First kiss, p.1
First Kiss, page 1
Kit & Tully
Book 1
FIRST KISS
Mocha Von Bee
First published in 2022 by Indie Ink
Copyright © 2022 MochaVon Bee
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers.
Cover design by S.E.Anderson
Get First Summer Free!
First Letter From Aonghus
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Author’s Note
About Mocha Von Bee
To Tom, who’s always believed that the whole point of dreams is to make them come true.
Get First Summer Free!
FIRST SUMMER is a companion to FIRST KISS. It tells of the summer Kit & Tully first met from Kit’s point of view.
Find out about Kit’s first impressions of Tully
Discover what her home life is really like
Get the inside story on her friendship with Felice and Spike
And, most important of all, Kit’s take on Aonghus…
Join my Newsletter and start reading FIRST SUMMER!
First Letter From Aonghus
Dear Reader,
Over the course of this series, you will meet a cast of characters, a group of friends and some random acquaintances, who over time become more closely connected, as their paths intertwine.
You will come to understand them all, root for some and object to others. There will be romance and there will be death. It may be murder, or perhaps fate, possibly a combination of the two. Don’t worry about it now, there’s plenty of time to watch it all unfold, form your own theories and draw your own conclusions.
At some point, even I can be found within these pages, and, like the characters in this story, you too can choose whether or not to believe in me.
Before I begin I must be clear. This is not my story. It’s the story of a young couple who woke me. It’s not that simple though, because only one of them believed they’d woken me.
Our story starts with the optimistic outsider who has just arrived and has no idea how wrong he is about everything he sees.
Please meet the hapless New Guy, Tully Cabe.
Yours,
Aonghus
Chapter 1
The door cracks open and a girl peeps out, eyes sweeping the vicinity. Flanked by doric pillars and capped with an ornate fanlight, it’s the kind of door that’s never open to me. This is the nice part of town. A flight of granite steps leads up to the door and the traditional red paint is fresh and bright against the greyness of the day and the imposing stone facade. How does it feel to be wealthy enough to live behind a door like that? Do all your worries disappear when you’ve that kind of solidity to protect you from the outside world?
I wait for her to emerge under a large umbrella, in one of those expensive trench coats rich girls wear. Instead a flurry of booted, swirling black eases through the door, closing it soundlessly behind her. She has a small, collapsible umbrella. She struggles for a moment to open it, then with a final furtive glance, offering a glimpse of a white heart-shaped face and red lipstick, she darts down the steps and disappears around a corner.
Just then, the church bell tolls, its loud clang making me jump. It’s a big church, almost a cathedral, and its soaring spire is the main landmark of the town. The sound vibrates into the air, reminding me I need to hurry. I can’t be late for my first day in the new job.
In the grey drizzle, everything blends together. Like most Irish towns, the main street of Drimshanra is long and lined with bumper to bumper traffic. June is almost over but the weather has been so cold and unrelenting that summer still feels so far off. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if it somehow bypasses the town completely.
A short cut leads along the river past empty stretches of derelict warehouses, but I don’t like going into town that way. Covered in graffiti, the boarded up buildings remind me of where I’ve come from. Walking down Main Street takes longer but feels safer.
As soon as I pass through the automatic doors, the comforting warmth of the town shopping centre welcomes me inside and I make my way to More Video 4U with a smile on my face. My watch and the big clock over the centrally located café both tell me I’m ten minutes early, which is exactly what I’ve aimed for. It’s important to make a good first impression, especially since jobs are so hard to find in Drimshanra and I’m on a trial period.
More Video 4U is a large unit down one of the side aisles. A bell chimes as I push the door open and Andy, the manager, looks up.
“Tully Cabe, right?” he smiles when he sees me, “Here, I’ll show you what to do.”
I follow him through the racks of video files as he explains how they are arranged. The sleeves are empty, for display purposes only.
“We put all the sleeves back on the shelves when they come in,” he explains, “that way our customers know what we have in stock. If there’s no sleeve on the shelf, it means all the copies are out. Of course, most of the time we only have one copy, unless it’s a big hit.”
I nod. It’s all familiar to me because I’ve grown up going to various branches of More Video 4U and they all look the same – large and brightly lit, aisles arranged by genre. Thrillers, classics, romcom, noir, whatever mood you’re in, whatever kind of film you like, the promise of escape is always there, waiting for you.
“And remember,” Andy’s voice turns urgent, “if somebody hasn’t got their membership card, no matter what excuse they give you, you can’t let them have a video.”
“Right!” I nod, but he must catch a trace of doubt in my voice because the smile leaves his face.
“I’m serious, kid. People will tell you anything, and some of the excuses will break your heart, but they’re only scamming. It’s more than your job’s worth to listen to them.”
Then he takes me behind the counter to show me the drawers where the videos are stored and explain how to use the cash register and the computer with the customer database.
“But if all their information is in here, surely we can just check who they are if they forget their card?”
“Yeah?” Andy says. “Okay, my name is Sean Costello and I live at 17 Ardmore Close.”
Yes, I tap a few keys on the computer, eager to show Andy the one thing I do know how to do. “Found you!”
“Except I’m not Sean Costello,” he shakes his head sadly, “place like this, where everyone is broke, petty theft is rampant. People borrow under someone else’s name and we never see the video again. So yeah, make sure they have their card!”
“Right,” I feel like I’ve failed a test, “got it.”
The afternoon is quiet. Mainly groups of schoolgirls dropping in to browse and giggle in the aisles. They leave without getting anything.
“Lots of youngsters like hanging out in here, makes them feel grown up,” Andy explains, “but they are better for business than you might think because they always find something they want to watch, and then they pester somebody to rent it for them later on, another reason we need to be particular about cards. Listen, I’m going to slip out for a while, before it gets busy.”
“Oh!” I wasn’t expecting to be left on my own as soon as this.
“Are you able to do the job or not?” An edge enters his voice.
“Sure, I think I’ve got the hang of it.” It’s not the job is difficult, just I haven’t had much chance to practise yet.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Andy slaps my shoulder. “There’s plenty of people looking for a handy number round here.” This time the threat isn’t veiled.
“Take as long as you like. I’ll be fine.”
“Good man, Tully!” He nods in approval.
He’s only gone ten minutes when the girl I saw coming out of her house earlier enters the shop and shakes off her umbrella. It didn’t do much to keep her dry. Her jeans are plastered to her legs and I look away quickly in case she thinks I’m staring.
She heaves a deep sigh and I remember my job.
“Hey,” I step out from behind the counter, “how can I help you?”
“Just looking,” she replies.
“A copy of Titanic has just come back.” I’m pleased with myself for thinking of it. Copies of Titanic are like gold dust.
“Are you seriously trying to be helpful?” She rolls her eyes, turns into one of the aisles and stares at the Pick of the Week section.
“How about that?” I point at a Men in Black poster. If she doesn’t like Titanic, maybe she’d prefer something funny and offbeat.
But she’s already seen it.
It’s becoming clear she doesn’t want to talk to me and I don’t want her to think I’m harassing her.
“You
“No.” I stop in my tracks. “We just moved down. From Dublin.”
“What do you think of Drimshanra?”
That’s a hard question to answer. Even though I hardly know the town at all yet, my first impressions couldn’t be described as positive, but she lives here and I’d hate to sound critical of her home.
“It's different, takes a bit of getting used to.” I glance around, desperate to change the subject. “Here, you might like this.” I hand her a video sleeve, ‘LA Confidential’ with Russell Crowe and Kim Basinger. “It’s darker.”
She shakes her head and moves on, leaving me standing in the middle of the aisle, not sure if I’ve been dismissed or if I should follow her, when I hear her call, “I’ll take this one.”
She pulls down a copy of ‘Strictly Ballroom’ and brings it over to me.
“Nice,” I say with a smile I hope is professional, “excellent choice! That finale, the way he slides out across the dance floor. It has to be one of the best entrances ever.”
I take the sleeve from her and bring it over to the cash desk. “And even once they’re out there, on the floor, it keeps going wrong, with all the interruptions.”
I’m still babbling as I root in the drawer for the video cassette when my hand flies to my mouth, wishing I could stuff the words back in. “Oh no, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking and now I’m spoiling it for you.”
“It’s alright, we’ve seen it before.”
“Really?” My fumbling fingers finally fit the cassette into the case.
“Yeah, no big deal,” she says as I go to ring it up.
Feeling like an idiot, I ask for her membership card.
“Um,” she flushes furiously, “I forgot my card but you should be able to find it on the computer.”
We’re not allowed to do that. The excuse dies on my lips. I’ve made enough of a fool of myself already. “Sure, what’s your name?”
“Kit Lawless,” she replies. “7 St Lawrence Place.”
Kit, I mull it over to myself, wondering what it’s short for. It suits her I suppose, with her dark hair and pointy face. Oh no, this is a nightmare. “Um, it’s not coming up.”
“Try Felice Carr!”
The name appears immediately and I look at Kit in confusion, uncertain what to do. This is exactly what Andy warned me against.
“Just let me pay for it, right?” She thrusts a five pound note at me.
I’ve no choice, I can’t refuse. Praying Andy won’t pick this moment to come back, I count out the change and hand her the video with a weak smile. “Hope you enjoy it, again!”
“Thanks,” she replies, “welcome to Drimshanra.”
I watch the door long after she’s gone, lost in thought. Part of me is hoping the video will be returned and I won’t lose my job. It should be my main worry, but for some reason, my head is full of the girl, wondering if I’ll see her again.
Kit Lawless. The name suits her, but she can’t be a regular since she doesn’t have a card.
Chapter 2
Andy is right about the shop getting busier later on. Harried parents come in on their way home from work, laden down with bags of shopping, desperate for something to keep the kids quiet after dinner. Between seven and eight, the teens appear. Still too young to go out, they want the perfect video for a night in with friends. The young lovers come later, looking for an excuse to curl up together on the couch. After the rush ends around eleven, Andy says he’s done and asks me to close at midnight.
His request makes me uneasy but I can’t afford to fall out with my boss on my first day, so I let him show me what needs to be done.
“You’ll do well here,” he claps me on the shoulder as he leaves. His words confirm my suspicions. He’s not supposed to leave me on my own but I just nod and watch him disappear down the street.
A rowdy crowd, on the way back to someone’s gaff from the pub, come in half an hour later and I wish Andy was there to help. Eventually they get what they want and leave, though I feel a bit shaky after they are gone. Then a few stragglers come in just before midnight. Andy would probably state firmly that we were closed, but he’s not here. Without his authority, I don’t like to turn them away. By the time I finally lock the door behind me, it’s close to one in the morning.
I can’t help wondering if that’s why my boss was so anxious to get away early, especially since this is pretty much the exact same time the pubs in Drimshanra empty out into the streets. With a shiver, I button up my navy reefer and pull the collar up around my ears. It’s not just to keep out the cold drizzle, but to blend into the night. An odour of urine and vomit oozes from darkened doorways and you can feel the pulse of danger flicker in the air.
Ahead of me, two young guys are thrown from a bar in a tangle of limbs.
“I’ll get you yet, you two ends of a knob.” One of them hauls himself to his feet and shakes his fist at the bouncer.
“Yeah.” The other crawls out of the gutter.
“Fuck off, Sledge,” the bouncer replies, “and don’t let me catch you with any of your underage friends in here again.”
It’s too late to cross the street, it would only draw attention to myself. I put my head down and quicken my pace, hoping Sledge and his pal don’t notice me. Main Street is too busy, too bright, with nowhere to hide. By taking the short cut, I can melt into the shadows, and pass unnoticed in the dark. I hunch my shoulders tighter into my coat and quicken my step. Leaving Main Street is a mistake. The real danger lingers in dark alleys like this one.
“The gay bar!” I hear a shout behind me and press myself in against the metal shutter of a closed shop, as Sledge barrels by.
“Yeah, get the poofters.” His friend is hot on his heels.
The two disappear out of sight around the corner and I exhale with relief. My route home is the same way they’ve gone, but I follow at a slow pace, giving them plenty of time to get ahead of me.
The back streets aren’t as quiet as I expect. Instead, they are lined with the kind of places that come alive at night but are invisible when the shutters are down during the day. The gay bar must be somewhere along here. I wonder if Sledge and his friend will get in and what kind of havoc they’ll wreak if they do.
As I walk on up the street, the Saturday night revels fade into the distance behind me. Home is close now, just around the corner, and, thankfully, there’s no sign of Sledge or his friend. They must have found somewhere to go after all.
My body is trembling and I can’t wait to get inside the house and bolt the door behind me. It’s funny, I didn’t expect Drimshanra to have this effect on me, not after the estate we lived on in Dublin, but it’s like something evil and malevolent is lurking in the shadows here.
As I round the final corner, I hear a scuffle and faint shouts in the distance, the distinct sound of feet running away, boots pounding the pavement. Sledge and his friend. It has to be. Gone.
Something moves at the end of the street, catching my eye. A heap of black, like a plastic sack, burst and spewing out its contents. Except as I draw closer, I see it’s not a black plastic sack. It’s a person curled up in agony, with blood pooling on the street around him.
I try not to look, try not to step in it.
Want to avoid the whole thing.
It’s been a long day and I wish it was over.
So close to home, almost in bed, where I can pull the covers over my head and pretend the assault didn't happen, the way I used to when Dad was still around.
The figure shifts slightly and lets out a low moan.
It’s no good, I’m not seven years old any more.
I can’t ignore this one.
“Wait there,” I say, not that he looks capable of going anywhere, “I’ll be right back.”
The house is just a few doors down, and I silently let myself in so as not to wake my mother. I lift the receiver of the phone in the cramped hallway, dial 999, and ask for an ambulance.
Then I dash into my room, whisk the duvet off my bed and sprint back outside. It’s still raining, not heavily, just a damp persistent drizzle that chills to the core. I hope he’s still alive as I cover him up as best I can. Shivering, my teeth chattering, I sit on the kerb beside him and wait for the ambulance.
