by Murray, Lee
‘Are you allergic?’
I shake my head for no.
‘Melanie, can you stand still a sec and let me look? I want to check the sting is not still there...’ I prise my hands away and she has a look at my face, announcing after an instant, ‘There’s no sting. Let’s cut in behind these businesses here and see if we can find a tap to rinse it.’
I nod numbly and follow her. My lip has swollen to double its normal thickness. I could serve tea off it.
‘That’s one way of getting the plumped-up Angelina Jolie look, Melanie,’ says Fran. ‘Cheaper than dermal fillers.’ I want to laugh, but my lip hurts too much. Feels like I’ve done ten rounds with the world heavyweight boxing champion and come off worse. We’re making our way back to the path when the boys find us, Mark and Bryce arrive first with Scottie a few paces behind.
‘Where were you?’ they chorus.
‘Melanie got stung by a bee,’ Fran says. Once the boys are sure they won’t have to carry me back to the clubrooms, we jog the last kilometre back to the Domain. You’d think a nasty sting would exempt me from further running, but apparently not.
‘There’s always something conspiring to prevent us from running, isn’t there?’ says Bryce.
‘Yeah, it’s like the entire universe is against us,’ agrees Mark.
‘Bloody persecuted, that’s what we are,’ Scottie says. Then the three of them launch into other tales of adversity, evidence the world has it in for anyone with a passion for running. By the time we get back to clubrooms I’m so distracted by their hilarious tales I’ve almost forgotten my fat lip.
41
I’m back at my apartment enjoying a delicious soak in the bath and recovering from my bee sting, when Rico Black phones. I’ve been caught out by that inconvenient circumstance before, where you leap out of the bath, puddle water everywhere and then slip and slide in a mad rush to reach the phone, which inevitably rings off before you get there. These days, I always wrap the handset in a towel and pop it on the floor by the bath if I’m planning to pamper myself.
‘Melanie, about this set up…’ I cover my rude bits with foamy bubbles because even though I know he can’t see me, it still seems forward to be speaking to a man I hardly know while completely naked.
‘Rico, if you don’t want to…’
‘Oh, I want to. It’s a terrific idea. Great exposure for both of us.’ On hearing the word exposure, I instinctively manoeuvre more foamy bubbles over my crotch.
‘Besides,’ he goes on, ‘it’ll be tremendous fun, hoodwinking the paparazzi. The trick will be not playing it up too much. If the press think we’re trying to keep a relationship under wraps, they’ll be even more determined to dig deeper.’
‘Rico, you do know I have a boyfriend, don’t you?’
‘Right. He’s not proficient at tae kwon do by any chance, is he?’
‘No.’
‘Powerlifter?’
‘No.’
‘Regional kickboxing champ?’ I mustn’t giggle. It makes my chest wobble and dislodges my strategically placed bubbles.
‘No.’
‘I’ll take my chances,’ Rico says, then backtracks. ‘I’m kidding! You’ve explained the arrangement to him, haven’t you? I wouldn’t want to get my eye blackened by the New Zealand Tiddlywinks Champion.’
‘Jack’s a cyclist and he’s very supportive,’ I say.
‘Then let’s not get bogged down in the details, Melanie. What say you deal with your personal life however you see fit, and I’ll do the same? We don’t want to make things too complicated.’
‘They’re already complicated. You live in Wellington. How are we supposed to conduct a...er…relationship if you live in another part of the country?’
‘I was planning on staying up your way after the Whakatane event. There’s a partnership opportunity I need to investigate, so it should work out fine. All we need is a suitable event to get our little publicity stunt underway.’
‘Rico? Can you hold on a sec…?’ The water is turning cold so I place the phone face down on the side of the bath, stand up quickly and use both hands to wrap myself in a bath towel. ‘Okay, I’m back.’
‘I was thinking perhaps we could attend the Cirque de Soleil opening night extravaganza,’ Rico says. My heart leaps and for a second the bath-towel slips down over my boob. Whoops!
‘It’s supposed to be fantastic,’ I say, yanking the towel back up and holding it tightly with my left hand.
‘Yes, I heard that too. Pity. The reporters will be too gob-smacked by the performance to look for sordid celebrity side-stories. And even if that weren’t the case, I’m sure there’ll be more to entertain them than two practically unknown reality contestants.’
‘I didn’t think of that.’ I drain the bath and swish the sides with a plastic scourer.
‘They don’t allow photos to be taken in the auditorium either, so there’ll be no possibility of any compromising photos. No, that won’t do. We need to be more creative, we need to look like we’re trying to stay under the radar…’ While he’s been talking I’ve wandered out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, the phone still plastered to my ear. ‘What we need, Melanie, is a mix and mingle type event. A wine and cheese affair, like an art show. Or a charity fundraiser…’
And that’s when I spy my invitation to Ben and Charlie’s book launch, exactly where I left it, on my bedside table.
42
I was right about Tazza’s accident being reality television nirvana because the next instalment of Racing Feat is almost entirely devoted to the drama. The footage opens with a dramatic five minute montage beginning with a flashing twirling siren, then Tazza unconscious in the ditch, followed by paramedics wading through mud carrying Tazza to the ambulance. Tazza’s wound is shown in all its muddy-bloody bone-shattering glory (with the appropriate disclaimer for the young and faint-hearted). At the hospital, we see Ann in the emergency waiting room while a staff member wraps Tazza’s leg in plaster. Then, seated in an ancient dralon Lazyboy, the bulbous limb resting in the forefront, Tazza’s interview begins.
Tazza: ‘It was pretty gory, Sabrina. Reckon it’d make a great episode of Grey’s Anatomy, eh? I should audition because I won’t be working for a while. I’m going to be back on ACC for up to six months rehabilitating.’
Good: ‘Terry, we’ve seen the footage, but can you tell us exactly what happened?
Tazza: ‘I don’t know. It all happened pretty fast. It was awful conditions on the day, rain and drizzle. I was on my second lap, maybe fifteen minutes from the end, and I tripped on a stone or something and went (bleep) over heels into the ditch, like. I called for Rico, he was ahead of me when I went down, but I guess he didn’t hear me. Anyway, I’m lying in the ditch and there’s this bone poking out of my leg and I think maybe I’m done for because it’s only us contestants out there and we’re few and far between. Then I guess I slipped into unconsciousness, I must’ve, ‘cause next thing I know I’m being lifted into a (bleep) ambulance.’
Good: ‘We’re sorry to see you leave the show, Terry. You’ve been a great competitor. Are you aware you’re the winner of this week’s popularity vote?’
Tazza: ‘Well, that’s corker, isn’t it?’
Good: ‘Taupo Hospice certainly thinks so. They stand to benefit from $52,848.50, a Racing Feat charity record.’
Tazza: ‘Wow, that’s awesome! (He calls over his shoulder.) ‘Hey, did you hear that honey? A record. Whaddya know, eh?’ He grins.
The scene changes now. Good is seen in a classroom. The whiteboard behind her is covered with notes from a heath science lesson.
Good: ‘Julie, you registered a DNF for the event and were the second contestant eliminated. How do you feel about that?’
Julie: ‘But I haven’t got my licence yet.’
Good: ‘DNF. It means Did Not Finish.’
Julie: ‘Oh. I’m disappointed, obviously, but I got further than Karen, so it’s not that bad. I’m kind of glad it’s over because
the extra training was hard and I didn’t get much time off school.’ She looks around furtively, perhaps to check her teachers aren’t listening in.
Good: ‘So that’s it? You’ll stop training altogether?’
Julie: ‘Oh, no, I didn’t mind the running, but I think I’ll stick to five kilometre runs. The best part will be not having to write an essay about it each time I do one.’ She giggles.
Good: ‘Is it true you raised the alarm about Terry?’
Julie: ‘Yeah, it was freaky. The school gave me a certificate at assembly: Resourcefulness in Difficult Circumstances. That was cool.’
At this point the viewer is whipped back in time to the finish of the event. The ambulance is seen careering away and camera cuts to Sione. The big Samoan is wrapped in a silver survival blanket, Asteroïde looking sour over his shoulder and Rico doing his casual strip-tease in the background. I was wondering how they were going to sneak that bit in. Sione, by contrast, is all humility.
Sione: ‘It was a hard course. Wet and wild, but I liked it. Up ‘til the accident. We were all thinking of Tazza after that.’ Sione looks directly at the camera and points his finger in an imitation of the timeless US-Army-Needs-You poster.
Sione: ‘Hey, Tazza, you hang tight, man.’
Next there’s image of me sliding down a slippery bank like a bank robber’s getaway. My mouth is open and I’m clearly squealing with mirth. There’s an unfortunate flash of my bottom as my skirt rides up, then I splosh down in the massive mud puddle at the bottom of the hill. They play it twice, running the splash sequence in slow motion.
The voiceover is a snip of my interview with Good, recorded at the finish.
Good: ‘…the course was challenging?’
Me: ‘Definitely, I mean, look what happened to Tazza. But it was fun too, cavorting in the rain. In the end, you had to get down and dirty.’
Simon and Carline are interviewed together. We don’t see them, we only hear them. Instead, there’s another montage, this time of Carline scrambling up the rope climb, Simon scrabbling under the barbed wire obstacle, Carline wading through a murky creek, and the five of us finishing together in a bunch.
Carline: ‘We missed all the drama, Simon and I. We arrived on the scene when Tazza was taken away on a stretcher. He looked as white as a sheet.’
Simon: ‘I’d like to send our condolences to Tazza. People at home shouldn’t let Tazza’s accident put them off jogging around the block. Tazza’s injury isn’t typical. This was a highly taxing course, the weather was against us, and all our concentration was on getting through the obstacles.’
The montage fades and reopens with a close-up of Good, the angle gradually widening until the frame includes Good and her guest.
Good: ‘That’s an excellent point, Simon, and we have with us in the studio, Pamela Pays, our consultant medical practitioner. Care to comment, Pamela?’
Pays: ‘Yes, thank you. It’s an important point Simon’s raising, Sabrina. Exercise is a key element in the prevention and treatment of obesity and related diseases, but people should take care when starting a new exercise regime, not to take on anything they’re not prepared for.’
Good: ‘Would you recommend people who are new to exercise to see a doctor first?
Pays: ‘Oh, without question, Sabrina. It’s also important to choose a sport you enjoy and then push your own personal fitness boundaries little by little.’
Good: ‘So it’s a balance between pushing yourself while also preventing injuries?’
Pays: ‘Yes, this is the dilemma. If you start out too hard, you risk injuring yourself, whether by accident or by overdoing it, and that can have disastrous results. You can be back on the sofa eating potato chips, watching daytime television and not exercising for six to eight weeks while you recover. It’s counterproductive.’
Good: “Thanks for that advice, Pamela. And remember, viewers at home can go to our website for practical suggestions for getting active...’
A Slippery Slope? By Ross Sully
Conditions were abominable during last week’s Racing Feat reality event, with contestants forced to contend with driving rain, waist-deep mud and treacherous greasy terrain. Half-way through his second lap of the gruelling course, Taupo refuse contractor, Terry (Tazza) Higgins, in the leading bunch, tumbled down a short bank and fractured his right tibia in a gaping open lesion.
And what was Mel Short, fellow contestant, and Sportzgirl spokesperson, doing while her co-competitor lay prostrate and in pain in a ditch? Ms Short was slipping and sliding down a different slope, hydro-sliding feet-first to land in a mudhole. Witnesses claim Short was heard laughing and shouting with child-like glee.
It’s important to have fun while excercising. Recent evidence suggests those people who enjoy their chosen sporting activity are more like to get out and do it again. But Ms Short’s hilarity while her fellow contestant was wallowing in agony in a ditch goes beyond the pale.
Perhaps Ms Short was simply ecstatic to know one of the show’s promising competitors, perhaps the one most likely to give her a run for her money, was now out of the running?
Short Stops. By Ross Sully
Sione Mulifanua, carver-sculptor and promising competitor in television’s current reality hit Racing Feat, insists on setting the record straight regarding fellow competitor Mel Short’s actions during the recent tragic elimination of Terry ‘Tazza’ Higgins.
According to Mulifanua, in spite of previous reports, Short did stop to give aid to Mr Higgins who’d fallen down a bank and sustained an open fracture. Talking from his Auckland studio, Mulifanua stated, ‘Melanie [Short] stopped straight away when she heard Tazza shout. She was one of the first down the bank to help. We did what we could for Tazza. We tried to keep him warm, because it was cold and he was in shock. Melanie even took her top off to try and help him.’
Widely recognised for her scanty attire as the star of the Sportzgirl billboards, Ms Short has undoubtedly warmed the cockles of many a passing motorist.
Seeing her remove her top while she was covered top-to-toe in mud would surely have served to warm Mr Higgins. However, in this case, Ms Short’s attempts may have been misplaced, since Tazza Higgins was unconscious at the time.
Mr Higgins, refuse contractor from Taupo, is now recuperating at home. Doctors expect him to make a full recovery.
43
The fourth Racing Feat event is tomorrow. It’s a half-marathon. I’m so nervous. To calm me down Jack suggests a hot soak at Fernland Spa, a thermal spring tucked in a ferny valley on the edge of town.
At 7:00pm on a weekday you can sometimes get the entire pool to yourself, but on a long weekend Saturday there are about a dozen other bathers; a few retired ladies accompanied by pot-bellied bristly gentlemen, four middle-aged men (to match the four Harleys parked outside) and a couple of smooth-skinned teenagers who’ve eschewed the latest action blockbuster in favour of an intimate evening dip.
Jack and I pick a corner with built-in seating. The warm water laps gently over my shoulders. Over the steam, pool lights shine through the lacework of fern foliage against a backdrop of star-sprinkled sky.
‘Mmm. This is lovely. I so needed this. I’m that wound up.’
‘You’ll be fine. There’s no reason you shouldn’t do well tomorrow. You’ve trained hard. What’s Olaf saying?’
‘That if I follow his trademarked programme to the letter, then he personally guarantees me a win. But it’s such a long way, such a big number. Twenty-one kilometres. Twenty-one! I can’t imagine eating 21 potatoes in one sitting, or owning 21 pairs of shoes, or making love 21 times in a row, so how can I possibly run 21km?’
‘I don’t remember making love 21 times. You never mentioned that being on the training programme.’ Jack sends a little splash in my direction, but most of it misses. ‘So have you?’
‘Made love 21 times?’
‘Followed Olaf’s trademarked sure-to-win programme?’
‘Pretty much.’
; ‘Well, then.’
I’m quiet for a bit, watching the steam swirl over the water. ‘But even if I’m awesome, that Sully will make me look stupid, won’t he? What is it with him? He’s a hyena.’
‘It’s about money. Gossip and innuendo sells papers.’ Droplets bead on Jack’s shoulders. He shifts slightly and the dance of his back muscles sends rivulets running downward into the pool.
‘And here’s me thinking newspapers were supposed to be impartial.’
‘No such thing as impartial, Mel. I’m always trying to tell the kids at school that, when they look up internet resources. They mustn’t forget to ask who’s posting the information, who’s paying for it, and what they get out of it.’
‘I don’t see what Sully gets out of being so mean.’
‘Readership. Ratings.’ With a start, I realise a hike in ratings, personal ratings, is my focus, too. I listen to the fuzzy murmur of the other bathers. One of the teenagers lets out a giggle.
‘About tomorrow, Jack. It’d probably be best if you didn’t rush up to hug me at the end.’
Jack sighs. ‘So you’ve talked with Black?’ I nod. That way, I don’t have to tell Jack that I was au naturel at the time. ‘And you’re still going ahead with it?’
‘Not immediately. In a couple of weeks. After the Whakatane event.’
‘I wish you weren’t doing it.’
‘I know. But...’
‘It goes against the grain to let some bloke have a crack at my girl.’
‘It’s pretend!’ I can hear the tension in my voice. The teenagers look over in our direction. All Jack’s good work trying to relax me is being undone.
He changes the subject. ‘So how’s Janeen?’
‘She’s good. I saw her earlier today. She’s flattened a couple of seams on tomorrow’s outfit for me. She and Caro have promised to come down and watch tomorrow. I’ll be the one looking like a pineapple fruju.’
‘So how’s it going with Janeen and Nandor?
