| |
The hotel room was amazing. The entire freaking hotel was out of this world, and my eyes were on stalks at the vibrant décor. I adored the cool Wellington vibe. We were completely underdressed in our T-shirts and jeans, but I didn’t care. Dean’s money was as good as anyone’s.
I wanted to hug myself. Homegrown, a night in Dean’s arms, and staying at the Museum. Could it get any better?
It was a ten-minute walk to the sprawling music festival. Like every year, most of the acts were playing outside on covered stages, with just one indoor arena—the rock stage—at the other end of the waterfront.
I didn’t care that it was still raining. Dean wore a hoodie and his ballcap, while I had a vintage poncho that would keep me dry as we moved between the stages. Hand in hand we strolled between the acts, listening to the different styles of music and dancing in the tents. I thought I’d struggle with staying away from alcohol, but Dean made it easy. He kept us topped up with bottled water and steered us away from the drink sellers. He looked after me.
The lousy weather didn’t reduce the scale of the event or the number of attendees. Everyone was good natured, as we queued to get into tents, and it reinforced why I loved my city so much. It was as we lined up to get into the Electronica tent that someone called my name.
“Steph. Stephy.”
I turned around and saw some of the girls I hung out with at Uni. Toni, Carla, and Pam rushed forward and swept me into a group hug, exclaiming over my new hairstyle, and how they hadn’t seen me in ages. I hugged them back, and then wriggled free and introduced Dean. Carla was drunk already, with Toni and Pam not far behind, and they chattered at the tops of their voices. Dean looked bemused by the attention, especially when they insisted on sticking with us for a while, but he was unfailingly polite.
This scene played out again later, when we bumped into more of my old friends as we entered the main rock venue, and again when we slipped out between acts for some fresh air.
“You seem to know half of Wellington,” said Dean, an amused smile playing on his face.
I shrugged. I felt a little embarrassed at how loud my friends were, and how they screeched and shouted at each other. None of them were sober, and most of them were also high. Did I use to be like that? If Dean wasn’t by my side, would that be me today?
“I’m hungry,” said Dean, shaking me out of my own head. “Where’s good to eat around here? We’ve got an hour before Villainy are due on.” The rain had eased off, but the clouds hung low, so it was a temporary reprieve from the wet.
“What do you fancy? Pizza?”
He tucked me close to his side, as we made our way through the crowd trying to get into the venue. “Or noodles. Isn’t there a Wagamama nearby?”
“Yep. In the next block.” It was a good call to go outside the event for food. Service would be better, and we’d get more options. I steered Dean in the right direction and then hurriedly sidestepped, to avoid a group walking up from the car park. Another group I recognised.
What were the chances of them being here today? They wouldn’t be attending Homegrown.
“Stephanie,” said my mother, her disdain clear. Her gaze swept me up and down, and as usual, found me lacking. Mum, Dad, Deborah, and Gavin, with another guy I didn’t know, were dressed impeccably.
I automatically tugged down my sleeves, to hide one of the many reminders of my stupidity. “Hi.” How quickly could I escape?
“While you’re here, you may as well congratulate us,” said Deborah. “Blay and I are engaged.” My sister held out her left hand, adorned with the biggest rock I could imagine. Engaged? I didn’t even know she was dating someone.
“Umm... congratulations.” I glanced up at Dean, whose curiosity was visible. “When did that happen?”
“Blay proposed last week, while we were on his father’s yacht. We’re celebrating tonight.”
Without me. Of course. “Have a good time.” I tried to sound as though I didn’t care.
We nearly escaped, but my father spoke next. “The wedding will be in Melbourne. We’ll understand if you aren’t able to attend.”
That was code for, Stay away. You’re not invited. I gritted my teeth. I wanted this torture to be over.
“We have to go.” I forced the words out. “Bye.” I’d shove past if they stood in my way, but they didn’t.
Dean and I got out of earshot, before he tugged me to a halt. “Give in. Who was that? And why did they look at you like something disgusting they stepped in?”
“My family,” I mumbled. I felt numb. I was detached from them, but my little sister was getting married, and they didn’t bother to tell me.
“Your family?” Dean swung around as though looking for them. “Your parents? And was that your sister?”
“Yep. With her new fiancé. And my brother.”
“Jesus. You’re not close, I take it?”
I laughed. It came out more like a sob. “You could say that.”
“Come here.” He wrapped his arms around me. “I’ve met countless of your friends tonight, and they all greeted you like a princess. I can’t believe your family were so cold. It’s their loss.”
His words made my chest warm. “Thank you.”
“Why were they such pricks to you?”
“Because I’m the druggie, drunk, fuckup middle child. I only got into Uni because Dad made a huge donation to the art department, and I dropped out after a year. Meanwhile Deborah was a child prodigy. She went to university two years early, and now she works for the Prime Minister’s office, while Gavin is a named partner in the biggest law firm in Wellington. They couldn’t be smarter or more successful. My parents used to joke I’d been swapped at birth with their real daughter. I mean... look at them and look at me.”
“I’m looking at you,” said Dean, his voice steady and warm. “I see a beautiful and caring young woman. One who works hard and has an artistic streak a mile wide. One who’s trying very hard to get her life back on track after a tragedy. And you know what? You’re going to make it. Like I said, it’s their loss.”
Why couldn’t I have had a family like Dean’s? My childhood was spent striving to meet my parents’ expectations, and failing every time. When Deborah was little, I naively thought we might become close, but she was so clever, such an over-achiever, that Mum and Dad signed her up for every additional class possible. Nobody noticed me. Playing up was a cry for attention, and then by the time I hit my teens, I didn’t care any longer.
“Let’s get those noodles,” said Dean. “I feel the urge to stab something.”
Despite my blues, I snorted with laughter. “Me too.”