure malice as he bends to kiss my cheek. “Good girl. Now get ready. I’m gonna fuck you so good you wake up pregnant.”
“Jake!”
“Just kidding.” He pulls me into his arms, palms sliding to my ass. “Not that it’s gonna feel like it when I’m barebacking you senseless.”
I roll my eyes. “So it begins, huh?”
“Sure does, Renaldo. Tonight, and for the rest of your life.”
But just as Jake orders us a ride, a man calls out from behind us. “Ada? Ada Renaldo?”
I turn, anticipating another attack, and my heart sinks. Walking down the driveway is an older man I know all too well. I shrink into Jake’s side. “Um, hi Principal Friezen?”
He smiles at me. “It’s Barry now. Good to see you again, Ada.”
“You too,” I lie.
The memory of bawling about Jenny and the shit-milkshake in his office still kicks like a mule.
I expect him to turn to Jake and congratulate him for all his ball-related success, but his gaze stays on mine. “I’m, ah, sorry to have to do this as you’re leaving, but I’d like to speak with you about…”
He clears his throat, sounding as uncomfortable as I feel.
“Is everything okay, sir?” Jake asks, a protective hand at my back.
“Not exactly, Jacob. I have, ah, an apology for Miss. Renaldo.”
I gnaw my lower lip. “I, um, what about?”
“The incident that brought you to my office before your departure,” Principal Freizen says quietly. “I should have done more for you. I regret how things were handled very much. I wish I had done more for the children who experienced… well, you know… bullying.”
I stare at my old principal. His hair is white now, his bent nose flecked with purplish blood vessels.
It’s so strange to think I was once terrified of this man.
How it felt like he had the power to save or end my life.
Now, he seems meek and kind and like a stiff breeze could send him skyward.
I search myself and find that just like with Jenny, there’s no anger inside me anymore.
Only sadness for the things no one can change.
“Thanks,” I tell Principal Friezen. “I’m okay now, though.”
“That’s no excuse,” Principal Friezen says with a sad smile. “But I appreciate your kindness, and I’m very impressed with what you’ve achieved with your music. Which isn’t to say it’s at all surprising.”
“Thanks,” I repeat as Jake’s ride pulls up at the curb.
“We have to go, sir,” Jake says.
“Barry.” Principal Friezen shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I know this is a little presumptuous, Ada, but the trustees’ garden party is tomorrow. Would you consider playing for us?”
My throat dries up. Never, in all my time at Pukekohe High, did I perform for anyone who wasn’t a music teacher. No school assembly. No end-of-year concert. No choir-accompaniment shit. Not once. “I don’t know…”
“Just one song? I’m sure everyone would love to hear you perform.”
“Um…”
Principal Friezen stares at me, his gaze imploring. “If I can be honest once again, Ada. I would very much love to hear you perform. I always did.”
My heart knots so tight it hurts. “Okay. Just one song?”
He smiles, relief etched across his face. “Just one song. I’ll look forward to it.”
I can’t smile back, but I wave as Jake opens the car door for me. I step into its warmth, relieved to be going anywhere else.
“Well,” Jake says, clambering in beside me and making the Honda sink a few inches. “I’m excited about this shitty garden thing now.”