***
Sunday morning, Lisa awoke to a splitting headache. She climbed out of bed, squinting against the blinding pain.
This was exactly why she rarely got drunk. Weekends were precious enough without dragging her backside around all day.
After relieving herself, she opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed some painkillers. She guzzled them down with some water from the bathroom tap and crawled back into bed.
Three hours later, she awoke to sunlight streaming through a gap in the drapes. She sat up slowly, testing out how her head felt. It had cleared, but her mouth was dry, and her stomach felt hollow.
She needed food. Fried food. Bacon and eggs. Her stomach grumbled as if to say it approved. She didn’t eat a lot of greasy food, but when she craved something, she didn’t deny herself. Maybe when she got older she’d have to be more careful about what she ate, but for now, she’d make the most of it.
She’d always been lean—boyish even, with her small breasts and narrow hips. It was one more thing she got teased about at school. Not to her face, but she used to hear the ‘cool girls’ snickering behind her back.
She didn’t care, though. She liked her androgynous looks. Some people called her butch, but she didn’t see herself as butch. She didn’t see herself as femme either. She was Lisa Barnett, a registered electrician.
The phone rang, and she snatched it up at the same time as she flicked the electric jug on. She needed coffee. Strong coffee with lots of sugar and milk.
“Hello?” She propped the phone between her shoulder and ear.
“Good morning.”
She smiled, hearing her mum’s voice.
“How’s the head?”
“My head’s fine.” She grabbed the frying pan out of the cupboard.
“Oh, I take it the champs didn’t go so well.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I’m sure you would’ve celebrated if you made it through.”
“Actually. We did.”
“That’s my girl.” The muffled sound of her mother covering the mouthpiece came down the line, followed by her calling out, “Wayne, our girl made it through.”
She imagined the proud look on her dad’s face. He’d taught her to play pool when she was barely tall enough to see over the top of the table.
She heard a click followed by his voice. “When’s the final?”
“In two weeks.”
“Where?”
Lisa figured her mum was on the phone in the kitchen, and her father had picked up in the bedroom.
“Are you still in bed, Dad?”
“Not for long, I’m about to chase your mother around the house.”
“That’s more than I needed to know.” Lisa chuckled, not entirely surprised by the comment.
Her parents had always been open with her and her brother, speaking to them as if they were adults from a young age. She didn’t have a coming-out story; they’d just taken it in their stride, like they’d always expected both she and Justin would date girls.
Not the same girls, thank goodness.
“Well, are you going to tell us, or is it a secret?”
“Is what a secret?”
“Where the finals are.”
“Oh, right. Bunnythorpe.” Players would be travelling from Feilding, Bulls, and Ashhurst too.
“Mind if we come along and cheer you on?”
“She doesn’t want her olds cramping her style.” Her dad’s voice was full of cheek.
“Hey, watch who you’re calling old.”
Lisa almost laughed, but the shimmer of chestnut hair gliding past the dining room window made her heart jump into her throat. She ducked, not wanting to be seen. A rap on the door sent her heart into overdrive.
She cupped her hand around the mouthpiece. “I’ve got to go.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“You were right, I’ve got a hangover. I’m going back to bed.”
“I can hardly hear you.”
“Bye, Mum.” Lisa ended the call, squatting in her own kitchen.
There was another knock and she balled her fist in her mouth. Why the hell was she hiding in her own home? Her sanctuary.
Just as she went to stand, she saw the top of a head go back the way it’d come. She rushed over to the kitchen window, then moved to the living room, watching Bella walk down the driveway.
What a fucking cheek. Who did she think she was, waltzing up Lisa’s driveway like she’d rolled out the red carpet?
Needing to set the record straight—Bella wasn’t welcome there—Lisa yanked open the door. In her haste, she tripped over the plastic container and almost toppled down the porch steps.
Mother fucker! She picked up the container and ripped off the piece of paper stuck to the top.
Thanks for the muffins. They remind me of you—dark and tempting.
Lisa snorted. If that was Bella’s way of making amends, she was way off base. Lisa had been tempted once and been screwed over for her efforts.
She tore the note in half and tossed it in the rubbish bin, leaving the door wide open in a fuck you gesture. It was incredibly childish yet strangely satisfying.
Feeling calmer but far from relaxed, she returned to cooking her long overdue breakfast.
Chapter 3
After parking at work on Monday, Lisa jumped in with Paul. The company they worked for had won the contract for the electrical fit-out at the Plaza; being smaller than most of the other blokes, she and Paul drew the short straw for crawling through roof spaces.
“How was your weekend?” Paul asked en route.
He was a great guy who got teased about his height. It was like her workmates expected her to be shorter than them because she was a woman, and if there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was judgement or double-standards.
Yet you’re judging your neighbour.
Shut up, brain.
Paul pulled to a stop at the barrier arm. “Well?”
Huh? Oh, right, her weekend. “You don’t want to know.”
The mechanical arm lifted, and he drove through, making his way to the tradesmen’s parking area. “Hot date?”
“No. I played some pool and went home. Alone.” Lisa wasn’t sure if she was ready to tell him just yet about Bella. She was still trying to get her head around the fact they were now neighbours.
Paul cracked open the driver’s door. “I’ll let whatever you’re not telling me go for now.”
After working together almost daily for the last year, he knew her well. Sometimes too well. He was a great listener, and she often poured her guts out before she realised she was doing it.
Lisa joined Paul at the back of the van.
“Here.” He handed her three reels of cable.
Red, black, and blue. What a great combination. If she got her hands on Bella’s backside, that’s exactly the colour she’d turn it. Okay, maybe not black and blue, but rosy-red would be good.
“How was your weekend?” Lisa asked, lugging the rest of their gear out.
“Tiring.” He yawned. “Emma’s teething.”
“Oh, wow.” It seemed like his daughter had been born only a matter of weeks ago. “How old is she now?”
“Nine months.” He shot her the smile of a proud father.