I put my hands out in front of me, palms facing my best friend. My heart beats faster. “Wait. You have it already?”

She nods.

“Oh my God,” I breathe. This girl is amazing.

“What?” Vicky shrieks, causing me to cover my ears. She’s probably just called every stray dog in the neighbourhood to our doorstep. “I-It’s here?”

April nods again.

“I didn’t know you’d picked a style, babe?”

“I guess I always had a certain style in mind, but when I saw this the other day I knew it would be perfect.”

“Well hurry the fuck up! I need to see this for myself,” I say, as I usher her towards the dressing rooms. April motions towards Kelly, who carries over a black suit bag that no doubt contains the mystery dress.

I hear the zip being pulled down, and the crinkle of the bag.

“You girls know I’m not big on dresses, right?”

“Right,” Vicky and I say back together.

“So never in a million years was I gonna pick a big puffy meringue number.” More rustling.

“Eep! Did you change your mind?” Vicky asks, clenching her hands together as if she’s praying.

I shake my head and mouth no to her. There’s no way in hell that my girl April is donning a giant poof. April and I have already talked about the fact that she wants a dress where she can go to the toilet on her own, even though I’ve said I would perform all duties expected of a maid of honour.

Vicky sidles up next to me, all smiles. Has this girl even been sad a day in her young life?

“What’s happening with you, Sophie?” she asks, her eyes bright and filled with happiness and fucking rainbows. No point giving her the highlights of my last few months. I’d rather focus on the pending nuptials of my closest friend.

“Good, Vicky. How about you?”

“So great! I’ll be starting in my first real lawyer job in a few months at CJ Capital.” The girl looks proud as punch about it. It’s good to see someone who’s finished their degree and so eager to get into things.

“That’s your dad’s work, right?”

“Yes, and I can’t wait. You should see some of the guys that work there. There’s just something about a man in a sharp suit, cleanly shaven with that smell of cologne—I nearly turned to a pile of mush the other day when I got stuck in the lift with one of them.”

I don’t tell her that I don’t mind a man in a suit myself. Well, I did a long time ago, anyway. Look where that got me. I offer her a smile and a nod.

“No more paralegal work for me. I finally get to get into the nitty-gritty of the law.”

“Good on you. I’m really happy for you.”

“Aw, thank you. That means so much. April thinks the world of you, and I’m so thrilled to be in the bridal party with you. It’s my first time as a bridesmaid, and I just don’t know what to expect and what’s expected of me, and it’s all just so exciting, isn’t it?” She finally draws breath, and scrunches her nose and sighs.

Another zip noise comes from behind the curtain.

“You girls ready?” April teases.

“Yes,” Vicky and I chime together.

In dramatic fashion, April whips the curtain back and throws her hands to her sides, her open palms facing us and her fingers wiggling. “Ta-da!”

At first my eyes land on the smooth curves of the strapless sweetheart neckline against her glowing skin, which is broken up with loose tendrils of caramel hair. Then I take in the intricate detail of the beaded, embroidered bodice. An A-line chiffon skirt falls gracefully to her feet, with a small, understated train at the back.

It’s very similar in style to our dresses. Planned, me thinks? Regardless, I’m a fan of her work. She couldn’t have picked anything more suited to her. It’s simple and it’s stunning.

I’m not gonna cry. I’m not. My friend looks so beautiful. She barely has any makeup on and her hair is tied up in a messy top knot, but she looks incredible.

She moves her hands to her hips. “Keep your shit together, McKenna,” she warns.

“Someone is cutting onions in here, I swear,” I say as I fan my face and pull her into a hug, being careful not to step on or crush the dress.

A sob breaks free behind us, and the crying starts. “I never had a sister, and oh my God, you look so … so, oh, April,” Vicky manages to get out as her voice cracks.

April releases me and glides over to Vicky and places her hands on her shoulders, looking down at her. “Breathe, Vic, breathe. It’s just a dress,” she says, but the emotion is evident in her voice too.

Vicky throws her arms around April. “No it’s not. It’s perfect.”

“I think so too. And, bonus about this dress? Easy access for Spence if we decide to have a quickie at the reception.”

“Please don’t talk about my brother having sex. I’d be devastated if I threw up in this pretty bridal shop.”

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ROCCO

Sometimes I wonder when it all went wrong. When I was sixteen and my racing career was crushed, I battled on. I found a way. I travelled with a privateer to national race days, helped prep the bikes and got the riders to the gate on time. I cleaned the bikes, washed the pit tents and did the shit jobs no one else wanted to. I worked fifteen-hour days, back-to-back at race meets to get a name for myself. The Honda team picked me up and put me through my apprenticeship. I earned next to nothing, but I continued to work hard, because I wanted nothing but to live and breathe motocross. I proved I had the skills to diagnose and make fast repairs in the worst conditions. I took pride in race preparation and bike maintenance, and years later got a job as the top mechanic on the KTM Factory team.

After losing both parents, my love for alcohol consumed me. That was when it all turned bad. If it wasn’t for the fact I knew Jones then, I don’t think Mac would have even interviewed me.

Jones barely spoke to me on the way to the factory today, and then kept his distance from me for the rest of the time. I don’t blame him. I was a right arsehole last night. He was there picking up the pieces like a good mate, and I couldn’t even thank him for it.

Getting wasted last night was the worst thing I could have done knowing how much work there was to do stripping the bikes and cleaning up. Every time I’ve exchanged glances with Mac today, he’s given me the hairy eyeball. So much for getting into his good books.

All this bullshit is because I’m weak. I let my guilt over V get the better of me, and I’m too pig-headed to say no to tequila when it’s thrust in my face.

Before I enter my building, I call Long Bay and let them know I’ll be visiting V tomorrow. I don’t need anyone overhearing that conversation. My head pounds with every step I take up to my floor. This is one hell of a hangover.

I dump my bag inside the door, because I’m too fucking exhausted to take it to the laundry. Tomorrow, I’ll deal with it.

I walk into the lounge room to find Suds on the couch with her legs curled beneath her. She’s wearing a pair of daggy purple bed socks, grey pyjama bottoms and a white tank. No bra. Her nipples look hard enough to cut glass. Her blonde hair is piled high in a misshaped bun on the top of her head, and she’s wearing dark glasses. Why the fuck haven’t I seen her in these before? She’s conjured up some daggy, I-don’t-give-a-shit librarian look. And she pulls it off.

“Hey,” I mutter, trying to pretend with the casualness of my tone that I’m not excited to see her. I never quite know what I’m gonna walk in on when I come home. I was kind of hoping I’d catch her scrambling naked on the hallway floor again, but no such luck.

Like every other day, she’s eating a bowl of noodles, holding a tangle of long strings high from her fork. She purses her lips and blows on the strands before slowly sucking them into her sweet mouth. The not-so-lesbian lesbian does good noodle eating. I bet she does a lot of good things with that mouth. I clear my throat and divert my attention to the TV.