Chapter 31
Cece
“How do I look?”
“So good.” I let my gaze linger on Davis’s chest. “Like, so good.”
A tinge of pink steals upwards from his collar. “You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not, I swear.” Looking at Davis is my new favourite pastime. He’s always been beautiful, but my own issues made him seem untouchable. Not now. Now he is eminently touchable. I’ve touched as many parts of him as I possibly can since last night, and I have plans to touch them all again soon.
“You’re sure?” he asks, looking down at the fresh shirt he borrowed again from Jake, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles.
“I’m sure, Davis.” The shirt is white, a change from his usual black, and he’s rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. It does excellent things for him, picking out the lightness in his eyes, playing up the colour in his tattoos.
“I’m excited to be here with you,” I say, and his shoulders relax, and he smiles at me.
For the first time in forever, anxiety isn’t hanging over me like a dark cloud. I’m with Davis, the sun is shining, and that’s more than I could have hoped for when two days ago I watched him storm out of Afterglow.
“I’m excited to be here with you,” he says.
I can’t hold back my grin. My cheeks ache from all the smiling I’ve done over the last twelve hours.
And maybe the blow jobs.
This is the penultimate reunion event, a trustee garden party at some mini-mansion.
Different decades of graduating classes have been allocated different locations across Pukekohe, and ours is in the older part of town, where all the houses look like they’re owned by Polly Pocket.
The itinerary promoted it as an intimate gathering to connect with former students around our age, but it’s more of an opportunity for rich alumni to show off their fancy homes.
Davis reaches for my hand as we follow polished pavers around the back of the sprawling Victorian-style villa.
The lawn stretches out for an age, bracketed by a wall of reclaimed bricks that separates the property from the neighbours.
A small white marquee with a bar is set up near the pool, and a jazz quartet plays under the shade of a kōwhai tree.
Davis whistles. “Nice digs.”
I can tell it’s not a compliment. “You’re rich, too,” I remind him.
“Step-rich. And not like this.”
“Let’s get a drink,” I suggest. “At least they might have good booze.”
They do, decent sparkling wine from Central Otago. I grab two glasses from the marquee table.
“Here.” I hand one to Davis. “To us.”
His smile could power Pukekohe. “To us.” We clink glasses, and I watch the way his inked throat works as he swallows the bubbly liquid.
This weekend has altered my life on a seismic level.
I’m not sure how any of this is going to shake out, but I’m solid on Davis and me, and that gives me hope for myself.
“Hey!” Ada appears at my shoulder, a flute of orange juice in hand, the flash of the giant ruby on her finger shining like a beacon. Jake is right behind her. He and Davis shake hands in that bro way, and he gives me a little side hug.
“To the two of you getting engaged,” I toast, and we all clink glasses before drinking again. “Congratulations.”
We make our way around the lawn towards a circle of stone columns surrounded by hedging, where a makeshift stage has been set up, and the majority of the crowd has congregated.
“Inspired by Hadrian’s Villa in Tivoli,” Ada reads off a sign hanging around a stone lion’s neck. “This is some classy shit. I’m surprised there’s not a pizza oven and a statue of a dude with a moustache playing the accordion.”
We laugh as we move slowly around the circle, the boys walking ahead.
“I met Jake’s nan this morning,” Ada whispers.
“How did that go?”
“She was nice. Said she loved my music and knew all about me already from Jake’s Sunday calls. Pulled out my Christmas CD for me to sign.”
“A CD?”
“Yeah, it was nuts. It felt like I was signing a gramophone.”
“But you liked her?”
“Yeah, I really liked her. And she said she’s looking forward to seeing me again soon. Asked what we were up to for King’s Birthday weekend. I think I might be about to meet some cousins.”
Happiness fizzes up inside me. “She sounds lovely.” I pull her in for a hug, squashing her face against my boobs as she laughs.
“Oh fuck, your juice!” It’s running down my wrist from where I knocked it with my aggressive embrace, and I raise my hand to lick it off. “Have you told Aggie yet?”
“No. I’m scared of how many cakes I’ll get when she finds out I’m engaged.”
“Oh shit, that reminds me. I got a call from some cop in Auckland. One of the nice student stoners caught Jenny on camera coming into Afterglow with a mini cage of mice. They showed it to Aggie, and she went to the cops. I’ve got to make a statement when we get back.”
“Mouse-bitch is going down.” We do a little dance, before Ada blurts, “Oh, speaking of karma, Jake punched Tristan in the face last night...”
“Good. I bet he deserved it.”
“He did.” Ada makes a face. “I don’t want to be one of ‘those girls,’ but it was pretty hot.”
I open my mouth to agree that, unfortunately, good men punching shitty men is hot, but we’re interrupted by Principal Friezen. “Ada? If you’re ready, it’s almost time.”
“Fuck.” Ada downs the remainder of her juice, and they head off together towards the stage.
I grab Davis’s hand. “I can’t wait for you to see Ada perform.”
“You ever heard her before?” Jake asks, keeping pace as I drag Davis after Ada and Principal Friezen.
“Of course,” I say, as Davis shakes his head.
Jake rubs his hands together. “Either way, you’re in for a treat.”
We are. It’s been forever since I’ve heard my best friend play music. And after everything that’s happened since we arrived in Pukekohe, this is not how I thought our weekend would end, but I’m so happy it is.
We stand right in front of the makeshift stage as Barry Friezen taps the mic.
“Kia ora, everyone. Welcome. I’m thrilled to be able to introduce one of Pukekohe High School’s former students.
I’m sure a number of you will recognise her from school or last night’s celebrations.
She’s gone from our school to Juilliard, to the London Symphony Orchestra.
She has achieved many outstanding musical accolades, and today, it is my honour to welcome Adalasia Renaldo back to perform for us.
Please join me in showing our appreciation. ”
I wedge my wineglass between my knees and applaud, as Jake lets out a piercing whistle that deafens me. Ada steps up to the mic and shoots us both a small smile before fixing her eyes on a spot in the distance.
“I’d like to dedicate this song to Rhys Muldoon,” she says, before raising the flute to her lips.
The first note is an aurora borealis, lighting up the sky above us.
Her song soars through the air, a shimmering rainbow of sound.
It burrows into the depths of my soul and shines its brilliance onto the shadows that linger, brushing away the darkness.
Ada closes her eyes as her fingers move, at one with her instrument.
The music flows over the gathered crowd, invisible threads weaving around us, holding us together for a moment in time.
“Shit,” someone breathes next to me. I glance across to find Betty, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Gavin stands behind her, an arm wrapped around her waist. I reach for her free hand and link our fingers together, squeeze, then let go.
Ada’s crying too when I turn back to the stage, and although Rhys and I were never close, my heart clenches for him. I wish he could have felt how loved he truly was.
Ada’s final note lingers, long and low, like she doesn’t want it end, like she’s afraid to let go.
There’s a beat of silence where the mana of the moment is almost tangible. Then the applause starts, building to a crescendo. Ada doesn’t seem to hear it at all, just steps off the stage and into Jake’s waiting arms. She buries her face in his chest, and he strokes her hair.
“You okay?” Davis whispers in my ear.
I nod. “Yeah, that was so beautiful.”
“It was.” He pulls me into his arms, and I let the significance of what just happened wash over me. Wash over both of us.
“Thanks, Ada, it’s easy to see why you used to be in an orchestra. Now, if I could please just have everyone’s attention for a tiny, wee sec?”
I gasp. The worst possible person has taken the stage.
Jenny Wallis, in a new pink dress, stands above us.
Her face is arranged into a look of sadness, but I catch the flash of triumph as people turn to face her.
“Our year group has been a lucky one in lots of regards, but as Ada just reminded us, the death of Rhys Muldoon shook many of us to the core.”
What. The. Fuck?
“Rhys and I were in class together since kindergarten…” she continues.
Betty balls her fists, moving towards the stage with murder in her eyes.
Gavin tries to hold on to her, but she shakes him off.
Davis releases me and steps in front of Betty, his face the picture of calm.
“You have every right to be angry,” he says in a low voice.
“But I think you’ll regret going up there. Don’t give her the satisfaction.”
Jenny is still talking. “Rhys was such a beautiful soul. I remember one time he painted a landscape of the Bombay Hills that looked almost professional,” she simpers, fake sympathy oozing from her like a noxious cloud.
I glance at Ada. She’s white-faced and shaking, but when our eyes meet, I swear I can read her thoughts. Not this time. I can’t be the crazy girl who attacks Jenny in public again. It’s what she wants, and I can’t do it.
I feel my hands ball into fists. Davis and Gavin are still talking to Betty, and Jake’s holding Ada like a human straitjacket… meaning nobody’s paying attention to me…
Which is why I can stalk right up onto the stage. “Shut your goddamn mouth, Jennifer.” I don’t lower my voice to avoid the mic picking it up. I raise it. “You’ve no right to talk about Rhys.”