9
Oliver King lined up the black, pocketing it, leaving Kereama with four stripes left. After shaking hands with his opponent, he placed the cue on Shane’s outdoor pool table, picked up his stubby and took a sip. Sunday evenings were his favourite; they were so relaxed, chilled. And driving over to Shane and Georgina’s place for a barbecue was becoming routine because his host loved to show off his home. “I’m so getting me one of these,” he said to Shane, who busied himself with grilling the beef burgers.
Oliver could afford to buy one. His only problem was space, and talking Isla into it. “You’ve got one indoors,” he imagined Isla would say. That and “why do you need one in the garden?” An apt question. He didn’t need one outside; he wanted one, and there was a big difference. Why should Shane have all the cool things? While he considered Georgina’s boyfriend a mate, Oliver thought him a show-off, always playing the alpha male.
“They’re ready.” Using tongs to place the burgers on one plate, Shane surveyed his cooking. “George has the veggie options coming.”
The backyard was massive, with a large L-shaped swimming pool, decking with seating for more than twenty people in comfortable sofas and armchairs, a pool table and summer house that had been renovated and turned into a bar. Inside the outhouse, Shane had a marble surface and chrome draught beer taps. A huge poser, Oliver should like him, but he couldn’t bring himself to. For Isla’s sake, he made the effort.
Wearing a white vest and blue shorts, he walked over to the patio table and sat next to Isla, who looked amazing in a low-cut pink floral summer dress. It was short and showed off her shapely legs. Amelia wore a light skirt and strappy top, which suited her tanned skin, while Georgina carried over a plate of vegetarian burgers wearing a black dinner number. When he found himself thinking how gorgeous Georgina looked, he focused on her flat chest. Shane’s girlfriend was very self-conscious about it, and Isla played on it sometimes, being well-endowed in that department.
Soft music entertained them while they ate, Shane’s Bluetooth speaker sat in the centre of the table. Oliver put a cheese slice on his burger and squished the patty with the bun lid, salivating at the sight. “This smells amazing, Shane.” He noted his host already had a mouthful.
Instead of replying, Shane smiled while chewing.
And it tasted as good as it smelled, the hand-pressed patties moist and juicy. Once the girls had constructed their veggie burgers, everyone sat in silence eating, enjoying the food and atmosphere. A glorious evening, the temperature still in the early twenties, Oliver devoured his meal.
It didn’t help that Georgina and Shane threw their success in their faces. It was no secret that she was the most successful of the girls; she had two and a half million followers, and her surfing career. And Shane was hands down the more successful of the guys. Oliver felt a quiet satisfaction that Shane’s leadership of the Sydney Swans had yet to prove fruitful. At the start of every season, he prayed Shane’s team didn’t pull off a win. Petty, but warranted.
Successful enough, having won a number of weightlifting competitions locally, Oliver was a name amongst his peer group, especially after making it to the final of Aussie Ninja Rules, the Australian version of the hit US show, American Ninja, which had contestants competing in an array of physically challenging obstacle courses. He performed well on the televised finale, placing second overall for the season. His followship grew dramatically after that, and a couple of clothing labels came knocking, asking him to model their lines.
In addition, going out with Isla had grown his popularity. Having started with only a few thousand followers prior to competing on the show, he finished up with eighty thousand. But he didn’t make the hundred-thousand mark until he began dating Isla. Because she was the Queen of Lifters, she had garnered a huge following of a quarter of a million, but her fans were mainly horny guys, he noted, one night scrolling through them. She was a beautiful person, always smiling and brightening up whichever room she was in, so why wouldn’t blokes find her sexy?
A relatively new relationship, he’d only met her nine months earlier, shortly after the show, and funnily enough she’d watched it. They socialised within the same group of friends, which made meeting one another almost inevitable. And when they did, wow!
“These are great, George.” Isla spoke with a mouthful. A tiny piece of bun bread fell out and on the floor. “Oops! Sorry!” She giggled.
As much as he loved her, Isla could be such an embarrassment sometimes. Listening to the girls praise Georgina’s choice of veggie burgers, Oliver munched on his homemade beef burger. In front of him, his mobile lit up and vibrated. Intrigued, he put his patty down on his plate, and wiped his hands before picking it up and checking who was contacting him. “No fucking way!” He opened his Chatter account. “The pom’s messaging me now.”
“What’s he saying?” Amelia asked, placing her food on a napkin.
After opening the message, Oliver scrolled past the photo of Elf Man’s plane seat and read aloud. “Quite the practical joker, huh! Feel good knowing you got me? I bet you’re having a right laugh at me. Take a bow, Oli, your joke worked… I can’t wait to meet you Monday night at The Starfish.”
“Hang on, am I missing something here?” Kereama was confused.
“How does he know it’s a prank?” Oliver glanced at everyone around the table in turn, starting with Isla, and finishing with Shane and Georgina. “And why does he think I did it?” It wouldn’t be hard for someone to figure out he was the piss-taker of the group, he thought, as Shane and Georgina shared a glance. “What?” he asked his host. “Is there something you want to share with the rest of us, mate?”
“What you talking about? This pom’s a whackadoo.”
Georgina looked guilty, he noticed. “George? Is there anything you’d like to say? Why is this guy so sure I typed the message? And don’t even think about lying to me.”
Shane stood and glared down at him. “What the fuck did I just say? We don’t know why he’s saying this stuff. Don’t try bullying George, mate.”
“It seems a bit suspicious to me,” Oliver replied, standing and glaring at Shane across the garden table. “And I saw the look you gave her. What aren’t you telling us, George?” He spoke directly to Georgina because he knew it would wind her boyfriend up something awful.
He was forced back when Shane pushed him, hard. If they were going to come to blows, he would destroy his host, no doubt. The footy captain may be fit, but Oliver was a professional weightlifter and brown belt kickboxer. Oliver took a deep breath, while his mouthy opponent stepped around the table.
“Babe, leave it,” he heard Isla say, her voice scared.
“Shane, stop it,” Georgina ordered. “Apologise to Oli. He’s our guest.”
“He’s accusing us of something. You can’t come to our house and accuse us of shit.”
Ignoring his compunction to deck Shane, Oliver puffed his chest out and stepped towards his “mate”. “I haven’t accused you of anything. Have I, Isla? I just said funny how he’s so sure I sent him the message.” Oliver was close to Shane’s nose. He noted Kereama sat eating his burger, smirking.
“He’s guessing. Maybe he’s thinking this is all too magical. Who out of all George’s friends would be most likely to prank someone?”
Shane had a point. Elf Man could’ve been speculating, trying to get him to admit his involvement. Still, he saw an exchange between his hosts, a nervous glance from her. They knew more than they were letting on, for sure. “Let me see George’s messages,” Oliver said to Shane, who’d backed up a pace. “Come on, mate, if you’re sure she’s innocent, let me see her phone.”
“If it’ll get you boys back to the table, here.” Georgina took her mobile off the table and walked it over to him. “Go through them if you want. I don’t have anything to hide.”
“Yeah,” Shane said, “and you’ll apologise after.”
Going straight to Georgina’s private inbox with Elf Man, Oliver scr
olled through the messages, only finding the conversations he’d seen earlier. Shit! he said in his head, hating the fact he was wrong. There were no messages between the two that mentioned him. “Cool! Thanks.” He handed the phone back.
“And? Are you going to apologise?”
“I’m sorry!” he mumbled, walking towards his seat. Their food was getting cold. When Shane asked him to repeat his apology louder, he did so, sitting back down. “The fuck are you smiling about?” he hissed at Kereama, who popped the last bite of his burger in his mouth. “You’re such a Benny!”
“How pathetic you are. Look at you, getting all stressed over some sad, lonely pom on his way over here. He’s just one guy. Why are you all so tense? If he turns up at the pub tomorrow night, we’ll beat the shit out of him. He won’t come back for seconds, believe me. So, stop worrying and relax, would you?”
“I agree,” Amelia said, sat next to Kereama. “Can we please finish our meals? Let’s not spoil this gorgeous night, eh!”
Isla’s hand squeezed his leg, supporting him. “You’re right, Kerry,” Oliver said, seeing the flash of anger in Kereama’s eyes. The Maori hated his nickname, preferring to be called Kay. Kerry was a girl’s name. “We’ll see him off tomorrow night.”
10
“You could’ve tried harder with Shane,” Isla Kelly said, rubbing moisturiser into her cheeks in front of the mirror above her bathroom’s sink, “is all I’m saying. I know you don’t like him, but you could at least try for me.” Her boyfriend and Georgina’s boyfriend had almost come to blows a couple of weeks earlier. They’d nearly decked each other when Shane took umbrage at the way Oliver ribbed him about his captaincy record with the Sydney Swans.
“Hey, you didn’t see the look they shared, babe.” Oliver’s voice came from the bedroom. “They know more than they let on.”
“She showed you her messages.” Isla picked up her toothbrush and squeezed a blob of paste on it. “She hasn’t been messaging that weirdo pommie.” While brushing her teeth, Oliver grumbled to himself. After spitting out the toothpaste, she walked out of the bathroom in only her long white Ramones T-shirt, to find him lying on the bed in his undies. He had his eyes closed. “Please make more of an effort,” she pleaded, getting under the sheet, the air con whirring in the background. “I can’t be worrying about this shit every time we meet them. George and I have been friends for years. I’m not going to sacrifice that for anyone.”
“And you don’t have to,” Oliver replied, his eyes still closed. “You have your friends, I can choose mine. There’s no reason we have to mingle with each other’s.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” She reached across and picked up her tub of CBD jellies. “I don’t know why you can’t ignore him when he’s acting like a moron.” The sweets were a godsend, her way of coping with the everyday stresses of life. Delicious. Strawberry flavour. Probably psychological, but when she lay back, her head on her pillow, sucking on the jelly, she swore she felt more relaxed. Except she couldn’t be, because it took a good twenty-five minutes for the CBD to take effect. “Want one?” She held out the tub for him. “Suit yourself.” She replaced the lid and returned the container to its original position, behind her bedside lamp.
Watching her friends going to work while she headed for her favourite place in the whole world – the gym – seemed unfair, not that she complained. Isla loved the smell, the atmosphere; she enjoyed helping members with their workouts, especially the newbies. Having devoted her entire adult life to building her body, she was now in a position to help others do the same.
Ever since joining Dolly’s gym on Macquarie Street when only fifteen, it was a second home. Starting with three sessions a week, Monday, Wednesday and Friday, it was clear to her trainer that she had a spark, a dedication found in few people. Totally dedicated to chiselling the perfect body, Isla became one of the gym’s most prolific and talented lifters. She still had the “before” images of her less than impressive fifteen-year-old body, which she often used to show prospective members when showing them around. “Look what you can achieve, if you focus and dedicate yourself,” she would say, relishing their awe, as they checked her out now, compared to her younger image in the photo.
At twenty-three, Isla had opened her first Chatter account with only a hundred or so followers, mainly friends and family. Deciding to make it a mixture of her own personal and business blog, where she would cheep about her workouts at Dolly’s, it soon became clear to the gym’s owner that she was doing something right; their membership almost doubled in three years, and Isla’s following went from a couple of hundred to fifty-thousand. Dolly quickly offered her a job as a personal trainer and her book filled inside two weeks.
So, while her friends – not Georgina or Amelia – drove to their offices, or wherever they worked, she was there at Dolly’s helping members to improve their bodies, minds and spirits with her own blend of championing, and she did it well. So well, in fact, that only the previous year, the gym owner asked her to set up Gym Dollies, a group of fitness-obsessed models who would help attract visitors to Dolly’s in Perth, Adelaide, Melbourne, Brisbane and Darwin through their own Chatter TV show. And Isla accepted the offer with a verve.
She spent a year garnering a following for The Gym Dollies series from a few hundred to over three hundred thousand and growing every day. By the next year, she hoped The Dollies would have a huge fan base. People were crying out for a group of six gorgeous, physically fit and toned health fanatics to show them how to work out.
Her five fellow Dollies were as dedicated to fitness as she was, yet they all followed her lead, no backchat, no disrespecting. In addition to her career as a training instructor, Isla modelled for a couple of gym wear labels, and a manufacturer of equipment. The three contracts were worth over half a million dollars a year. These deals, combined with her healthy salary from Dolly’s, and Oliver’s income had allowed her and Oliver to buy their four-bedroomed home in Darling Point.
And then there was her CBD jelly contract, which she signed only a couple of months earlier. All she had to do for that was take a photo of herself with a pot of jellies, and inform her following of the health benefits of taking controlled amounts of CBD. Easy peasy. Every month she earned royalties from her sales.
Oliver started heavy breathing, which meant one thing: snoring. Sighing, Isla reached for her ear plugs, when her phone vibrated. Always curious, even at one o’clock in the morning, she checked: Elf Man. “Shit!” she muttered. “Oli!” She shook him until he groaned himself awake.
“What?” he asked, sitting up, yawning.
“He’s messaging me now,” she said, waiting for him to rub his eyes. Once satisfied he was with her, she opened the message on Chatter. “I expect this from the boys, but I expected more from you,” she read out, her voice almost quivering. “You disappoint me.” There was no liking that comment; it had threatening tones. Leave us alone, she typed. No one wants you here. It was just a joke.
“You’re not sending that, are you?”
“Huh? Why not? It’s true.” But maybe he was right. Should she reword her response? She didn’t want to meet this guy. If she told him the truth, he might back off, she thought, her finger poised over the “Send” button. “Shall I?” she asked Oliver, who was making no attempt to prevent her.
“You decide,” he said, no help at all.
And with that, she pressed “Send”, immediately regretting it and going to the edit message icon. “Oh shit!” She panicked, remembering that Chatter users could only alter messages started by them. She launched the phone across the room, feeling Oliver’s hands massaging her shoulders, followed by his lips on her neck.
“You’re so tense,” he said, helping her to lie back.
“Of course I am. We’re being stalked by some nutty pom.” One minute she thought it funny that Elf Man was some saddo, and then she panicked, knowing that he was flying all the way over here from the UK. This wasn’t some pathetic l
oser; he had a tone to him that frightened her.
“It’ll be fine, babe.” Oliver kissed her neck. “Kerry’s right. There are six of us and only one of him. If he tries anything, we’ll beat the shit out of him, okay?”
Starting to relax, she let thoughts of Elf Man fade away. And just as she was forgetting their visitor, her phone vibrated over the other side of the room. Trying to forget it, she let Oliver kiss her lips, then pushed him away. “He’s replied,” she said, getting up and walking over to her mobile. Isla read out the message, “You’ve just made the biggest mistake.”
11
Kereama Tua loved watching his girlfriend; he could watch her for hours. Other guys enjoyed ogling her, too. And why wouldn’t they? She was stunning, with long slim legs, a deep tan and a size-six figure other girls would kill for. He adored her smile the most. When he had met her for the first time, at one of his band’s gigs, her lips had attracted him first.
Amelia emerged from the sea, walking past a couple of groups of guys, who eyed her with interest; Kereama could tell by the way their heads followed her as she walked on by. She looked amazing in a white bikini, her dark brown skin contrasting with it in the best possible way. “Here,” he said, getting up from his towel, picking hers up and wrapping it around her. Some of the guys were still watching. For good measure, Kereama kissed her, opening one eye to scoff silently at their jealous expressions.
After she dried herself, Amelia asked him to rub sun lotion on her back, which he agreed to, gently stroking it in, as she lay on her front. A couple of guys stared at her, walking past them. Kereama made his feelings known with a narrowing of his eyes. They averted their gaze, his muscular frame imposing to the lanky youngsters. They could be two of her huge following.
Mr Invisible Page 4
