Free Give Me Strength by Kate McCarthy Page A

tossed the pillow on the
floor.
    “And I start my job today, and I’m not
organised. You don’t want me to be late do you?”
    My snooze button shrieked wildly and Lucy
stalked over to my bedside table and clicked it off. “Rubbish. I’m
not blind. I can see your dress hanging on the door.”
    “Damn.”
    I forgot I left it there. It was my best office
style dress. After the way I’d barely pulled myself together
yesterday, today was my chance to make a better impression.
    “That’s your best dress,” Lucy told me as if I
didn’t know already. “I thought you said you’d get to wear mostly
jeans and Jamieson band shirts at the office?”
    I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. “I did
but I need new jeans and there’s a wait on the shirts. And after
yesterday, I want to look my best.”
    “After yesterday?”
    Lucy hadn’t yet heard the full recount of
yesterday, including the Travis connection. I sighed, knowing that
would come out this morning—best to get it over with.
    After dressing reluctantly, Lucy and I were
jogging the pavement in the damp, chilly air. I huffed my way
through the lowdown and reaching the peak of the story—being the
arrival of Travis at my front door—Lucy had to stop mid-jog from a
stitch. It was tempting to abandon her to the sidewalk as she
gasped for air, but Lucy could move like an Olympic sprinter, so I
hovered, hands on my hips, while she wheezed and flexed.
    “Maybe it’s fate,” she puffed out as she tilted
her torso to the side.
    “Screw fate,” I hissed with more force than I
intended.
    Lucy blinked and slowly righted herself in the
face of my outburst.
    I rubbed at my brow. Four years had dulled my
anger of the past, giving me the impression I was moving on, yet
here it was, reasserting itself like a long lost friend.
    My eyes narrowed on Lucy. “Are you telling me
you believe everything in my life was meant to be?”
    Lucy paled. “Quinny, I didn’t—”
    “Just—” I halted mid-sentence and stilled,
looking sideways as an eerie feeling washed over me. Deep breaths
filled my lungs as my eyes did a rapid scan of the suburban street.
Nothing seemed odd except the churning in my stomach and tingles of
fear tripping down my spine. Cars were parked up and down the
avenue, joggers passed by the path we were rudely blocking, aiming
dirty looks our way, and a dog across the road was busy peeing on
someone’s mailbox. I spun around. The sun was rising brightly,
forcing my eyes to squint, and the wind swirled around me, yet
something in the air didn’t feel right.
    “Quinn?” Lucy scanned the street, picking up on
my fear like a bloodhound. “What is it?”
    I shoved the anger away and forced a smile to my
lips. “Nothing, Lucy. Sorry. I didn’t mean to jump down your
throat.”
    She fisted her hands on her hips and faced me.
“Yes. You did. But I don’t blame you. Maybe fate realised it fucked
you over and is trying to fix things.”
    Her eyes were wide with hope. I shrugged her
statement off, did another scan of the street, and nodded ahead of
us. “Let’s just get this over with.”
    Back home and showered, I slipped on my
dress—deep navy and sleeveless with a matching thin leather
belt—and pinned my tousled hair into a knot at the nape of my neck.
Adding some light makeup and hot pink lipstick to finish the look,
I sighed at my reflection, hoping it was an improvement on
yesterday.
    Fighting snarls of rush hour traffic, I
delivered the paperwork to Jettison Records before heading over to
the office at Coogee.
    Letting myself in with the key that had been in
the envelope, I called out hello. My feet echoed along the timber
flooring as I headed towards the back office, not hearing a
response.
    Already the business line was ringing, so I
answered it, sinking into the chair as someone spoke to me about
the proofs for Jamieson’s album artwork. Of course I had no idea,
so I switched on the computer and promised to return the call. From
then on the