Storm Season Read online

  The bouncer lifts his head, taking her in. “Sure. Go right on in. Sorry about that.” He pushes open the blue and black painted door.

  “Thanks. No worries at all.”

  The guy turns to Beau and opens his mouth to speak again. Lien takes Beau’s hand and tugs him into the club behind her. “He’s with me.” As she goes in she mouths, “Sorry,” to the women at the front of the line.

  The tiny ground floor bar is full; the room upstairs is throbbing. It’s still early in the evening, but some half-famous out-of-town DJ is on the table, so everyone’s here. He’s not bad. Lien and Beau stand side by side and let the music swell through the soles in their feet and buzz in their bones.

  “Pretty good,” Lien mouths at Beau, and he tips his head and nods in reply. Someone waves to Lien across the room. She waves back.

  On their way up the stairs, they pass a couple of people they know. The back bar is through an arch on the third floor. Some of their crowd will be holding court in there.

  “Li!” says Athena, patting the stool beside her. “Come! Sit! We thought you guys had already left the city.”

  “Nope. We get going tomorrow.” She makes sure Beau doesn’t catch her grimace. “Time for one last drink in the big smoke.” She’s not being a princess about this. Or whatever, maybe she is being a princess, but she’s fine with that. She’s the cool type of princess who knows what she likes and is still up for anything.

  A warm body steps up behind her. “Babe! You were gonna stay in and pack for the trip,” Nic says. Lien turns in her arms. Nic isn’t accusing; her face is open and smiling. With her dyed-blonde ringletty curls and dimpled cheeks, she is refreshingly sweet.

  “I had a last minute change of heart. This sounded like more fun.” Lien turns her body and reaches up to Nic as the music throbs around them. Nic smiles into the kiss; her body bends easily into Lien.

  Between just one more drink, just one more, twist my arm, and conversation with Beau and their friends, and flitting back and forth to grind against Nic on the dance floor, it’s long past midnight before Lien thinks about going home. She’s sweaty and easy in her head.

  “Coming?” she says to Nic as she and Beau leave. Nic nods happily and allows herself to be dragged back to Lien’s place.

  Lien opens her eyes to sunlight filtered through the leaves outside her room. She can tell by the traffic noise that it’s not early. Nic’s beside her; her breathing is softly nasal. Lien tries not to find it irritating. She stretches from her head to her toes. These are good sheets: Egyptian cotton, one-eighty count and pale bamboo green. She’s going to miss them for the next couple of weeks, and the ceiling fan, and the bathroom right outside the bedroom door.

  As daylight spreads out and warms the room, Nic opens her eyes and blinks. She looks childish in the morning, puffy-lipped and full-cheeked and drowsy, though she’s definitely not a child. She reaches a hand between Lien’s legs and traces her thumb up Lien’s inner thigh to the crease at its top. Her hand is warm from the night before, and Lien’s thighs are sweat-slick. Lien shivers and lifts her hips to rub herself lazily against Nic’s palm.

  “Oh, shit,” Nic mutters. She pushes her lower lip out in a pout. “You have got to stop that.”

  Lien laughs. “You started it.”

  Nic groans. She runs her hand over Lien’s neat strip of pubic hair, then gives it a pat before rolling away. “I need to get home and change. I can’t turn up at work like this.”

  As she’s currently naked, Lien tends to agree. Nic wriggles into her skinny jeans with some difficulty. She tosses her bra in her bag and throws on the ripped T-shirt she was wearing last night. Her small breasts move comfortably against the cotton.

  “I’ll come downstairs and let you out,” Lien says. She swallows a yawn.

  “No, baby girl. Stay there. I can handle the door. I want to remember you like this.”

  Nic plants her knees on the bed, lowers her body over Lien’s, and presses her against the mattress for a lingering kiss. Lien squirms with pleasure.

  “Two weeks, baby.” Nic sighs. “God. It’ll feel like forever.”

  Open-mouthed and sleepy, Lien kisses back.

  Nic sits up and pulls her curls into a crooked ponytail. Her cheeks are flushed and freckled. She swallows. She opens her mouth to speak. When she meets Lien’s eyes her gaze is soft with something more than casual desire. Lien’s seen that gaze before. It’s the look that comes before someone shares all the romantic thoughts that are in their heart.

  Lien moves, lifts her head, and glances at the clock. It’s definitely not the time for sweeping declarations. She speaks before Nic can say what’s on her mind. “Oh damn, you need to race, Nic. It’s almost eight.”

  Nic blinks. “Oh, fuck. Okay.” She hesitates.

  “Sorry for keeping you. You distracted me last night,” says Lien. She smiles to hide her guilt. “Thanks for coming over.”

  “Of course. Anytime.” Nic bends for a kiss. “I’m so glad you found me last night. Wish I could come camping with you. I’m bummed that I have to work this week.”

  “Me too.” Lien runs her eyes over Nic’s delicious body and sweet face. Athletic and hot with it, she’s younger than Lien. She’s good in bed, both energetic and appreciative. She’s fun. She enjoys an adventure a lot more than Lien does. Camping might be better with Nic along to share a tent and protect Lien from giant spiders and crocodiles.

  “I’ll miss you,” says Nic for the third time.

  Lien kisses her. “Go,” she says. She flops back onto the bed as Nic closes her bedroom door. Nic’s footsteps creak down the stairs.

  Lien closes her eyes. They’re leaving this morning. She doesn’t have time for guilt. She grabs her laptop from beside the bed and shoots off two short pieces about the club last night to two different publications. She posts a couple of pics on Instagram. She checks how her tweets from last night are going. The clothes from her bed are in a massive pile on a chair in the corner. She tossed them there last night as a problem for “future Lien.” Only trouble is, “future Lien” has turned into “present Lien,” and “present Lien” is not as happy about this development as “past Lien” hoped. She gets up and grabs all of the clothes. She rolls and folds and squeezes them into a larger bag than the rucksack she was planning to use. She’s going to spend this trip dusty and stupidly hot. She might as well bring enough excellent outfits.

  “Done,” she says.

  She passes Beau on her way into the bathroom.

  “Two weeks without a well-lit mirror.” He shakes his head. “God, Li. What was I thinking?”

  She rubs her eyes. “You look great. You always do.”

  “I’ve spent an hour in there. I’d better look okay. At least I’ll start the trip perfect.” He kisses her cheek.

  It’s not that Beau’s vain, not really; no more than Lien is. But he watches people, he reads magazines, he’s interested in fashion and aesthetics. Anyway, it took a long time and a lot of work for Beau to like what he saw in the mirror. It’s important for him to maintain some control of that.

  “Anyway,” Lien says, “there’ll be mirrors. We’re not leaving civilization altogether. Are we?”

  He frowns and wrinkles his nose.

  “Oh, crumbs. I’ll pack a hand mirror,” she says. She has one her mother sent from Dubai that might have floated up from undersea Atlantis.

  Lien checks that the balcony doors are locked. Beau pokes his head into the room as she sits to power down her laptop. She takes a peek at her notifications. “I can’t believe how many people are interested in whether queer farmer chic is about to be big in Sydney.”

  “And yet you posted about it. Hey, have you packed the bug repellant or should I keep hunting for it?”

  “I’ve got it. Sorry.”

  They’re not quite ready when Megan turns up in her car with a sleepy l
ooking Annie in the front seat. Lien’s packed. Well, she’s mostly packed. She runs back in for a more sensible pair of boots and some dry shampoo. She collects her pith helmet too. That’s definitely everything. Beau lopes upstairs to grab an extra razor. Megan climbs out of the car and rubs a hand through her thick, short hair.

  “We’re ready,” Lien says.

  Megan rolls her eyes at them as she helps with the bags. Megan is broad and muscular. She stands like she owns the space around her. Her blue eyes are watchful. Half of her words are obscenities. On first meeting, Lien was daunted. But it turns out Megan’s a loyal friend and a sweetheart with a real taste for local music.

  It’s still technically morning when they pull away from Lien and Beau’s terrace. The four of them are squeezed into Megan’s VW hatchback with food and clothes and the mostly borrowed camping gear. Megan drives, her body taking up the width of the seat, her hands blunt and capable on the wheel. She’s a good driver. Annie’s in the front with her. Her lipstick is perfect as ever, and she looks too adorable for camping with her black-and-white polka-dot skirt tucked up between her curvy legs. She rests her bare feet on the dashboard in a strip of sun. Lien’s never known her to camp. They’ll have to look out for one another.

  “I like the Bettie Page,” Lien says. Annie’s black hair has a new bangs.

  “I'm going for Anna May Wong,” Annie says. “Chinese-American and classic.”

  “It suits you,” says Beau.

  Lien and Beau sit in the back with a pile of bedding squished between them. Beau’s knees are close to the back of Annie’s seat, but Lien’s small, so she’s comfortable.

  Lien looks out the rear window at their house. It sits close to the street, lined up with all the other two-story terrace houses. The outside is painted a traditional muted cream that’s seen better days. It’s home.

  “You’ll make it back,” Beau says. “Unless the dingoes get you.”

  “Shut up,” Lien says. Beau’s right. Nothing much will change, but it’s important to say goodbye.

  2

  As the car crosses the Sydney Harbour Bridge, the wind is up. The water far below is white-capped and mobile. Above them the clouds twist into dark gray alien shapes. Lien closes her window so the wind doesn’t whistle.

  They turn north onto the freeway, staying inland. The road opens up.

  “Bloody hell. Finally. It takes way too long to get out of the city,” Megan says. She drums on the steering wheel.

  “We’re on our way now,” Annie says.

  “Off into the wild,” Beau adds. Annie turns from the front to give him a blinking smile that turns into a yawn.

  Lien sits back in her seat. She leans her head on the bedding between her and Beau. The road flies by.

  It gets hotter as they go farther north. Lien presses her fingertips against the window. The glass is warm to the touch.

  Outside, the yellow and green fields have turned to muted greenish gray bush broken up by farmland. It’s windy and overcast. Above them, the shifting sky is layer after layer of dark gray on pale gray. Now and then blue bursts through, only to be hidden again as the clouds shift. Lien sighs. Despite the clouds, it’s pretty out here. Lone trees on hilltop fields look romantic as they bend and sway with the wind. But she’s not easy with this place. The air is hot, and the sky is huge. She can imagine being alone here. This is not her kind of prettiness.

  Lien braids her hair in two plaits and secures them with hair ties from her pocket. She checks how she looks on her phone camera. The layers fall about her face, and the plaits show off her undercut: practical and cute.

  “Nice,” says Beau with a lift of his chin.

  Lien slides her phone under her thigh. “Next in vogue: queer campfire chic.”

  They eat a late lunch at a roadside sandwich place. The bread’s fresh, even if Beau and Annie’s vegetarian options are pretty much green salad between bread slices. It’s been a long drive, but they squish themselves into the car with refilled water bottles and snacks to go farther north.

  The AC’s running wearily. Beau’s road trip mix seems to have more of Annie’s music than is strictly fair, but he’s right, its variety is a godsend. The current pop tune is sweet and catchy with a mournful undertone. Lien likes music that’s a bit rougher, but she gets the appeal.

  “I know this one,” Annie says as the song switches over. She hums along. Megan sings too; her voice is rich and strong. Lien glances at Beau as he joins in. She can’t help but add some backseat dance moves.

  “That's what this road trip needed,” Megan says as the song fades out. “A bit of a sing-along to torture the kangaroos out there. Got anything else we know?”

  They spend an hour singing and fighting over the next song to sing. Sometimes it’s hip-hop. Beau and Lien manage the rap, while Annie beat-boxes pretty well, and Megan sings a counter-melody. Sometimes it’s an 80s power ballad, with all of them wailing through the chorus at full voice.

  “You know, I think between us all we’ve gone through every musical genre,” Annie says as they finish a song. “Hilltop Hoods is hip-hop, and we’ve had pop, R&B, rock, soul, and whatever that noisy track from Li’s playlist was.”

  “Alt-punk,” says Beau.

  “It’s a new local band. They’re awesome,” Lien adds. “I’m going to get them to come in when I guest host on FBi radio in a few weeks.”

  “I think Beau snuck in some trance, too, earlier in the trip,” Annie says.

  Lien groans. “For a change.”

  “I’m not complaining. I liked it,” Annie says.

  Lien steals a glance at Beau. He opens his mouth, then closes it.

  “I didn’t hear any reggae,” offers Megan, glancing away from the road. “Or classical. Or theater music, thank god.”

  “I like theater music,” Annie says.

  “Of course you do. You like everything,” says Lien.

  Annie shrugs. “Anyway, you catch my drift.” She turns, looking for support from the back seat. She has a little frown on her face as she tries to make herself understood. Beau’s cheeks flush under his tan. The whole thing makes sense. Annie’s curvy pretty; Beau’s always liked curvy and cute in any gender. Annie is full of bright enthusiasms and sweetness. She’s a complete darling, even to Lien, and Lien’s known Annie since third grade and the Mandarin Chinese classes they took together after school.

  “I think some of this music counts as country,” Lien offers when Beau continues to say nothing.

  “Plus I caught some J-pop in there,” Annie says. “And your indie folk, Li-Li, and rock, and Beau’s dance club stuff.”

  “Okay, okay,” says Megan. “I yield. We’ve covered everything.”

  “Except death metal,” says Beau.

  Annie turns. She’s pouting, but her eyes laugh under her bangs. “Don’t tell me you’re switching sides on me,” she says.

  “No, no. Definitely not. Never.”

  The car is quiet. The sound system switches to a new track, a jangly Brit pop guitar with a swoony bass line.

  “Turn it up,” Lien says to Annie. “This is a good one.” Annie turns to the front.

  “Nice,” Beau says across the bedding, and, as the bass slides in, he and Lien grin in quick accord. They don’t always share musical taste, but they agree on the essentials, and good bass lines are an essential.

  “I’m gonna go out on a limb and call this one indie pop,” says Lien.

  “It’s my new favorite,” says Annie from the front. That’s about the fifth time Annie’s said that this trip. Beau presses his lips together, but his eyes crinkle at the corners. Lien’s heart twists with something close to jealousy. It’s not because she wants Beau to look at her that way. Their connection has never been about that. He’s gorgeous and smart, but he’s her best friend, her ally and confidant. He gets her. Lien doesn’t dream of heart eyes from h
im, but for a second she’d like to feel that way about someone else.

  The mountains of the Border Ranges appear through the windscreen ahead, rising from the plains, rich green shrouded in low clouds. A love song, a cover of a Cheap Trick track, is playing.

  Lien blinks away the power of it. Beau blushes. “Well, that’s romantic,” Lien says. She doesn’t mean to tease, but Beau can hardly complain. He’s teased her for as long as she’s known him.

  Annie sighs. “It is. It’s a nice reminder.” She talks toward the windscreen. “Sometimes I’m amazed that anyone can love anyone else.”

  It’s not a question, but Lien opens her mouth to answer. “Annie! Don’t say that! You’re the most optimistic person I know. If you’re getting cynical then what hope do any of us have?”

  Annie turns. She grimaces as she says, “I’m still optimistic. But we’re studying family law this semester. It’s a mess. You forget love and that stuff can ever be good.”

  Lien pats her arm. “Megan’s the expert on love. You and Kamila have made it a year now?” The road winds into the bush. Rows of eucalypts line up on either side of the car and meet above it. The world seems secretive.

  “Yeah. Just over a year.” Megan’s nod is certain. She’s not a talker, but they all wait and she goes on. “With Kam—I don’t know—we met and things fell into place. All the things I’d avoided: long mornings in bed and knowing one another’s schedule and nights alone over dinner and sharing everything. It wasn’t so terrifying anymore.”

  “You found the right person,” Annie says.

  “So Li. Is it that way with Nic?” Beau asks.

  She glares at him. He knows the answer. “Some of us are happy having fun. Anyway, I don’t think everyone gets that kind of magic. Not like that.”

  Megan shakes her head. “I don’t mean something magic. Not like everything’s perfect. Not like she’s a soulmate or anything. But—she’s good. I prefer this imperfect life to any life I can imagine that doesn’t include her.” They travel on for a way. “It’s not magic; we’re just happy.”