Page 131 of Queenslander
Nev demonstrated the guitar part in time to the clicking metronome.
“My voice is the metronome,” Nev said. “You follow me. Guitar follows vocals, not the other way around.”
Ronnie flushed, aroused.
Nev was in a mood. “Also, it’s Mairi with a soft “r”, not a hard “r.”
Ronnie lost her patience. “I don’t see why it matters.”
“The hard “r” sounds Australian.”
“We are Australian.”
“It sounds better in a Scottish accent.”
“Says who?”
“Says I.”
Gunni was smiling, brows knit together. “You two out of sorts with each other?”
Ronnie pretended to study the sheet music. It had been Nev’s idea to teach her guitar.
Nev sang the chorus in her normal accent to prove her point.
Something inside Ronnie relaxed. “I love your accent.”
Nev frowned. “This isn’t your wedding.”
“It isn’t yours, either.” Ronnie swallowed, flushed. Her chest burned.
“At your wedding, I’ll sing it however you like,” Nev said. “This time I sing it my way.”
Ronnie excused herself.
In the bathroom she splashed water on her face. Her cheeks were pink.
When she returned to the family room Nev was hunched over, elbows on her knees, head between her hands. Ronnie shivered, feeling Gunni’s hand scratching Nev’s back. She wanted to be the one doing it.
“Everything good?” she asked.
“Peachy,” Nev said.
Ronnie hesitated with her guitar on her lap, wondering how to finagle it so that Gunni went home and Nev invited her to sleep over.
“Gunni, are you staying or going?”
The white-haired German looked at her and raised his eyebrows.
“Don’t talk to him like that,” Nev muttered.
Ronnie itched to tell her that she had dropped the course, wanted reassurance that she had made the right decision. Nev hid a lit cigar in one hand. She didn’t resist when Ronnie took it and dropped it in Nev’s beer glass.
“Fuck you,” Nev muttered.
Ronnie squeezed Nev’s shoulder before hugging Gunni. “Love you.”
“Love you,” Nev and Gunni said at the same time.
