Don't Mention the Rock Star

by Bree Darcy

  “So as you can see we’re nothing more than friends now. Definitely no inappropriate conduct going on.”

  “Hmmmm. While I would have preferred you’d been honest with me right from the start, I can understand your desire for discretion. However, in the event this relationship ever comes to light, I want a guarantee that we would be granted full, exclusive rights. Because what a tantalising story it makes – gawky, bookish girl meets wayward, punk boy.”

  I glanced at the photo again. My wet, bedraggled hair was parted down the middle and my limbs were a little on the skinny side but I would hardly have described myself as gawky!

  Zara continued: “Despite their obvious differences, they fall truly, madly, deeply in love. But the young lovers are torn apart when he is thrown out of her country. He goes on to become a suave and virile rock star.” Zara’s eyes become glazed as she gazed out the window. “And they meet up again when her brilliant and alluring boss assigns her to interview him. I can see it now on the big screen.” She was no doubt weighing up whether Keira Knightley or Natalie Portman should portray her.

  Zara swung her legs off the desk and tapped away on her keyboard. “Well, I think it’s perfectly clear where the photo came from. Be careful is all I will say. That’s all.”

  I was making my way back to my desk when she popped her head out of her office. “Wait, you didn’t tell me – was he any good?”

  * * *

  Mum burst into tears as soon as we walked in the door. All the pent-up emotion about what had happened with Ken came pouring out.

  After unloading our luggage from the taxi, my darling husband took the kids off to a trampolining centre so they could bounce off their excess energy, leaving me and Mum to have a heart-to-heart undisturbed.

  She had been advised not to contact the man masquerading as Ken again and to change all her passwords. There was little hope she would ever recoup the money but at least we got to her before Ken claimed he needed even more cash to pay off his “tax debt”.

  “If anything good has come out of this, at least you and Andy are talking again. I couldn’t believe it when I opened the door to him,” Mum said, dabbing at her eyes. “He’s an absolute angel. I felt terrible about losing his money but then he insisted on giving me more.”

  “Don’t feel too guilty,” I replied. “Remember that amount of money to him is like fifty bucks to us.”

  “Maybe. But there’s something you should know – this isn’t the first time he’s given me money. He’s been doing it for years.”

  My mouth fell open.

  “The first time it was a ten-thousand-dollar cheque with a note saying it was to renovate the kitchen.” Mum ran her hand appreciatively over her stone benchtop.

  “You should have refused.”

  “You don’t think I tried? You know how stubborn he is. He told me it was a late payment for all the meals he’d had at my place. He did have quite an appetite!”

  “For a skinny little runt.” We both laughed.

  “Then he sent me money so I could fly over for your wedding. And then some more to pay off your university loan. And another big cheque arrived just before Ryan was born.”

  “What about your lottery wins?”

  “Never happened, that was just our cover story. You should know the odds of winning big on the lottery are about a zillion to one. I can’t believe you fell for it that my numbers came in not once, but twice!”

  Mum pulled a folder down from the shelf and flicked through it before unclipping a financial statement. “Most of his money has never been touched. I invested it in bonds for you, in case there ever came a day you needed it.”

  I whistled as I took in the hefty total. But I assured her there was no need to save the money for me, given the financial security I enjoyed with Curtis.

  “Well, it’s there if you need it. As I told you the night before your wedding, it’s never too late to change your mind.”

  * * *

  “Mum is more than happy to help out with the kids.” I shoved a borrowed beach towel into my travel bag and zipped it up. “And she’s taking them out for dinner and bowling tomorrow night, so if you wanted to go do your own thing, catch a movie, hit a sports bar …”

  “Nice try but you’re not talking me out of it,” Curtis chuckled. “I’m coming to the reunion.”

  “But it’ll be boring, you’ll hardly know anyone. Everyone will be reminiscing about stuff that happened at school …”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine. What are you trying to hide?” He tickled me. “I don’t want some old boyfriend seeing you there by yourself and thinking you’re available.”

  Curtis manoeuvred me towards the bed, peppering my collarbone with kisses.

  “Dawn and Nikki will be here any minute,” I said, ducking out of his reach. “And it’s not like I know anything about your past girlfriends either. I should have pumped your brother for information when he was here. He must have some interesting stories to tell about your love life.”

  I watched to see if he showed a flicker of guilt. I had made a deal with myself, the moment he came clean about Felicity, that’s when I would tell him about Andy.

  I waited a moment. “So?”

  “There’s nothing interesting to tell,” he said. “Not unless you count Theresa Chambers, who showed me her flowery underwear in second grade.”

  Dawn honked her horn as she pulled up outside. Nikki hopped out of the passenger seat, her hair wrapped in a batik scarf. “Curtis, darling, take a picture of us before we set off on our girly road trip.” She thrust her Polaroid camera into his hands.

  It was hardly a Thelma and Louise expedition, our journey consisting of a mere forty-minute drive into the Hills to a spa retreat, where we were staying overnight courtesy of a voucher Mum had won in a work raffle. It had to be used this weekend so she thought it would be a nice way to say thanks for helping her sort out the Ken mess and allow us to be pampered ahead of our big reunion.

  As we wound our way up the twisty road, I was glad it was Dawn behind the wheel, rather than Nikki, who wasn’t the most composed driver at the best of times. Once, on a particularly stormy night, she pulled into her next-door neighbour’s driveway mistaking it for her own and hit their son’s basketball hoop. “I wasn’t expecting to find a pole in my driveway,” Nikki told the insurance agent, who found it hard to keep a straight face.

  “Pull over, pull over,” Nikki pleaded now from the back seat as we approached the town’s main square. “I’m desperate for a pee.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, Niks, can’t you hold on for another ten minutes. We’re nearly there,” Dawn protested.

  “No, I can’t. I had a carrot, apple and ginger juice for brekkie and it’s gone straight through me.”

  Dawn grumbled but swung into the carpark at the Last Drop pub. Across the road at Centennial Park, banners were strung across the fence, advertising the Friday craft market.

  While we waited for our friend to return from the toilets, we wandered along the stalls closest to the entrance, Dawn filling me in on her daughter Brooke’s break-up with boyfriend Brayden.

  “How’s she taking it?” I asked.

  “She seems to be okay,” Dawn said, sniffing a scented candle. “Meanwhile I’m delighted I never have to open the door to that weaselly face ever again. In a way I think Brooke outgrew him. She’s off to uni next year, fingers crossed, while he’ll no doubt continue to slob around, watching TV all day, too lazy to go out and get a job.”

  Dawn picked up a floppy straw hat but tossed it aside when she read the price tag. “I watched a TV documentary recently about the theory of first love,” she said. “How it colours a person’s expectations of future relationships. You’re like a duckling that bonds with the first moving object it sees. That should be the mother duck but what happens if it spots a rat rustling around in the reeds instead. From then on, the duckling has an irreversible bond with that rat, even though the rat is totally wrong for them.”

 
; “So Brayden is Brooke’s rat?” I jammed a black and orange baseball cap on my head, and turning from side to side, checked my reflection in the tiny mirror.

  Dawn, seeing the San Francisco Giants logo, whisked it off again. “Like Andy is yours.”

  “At least you know Corey’s not a rat.”

  By now Nikki had caught up to us and was pawing through a case of toe rings. Suddenly she spotted an object of interest rustling around in a nearby gazebo. Running full pelt towards the guy, she flung herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he lifted her into the air. He was wearing an unbuttoned black waistcoat and faded blue jeans slung low on his hips, with a white cowboy hat perched on his tousled brown curls.

  Following Nikki over, I picked up a business card from his trestle table. So this was artist Xavier Reynolds, one of Nikki’s irregular hook-ups. His latest thing was producing spitting images – that is he would drink colourful liquids, such as spearmint milk or tomato juice, then spit the contents of his mouth on to a canvas in an array of weird patterns. I grimaced at Dawn, thinking Nikki was certainly brave engaging in a game of tonsil hockey with someone who spat out food for a living.

  “Ahem.” Dawn coughed loudly to gain their attention. Nikki slid back down to her feet and introduced everybody. Xavier quickly cast his eye over me before zeroing in on Dawn. His cheekbone twitched as he traced his fingers along the side of her face. “Such exquisite features, with skin so translucent and smooth,” he said.

  Dawn stood stock still, too shocked to say anything.

  He slowly ran his hands down her body, caressing her curves. “Such an amazingly soft, sensuous figure, truly Rubenesque.” Xavier explained he was branching into life drawings using ice-cream and chocolate syrup, and was looking for models. He spun Dawn around and dropping to his knees rotated his palms across her buttocks. “What a lush tush. I’m getting excited just thinking about exploring its contours with my fluids.”

  Dawn’s eyes widened in alarm and Nikki quickly made excuses for us to leave.

  We collapsed into laughter as soon as we made it back to the car.

  “Well,” said Dawn, having finally recovered the power of speech. “I’m somewhat flattered. I’ve never had a man, apart from Corey, show such delight in my body. But I have to tell you I’ll never look at a chocolate sundae the same way ever again.”

  * * *

  Several hours later, we were relaxing in our room after a steam room session and collagen facial.

  “I didn’t know supermodel Trinity had had a baby,” said Dawn, waving an old copy of Reach magazine at me.

  “She hasn’t,” I replied.

  “But the cover says ‘Trinity’s baby joy’?

  “You’re obviously not fluent in magazine speak. It never means what you think it does. The ‘baby joy’ in this case was her attending her niece’s christening. Remember, she split with her husband last year.”

  “Like singer Remy Fields and her husband?” Dawn said, reading the next coverline about ‘Feuding Fields: Marriage in Turmoil’.

  “No, they are still together. That article was written because someone saw them arguing in public. What married couple has never blown their stack at each other? I’d hate to see the sort of headlines me and Curtis would generate.”

  Nikki snorted from the corner, where she was running through some yoga poses.

  “I can’t remember the last time I sat down and read a magazine,” Dawn sighed, turning to the health and beauty pages. “Dare I ask what a vajacial is?”

  “I’ve had one of them,” Nikki piped up. “I hear Trinity swears by it too.”

  “What is it?” asked Dawn, with fear in her eyes.

  “A few weeks after waxing the Brazilian way, you go back for a nice cooling cucumber mask and some vajazzling. I got a butterfly in crystals.”

  “And that’s for which part of your body?”

  “For a woman who has had four children, which means you’ve had sex at least that many times in your life, you’re so naïve. Kell, you should get it done the next time the Shrimp is here. A crystal heart to match his tattoo.”

  “Real funny, Niks. As if that’s ever going to happen. Besides, now Zara knows about us, it’s best if Andy keeps well away.”

  “Do you think she’ll keep quiet?” Nikki asked. “She’s just had a juicy story drop into her lap about a rock star’s first girlfriend. From what you’ve told me, Zara is pretty ruthless about breaking stories.”

  “I think I can trust her,” I replied, crossing my fingers.

  “Maybe it’s better if it did come out,” Dawn said. “I don’t know why you are so secretive about it, especially with Curtis.”

  “Just because you and Corey tell each other everything,” I replied. “Not everyone’s marriage works like that. I bet your perfect husband didn’t even complain about having to look after the kids this weekend.”

  “Actually they’re at mum and dad’s. Corey’s going out tonight with Ian and Dan.”

  My chilled-out mood evaporated instantly. “DAN! As in Dan Hunter! You told me he wasn’t coming, that he was in Hong Kong.”

  “Relax. He’s definitely not coming to the reunion. He’s over for his cousin’s wedding. It’s tomorrow too so there is no way he can be in both places at once. I just hope for his cousin’s sake he’s in a better mood that he was at our wedding. Remember the pair of you had just broken up and you could cut the tension with a knife. Apparently Dan’s unattached at the moment, split with his girlfriend a few months back.”

  “I certainly hope there’s plenty of unattached men there tomorrow night,” Nikki said, moving into the cobra position. “I’ve been thinking it’s time for me to start settling down, now I’m nearly forty.” She whispered her age.

  “I’m pretty sure you said that when we hit twenty-five, and thirty and thirty-five …” Dawn said, admiring her toenails coated in Tizzy Orange. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I had a pedicure.”

  “Maybe this reunion isn’t such a good idea.” I chewed on a fingernail. “I do have a bit of a sore throat …”

  “I don’t know what you’re so worried about,” Dawn said, slapping my hand away from my mouth. “Dan definitely won’t be there. And you look amazing. Bet you can still fit into those Faberge stretch jeans you lived in at school, you cow. Meanwhile I’m about twice the size. I wonder if there’s time for one of those seaweed wraps in the morning? I hear you can lose fifteen inches.”

  “I don’t know what you two are whinging about.” Nikki exhaled as she raised her legs in the air. “You both have great jobs, a husband, kids. I should be the one having all this angst about how my life is measuring up. You hear me, if this reunion is going to be a disaster for anyone, it’ll be me, having to hang out by myself because everyone else is married.”

  * * *

  I eased open the door to our room, back from my late-night swim. The girls were sitting out in the courtyard and appeared to be in the midst of an argument.

  “You shouldn’t be encouraging her to keep seeing him. It’s not on.”

  Dawn’s voice was raised but I had to listen carefully to hear Nikki’s reply.

  “Why not? They’re cute together.”

  “Because she’s married. You’re basically telling her it’s okay to cheat on her husband. Just because you’ve got even less morals than a Brodie Hagerty.”

  “Listen, I’ve had half a dozen texts from Xavier asking for your details. Will I pass them on? No. Because I know what Xavier’s like, and I know how much you love Corey. So I am not putting temptation your way. It’s a different matter with Kellie. She loves Andy, even if she won’t admit it to herself.”

  “That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love her husband more.”

  “Pffft. They hardly spend any time together, he’s dull and stuffy. Andy’s a much better choice for her.”

  “No actually, he’s not. Andy’s a married man who cheated on Kellie. He’s self-absorbed and has spent his entire adult life getting
exactly what he wants, when he wants it. He pops back into her life when he feels like it, and then disappears again for years. What you are remembering, through the glow of fond memories, is a time when we were carefree teenagers. Married life isn’t about driving around in a beat-up car, making out under the stars. It’s about creating a family, and staying in it for the long haul. Kellie made a lifelong vow to Curtis, and you shouldn’t be encouraging her to break it.”

  “So just because she made a mistake marrying the wrong guy all those years ago, she has to live with it for the rest of her life. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  I’d heard enough. “I didn’t make a mistake marrying Curtis,” I said, stepping out into the courtyard. “Dawn’s right, marriage is about commitment and the long haul. I’ve been with Curtis nearly half my life. If you add up the time I’ve spent with Andy, it probably totals less than a year. I realise this is the time we start contemplating the choices we’ve made, worried that we’ve made the wrong ones; wondering whether it’s too late to change course. Andy coming back has certainly made me think about the path my life has taken. And Nikki, I will admit it, I will always have a soft spot for him. I’ll always be grateful for the way he’s helped Mum and I hope we’ll remain friends. But what we have isn’t enough to make me want to destroy the life I have with Curtis.”

  “Well said.” Dawn stood to give me a round of applause.

  “I’m sorry but I still don’t understand why that means you can’t shag him.”

  Nikki ducked as Dawn threw a cushion at her.

  * * *

  After a final treatment consisting of a sea salt body polish and antioxidant facial, we reluctantly wheeled our cases around a Japanese screen to check out at the reception. Lemongrass essential oils scented the air rich with the sounds of a rainforest.

  “So who’s the lucky lady with the generous bloke who paid for all this?” the young girl behind the counter asked, whipping out her earbuds.