by Cate Kendall
‘The Shed? That’s massive,’ Mercedes interjected. ‘How many people are coming?’
‘Three thousand,’ Gemma, Romy and Bethany said in unison.
‘Three thousand? Good God, that’s ambitious,’ Mercedes said. She was leaning her chair back against the wall, the only one not taking notes.
‘Yes, it is,’ Gemma said. ‘We have a competition to win. The Dame is only going for 500. But on the other hand her tickets are five times more expensive.’
‘Prizes? Romy?’ Gemma swiftly moved back to the agenda.
‘I’m still working on it but I’ve been able to secure first prize from Mars.’
‘Ooh, yum,’ Chantelle said, ‘what is it?’
‘A lifetime supply of chocolate,’ Romy said, not even a little smug that she’d pulled off such a coup.
‘Brilliant, Romy, just brilliant,’ Gemma said. ‘In fact, you know what would be great? Let’s get it in, let’s get a mountain of chocolate as the centrepiece of the room. How good would that look? Piles and piles of chocolate towering up in the middle of the space, it’s sure to tempt people to buy a raffle ticket or ten.’
‘Sounds gross,’ Mercedes said.
‘I’ve got a sculptor that could really make a wild piece of artwork using chocolate. How about statues instead?’ Romy suggested.
‘Yes! Even better,’ Gemma agreed. ‘You’re right, Mercedes – it might be a bit Jamie Oliver to pile transfats right in front of our body-conscious guests. Chocolate statues of naked people dotted around the room. It would look incredible. Could he do that?’
‘I can ask,’ Romy said, typing away.
‘Thank you, Romy. You’re wonderful. Now, goody bags, Patty?’
Patty consulted her notes. ‘I’ve got 3000 boxes of Maltesers from Mars, edible undies, chocolate body paint and MAC eye shadow pots.’
‘What colour is the shadow?’ Gemma asked.
‘Why mocha, of course,’ Patty said.
‘You legend,’ Gemma said. ‘We need jewellery. Can we get some kind of piece in the goody bags too? Just to beef them up a bit?’
‘I have a client that might be able to help there,’ Patty said. ‘They import cheap junk from China. One of the pieces is a silver love heart on a leather thong.’
‘Perfect, that’s just perfect. Well done. Do it,’ Gemma said. She beamed. Now this was a meeting. Quick, efficient and productive. Her team was solid.
‘Have we finalised sponsorship dollars to fund this thing, Ruth?’ This was Ruth Browning’s area of expertise. She had all the clients in the palm of her hand.
‘It’s all been done, Gemma. I simply contacted each client and asked if they could divert their annual charity budget to UP-Kids this year. We’ve got a hundred grand. It was basic, considering all the press you’ve been getting about the event. Everyone was keen to get on board.’
‘That’s the best news I’ve had all day. Basically that covers all the costs which means that the sale of each one-hundred-dollar ticket goes straight to the charity.’
‘One hundred dollars a ticket?’ Mercedes said. ‘That works out to be $300,000.’
‘That’s right,’ Gemma said.
‘If you sell all the tickets, that is,’ Mercedes said.
‘How are you going with your jobs, Mercedes?’ Gemma asked. ‘Are all your clients on board?’
‘Sure, every single one of them has asked for tickets. When do I get them?’
Romy answered. ‘Just tell them to go to the website, Mercedes. They buy the tickets online, pay through PayPal and then their name goes on the door. There’s no actual paper needed. We’re trying to keep this event as green as possible.’
Gemma reflected that Mercedes would know all of this if she’d ever bothered to attend meetings. This was only the second one she’d deigned to be present at. She really shouldn’t have asked her on the committee. What worth was she bringing anyway? Then Gemma had an idea.
‘We need the dancers to be really tricked up. Mercedes, do you think you and your team could do the hair and make-up? We’ve got fifty girls and guys doing a mixture of pole dancing and onstage performances. I can see big, teased bed-hair and glittery gold make-up. What do you think?’
Mercedes rolled her eyes. ‘That’s going to cost me a fortune,’ she whined.
‘Maybe they’ll donate their time,’ Patty said. ‘It’s incredible how generous people have been.’
‘Maybe,’ Mercedes grumbled. ‘I thought I had enough to do organising the disco ball.’
‘Sign me up for the job of snaparazzi,’ Laura said. ‘I’ll take pics of everyone then have them ready to collect by the end of the night. Do you want to charge?’
‘Absolutely, we can make several grand out of that,’ Gemma said. ‘That’s fabulous, Laura, thank you so much.’
‘Alcohol?’ Gemma moved on. Her ninety-minute meeting deadline was looming and she didn’t want to keep the women as she knew they all had busy lives.
‘Foster’s is donating everything in exchange for signage and media mentions,’ Bethany said.
‘That’s easily done,’ Gemma said, ‘I love scratching the back of Foster’s. Can we come up with a sexy shooter or cocktail on entry?’
‘Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall?’ Chantelle piped up.
‘Hmmm, not bad, but too long.’
‘Sex on the Beach?’ Patty offered.
‘Good,’ Gemma said, ‘but the Docklands isn’t really a beach, is it?’
‘Orgasm?’ Romy suggested.
Gemma clapped her hands and beamed. ‘Yes, perfect,’ she said. ‘It’s chocolatey, and we can say we’re giving out Multiple Orgasms.’ The group of women burst out laughing. Mercedes rolled her eyes.
‘Or, “See Gemma for an Orgasm”,’ Chantelle suggested.
Patty laughed so hard she snorted then offered, ‘And . . . and . . . and the guys will drink theirs down before the ladies even take their first sip,’ she said. Romy and Bethany exploded, while Gemma and Laura held their stomachs as tears of mirth poured down their cheeks.
Gemma wiped her eyes and managed to quip, ‘Yes! Classic – and we’ll also serve them without alcohol and call them Virgin Orgasms!’ which kept the group’s giggles bubbling along until the straitlaced Ruth Browning interjected with, ‘Otherwise known as a Masturbation,’ which sent the women into more peals of hysterical laughter.
Out in the restaurant, patrons leaned back in their chairs to see what was going on in the dining room.
When the women saw the interest their hilarity had created, they laughed even harder.
The waiter came in and removed the empty bottle of pinot and, with raised eyebrows, neglected to offer another.
Eventually the laughter subsided and the members of the committee fixed their eye make-up and wiped their faces. ‘Right, so Orgasms are the drink du jour,’ Gemma said, still grinning from ear to ear.
‘I don’t know,’ Mercedes said. ‘I don’t even like Orgasms. They bloat me.’
The meeting finished at a respectable nine-thirty and by ten pm they’d all said their goodbyes. Laura and Gemma were the last to leave. The streetlights reflected off the wet streets as they walked to their cars, thankful the heavy spring rain had stopped. ‘Great meeting, Gemma,’ Laura said. ‘The women are all so positive, except that Mercedes. What in the hell is she doing on the committee anyway? She undermined you every step of the way tonight.’
‘I know, she’s just become so bitter and dreadful lately. I guess she’s always been like that. In the beginning she was great fun but thinking back now, she’s always been quite nasty. I thought it was funny the way she’d make snide comments about every other woman in the room, a bit Joan Rivers, you know? But it just started to get negative and nasty. And she’s become really needy too. She rings me all the time; she wants to know what I’m wearing when we go out then she turns up in the same outfit – it’s getting a bit stalky.’
The women reached Gemma’s Audi and the car’s lights flickered as G
emma pushed the unlock button on her key. She opened the passenger door and flung her Armani bag onto the front seat.
‘Yeah, she’s dangerous, Gemma, really insecure. I’d watch her. I can’t believe she was so hesitant about helping with the hair and make-up, for God’s sake. Look at how much work everybody else is putting into it.’
Gemma sighed. ‘You’re right; she’s selfish. It’s a give-an-inch-and-take-a-mile situation. When we started hanging out, she was so thankful to be included and couldn’t do enough for me, but now that she’s well entrenched in this lifestyle she’s sort of taking me for granted and gets cross when she’s not invited somewhere as opposed to being grateful when she is. It’s ridiculous.’
‘Yeah, give her the flick. She’s a cow.’ Laura looked up at Gemma. ‘How’s Tyler?’
Gemma sighed again. ‘No change. What am I going to do? How do I find out what’s going on inside his head? What about you? How’s Mathew?’
‘I’ve had a massive breakthrough. He’s back, I’m so happy; his schoolwork’s improving, he’s talking to me – in monosyllables, of course, I’m not expecting miracles, but at least he sometimes makes eye contact.’ Laura beamed.
‘Laura, that’s just wonderful, I’m so happy for you.’ Gemma smiled, thrilled for her friend. ‘What’s the secret, how did you do it?’
‘Well, I thought a lot about our last conversation and realised there’s no amount of books or lectures that will really help until you look at yourself. So I’ve been working on changing my attitude. I’ve tried to stop being the bitter grumpy old cow who stormed around the house complaining about him, about money problems, about men.’
‘Really?’ Gemma leaned against the door of her car and folded her arms. ‘Have you genuinely had an attitude change? Or are you just putting it on for his benefit?’
Laura buttoned up her jacket against the cool night air. ‘It has to be genuine; they’re kids, they’re intuitive. They can totally tell when you’re trying to fake it. I’ve tried to face the fact that my bitterness about past relationships and my loneliness and disappointment in Louis for going off and dying on us, selfish prick, was a cold, dank, gloomy rock right in the middle of our house. How could I expect Mathew to embrace me as a person when I criticised everything constantly? He’s not a friend I can vent at; he’s my son and he needs me to be the adult. So I decided to focus on good stuff. After being so negative for so long, it’s not easy. It’s still a work in progress.’ She shot Gemma a rueful grin.
‘Wow, I’m impressed.’ Gemma gave her friend an impulsive hug. ‘It must be really difficult to make such a big change.’
‘Yeah, it was . . . and it wasn’t, you know what I mean?’ Laura said, stepping back as a large black Lexus sloshed through a puddle causing waves to cascade over the gutter and onto the footpath.
‘And as I said, it’s just a start. But what I did first was to hold a Wii Sports night with two work buddies. They’re top blokes, writers, dorky as all get out, but really nice guys. It didn’t take long for Mathew to creep out of his cave like a scared animal tempted by food.
‘Before long it was on, and Mathew was accepting the trophy for highest score in Wii Bowling. He had a great night. He was laughing and joking with these guys and they were slapping him on the back, all macho-like. It was a real testosterone fest.’
‘Oh, Laura,’ Gemma said, ‘you’re a genius.’
‘Dunno about that. Then I found a youth camp that he went on for a week, boys only, and they did lots of male-bonding stuff, climbing, boating, spitting, whatever. So that was good too.’
‘That sounds brilliant. Can you email me the link?’
‘No probs. But finally there’s been one development that I was very nervous about at first but it seems to be working well in all sorts of ways.’
‘What’s that?’
Before she could answer, Laura grinned with eyes downcast. She looked up at Gemma. ‘I’m kind of seeing someone.’
‘No!’ Gemma squealed.
‘Yeah. It’s amazing what happens when you work on changing your attitude.’
‘Who?’
‘Oh, there’s this guy; he owns the delicatessen cafe around the corner. I’ve been going there for years, actually. He’s Italian and very hot. It was his parents’ business and they’ve just retired. I guess I always had my life-let-me-down hat on every time I went in there and with this new-found campaign to find the world a more interesting place, especially in front of Mathew, I’ve been making more of an effort to be friendly towards Gino. And lo and behold, he bloody asked me out.
‘Of course Mathew’s known him for years, they chat whenever we go there for breakfast. Mathew’s always liked him and now that Gino’s around all the time Mathew has just blossomed. He’s got the respect of a male mentor and you can’t beat that.’
Gemma shook her head in amazement. ‘You dark horse, I am so happy for you. Why haven’t you told me?’
‘Well, it’s all been so fast, and I didn’t know where it was going. But it’s pretty much official now.’
Gemma leaned in to give her friend a second hug. ‘This is wonderful news. You really are glowing. I noticed when you walked in, you looked so much happier, not as . . .’
‘Gloomy?’ Laura laughed.
‘Yeah, something like that.’ Gemma laughed too. ‘You’ve inspired me. Now you get, girl. Go home to your hunky Italian boyfriend.’
Gemma drove away, uplifted and joyous over her friend’s burgeoning relationships, both romantic and mother–son. If it could happen for Laura, maybe there was hope for her too. She thought about Tyler with renewed optimism, but sighed as her thoughts turned once more to her marriage. Some things seemed too big to even think about.
Tyler was slumped in front of the TV. A packet of corn chips spilled onto the table. The salsa jar, half empty, sat next to its lid. His finger tapped the channel-up button on the remote every three seconds. He’d been through the forty channels twice and hadn’t found anywhere to stop yet. MTV had a stupid Pet Shop Boys special on. They’re so gay. The network programming was a series of shows featuring doofus losers tripping through the afterschool timeslot in embarrassing costumes and over-enunciating every syllable, surely numbing the brains of little kids.
The doorbell rang. He looked down the corridor to the closed study door. He could hear his dad’s deep murmur; he must be on the phone. Tyler groaned. The effort to get up and walk to the door weighed him down.
He pulled open the door. Mercedes stood there. She glowered at him.
‘What are you doing here again?’ he asked.
‘You know what I’m doing here. I’m planning that surprise party for your mum. I hope you’re keeping it a secret.’
‘Yeah, right, a surprise party. What a crock,’ Tyler said.
‘It is a surprise party your dad and I are working on. What are you doing here anyway? I thought you’d be with that creepy friend of yours.’
‘Nuh, he’s got a new mate, Gino.’
‘Shame. Nice ink, by the way.’ Mercedes pointed at Tyler’s forearm as she walked past. A biro-ed image of an axe dripping blood took up the entire space. ‘Pity it’s just a fakey.’
He glared after her as she sauntered down the hall and let herself into the den. ‘Darling!’ he heard her exclaim and saw his dad embrace her as the door closed behind them. He hated Mercedes. He hated this house. He wished he were a bird, like a vulture or an eagle or something cool, so he’d be in control of his own life and he could fly away from this crap.
Mercedes didn’t stay long. An hour after she left his mum came home. She came into the kitchen dragging bags of groceries. He heard her grunting with the effort and rolled off the couch to go and help her. He went into the garage and brought in the last few bags and dumped them on the bench.
‘Thank you, superstar,’ Gemma said and beamed at him. ‘This is all for you guys to live off next week when I’m away. Look, it’s such a gorgeous night after yesterday’s rain and I don’t feel lik
e cooking, so how about you and I head down to the beach and get fish and chips together at that little place you like?’
‘Dad coming?’
‘Let’s make it just us. Anyway, I think he’s got a meeting tonight.’
‘Sounds good,’ Tyler said and grabbed his oversized hoodie.
*
The traffic was reasonable. Gemma thought it would only take half an hour to get to Nimmo Street in Albert Park. Tyler spent the entire time flicking through radio stations. He barely stopped on one song for long before he changed. It was as irritating as hell but Gemma hesitated to poke the bear by complaining.
She knew better than to force the conversation. The best stuff flowed naturally when, and if, Tyler decided to talk. He was like a clam on a rock when it came to forcing an issue. Often the best way to try to get some conversation from him was to get him in the car, where he couldn’t just walk away, where he didn’t have to be confronted by sitting face to face, and just hope that he relaxed enough to actually talk to her.
Sure enough, halfway through the silent drive Tyler turned to her. ‘How long will you be away this time, Mum?’
‘Oh, just a few days. Back on Thursday.’
He looked back out of the window after punching the radio button again. A few minutes elapsed. Gemma desperately wanted to ask how he felt about her going away, whether he was happy, whether he even liked her anymore. She arched her back to relieve some of the tension she felt and clenched her teeth together. Questioning him would only make him retreat further. She stared determinedly ahead and resisted the urge to pepper him with a barrage of questions.
‘So, what’s New York like?’
Gemma’s heart filled with excitement and she exhaled with relief. This was a conversation. Don’t wreck it, tread carefully. Make it about him.
‘Yeah, good,’ she said lightly. ‘There’s a fantastic skate park.’
‘Really?’ he asked, pretending not to care.
‘Yep, in fact last time Tony Hawk was there. He was doing a demo.’
