I need to get the fuck out of here.
Walking through to the kitchen, I grabbed the phone and dialled Ben’s number. I didn’t care if it was six in the morning.
“Yellow?”
“Is my favourite colour. Good, you’re up. Get your shit together. We’re going jet boating on the Goldy.”
“Hang on, I’ve gotta check with the missus.”
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
“As a heart attack.”
The scratchy hissing of something moving over the mouthpiece at his end, muffled the sound of their negotiations. It seemed like ten minutes passed before I heard his voice again.
“Andrea’s coming, too. She loves all that thrill seeker shit.”
“Aw that’s sweet. You two can’t be apart.”
“Shut up, dickhead. You’ll be worse when you find a woman.”
My eyes strayed through the archway, falling on the mural still bathed in light. I didn’t doubt him for a second. Fuck, I needed to do something crazy to get this rush out of my system.
“Just get your arses over here.” I punched the end call button, dropping the phone on the bench. My hand scrubbed the back of my head, and I growled as I saw the figure I’d created. Correction. Ghost. It was a ghostly outline of a recurring dream. She taunted me, just out of reach of reality.
The lounge room light flicked on, adding more light to the painted dream. As I watched from the kitchen, I felt wrapped in a frozen cocoon. The chill banded around my heaving chest before it retreated, leaving me in a cold sweat.
As I gripped the bench with my good hand, I had a feeling the woman in the painting wasn’t the only one haunting me.
Ronnie
It was finally lunchtime and the business card for the room for rent was burning a hole in my bag. I chickened out on my attempt at dialling the number over the weekend. After the upheaval of my eviction, and my confusion over Flick’s behaviour, I just needed to chill out with Granny for a couple of days. But sleeping on a blow-up mattress, well … it blows.
I pulled the card and my phone out while walking to my favourite, quiet spot in the gardens surrounding the campus. Sitting on a bench seat under a shady Morton Bay Fig, I dialled the number.
“Hello.” I felt the deep rumble down my neck, sending tingles in its wake.
“Uh … hello …” I squinted at the card, tapping my heels on the pavement. “… Brad? I’m calling about the room for rent.”
“Yeah? Great! I didn’t know if anyone ever looked at notice boards anymore. Did the drawing catch your eye, or was it the fact that I went to the trouble of printing out business cards?”
This guy is a talker.
And he’s cheery.
This probably wasn’t going to work.
“O … kay.”
“Shit. Sorry, I had an energy drink and they always make me hyper. I’ll shut up now. So, you need a room and I have one. When do you wanna have a look?”
I couldn’t help it, I actually laughed. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Do you often resort to drugs to get through your morning?”
There was a brief pause before he deadpanned, “Only on Mondays.”
I laughed again. What was wrong with me? I cleared my throat, attempting to regain my composure. “Would it be possible to have a look at the room this evening, at around five thirty?”
As I waited for his response, I could hear the crinkling of papers through the phone line. Was he actually checking his diary? I had a vision pop into my head of a man’s hand shuffling through a stack of scrap paper on a kitchen bench, searching for a pen. I saw it as if I was standing right next to him.
“Five thirty should be good. What’s your name and number, in case there’s a problem and I can’t be here?”
I stiffened at the thought of giving my number out to a complete stranger, but it was a sensible, valid request. I told him my number.
“Aannd …”
“And what?”
“Your name?”
Oh, right!
“Veronica.” Shit! What did I just say? “I mean, Ronnie.”
“Veronica. I like it. See you at five thirty, Veronica.” He hung up before I had time to correct him. Idiot! What the hell was wrong with me? I could only blame it on the fact that my life was in the crapper.
I grabbed my wrap and threw a piece at the crow circling my feet, having lost my appetite after my error in judgement. If this worked out, I’d be living with a man. A complete stranger who could be dangerous and psycho. I was used to psycho, but I’d never felt like my life was threatened, living with Flick. In all honesty, it was a plus that he was male. Two women under one roof was not always a good thing. I was really over drama queens.
I picked up my water bottle, gulped down half in one go, and then stared back towards the campus buildings. My back stiffened and my eyes popped as I saw Derek Lindstrom stroll towards the administration building, with his jacket slung over one shoulder. He stopped to talk to one of the law lecturers. Was Flick seriously getting it on with her teacher? Were her grades that bad, that she had to resort to providing sexual favours in exchange for an academic boost? Why wouldn’t someone like her just get her minions to do her assignments?
Chills raked across my skin. That was never a good sign. Something bad had either just happened, or was about to. I suddenly felt exposed. I had the urge to go for a run, but with only fifteen minutes left of my
