Chapter 7

Jamie

After Millie asked her brothers to be my fake dates, I'd been prepared to be horrified. I'd been prepared to be embarrassed, to buy the guys a slab of beer or a bottle of spirits of their choice as payment. I'd expected teasing, a poke in the ribs, something, but not this. I stared down at my plate and saw exactly the food I would've selected for myself, but eating it took real effort because I wanted to shove my plate aside and demand answers.

Starting with Hunter.

I'd read his text, then stared at the side of his face, silently demanding more details, but all I got was a sidelong look of amusement, his lips twisting into a Cheshire Cat smile. That at least was familiar. Hunter sucked up attention like it was a basic human need, so I shifted my focus.

Only to find Brock staring at me.

"Eat up," he said, nodding to his plate. "You've been getting skinny."

You noticed? I thought, but didn't dare say anything, not when the topic of conversation shifted back to the goings on of the family.

I listened to stories about aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents, most of whom I'd met, and was thankful I didn't have to make a comment. Instead, my fork scraped across my plate, shifting salad to one side, then another before a sharp look from Brock had me spiking a piece of beetroot and biting down. Sweet and tangy, the taste burst on my tongue, reminding me just how much I liked it, so I found myself going back for more and more until I'd finished my portion. Hunter smiled smugly, but Hayden just looked far too pale under his golden tan. That was enough for me to pull out my phone and tap out a reply to Hunter.

If I say yes, will you tell me why you guys are being so weird?

We weren't supposed to use phones at the dinner table, so at twenty-eight years old, I felt like a kid passing notes in class. Hunter's face lit up when he felt the buzz of a notification, using his parents' moment of distraction to read it, then tap out a quick reply.

Whatever you want.

That helped loosen the tension in my chest. I looked surreptitiously up the table but saw Millie was bitching about the owner of the pub she managed again, so everyone else was distracted.

We could meet up after dinner , I said, my fingers flying across the screen. I could meet you by my car and we could talk there.

No can do , he replied, and my heart sank. I take my fake dating seriously. Proper date or nothing.

I didn't reply, shoving my phone back in my pocket when the conversation trailed away, now conscious my cheeks were bright red, something Millie noted with a smug smile.

Well, there was someone in this family I could quiz without obligation and that was my bestie, so I focussed on finishing my dinner quietly.

"Well, that was lovely," Angus said with a big stretch. "I guess I better start on the dishes."

"We'll do it." I shot to my feet and then stared pointedly at Millie. "Won't we, Mills?"

"Oh, I was going to try to get a swim…" That sparkle in her eyes made clear she knew exactly what she was doing. "After the dishes."

"I better put all the food away," Heather said.

"It's fine, Mum." Millie gave her shoulder a squeeze. "We've got it."

"Just make sure?—"

"We cover everything in cling film and don't stack the meat above the vegetables in the fridge."

Once Heather was satisfied, we moved around the table picking up plates, Millie taking her parents', leaving me to clear away her brothers'. I'd done this a million times before, so why did I feel like I had three sets of eyes on me as I picked up each plate? Only one person could tell me, I thought, as I beat a hasty retreat into the kitchen.

"Any reason why you're volunteering us to be dish pigs?" Millie asked as I started running the tap to rinse the plates for the dishwasher.

"Oh, I think you know." I wrenched open the dishwasher and then looked up at her. "A lot more than you're letting on."

"I'm not sure what you mean," she said, scraping scraps into the compost bin.

"Millie…"

"Jamie…"

I'd held this girl's hair back when she spewed more times than I could count, helped her with her homework when I could, or just whinged along with her when we struggled to write yet another essay. I'd held her when she cried like her heart would break and she'd done the same for me, something I reminded her of right now, which wiped the smile away and replaced it with something far more heartfelt.

"I know what your mum's like," she said, putting a hand on one hip. "I know what kind of pressure she puts you under and how much drama there is when you push back. You needed three guys to pretend to be your boyfriends…"

I leaned forward.

"And?"

"And my brothers are all single. They're good guys…" She frowned slightly as she stared out the glass sliding door. "Even Hunt, the self-absorbed prick. I could've hit up some of the guys at the pub, but seeing as they work for me, that makes things ethically a bit dodgy. But you know what's got your knickers in a twist?"

"What?" I put my hands on my hips.

"You're just not used to a bit of male attention. It's been months since you've gone out with any guys other than the blokes you work with. You slept with that hot backpacker a month ago, so at least I know your hymen hasn't grown back."

"Jesus, Millie?—"

"You had to try and become one of ‘the boys' to survive life as an apprentice," she said, pointing a finger at me. "Being one of the few girls in your year at trade school, you couldn't afford to take my advice?—"

"And sleep with all the hot ones?" I shuddered. I had nothing against girls that did, because there were a few that took full advantage of all that male attention, but the comments afterwards… Men could be such bitches, gossiping like a bunch of old ladies about who they scored with.

"You're surrounded by men who treat you like you're a guy, and you're just feeling jumpy because my brothers aren't. It'll be OK." Her hands landed on my shoulders. "I'll read them the riot act, make sure they look after you properly. Shit, maybe this will be a whole fake-it-before-you-make-it thing. You can learn to be cool with men treating you like a woman for once with my brothers, before you meet someone you really like."

"Thanks. Looks like I'm going to practise that by going to a product launch and a bloody wedding." I let out a huff of breath, then turned back to the dishes. "I pretended I had multiple boyfriends to avoid weddings."

"Or maybe they're just doing you a favour because you're a part of this family." Her eyes bore into mine. "That's what real families do, right?"

Just not mine, that went without saying, the two of us well aware of the dynamic. That settled, we went to work, packing up all the food and stacking the dishes before putting the dishwasher on.

"Who's for some apple pie?" Heather asked, bustling in and glancing at the kitchen, then giving us a nod of approval when she saw how well we'd cleaned it.

"Oh, I better—" I started to say.

I wanted to be home, in some big fluffy PJs and sitting in front of my TV right now.

"Have a big bowl with ice cream and cream," Hunter said, moving forward, arms outstretched.

"No, no…" I held out my hands to ward him off, because for some reason these idiots got off on manhandling us girls, tossing us about like dolls. He'd put his arms around me and held me to his chest more times than I could count, but this? I squirmed, then punched him in those oh-so-hard pecs, which just made him laugh as he carried me over to the couch. My arm was forced to go around his neck, trying to stabilise myself, but this felt different. He stared down at me, lips twitching, wanting to smile, but stopping himself from doing it. I'd never noticed the million shades of blue in his eyes before, but I caught every one of them now. The smile won, curving his lips as he continued.

"An even bigger one for me, Mum," he said.

"I don't know where you put all of that food," she replied with a shake of her head. "If I ate a quarter of what you boys did, my arse?—"

"Would be just as sexy as it always is," Angus said, moving behind her to cuddle up close.

"Gross!" Millie howled, snatching up the remote before Hayden could, right as Hunter put me down. He took a seat right next to me, Hayden sitting down on the opposite side, leaving me wedged between them. The McDonalds had a big sectional couch that formed an L shape in the living room, so there was plenty of room for everyone to spread out. Instead, I was left to sit there, jammed between the two of them like meat in a sandwich.

Which gave rise to some very uncomfortable thoughts.

Most of Australia and a big chunk of the world had seen the twins' half-naked bodies. Tall, well-muscled and all blond hair and tan skin, they fitted the stereotype of the Aussie surfer perfectly. They helped sell a whole lot of surfboards to guys who thought they'd look the same if they took up the sport. But those ads were plastered on billboards or stuck to storefronts, the twins looking effortlessly perfect and remote. I didn't feel their body heat radiating through my clothes when I stopped to stare at the ads, nor smell that spicy scent. Musky, something woody, but something a little like incense as well, that made my nose tingle, I breathed that in instead of air and had to wonder what it'd feel like to be wedged between them in my bed, sans fluffy PJs. I blinked and focussed abruptly on the TV.

"Thanks, Mum," Brock grunted, sitting down a little way down the couch as he accepted the bowl of apple pie.

"And this one's for Jamie," Heather said. Two sets of hands shot out to take it, which had her frowning. "You'll get yours in a minute, you greedy guts. There you go, love."

The warmth of her voice was reflected in the bowl, my hands feeling like they were thawing as I cradled it, the aroma of sugar, apples, and fresh pastry filling my nose. Heather had been making her famous apple pie ever since I'd come around for the first dinner. Just as Hunter asked, the bowl was piled high with ice cream and cream, and I stared at it because it was one of the few safe spaces to look.

"Better eat up." My eyes flicked sideways to see Hayden was peering down at me. "You know Mum, she'll have a hand on your forehead taking your temperature, then diagnosing you with some rare disease in the next."

"An allergy to apple pie," Hunter said. "Or sugar. remember when she went on that low-carb kick?"

We all groaned at that. Bacon, steak, and butter are fine things, but best consumed with tasty, tasty carbs. I grinned then, shaking my head as I picked up my spoon, because that shared history helped me relax. I was just sitting on the same couch, with the same guys, at the same kind of dinner I'd been attending for over ten years. Nothing had changed. That had me spooning a big mouthful of delicious pie into my mouth, but as I savoured the taste, I was conscious I had an audience.

My eyes rolled up to see Hayden watching every swallow of my throat. His smile faded, a small line forming between his brows instead. I watched his lips fall open just a little, as if he wanted a bite, and my hand moved to give him one when Heather broke in.

"Hayden?" He looked up almost guiltily, a fine red flush colouring his cheeks as he blinked. "Don't you want some pie?" his mother asked.

"Thanks, Mum," he said, accepting his bowl and digging in, just like he normally did.

"So…" Millie had a shit-eating grin all over her face, "how about a little RuPaul's Drag Race? The new all-star season has started."

"And my girl, Miss Vanjie better come out on top this time," Hunter said.

"Bitch, Roxxxy slays," Millie shot back. As the two of them squabbled, I sank back into the chair, eating my pie.

"Back in the day, you only saw boys that dressed like girls in clubs on the Cross," Angus said, sitting down in his recliner and popping the footrest. He was referencing the notorious strip of clubs in King's Cross, Sydney. "They are bloody good at what they do, though. You see the before and after and you'd never know they were the same person."

"Think maybe I should be using a lot more makeup?" Heather said, patting her hair.

"No bloody way." He dragged her down and onto his lap to the sound of their children's groans. "You're already too pretty without a speck of makeup on."

"Put the damn show on," Brock told Millie, "something to drown out the sound of Mum and Dad making out."

But they weren't. Instead, Angus had Heather sitting across his lap as he fed her spoonfuls of pie. The two of them giggled like teenagers and that's when I felt a wrench. Not that I wished my parents were the same. Dad was a big gruff man and Mum was too uptight to do anything like this ever, let alone when they had company, but because… Growing up around the McDonalds had been like a glimpse into heaven. One day I'd find my Angus, I'd assumed, and somehow that had my focus shifting to Brock.

He was sitting forward, elbows on his knees, his forearms flexing as he ate his dessert, and with that sixth sense of his, he turned sideways to meet my gaze. I squirmed in my seat, something that was made hard by the twins' presence, but didn't look away. Those strange pale-brown eyes took all of me in, then he shook his head slightly before looking meaningfully at the bowl in front of me. Eat, that was the clear message. I watched his eyes narrow as I pushed the spoon around but didn't have any more, his jaw muscle flexing.

"If you don't eat it." Hunter's voice was a low buzz in my ear, jerking my attention his way. He soaked in the attention like it was his due. "Big Brother will have you over his lap feeding you pie just like Dad does Mum." My mouth went dry at the thought of it. "Or I can?" One eyebrow rose in challenge. "Would your mother like that? A guy that will feed you, when you're sick, when you're tired, or just for the pleasure of holding you close and seeing your lips part around the spoon."

I couldn't look away even though I needed to.

"Nah, I'd have to work my way up to that, but I will." He turned back to the TV. "I'll have your mother eating out of my hand before the week's end, I promise."

I believed him, because I was already–watching him eat his pie, it taking a wink for me to jerk my focus back to the screen.

Watching Drag Race was always a curious thing. It took a group of drag queens for me to come to appreciate the effort and skill it took to apply makeup. Each one took the raw clay of who they were and transformed themselves from caterpillars into the most beautifully alien butterflies.

"Remember when we got into Mum's makeup?" Millie said to me.

"Oh god…" I nearly choked as I remembered the mess we'd made. "I'm so sorry for that, Heather."

"I was ropeable at the time," she admitted, "but… seems like a rite of passage for a young girl to mess around with mum's makeup." Heather nodded at the screen. "Some young boys too. You two were just playing."

And thought we were so pretty.

I watched each man apply lipstick and blush with an expert hand, transforming the structure of their faces in some cases to become something else altogether. I could sit comfortably watching them do it for some reason, even though I'd rarely worn makeup myself. Perhaps because they were so proficient, or maybe because they were men, I didn't know, but when I applied eyeliner or mascara myself, I just remembered Mum's bark of laughter. Not a gentle amusement at the shaky mask of makeup we'd put on, but instead the curl of her lip clarified what she thought.

Which didn't stop her from making that explicit when we got into the car.

"What were you thinking, Jamie?" she said with a shake of her head. "That you look pretty?" Her scathing tone made clear that statement was never true. "You'll scrub every bit of it off your face once you get home."

A single tear rolled down my cheek, tainted with foundation and mascara, it hit my lap in a splash of tan and black. My tears always ran clear now, the few times I let them fall.

But most of all, I made sure not to let anything touch me deeply enough to make me cry.

"So about that date?" Hunter whispered.

"Nowhere fancy," I hissed back, "and then answers, yes?"

"Yes," he replied with a triumphant smile. "Always yes."