by Bree Darcy
“Only about one per cent of the population are AB negative,” Lenny added. “Interestingly both John F. Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe had that type.”
“I was reading an article about organ donation recently,” I said. “You and I would be more compatible, wouldn’t we, because we share the same blood?”
“Possibly.”
“Well if I ever need an organ transplant, I’m coming to you first. Like if I needed a kidney, you’d give me one, wouldn’t you?”
“I would if I could,” Lenny said.
“But you only have one now?”
From the look Lenny gave me he understood what I was getting at.
“Were you born with only one kidney, then?” Adele asked.
“No,” I replied. “But he was born with one very special heart.”
Lenny followed me into the break area. “How did you figure it out?”
“I have my ways and means. I can’t believe you’ve managed to keep it quiet all this time. For a man who talks incessantly, you have a lot of secrets, don’t you?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Sounds intriguing …”
Adele stuck her head around the corner. “Kellie, your mobile’s ringing.”
Lenny gave a wave as he mooched back to wherever he was supposed to be working. I sprinted to my desk but had to redial the missed caller.
“Help! I’m locked out.” I could hardly hear Andy above the commotion in the background.
“Did you mean to call me? I doubt I can help you find your keys from halfway around the world.”
“Siena’s locked me out. We had a huge fight and shit-”.
There was a loud bang.
“Are you okay?”
“She’s ditching my stuff out the bedroom window … Now honey, put that down. Someone’s only going to get hurt. No, no, not my …. Aaarrrgh.”
A splintering noise filled the air, then a howl of anguish.
“Are you crying?”
“Of course I’m crying. I’ve had that guitar since I was fourteen. I serenaded my first girlfriend with that guitar. I can’t believe she’s smashed it.”
A hail of shoes hit the driveway, followed by the thud of his Rolling Stone collection.
“Why don’t you move yourself out of harm’s way and tell me what the hell’s going on?”
To a chorus of smashing glass and china as picture frames rained down, Andy told me that Siena had planned to head off on a road trip with Kris Carson to help him break into the States. But Andy had put his foot down, telling her she wasn’t going anywhere with Marty.
“But I thought … you told me you didn’t care about her being with him.”
“That was before Chandler made me promise to stick with our marriage. It won’t work if we’re messing about with other people. We’ve gotta stay committed to one another.”
From the sounds of the abusive screaming in the background, Siena definitely needed to be committed – to a mental institution.
“But it doesn’t sound like that’s what Siena wants, if she’s throwing a massive hissy fit...”
But Andy wasn’t listening. “Siena, please be reasonable. You don’t want to commit murder now. Please honey, I’m begging you.”
Had Siena pulled a gun? Did I wait until I heard a shot before dialling 911 – in fact, how the heck did I get through to the LAPD from here?
“Gotta go. She’s dangling Nemo out the window. Maybe if I catch him and put him straight in the pool, he’ll stand a chance.”
CHAPTER 5
remember how u told me my horroscope said i wood marry the wrong woman - u were right
u were always right xcept about us
my life sucks, S says im being unresonable SOB
G says his life sucks more than mine, getting me blind drunk
where ru?
i miss my guitar
i miss u
kuv u akwats
Dane had sprung a surprise camping trip to a national park on Nikki so she’d been out of telecommunications range for the past week. And without running water too, the poor thing. So she’d missed my news about Curtis’ job offer, my job offer and lastly, Siena’s rampage.
“He’s taken refuge at Gerry’s,” I told her now. “Gerry’s just broken up with his girlfriend too, so the pair of them are wallowing in misery together, drinking from noon to night. I wonder what it’ll take for Andy to see he has to leave Siena. They lead completely separate lives.”
“So what are you and Curtis up to this weekend?” Nikki asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“Curtis is on a bike hike; so Lenny’s taking Ryan to see that new superhero movie, while Ciara and I go shopping for sports bras. Do you remember how embarrassing it was shopping for bras with your mum?”
“Mmm-hmmm,” Nikki said. “So you were telling me all about Andy and Siena’s separate lives? Sometimes people can’t see what’s right in front of them.”
“He’s never going to leave her, is he? … Hang on, I’ve got another call. I’d better take it.”
I should have ignored it though – it was Curtis, telling me that the UK medical research company was impatient for his decision, that unless he could give them a firm guarantee soon, they would have to advertise the position.
So much for giving us until the end of the month!
It would be fair to say Curtis didn’t crack open the champagne when he heard I might be up for a promotion. He wasn’t keen on me applying for the columnist job at all, he didn’t think there was any point since I wouldn’t find out if I had been successful until next month.
Yesterday while hanging around at Cobra Ninja class, I listed all the pros and cons of moving back to England. Positive aspects included Curtis being back in the research field he loved, being able to take European mini-breaks and listening to Radio One again. The cons list was three pages long. And top of that list was Ryan.
The night after Delia the Cleaning Lady visited, we sat the children down to tell them. Ciara, as expected, wasn’t fazed at all, immediately asking what the shops were like in Manchester and whether she could paint her new bedroom lilac.
“And what about you, Ryan? What do you think?” I probed.
“I think it’s the stupidest fucking idea ever. I’m not leaving Sydney.” He shot off the couch and headed towards the stairs. “Don’t worry about me though, I’ll ask Gran if I can move in with them until I finish school.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Curtis said. “And watch your language.”
I gave Ryan ten minutes to cool down before I followed him upstairs. He was lying on his bed, his eyes shut, listening to music.
I removed his headphones. “Ryan, this is something we may need to do as a family. But nothing has been decided yet, it’s only a possibility. That’s why we’re talking about it, to find out how everyone feels.”
“Well, I don’t want to go. I like being at Ridgewood and you know Dad, he’ll enrol me in some wanky school with poxy uniforms and stupid rules. If all the boys are like Harrison and Julian over there, there’s no way I’ll make any friends.”
“Of course not all the boys will be like your cousins. England has so much to offer,” I comforted. “You might find you love it. What about the whole Madchester music scene?”
“That’s so 1990s, Mum.” Tears welled in his eyes. “Please, don’t make me go. I’m begging you, promise me you’ll find a way so I can stay.”
I promised him that we would not rush the decision. And now Curtis was forcing me to do exactly that.
“Why wait?” he said. “We’ve told the kids, house prices are booming, let’s take the plunge. I’m sure you’ll find another job over there if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not that, it’s Ryan. He is adamant he doesn’t want to go. I couldn’t bear to see him unhappy again.”
“That’s the problem with that boy. You mollycoddle him too much. No wonder he can’t handle a bit of teasing. You gi
ve in to him all the time.” Curtis starting listing all the occasions he thought I’d been too soft on our son, from writing a note to get him out of the swimming carnival to allowing him to change schools.
“I’m not soft on him, I’m supportive. It wouldn’t hurt for you to try it once in a while. Give him some praise, instead of criticising him all the time.”
“I’ll praise him when he finally gives me a reason to be proud.”
“That’s an awful thing to say about your son.”
“I’m only speaking the truth.”
* * *
The mood was tense as Capital Media staff filed into the second-floor conference room. Not much work had been done since we received the company-wide email an hour ago, with small groups congregating to speculate why we’d all been called together.
Albino Man, aka Bryce the human resources director, was up the front next to a huge projector screen, casting his beady eye over everyone. Tilly and some of his other staffers guarded a table stacked with glossy white document folders.
I spotted Lenny on the other side of the room, looking snazzy in a navy suit. I was about to make my way over to find out what was going on when a column of management figures entered the room, including a drawn-looking Zara.
“Zara looks rattled,” I whispered to Adele.
Suddenly the room grew silent as an image of Dudley Fenney loomed on the screen before us. He was sat behind a massive jarrah desk, with an Australian flag on his wall. As he droned on about what a great country we lived in, I wondered if this was the prelude to him announcing he was running for political office. The former prime minister’s seat was up for grabs after all.
Sir Fenney adjusted his thick black glasses as he reached the climax of his rousing speech, inspired by influential figures from the past and present. “Ask not what your company can do for you, ask what you can do for your company. It doesn’t matter whether you’re young or old or rich or poor, able, disabled, you can make it here at Capital if you’re willing to try … I have a dream. We shall fight on the world wide web, we shall fight on the news stands. We shall never surrender. And rivals will say, this was their finest hour … It may be one small step for Capital, one giant leap for global media.”
As the screen faded to white, colleagues shot puzzled looks at one other – we still were none the wiser what we were doing here.
Bryce stepped up to the podium, a sheen of sweat on his upper lip. Despite his love of management buzzwords, he was a lot clearer than his boss. Brutally clear in fact.
Capital was becoming a more streamlined operation, including merged newsrooms with everyone working across multiple platforms. Big staff cuts were expected – four hundred and eighty-five people from across the company. I’d personally vote for Duds’ speechwriter to be first out the door.
Bryce continued: “I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce one of the key members of our restructure committee. From his years working in a dynamic environment, he is well placed to actualise how to tap synergies as we move forward on a trajectory into a new period of right-sizing and skills mix adjustment. Everyone, I give you Leonard Smith.”
Mine was not the only jaw on the ground as Lenny made his way to the front, nervously adjusting his tie.
* * *
After being told our managers would explain how the changes would affect us directly, we were handed an information booklet to take away to digest.
Our stunned Starfix team, minus Lenny, trooped back to our floor and gathered around Zara. “The good news is our website will continue to bring Australia the hottest entertainment stories,” she said.
“And the bad news?” prompted Mike.
“We will be joining forces with Reach to form a new brand called StarReach. Each of you will be asked to reapply for your position. In some cases, there will be more candidates than positions on offer. Of course, generous redundancy packages will be offered. There also has been no decision yet as to who will lead this new team.” Her voice hitched with emotion before she cleared her throat. “Now excuse me, I need to finetune my strategy to blow that bitch Amanda out of the water.”
As Zara headed towards the lift, I tentatively tapped her shoulder. “Did you know about Lenny?” I asked.
“Not until this morning. They definitely kept that one quiet. I always thought there was something fishy about him. And now, if all our futures are in his hands, god help us all.” Zara hit the down button before looking over at me. “If you’re wondering about the columnist position, it’s still up for grabs. And in my opinion, you should apply for it – even though I could do with someone like you on my team, especially since Lenny thinks the world of you.” She entered the lift but held open the door. “Make sure that copy about Tanisha Montgomery’s rumoured pregnancy is up before I get back.”
* * *
As I scanned Sebastian Sloane’s article speculating about the American actress’ tummy bulge – to me it merely looked like her dress had pooched out with air – my desk phone rang. I snatched it up quickly, partly because Adele had reset my ringtone to Ice Ice Baby and I was in no mood for kicking it with Vanilla Ice.
It was Amanda Russo’s secretary informing me my presence was required at a confidential meeting.
Five minutes later, up on the Reach floor, Amanda raised a finger at me, indicating she needed to finish her phone conversation. “And darling, I said, darling you just don’t have the legs for that short a skirt anymore … I know… I know. Either that or a knee lift. Anyway sweetie, must tootle. Someone’s here to see me … Yes, yes, Crystal Lounge for drinkies on Sunday. Talk then. Mwah!”
Amanda peered at me over the top of her tiger print reading glasses. The only sound was the tick of her six clocks set to Sydney, Tokyo, London, Paris, New York and Los Angeles times.
Finally Amanda slapped her desk with her palms and stood up, pacing near the window. “Kellie, Kellie, Kellie. I’ve been hearing great things about you from Bethany. I understand you and Lenny Smith are particularly close.” She began snapping off browned leaves from her spider plant. “With a bigger division to manage, I’ll need two deputies. Bethany, of course, and I’d like you to be the other.”
I told her it was an honour to be considered but I thought the new editor-in-chief hadn’t been decided yet.
She brushed aside my question. “A mere formality. Zara is, let’s face it, past it. She’s been getting by simply because she has competent people like you to run the show for her.”
I opened my mouth to protest on Zara’s behalf but Amanda swept on. “Now with all these horrid cuts underway, I can’t offer you anything more than this” – she slid a piece of paper towards me with a figure sixteen-thousand dollars higher than my current salary – “but I’m sure you will realise the real prize is having the power to drive the sort of coverage that discerning, intelligent women everywhere are hankering after.”
We continued to discuss Amanda’s vision for the new section – more issues, less fluff – and what she envisioned my contribution as deputy news editor would be.
“So …” Amanda fluffed up her hair. “Have we got ourselves a deal?”
I told her I needed time to think about it.
“Don’t take too long. I’ve got a meeting with the restructure committee next Monday and would like to put forward my plans. And of course it wouldn’t hurt if you had a little chat to Lenny about how StarReach under my direction is the way to go.”
“But I thought you said it was a mere formality, that the job is yours?”
“I’m sure it is. But this will be our insurance to make sure we get to run things our way, and depose that tyrant Zara.”
CHAPTER 6
Instead of catching the bus home, I diverted to Curtis’ office. With both kids occupied for the evening, I’d booked a restaurant so we could discuss this latest development in a civilised setting.
I was surprised to find Curtis waiting for me in the Rodgerson’s foyer. I’d expected to have to hang around while
he finished up, so had Jade Farrow’s memoir Star Child on hand in case his lovely secretary Pamela was too busy to chat.
Finding ourselves with the pick of tables at our favourite Italian haunt, we ordered entrees before I filled him in on Capital’s merger plans.
“How good is that for timing?” he beamed. “You were about to quit anyway. Now you’ll get, what, about four months of redundancy payout?”
“More like five,” I said. “But I was thinking that these job offers may be a sign to stay. It’s really not a good idea to uproot the kids now they’re in high school, especially with Ryan so dead set against it.”
“He’ll just have to deal with it.”
“I’m sorry, Curtis. I know you really want this job but we have to consider what’s best for the kids.”
Curtis slammed the salt shaker on the table. “I would love to consider everyone’s damn feelings but I don’t actually have a choice. It’s take this job or no job.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had my meeting with head office this morning,” he said in a strangled voice. “My job’s been amalgamated into the marketing director’s duties. My position doesn’t exist anymore.”
I spluttered as my wine went down the wrong way.
“But I’ve negotiated to continue until the end of February. So you don’t have to worry, we’ll have money coming in until I start my new job. Look, as much as I’m sorry that you can’t follow up on these great opportunities at your work and as much as I’m sorry that Ryan doesn’t like the idea, we have to face reality – we’re going.”
“But if you still have a job for a while, doesn’t that buy you time to find something else here?”
“I can’t keep APB hanging on indefinitely. I’m telling them tomorrow that I’m accepting their offer.”
We lapse into silence while my mind raced through different scenarios. “What about taking some time off? I’m expecting a bigger pay packet regardless of which job I end up with – and of course you’ll have a payout from Rodgerson’s to tide us over.”
Curtis took a deep breath. “There is no payout. I’ve been on a continually renewing contract all these years. I thought I’d get something too but not according to the fine print.”
