“Don’t worry, babe; you couldn’t get me to do something I didn’t want to, no matter how many drugs you feed me. And just to be clear, you’re here with me; if you touch another bird, I will knock you the fuck out.” He laughs quietly as he wraps his arms around me.
“Ahh, Georgia, you’ve just made my balls go tight, talking like that.” He bends his knees so we’re at eye level. “I’m here with you and for you, and I won’t leave your side. I will have a few beers and that’s it, but I don’t want you to hold back. If you wanna give something a go, then try it. I’ll make sure you’re safe, not that there’s anything or anyone here to be afraid of.” He kisses my forehead and lets out a long sigh. “Just let go tonight, Georgia; just let go of everything. You carry too much on those beautiful young shoulders. Just for one night, let go and forget the fucked-up hand you were dealt by life.”
I nod at him, shrug and say, “Move then; what are we waiting for? But I warn you now, keep your hands on me or to yourself, else there will be consequences.”
Chapter Nine
After two glasses of wine from a plastic cup and being introduced to about fifteen people, I relax a little. A couple of the women I meet, Erica and Lexi, I think two of them are called, are a little full-on and keep touching me and telling me I’m beautiful. I think my ever-tightening grip on Roman’s hand makes him realise I’m uncomfortable, so we move away and find a spot in the sand by ourselves next to the fire. Roman pulls out a joint, already rolled from his cigarette box, so we sit and smoke it and I feel instantly calmer. The weed in Australia is much stronger than anything I’ve ever tried before, and I can only manage two or three puffs before my limbs and my thoughts relax.
Rightly or wrongly, this is exactly what I need right now. I am relaxed enough that I am actually enjoying myself; people are dancing and talking, no one knows who I am. Roman is by my side and I feel safe.
We sit and just people watch for a while, while Roman points out different people, telling me their names and professions; dancers, painters, poets. After about half an hour, a girl comes and sits down with us.
“Hey, Rome, good to see ya.” She looks him over like she wants to eat him. I turn my head to see if I can gauge his reaction to her, but he is looking at me with a smirk on his face. I raise my eyebrows, daring him to say something.
“Skye, how ya goin’? Georgia, meet Skye, an old mate of mine.” Skye puts her hand out and I take it. She’s about my age and very pretty in a pixyish sort of way. She looks me over in the exact same way as she looked at Roman, and I just know he’s still staring at me, waiting on my reaction… Bastard!
“Nice to meet you, Skye,” I say in my best British accent.
“Oh, wow, you’re English! Love the accent. Did you meet Roman while he was over there?” Roman puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in to his side.
“No, we met here. Georgia’s here visiting family in Byron, and we met in a bar a few weeks back.”
She gives, what looks like a genuine smile. “Cool.”
She makes herself comfortable, sitting facing Roman and me, and they talk about people they both know as I just sit and watch what’s going on around me. Someone is playing guitar and singing what sounds like a Bob Dylan song, and there are people paddling in the ocean, as well as some lying, sitting or standing on the beach. There are couples kissing and some are full-on dry-humping each other. I catch the smell of cannabis in the air every time the wind blows gently over my skin. Roman nudges my arm and passes me a joint.
“You okay?” he asks as I take a draw. It hits me instantly and my head spins.
“Shit, what’s in that?” I ask, my limbs instantly feeling like jelly. I pass it back to Roman but he shakes his head.
“No, I want to be able to look after you; have another puff. This stuffs a bit trippy; it’ll help you let go. Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.” I look from him to Skye.
“It’s good stuff, Georgia; take another couple of hits,” she says. I look back at Roman, still not convinced. I’m on a beach in the middle of Australia with a man I’ve only known a few weeks, surrounded by a load of weirdo hippies, stoned and tripping off their nuts.
“You need to learn to trust people again, Georgia. I’ll look after you. I promise; please, trust me.” I nod slowly, thinking to myself that if it turns out they’re a bunch of Charles Manson types and this ends badly, at least I’ll get to see Sean again.