He left quickly.
Kelly drew her knees to her chest and let her tears flow until they became sobs that racked her body and then damp stains on the cushion where she lay her head to rest, hoping to make it all go away, at least for a little while.
Chapter Forty-one
Finn enjoyed meeting the fans of the show. They were mostly teenage girls who came straight from school to secure his signature, but there was also the occasional grandmother or even middle-aged man, though they usually asked for the posters to be signed to their daughters. But never before had he had a man his own age join a queue with a poster that he’d just bought for twenty bucks from the promo team.
‘How you holding up?’ Monica, his co-star, asked as two teenagers, still in their school dresses, were shepherded away and the next two were ushered to their table. It was noisy in the shopping centre, which was a popular after-school hangout for local kids, no doubt the reason why it was chosen by the promotions department.
Finn leaned across to answer: ‘I don’t know how to spell any of these kids’ names. Why are they all called Ayesha, Ngaire and Portia?’
Monica laughed. It was throaty and alluring and, not for the first time, Finn thought about kissing her. The coke in his veins gave him the confidence, but he wasn’t reckless enough to lean in further and taste her lips right now. Better to wait until the crowds had dispersed and the phones were gone.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Portia’s not that hard.’
‘I spelled it like the car, so they had to give her a second poster for free.’
‘Does that mean there’s a spare for me?’
They way she said it, Finn couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or flirting with him. ‘You’ll always be Porsche to me.’
Monica laughed again.
Man, it felt good to make her laugh.
She straightened up and smiled at the teenage girl coming her way but spoke from the side of her mouth to Finn. ‘What’s with the creepy guy in your line who can’t stop staring at you?’
‘He’s only human,’ Finn said, which prompted more laughter from Monica.
But when Finn looked up at the man, he felt a chill, some sort of preternatural premonition of danger. He imagined the man pulling out a knife and stabbing him in the heart right there in the shopping centre as a hundred teenage girls screamed his death cry. He shivered but maintained his beaming smile for the blushing teenager who handed him a poster.
‘Hi, there,’ Finn said.
‘Hello,’ she blurted.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Jane.’
Finn bent over the poster with his felt-tip pen at the ready. He sneaked a sidelong glance at Monica. ‘And how do you spell that?’
Monica didn’t look up from her own signing, but he saw her smile. This was definitely happening. He wasn’t making it up. He would feel those soft, full lips on his own tonight and, hopefully, on much more.
‘Um, J-A-N-E,’ the hapless girl said, oblivious to her role in the shared joke between the soap stars.
Finn signed her poster and rewarded her with his most winning smile. ‘Thanks for coming down today, Jane. Enjoy the rest of your week.’
‘Thank you,’ she said in a rush of sound and air. Then she skipped off to a group of giggling friends.
Next up was the creepy guy. Finn could see that even the promotional team was wary of him, not chatting or getting too close to calm him down like they did with the young girls, they just pointed towards Finn as though relieved to have him off their hands. The man approached the table with the kind of lanky, careless stride that would eat up kilometres without even trying. His glasses were pushed high on his long nose and he had dark, slightly unkempt curls that bounced on his head in time with his steps. He handed over his poster and stared at Finn. The stranger’s expression was calm. Serene, even. Finn thought maybe there was mockery or even disdain in his eyes. Who the fuck was this guy and what did he want?
Finn smiled as best he could but even he could feel the strain that must be showing. ‘Who should I make it out to?’ he said.
‘Kelly.’
Finn flinched. It was a weird name for a guy. But there was that old professional surfer he’d heard his dad talk about years ago. ‘Like Kelly Slater?’ he said.
‘No, like Kelly O’Mara,’ the man said. His expression didn’t change.
