My Fair Bogan

5. Chapter One

Chapter One

‘Do you think we’re safe?’

‘Drake, we’re just around the corner to the Town Hall.’ Rhys stared, annoyed at his friend.

‘Yes, but it’s dark in this alley and I can’t start the car. I just want to park it under the street light over there.’ To prove his point, Drake turned the key and thumped his foot on the accelerator. The whir of the engine became weaker until after one last, weary grunt, it died into silence.

‘You’ve just flooded the engine,’ Rhys said, leaning his head back on the rest. He closed his eyes briefly. Not only had it taken longer than he thought it would to get to Moe in the mid-east of Victoria, he’d had to put up with Drake’s almost non-existent driving skills. Drake loved this new car of his, so much that he hadn’t wanted to take it over 80kms an hour to ‘preserve the newness of the vehicle and not put extra strain on the motor.’ They should have taken Rhys’ SUV. Not only would they have been where they needed to be, they would have been there an hour ago, set up and ready to go.

Now, they were immobile, and nowhere near ready for Drake’s first public engagement as ‘Politician of the People.’ Tonight they were going to announce Drake’s policy to help those in need. It was a good policy, but Rhys hadn’t prepared half of what he had wanted because of Drake’s concern for his now disabled new car. At least they were close enough to the Town Hall to walk the distance.

‘I know what I’m doing with cars and this one’s just died.’ Drake hit the steering wheel with his fist, wincing with the force. ‘I’m taking it back to the dealer tomorrow.’

Rhys sighed, got out of the car and tapped the hood. ‘Open it up, Drake. I’ll have a look.’

‘You don’t know anything about cars either,’ came the muffled reply.

Rhys mumbled, ‘Anyone would know more than you about cars,’ then louder, ‘keep your panties on.’

‘That’s ‘keep your panties on, Oh Magnificent Leader’ to you.’ Drake leaned over the motor next to Rhys, pursing his lips. Just when Rhys thought he’d explode with irritation, Drake managed to dissipate his annoyance in a second. That was what Drake did well to everyone, and that talent was what got him elected while he was still in his twenties.

Although Rhys had received better grades at Uni, Drake was the man people turned to. He’d had the charisma, the looks, and the gift of making people feel as though he was sincerely interested with their concerns, which he genuinely was. Even back then he’d charmed the lecturers, the girls, and the Dean, and was voted most likely to become Prime Minister. True to their predictions, Drake had moved quickly through local elections and now was on the cusp of representing a Federal seat. If he got the votes. That’s where Rhys came in.

When Drake had been elected, he’d convinced Rhys to be his advisor and it hadn’t been a hard decision. They had been firm friends from their first year, and despite their different backgrounds, their political ethics were the same. Drake had everything handed to him on a platter. He’d come from old money and a strong, respected family. He’d gone to Melbourne Grammar and had been groomed from birth to lead a political party. His parents had pulled out all the stops to get him where he was today.

On the other hand, Rhys had come from solid working stock. He’d gone to the local high school, studied hard, earned good enough grades to get into the same undergraduate degree as Drake. He had worked his way through doing what he had to do to pay for food and rent. Unlike his friend, he knew the meaning of hard work with the tenacity to achieve his goals. That’s why Drake had the wherewithal to hire him. Together, they were a powerful team. One that had been successful so far.

With a sigh, Rhys turned to Drake. ‘Let’s get the equipment and get to the meeting. We’ll call the RACV and see what they can do. If you’ve flooded the engine, we’ll have to wait for it to dry out anyway.’

‘Do you think it will still be here after the meeting?’

‘Drake, you do know Moe is the hub of your target voters, don’t you? And you need to get on the ground level with them every time you can.’

Drake shuffled uncomfortably. ‘Yes, I know, but…’

‘You have to stop feeling uncomfortable around them.’ Parties filled with Australia’s elite, Drake, could handle like the pro he was, but put him at a local hall and he managed to fall apart for some strange reason. Although his policies were great, and he genuinely wanted to help people at a grass roots level, Rhys wondered at Drake’s inability to feel as though he could really talk to them.

Drake lifted a recently tweezed brow. ‘I know, but that’s what I’ve hired you for.’

‘But they elected you.’

‘Need some help, Dude?’

A young voice had Rhys turning. Three teenagers strolled into the alley. One of them snubbed out a cigarette beneath his sneaker. Rhys kept his smile to himself. He knew the tough-man tactic. He’d used it himself on numerous occasions when he was a kid. ‘Not just yet, thanks for asking.’

One of the boys stepped close to the car and ran a finger along the side. ‘Nice wheels.’

Rhys was about to agree when Drake started. ‘Get your hands off my car. It’s new!’

Rhys stifled an inward groan. Way to go, Drake. Drake wasn’t trying to be rude, he was just really uncomfortable, but the boys didn’t know that and they would take it the wrong way. True to his prediction, the boys thrust their shoulders back, grouped together and stalked towards them. The boy who’d touch the car skimmed the line of the boot with his palm. ‘Nice lines.’

‘I told you not to touch the car.’

‘Let it go, Drake. We need to get inside,’ Rhys said.

‘Yeah, Drake. You’re wanted inside,’ one of the boys mimicked, and trailed a finger along the roof of the car. Rhys knew it was a ploy to irritate, and Drake fell right into his trap. He grabbed the boy by his wrist.

‘What the b****y hell do you think you’re doin’?’ A new voice drilled through the night.

Rhys noticed that a group of people had now gathered, but because of the street light behind them, they were just silhouettes in the dark alley.

‘What’s that God-awful sound?’ Drake winced, looking about.

A slender figure stepped forward out of the group, ‘Get your ‘ands off me brother, I said!’

‘Sounds like a cheese-grater stuck in low gear! Good God girl, stop speaking. You butcher the Australian language with a singular nasally syllable.’

‘Drake. Stop!’ Rhys hissed. Where was the charm that usually dripped from Drake? He was causing a scene which they really didn’t need.

‘He’s got me brother. Someone get the cops!’ The girl pitched as loud as she could and pointed towards Drake. ‘a***e. Child a***e!’

‘Yeah!’ one of the boys friends cried out, ‘Child abuse.’ The other stifled a snigger.

‘What’s she yelling about?’ Drake stared at Rhys with confusion etched across his face. His brow was scrunched up and his mouth looked pensive. This was one of those times Drake had no idea what was happening. Just as Rhys was about to tell him to let the boy go, there was a flash.

‘Mr Wilson, can you tell us what you’re doing in a back alley holding a child against his will?’ A man stepped forward drawing out a notebook and pen, pushing his camera strung around his neck to the side.

Rhys groaned out loud when he recognised the reporter. Martin O’Brien. Great. Just what they needed. In a few short seconds, Drake’s dumbass actions had caused a scene he’d have to work b****y hard at getting them out of. Unfortunately, O’Brien held a lot of sway with the large Australian papers. The photograph he had just taken was going to be gold to the media if he didn’t get a grip on the story now. Drake couldn’t afford a bad article from O’Brien. Not at this stage of their campaign.

Drake dropped the boy’s wrist and looked beseechingly at Rhys. Rhys adjusted his jacket and faced the reporter; ‘Mr Wilson was just choosing someone worthy to be a figurehead for his new plan.’

The tall bleach blonde stood protectively before the youth, crossing her arms over her puffed out chest looking as intimidating as her thin frame allowed.

Sally strode up to the tall, sandy-haired man wearing the designer suit. ‘Now you wait here a minute. Stevie doesn’t know this bloke from Adam.’ Oh, yeah, she knew her brands, although the likes of a suit like that in Moe wasn’t seen very often. Now that she had approached him, she noticed how tall he actually was. The top of her head only came up to his nose. The shadows of the alley that had previously hidden his form revealed solid, square shoulders, lean hips, and long legs. He was a man who obviously looked after himself if his physique was anything to go by, although why she noticed that about him was beyond her at the moment. She should be more concerned with getting Stevie out of this new lot of trouble he’d gotten himself in.

Her gaze drifted into clear, light blue eyes set above chiselled cheeks, a generous mouth, and firm jaw. It was a handsome face, but it was the intelligence in the way he looked at her that piqued her attention, and the fact he looked at her in way a man twice his age should look. Resigned. Tired. As though he had the weight of the world perched solely on his shoulders.

‘Is your Mum about?’ he asked. His voice was mid-toned, well-modulated, and a little gravelly. Not totally unlikable; quite sexy, really. He spoke quietly to her. Not a lot of people did that. Actually looked her in the face as spoke to her. as though they didn’t already have an opinion of her.

‘Stevie’s my responsibility. Mum’s not ‘ere.’ She glanced at her brother, putting as much force into the look on her face as she could translate without having to speak. At least he had the good grace to look a little sheepish. ‘Look, can you just let ‘im go. He was just playin’ about. He didn’t mean any harm. He just wanted to look at your car, that’s all.’

‘I’m afraid we’ll need to speak to someone of legal responsibility for this boy. We’ll need consent for Mr Wilson’s community plan.’ The man’s sandy brows scrunched together. The truth was, she was of legal age and responsible for Stevie as well as her other eight brothers and sisters.

‘That’s me. I’m twenty-one and guardian for him. You can tell me what this plan is your thinkin’ about that includes an underage boy.’ She gave him a filthy look, the one she used to send men running for the hills. The man paused, shock crossing his features.

‘You don’t think … we’d use the boy … like that!’ He shook his head. ‘Look, we’re respectable.’

‘And what’s ‘like that’? I’m sure what you’re thinkin’ aint legal. Not even ‘ere in Moe.’ She looked him up and down, crossing her arms over her chest. There was a snigger from the gathering crowd behind her, which gave her an air of confidence. Maybe she could get her brother away from these men without charges. The last thing she needed was more criminal attention, given Stevie was caught shoplifting just yesterday. She had yet to talk to him about skipping school let alone the stealing. Jamie, her brother a year older than Stevie, was already in a correctional facility and Stevie seemed hell bent on going down the same road. She’d failed Jamie, she wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to Stevie.

‘Do you know who we are?’ The pompous arse, who’d held Stevie’s wrist, puffed out his chest and stepped next to his friend. He grabbed the ends of his lapels and looked down his nose at her. Anger simmered just below the surface. Of all the arrogance, this man exuded it all.

‘I know who you are, all right. You’re the man whose going to supposedly save me from meself. I’d like to see that ‘appen. You politicians are all the same. Promise the world and nothin’ ever comes of it.’

‘What are you planning as a part of your election promises here in Moe, Mr Wilson?’ The reporter asked. He had a mean look to him which Sally didn’t really like, but it just might help her get Stevie out of this mess.

‘If you’d like to come to the meeting, that’s exactly what we’re going to be discussing,’ the sexy one said. He gestured towards the street and the main entrance to the Town Hall. She didn’t miss the pointed look he gave to Pompous Arse.

‘Yes, we are. I’d be pleased to take all your questions after the meeting, where questions from the press will be welcome.’ Pompous seconded.

She didn’t know what got into her, only realised that the imperious glance Pompous gave her before his gaze slipped away, as though she wasn’t good enough to be the dirt beneath his feet made her mouth snap open. ‘That’s right. That’s what we usually get from you lot. Dodge the hard questions. Not much of a politician if you can’t even answer something you’ve made a promise about. What about your policy on Government funding to educate disadvantaged people into well-paying, university accredited jobs? Whatta load of crock. I know all about you, Drake Wilson!’

‘You know about that? Rhys?’ Wilson looked at his sexy friend. So his name was Rhys. Suited him. She could like that one. He didn’t make her feel as though she was nothing. In fact, the look he gave her now was more on the curious, respectful side. She uncrossed her arms and tucked her thumbs into the waist of her jeans. Rhys—she liked his name, too— glanced at her breasts. Just a quick glance, unconscious, but one she caught because she knew what it meant. She’d read male interest from a young age. Recognising it was one of those things that had saved her virtue on numerous occasions. However, with his glance, she didn’t mind it so much.

She kept her thumbs hooked where they were. There wasn’t much he could see beneath the oversized flannelette shirt she wore over the loose tank. Maybe that’s why he was surprised at her age. She knew she looked a lot younger dressed this way, but she also knew from experience it was best to cover up what all her friends readily put on display. As far as she was concerned, male attention only brought hardship and heartache.

‘Don’t look so shocked, Mr Wilson. I read my local newspaper. I’m your target audience and a keen supporter of your promises, just like a lot of other pollies have promised in the past. Your policies are nothin’ new. I just want to know if you’re going to act on them. Most don’t. What’s going to make you so different?’ she asked.

‘Well, because I… Rhys?’ Pompous—she liked thinking of him that way—looked scared.

‘Because you can trust, Mr Wilson. He’s a man of his word,’ Rhys said.

‘I’ve heard a lot of words. I want somethin’ solid.’ She sized up, Wilson, before making her most disgusted sound and reaching for her brother’s hand. ‘Come on, Stevie, we’re goin’.’

Wilson made to stop her. ‘He damaged my car.’

‘Liar. Show me the damage.’ Sally stepped to the back of the car where Stevie had reportedly damaged it. She slid her fingertips over the smooth paint before a hand gripped her wrist.

‘You’re hurtin’ me. Let me let me go!’ Wilson winced when she yelled. Well, good. She hoped her voice ruptured his ear-drums.

There was another flash as the reporter took another photo. She glanced smugly at the politician. ‘That’s two photos of you abusing your constituents. Want to take this further? The cop shop’s just down the road.’ Not that she any intention of actually going there. They knew her family from way back. She wrenched her wrist from Wilson’s grasp.

‘We will—take this further, I mean. You’re the perfect person we’ve been looking for. We were going to announce our plans at the meeting, but now I think we’ll be able to just introduce you.’

Sally spun to face Rhys. She noticed Wilson did too. ‘And what’s this perfect person going to do?’ she asked.

‘You’re going to be our… ambassador. Tonight we’re selecting one person to represent our program, to show others how it can be done here in Moe, tonight.’

‘We are?’ Rhys frowned at Wilson, who then said, ‘We are!’ Wilson straightened his shoulders and faced the reporter. ‘In a nut-shell, we are going to transform this girl of the streets of Moe into a socialite, who can fit into any level of society.’

Sally ignored the gasp of the crowd. It had grown quite solidly as they’d been speaking and several reporters pushed to the front. She ignored the little stab of hurt at their disbelief. ‘That’s a big promise, Mr Wilson. Are you sure you’re up to it?’ the nasty reporter asked.

‘My plans are big. I’m promising something no other person has been able to deliver. This girl asked me to act on my promises and now I am. If I am successful, we’ll have the most educated, most intelligent society in the world. Imagine people like this girl being able to contribute to society instead of taking from it. Imagine her pride, in not only herself, but her country.’

‘I contribute to my country!’ She hated to feel this way, as though she was a drain, but the simple fact was she was paying for her mother’s decisions. With so many siblings, she couldn’t work when Elsie and Jenny didn’t even go to kindergarten yet.

‘My dear girl, my guess is that you take a Government payment each fortnight. How would you feel if you could contribute back to society? Go to a job every day and feel as though you achieved something. That you had a fighting chance to become anything you wanted.’ Pompous no longer looked uncomfortable. Now he looked as though he was in his element.

Sally folded her arms over her chest. ‘This is all a big pile of steamin’ bull. You’re not going to help me do what I want to do. It’s all just words.’

‘Then help us prove it...?’ Wilson gestured towards her with an open palm, groomed brow raised in question.

‘Sally,’ she replied.

‘Help us prove it, Suzie. Be our ambassador. If you can do it, then anyone can.’ The crowd hung on his silent pause. She felt gazes raking over her, felt their judgement, their disapproval, making her feel worthless. He didn’t know what she did every day, what she had to face, do, put up with just to get out the door in the morning.

He didn’t know that her siblings had just as much chance as she did, following a path her mother saw no wrong in. She knew what they would discover for themselves one day. They would have nothing. All they would achieve is living day to day off the tax payer below the poverty line. They’d be hard pushed to afford a loaf of bread, let alone the education she was just being offered. She knew every one of her brothers and sisters would all face the same insurmountable barriers she did every day, and there not being a single way to get over them.

‘What is it you want to do, Sally?’

Rhys’ kind tone brought her out of her daze. He watched her with interest, with expectation. Nobody expected her to make anything of herself. She’d even given up her dream because the reality was, she’d never achieve it. ‘I want to…’

‘Speak up, girl. They’re all listening!’ Wilson pumped.

Sally cleared her throat and spoke to Rhys, ‘I want to own a clothing shop.’

‘Then we’ll help you do it. That is what my program is all about. Teaching the down-trodden of this country to fend for themselves. Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day, give him fishing gear and a boat and he can feed himself for the rest of his life. The concept hasn’t changed in eons. It’s simple. Effective. This is your chance, Suzie. It’s a simple yes or no. If you say no, I’m sure there’ll be some other poor soul willing to take me up on my offer.’

Sally glanced at Stevie. He wore a serious expression, much older than his sixteen years. If she took this offer, she could educate her siblings. Get them the hell out of here and into a better environment. She could employ them and they all could work their way out of their current lives. Stevie gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

A large, warm palms settled on her wrist. ‘We’ll give you time to think about it. Come to the meeting and give us your answer at the end. Would you be willing to do that?’

She looked to Rhys’ warm, firm hand that clasped her wrist. Strong. Masculine. Then glanced at Wilson, the man was too full of himself for his own good, the crowd watching, waiting, then finally back to Rhys. Was she willing to do this? Her good judgment said yes, to take what was offered and grab it with both hands. Offers like this didn’t exactly fall from trees. She thought of her siblings and the life they had living with their mother and her endless streams of boyfriends. There was no hope at home, but maybe she had a chance to get her brothers and sister away from that type of life and give them goals to aim for.

She’d read about Drake Wilson’s policies and thought they were good. That was, if he could get them off the ground. He could help so many people. Her family included. She just never thought a chance would present itself like this, totally out of the blue to her. Then again, what chances didn’t come out of the blue.

She looked up into Rhys’ eyes, fixed on their light blue depths and nodded. ‘Okay, I’ll come to your meetin’ but I want to know details of this plan an’ I want a contract in writing before I step foot out of that Town Hall tonight.’

To her surprise, Rhys’s mouth curved into a catching grin she had the distinct urge to return.