Hailstone Page 2

  Magda grabbed them back to keep them on. Then she sighed and took them off. “I see just fine.” She did her best to keep the anger out of the words and failed.

  Adam’s smiles faded. “Who did that to you?”

  “Preacher.”

  He shook his head. “I knew the guy was an asshole.”

  Magda brightened. “Yeah, he’s an asshole.” She didn’t tell Adam he was the first person apart from Joseph who had ever taken her side and not Preacher’s.

  “So tell me,” Adam said. “It must be dangerous what you’re doing. Sitting here, drinking, with me of all people. Won’t you get in trouble?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve been in trouble ever since I realised anything Preacher said was bad was probably a lot of fun. Then a year ago-” she swallowed. The throbbing was all gone, but she’d drunk enough to be getting reckless. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Anything.” Adam leaned forward, all ears.

  “A year ago I finally figured out why my husband is about as attractive to me as a potato peel. Apart from the fact he’s an old guy with a beard.”

  Adam chortled. “It took you that long to realise you were a lezzie? I picked it the minute you walked in, sweetie.”

  Magda scowled. “How? How did you know?”

  “Come on, I’m Hailstone’s best known gay man, I can pick us from a mile off. Your Preacher would die if he knew how many of us there are. They should change this city’s name to Gaylstone.”

  Magda giggled.

  “I’m the first person you’ve told?”

  She nodded.

  “Darling, you’re the most repressed little thing I ever saw. I’m taking you out tonight.”

  Magda swirled the liquid in her glass. The very idea was so forbidden she knew she had to do it. “Out? Where?”

  “To Gaylstone’s favourite gay club. Have you heard of Pantheon?”

  Magda knew her eyes were getting wider and wider. She probably looked like a surprised lemming by now. “Preacher said that place was a doorway into hell.”

  “Preacher just wishes he could spend a few hours there.”

  Magda squeaked and covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m not dressed for a club.”

  “We’ll fix that. I have a darling little dress, just your size, in my closet. It doesn’t fit me anymore.”

  She giggled. She could just about picture him in a dress.

  “And I’ll give you a makeover.”

  “I’m not allowed to wear makeup.”

  “Good. You get to be a bad, bad girl tonight.”

  *

  Magda took a deep breath of the cool night air. She smoothed down the little black dress Adam had loaned her. It plunged deep at the neckline and barely came down to mid-thigh; he’d just happened to have black knee-high boots in her size too, and she wobbled a little on the platform heels. They weren’t his boots; someone else had left them behind at a party. Foundation covered the bruises on her face, mascara gummed up her lashes and the lipstick tasted funny. When she looked at her reflection in a shop window she wanted to yell with delight. She finally looked like someone who didn’t believe in God.

  “Yes darling, you look drop dead gorgeous. All the straight guys are drooling and all the women are looking at you.” Adam hooked his hand through her elbow and led her through a scratched-up glass door covered in fading posters.

  Magda took in everything she saw. She savoured it in case she never got to come back. The hall they went through was narrow and dingy, but then they went through a second door; inside, coloured lights swung around a darkened room. Music thumped so loud the beat echoed in her ribs. People milled around a long bar; a group of women wearing chunky boots and combat pants gyrated on the dance floor. Men with slicked-back hair and eyeliner waved at Adam.

  Adam led her straight through all of these and through a curtain. Here the music was muted. Fewer people lounged in booths with deep plush seats or leaned over a smaller bar.

  “VIP section,” Adam murmured in her ear. “I’m meeting a

  friend here.”

  “Is he your boyfriend?”

  He chuckled. “No darling, I’m on the prowl at the moment.

  She is a journalist at the Hailstone Herald.”

  “Is she gay too?”

  “No. Well, maybe a little bit, everyone is, you know. But Kat is far more interested in chasing news stories than men – or women. She wants to write a story about me, and since I love to be the centre of attention, I said yes.” Adam waved at a woman who stood at the bar with a camera bag over her shoulder.

  The woman waved back and walked over to meet them.

  “Hello sweetie!” Adam planted a kiss on her cheek. “Meet my new friend Magda, isn’t she gorgeous?”

  The woman stuck out her hand. “Kat Catrall, Hailstone Herald. How are you?”

  “I’m good.” Magda shook her hand. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol that made her blush. Kat wore a businesslike navy blue dress, buttoned down the front. She had dyed red hair all tied up in a bun and glasses perched on her nose. She wasn’t the least bit racy, but something about her made her not like a church person at all.

  “What’s that symbol? It’s pretty.” Magda pointed to Kat’s necklace.

  “It’s an om symbol.” Kat gave her a big friendly smile.

  “Kat’s a Hindu,” Adam whispered.

  “Really?” Magda felt her eyes go wide again. Preacher had almost had a fit once when a member of the Congregation went overseas and came back with a Hindu idol.

  Kat hit him on the arm. “Shut up, Adam. I’m not a Hindu.”

  Adam giggled. “Come on you two, let’s sit down and have a drink. What will you have, Kat?”

  “Water,” Kat replied in a droll voice.

  “Chicken.” He led them to a table in the quietest corner and then headed for the bar.

  Magda settled across from Kat. She watched the glint of a tiny, tiny piercing in the woman’s nose.

  “So are you from Hailstone Magda? I haven’t seen you around before.”

  “Lived here all my life.” Magda twisted her fingers in front of her. A rush of paranoia hit her in the chest. For a moment she could barely breathe. Her head throbbed faintly. “You don’t drink?”

  “I choose when I drink carefully.” Kat smirked. “I’ve found that having my head down the toilet throwing up isn’t the most attractive look when out and about. I’ve no tolerance at all for alcohol.”

  Magda unclenched her jaw. She told herself not to see Congregation people lurking in every shadow. None of them would dream of coming in here, not even to spy on her.

  Adam returned with a bottle of vodka, a pitcher of water and three glasses. “Alright Kat my darling, fire away. Interview every fabulous inch of me.”

  Kat pulled out a recorder and set it on the table next to Adam. “This is for a series I’m writing on Hailstone’s most influential and controversial figures,” she said.

  “Ooo, I like controversial.” Adam grinned.

  “Tell me a bit about your background, Adam. You own Hailstone’s biggest export, Hells Bells Vodka, and do your own marketing and public relations in the face of a sometimes hostile campaign from religious influences in the city. How did you come to build up your business to this point?”

  Magda zoned out of the conversation. She watched Kat instead. She watched the way she moved her fingers when she talked. She watched the tilt of her head when she paid attention, the very professional and composed expressions on her face. Wow. She wanted to get a job and be involved in Hailstone’s professional life, just like Kat. She wanted to wear business suits and be taken seriously. She wanted to unbutton Kat’s dress.

  Magda wiped sweat from her forehead, excused herself and found a ladies room. Inside the brightly lit space, the music was muffled. She sighed in relief and went to the sink. She studied her makeup; it was all in place, although the lipstick was faded. Adam had slicked back her hair and made it all flat and groomed. She liked it.
<
br />   Magda dug her phone out of her bag and switched it on. Ten missed calls, all from Preacher. Ten messages, all from Preacher. She deleted them without reading any, switched the phone off and shoved it back in the bag. The throbbing came back. She knew she was living in a fantasy right now, and sooner or later reality would painfully intrude. She’d have to go home and face the punishment. Had someone said John was coming home? Maybe if she just stayed out a few more days he’d be gone again. She twisted the thin gold wedding band on her finger. She dove back into her bag for a pill and washed it down with water from the tap cupped in her hands.

  “What are you taking?”

  Magda straightened up quickly and looked at Kat’s reflection in the mirror. There was no judgement there, just curiosity. “Valium,” she said. “It’s for anxiety.”

  “What are you anxious about?”

  “Nothing now.” Magda turned around to face her. “Have you finished your interview?”

  “Yes.” Kat smiled. “Work’s all done for tonight.”

  “Good.” The valium and the alcohol mixed right up in her blood and her inhibitions went flying away. “Dance with me.”

  Kat gave her an odd look. “Me? You want to dance with me?”

  “Yes I do.” Magda shouldered her bag and grabbed Kat’s hand.

  “I’m not gay.”

  “I don’t care. I want to dance.”

  “What the hell. Alright.”

  They went out into the bar area and left their bags with Adam, who was deep in flirtation with a man wearing too-tight jeans and a white dress shirt. He barely acknowledged them.

  Magda tugged on Kat’s hand until she followed her out into the club area, where they joined the crowd on the dance floor. Magda didn’t know how to dance; but then neither did Kat, so they both just swayed together on the floor until the techno beat drowned out everything around them.

  Magda put her hands on Kat’s hips. Her flesh was firm and smooth under her shirt; Kat flinched, but she didn’t move away. Instead she picked up Magda’s left hand and studied the ring. “You’re married?”

  Magda made a face. “Don’t worry about him.”

  “You’ve split up?”

  “No. I just don’t like him.”

  Kat kept a hold of her hand and led her to the edge of the crowd, where they caught their breath. “Magda can I get you some water? You look a little weird.”

  “I’m fine.” Magda took a deep breath. She did an automatic scan of the crowd and stiffened.

  “Really? I mean, how much have you had to drink?”

  “Heaps.”

  “And you’re mixing it with valium?”

  Magda didn’t answer. Her head throbbed so hard she almost fell over. The old guy with the beard stuck out like a Puritan at an orgy. There were two more faces at the door she knew. Zack approached from the opposite direction to her husband. “Fuck,” she whispered.

  “Are you okay? Do you want to go?” Kat’s forehead creased with worry.

  “Yes. Yes, I want to go, but we have to hide. Quick.” Magda tugged on her hand, but Kat stayed put.

  “I’ll go get Adam,” she said.

  John’s hand closed around her shoulder. His long beard brushed her face. Magda shuddered.

  “Time to go, Magdalene,” he said.

  Magda broke free of his hand and bolted, but Zack blocked her path. “I’m not going,” she said.

  John’s hand clamped over her wrist. “Come on.”

  “Hey!” Kat pushed between them. “Who are you people? Leave her alone!”

  Magda felt her face grow hot with embarrassment that her new friend had to witness this, but again the alcohol made her reckless. No. She wouldn’t go home. She’d never go home. She struggled against John’s hold. “Let me go!” she yelled. “I’m not going with you!” She stomped on John’s foot and pushed him, but it was like trying to move a rock. Zack grabbed her from behind.

  “Oi!” Kat squared off with John, which Magda thought was pretty brave, considering the size of the guy. “Who the hell are you? You can’t just drag people off against their will!”

  John’s big eyebrows quivered. The furrows in his face deepened with his scowl. “I’m her husband,” he said. “And don’t you curse at me, young woman.” He gave Kat a shove that sent her reeling into the crowd.

  “Kat!” Magda screamed. She saw her new friend trip, fall and be caught by a knot of dancers who’d gathered to watch the scene. Then John and Zack clamped in on either side of her and all but dragged her out of the club. Their other two companions pushed open the door to let them into the dingy hall.

  Magda elbowed Zack and tried to pull away from John. “Let go of me!” she yelled. “I want to stay here!”

  Zack stopped, still gripping her arm. John got in her face with a big, meaty index finger. “Don’t you think you’ve upset Preacher enough already?”

  A cold dart of fear shot through her stomach. She felt sick. The alcohol that had given her false courage now made her dull and confused. She’d been avoiding this moment all day. Back to reality. She dropped her head and let them walk her out onto the street.

  The night air hit her like a slap in the face. It had got cold while she’d been in the club, and she was barely dressed. John’s car was parked right at the front. He opened the back door; Zack hustled her in. Magda shot him a dirty look before he closed the door.

  John got into the driver’s seat, started the car and pulled away. Magda watched Zack stand outside the club watching them leave until they turned the corner. Now she had a reason to hate him as much as she hated John and even Preacher. She’d get back at him. She’d find a way.

  She put her head in her hands, groaned and tried to will away the dizziness and the throbbing.

  “The devil is paying you back for your indulgence,” John said.

  Magda clenched a fist. “When did you get back?”

  “Not nearly in time.” John kept his eyes on the road. He drove at the exact speed limit. “When Preacher called me I took the first flight back. I don’t understand why you’re doing this. You’re driving a good man to distraction. Do I have to watch you every minute of the day now? Can I not trust you on your own? I could hardly believe it when I was told you’d been seen going into that den of sin.”

  Magda’s stomach rebelled. “Let me out!” she yelled.

  “I don’t-” John glanced back at her mid-refusal and evidently changed his mind. He pulled off the highway.

  Magda opened the door, stumbled out of the car and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the side of the highway. That felt a lot better. She took a deep breath of cold night air, looked up and down the road and thought about running. If she could get over that embankment, he’d never catch her.

  “Get back in the car Magdalene,” John said.

  Magda sighed and got back in the car. She wiped her mouth and watched the streetlights slide by. She watched John in the rear view. She wondered how old he really was. She’d never cared enough to ask; he just kept looking fifty-odd, face a little more lined, beard a little longer whenever she saw him. She suspected he was trying to look like Moses or something with all that hair, but it just didn’t work on a face like a greyhound. She sometimes wondered what it would take to corrupt the incorruptible man of God.

  Damn it, she’d left her bag at the club.

  John pulled off the highway and within a few minutes, passed the Church and pulled into Preacher’s driveway.

  “Can’t we just go home?” Magda asked. The drive had helped her zone out, but now her head throbbed again. Her hands shook on the seatbelt.

  “I want you to face Preacher with your behaviour,” John said. “It’s the only course left open to you if you want to seek forgiveness. You have to accept the consequences of your actions.”

  Magda pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle an inappropriate giggle, but it was too late. Apparently she was still drunk enough to suddenly find the whole horrible situation hopelessly, insanely amusing.
She’d managed to get the seatbelt off, but now she shook with uncontrollable laughter.

  John wrenched open the door. Magda slid out of the car and lay on the ground at his feet. She laughed helplessly.

  “In the name of all the disciples, what are you laughing at, woman?” he roared.

  Her cheeks hurt. So did her stomach. Too much laughing could injure a woman. “You! Treating me like a fourteen year old! You and Preacher, you’re as bad as each other!” Her voice rose with each word. She didn’t care. “Neither of you seems to notice or care I’m well over the legal age to drink, dance, swear and do as I goddamn well please!”

  John hauled her to her feet. Magda bit off the rest of the tirade when she saw Preacher in front of her.

  John let her go and turned away. Preacher’s hand cracked across her face and sent her sprawling into the car. She slid back to the ground and buried her head in her arms in case there was any more.

  “A wife is ruled by her husband, not the law,” Preacher said. “You are out of control, Magdalene. I’m giving you one chance and one chance only. Repent. Return to God.”

  She lowered her hands and looked up. Preacher stood over her like an avenging demon. The floodlight from the house made a halo in his grey hair and cast the rest of his face in blackness. “Or what?” she whispered.

  “Or I will be forced to call an exorcism. Again. You shame me.” He walked away.

  Magda felt stone cold sober. She hardly noticed John pick her up and push her back into the car. They drove the short distance home. Only then did she fend him off; taking the tattered shreds of her dignity in hand, she walked inside on her own, went to her bedroom and shut the door in his face. She sat on the bed and listened to him turn the key in the lock. She closed her eyes and thought about Preacher and that bible he used whenever he did an exorcism. She thought about taking her gun, putting it to that bible and shooting him through it.

  TUESDAY

  Magda woke up feeling like hell. Her head hurt, her face hurt, her back hurt. Worse yet, she remembered every single thing about last night. Why the hell couldn’t she be the type to just black out?