Versace Sisters

by Cate Kendall

  'So that's it, Sera, that's my story and for obvious reasons I'd appreciate you keeping it to yourself,' Chantrea said, looking at her watch. 'It's one am. I better go.'

  Sera hugged her friend. 'I'm here whenever you need me,' she said.

  'Thanks, darling, it means a lot to me.'

  Sera watched from the door as her friend was swallowed up by the night.

  ~ 16 ~

  The winter air may have been chilly, but the sun was a shining reminder of summer in Sydney.

  'You never get sick of it, do you?' Sera sighed as Mallory's BMW X5 transported the two women across the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

  'It's just magnificent,' Mallory agreed, glancing over to the white sailboats dotted across the harbour like stars on a navy blue sky. 'So, anyway, Vince is just doing so well since they made him General Manager. He's gets a wicked bonus every month and we get to go out in the company motor cruiser whenever we want!'

  Sera smiled tightly. She'd never been a big fan of Vince. She found him quite challenging to be around. He was . . . now what was the word again? She thought idly as she gazed over the sprawl of North Sydney as they came off the bridge. That's right, a wanker.

  Mallory had met Vince when she was waitressing at an exclusive Hobart boutique hotel just after she had left school and they'd been together since. Although Sera and Mallory had been inseparable since first grade, Sera found it hard to swallow Mallory's whirlwind romance and subsequent shotgun wedding to the Melbourne salesman who was ten years her senior. She just couldn't believe that Mallory, with her gorgeous, selfless personality, was actually happy with Vince – a bloke who thought nothing of cutting his toenails while entertaining guests.

  Sera blamed herself a bit. She felt as if she'd deserted Mallory; fleeing to the mainland to follow Bella into a flight attendant career the minute she'd finished school. Maybe that was partly why Mallory settled so quickly for the boorish Vince.

  Vince was flashy, a bit thick and a bloody show-off. He made Sera's skin crawl with his reflective Dolce e Gabana sunnies perched atop his spiky haircut, his pink Paul Smith T-shirts and Diesel jeans – and he was such a skinny little short-arse too.

  'And last night he bought me the most beautiful bunch of long-stemmed roses, what a romantic!' Mallory was still talking.

  'What's the occasion?' asked Sera suspiciously.

  'No occasion, he just said he loves me,' Mallory sighed, shoving her enormous Gucci sunglasses further up the bridge of her freckled nose.

  'Hmmm.' Sera firmly clamped her teeth shut to avoid making a sarcastic comment. It was sweet of Mallory to insist they have a girls' day out.

  'You work so hard,' she'd whined, 'it's about time you and I got out and had some fun.'

  Sera had had to admit it was tempting. She had not had a day to herself, aimlessly shopping, lunching and trying on make-up, for weeks. After a morning spent at Mecca Cosmetica, they were now headed for their next stop: a well-earned lunch break at the luxury boat dealership where Vince worked. Sera had tried to convince Mallory to have lunch on their side of the harbour but Mallory had insisted she had a surprise for her.

  'So, what's this surprise you've got in store for me, anyway?' Sera asked her as they drove through elegant and leafy Neutral Bay.

  'Well, it's not a surprise so much as more of a bit of a lark,' Mallory said, smiling. 'There's a new salesman at the dealership. He's absolutely gorgeous.'

  'So?' Sera said. 'We're married, remember?'

  'No, no, you don't get it. You know how toffy the school is my Tilly goes to?'

  'You need to show your personal balance sheet to get in the door.'

  'Yeah,' Mallory agreed, not even slightly offended. 'Well, the schoolyard gossip is that the wealthy wives of Sydney are buying their husbands' boats from Royal First Leisure Cruisers thanks to this new guy. The rumour is that he's seducing the Mothers' Committee one by one.'

  'What?!' Sera was delighted at such a scandal.

  'I know; it's hilarious. You've got to see it to believe it, though. If we stay at the café having lunch long enough you're bound to see what I mean.'

  *

  The towering white hulls of enormous boats greeted the two women as they walked into the dealership.

  Mallory scanned the room for her husband. A brittle laugh drew the girls' attention to where Vince was leaning over the reception desk, his pinstriped bottom in full view. The giggle had come from the bleached blonde, mini-skirted receptionist who was looking at Vince with huge doe eyes.

  'Oh, good, there he is,' Mallory said. 'Hi, honey!'

  Vince gave a startled jump. 'What are you doing here?' he demanded.

  'We're having lunch at your café. Thought we'd surprise you,' Mallory said gaily, reaching out to embrace her husband. He caught her arms and pulled them away. 'Not in front of the team, darling,' he muttered.

  'Sorry,' Mallory said immediately and put her arms down.

  Sera happened to flick her eyes to the receptionist, and was shocked to see the look of pure poison she was sending Mallory.

  'Hi,' Mallory said sweetly, unaware of the clear hatred she had provoked. 'We haven't met. You must be Sharee.' She stuck out her hand in greeting to the new girl.

  'Yes, hello,' Sharee replied and offered a limp tattooed hand in response. Her poisonous look may have dropped, but it didn't make her ferret-like appearance any more attractive. Boy, does she need a make-over, Sera thought, taking in the brittle white hair littered with split ends and the excessive eye make-up.

  'Welcome aboard, as they say in the nautical world,' Mallory said chirpily. 'We're just having lunch if you'd like to join us.'

  'No, I'm working,' Sharee said sulkily and turned away from Mallory to shuffle a pile of papers.

  'Okay then, maybe next time,' Mallory said and she and Sera walked over to the café. 'Odd girl,' she commented as they sat down. 'As long as the boss is happy with her, I guess,' she giggled.

  Oh dear, Sera thought, poor Mallory.

  After ordering lattes, sparkling mineral water and semidried tomato, rocket, and prosciutto focaccias, they sat back to watch the passing parade.

  It was like being on a different planet – Planet Over-Indulgence. Arriving in luxury-taxed cars, each more prestigious than the last, the potential customers all glowed with Port Douglas tans under their casual polo shirts and sports jackets. In contrast the all-male sales team in their Hugo Boss suits looked as if they had come straight from Wall Street.

  The female after-sales team looked sultry in their tight suits with generous cleavages and highlighted hair piled up on top of their Bratz-sized heads. After customers splurged on a floating caravan the girls went to work, selling them the essential, can't-live-without accessories: depth sounder, glass tinting, weather-guarding, anchor.

  Mallory and Sera soaked up the atmosphere and theatre of the dealership, gobsmacked by the displays of wealth and folly.

  Suddenly Mallory grabbed her friend. 'I don't believe it!' she said, indicating the Stingray on the other side of the showroom. 'That's Suzette Martin – her kids go to Eton Grammar. She's married to Marvin Martin, the mobile phone guy.'

  'No way! She's the bitch who backstabbed Chantrea at crèche the other night,' replied Sera.

  With their table hidden behind a palm tree, the ladies watched the woman descend the ladder at the back of the boat. An outrageously good-looking black man followed her.

  'Yep, that's him,' Mallory confirmed in a whisper.

  'He looks like serious trouble,' said Sera.

  'Oooh yeah,' agreed her friend. 'I'm so glad Vince doesn't have to do anything like that to make his sales targets.'

  ~ 17 ~

  Thomas lifted his head in irritation at the crash of china. The last broken household item, smashed six months before, had been a brand new fruit bowl. His careful nightly examination of the online bank statements had told him it had cost one hundred and forty-nine dollars and ninety-five cents from Parterre. Such carelessness.

  He look
ed in the mirror and smoothed down his goatee. He was pleased with its recent salt-and-pepper sprink ling. He felt it made him look distinguished. He pulled down his white cuffs so they peeped out precisely an inch from his navy reefer jacket.

  It was a nuisance that Jacqueline had chosen to interrupt his precious Sunday to entertain her knitting group, but he was secretly looking forward to displaying his enviable lifestyle.

  He'd washed the Mercedes, personally supervised the dusting of his new pair of Ming dynasty horses and approved Jacqueline's well-thought-out menu. She might be a klutz, but she certainly had admirable traits in the kitchen.

  He already knew Tony and Sera from next door, of course. Sera was a sweet girl; clearly not from the right circles, but quite charming.

  He slipped on his leather loafers and went downstairs to check on progress in the kitchen. As he passed the boys, bent over the chess set, he ruffled Joshua's hair to congratulate him on his ingenious move of his bishop.

  The formal dining room was resplendent in the promised shades of chartreuse and white. The water glasses were lime and the stark white of the napkins and china leapt from the pale green tablecloth.

  In the kitchen his wife was aproned and bustling as she cracked eggs into a large mixing bowl with one hand and flicked the pages of a recipe book with another.

  'The dining room is a delight, my dear,' he said, pecking her on the cheek.

  She flushed at his kind words. 'Oh, it was nothing,' she said, but before she could relax into the compliment, he followed with, 'What was the crash I heard?'

  'Oh that – I'm so sorry, darling, it was the mate to this mixing bowl, I'm afraid it hit the deck before I could stop it.'

  A raised eyebrow was his only response as he turned on the tap to wash his hands.

  'Well, I've done all I can here, I guess,' he said, mentally assessing his checklist. He'd taken the cover off the barbecue, pleased to see it gleaming, he'd showered, the car was clean and his study was presentable and worthy of an eminent physician. 'I think I'll run a chamois over the Merc,' he said.

  'Good idea, darling,' Jacqueline replied and flicked a nervous glance at the clock. 'I'm nearly done, I've just got three more dishes to create and a hollandaise sauce and I need to give the patio a quick sweep.' If that was a hint, it fell on deaf ears.

  Thomas assessed his pride and joy as he sauntered down the front steps. The Mercedes Benz S-Class Saloon was a successful man's car. He'd lusted after it for years and had finally taken the plunge last financial year. He took the chamois out of the glove box and picked off errant leaves from the car bonnet.

  He didn't know much about Vince Rimmel, Mallory's husband. They had met only once, very briefly, when he'd toyed with the idea of becoming a boat owner. Thomas realised Vince was a very wealthy man, but his flashy accessories and obvious manner reminded him of a celebrity sportsman. And his wife Mallory was a twit. Not the type someone of Jacqueline's calibre should be associating with.

  He did enjoy the haughty air of that flight attendant Bella, Sera's sister. She embodied the type of refined superiority he admired in people and he was sorry to hear she wouldn't be coming today.

  He hadn't met this new fellow, Sam Harvey, yet. An architect – reasonable profession – still, he sounded a right twat joining a women's knitting group.

  Chantrea was an interesting type, quite the siren. Although he'd initially baulked at her wild ways and forthright speaking manner, he found he quite enjoyed their conversational sparring and discovered she had a sharp intellect.

  He looked up at a sound from next door and saw Tony leaning out to pull his office window closed. He put his arm up in greeting.

  'G'day mate,' Tony called out cheerily. 'See you shortly.'

  *

  Tony pulled the window in and turned back to his MYOB accounts. He'd managed to invoice every outstanding client this morning. So what if the windows were a disgrace? He could clean them this afternoon.

  He was quite looking forward to brunch. His dash downstairs to help Sera was punctuated by scooping up the detritus left in the wake of the kids: a Dora doll, a Spiderman gun, a hair-ribbon tied between two banisters, a drink bottle . . . what was the bulge in the Barbie bag? His tape measure. Of course. He popped everything in the toy storage drawers in the living room and put his tape measure up out of reach.

  Thomas was all right, dry as toast and a shocking snob, but get a beer into him and he loosened up. The girls were a right laugh, though it was a shame Bella couldn't be there.

  When he'd first started dating Sera he couldn't understand why his new girlfriend was so devoted to her sister, but he soon discovered that Bella was his wife's backstop and best friend. When Tony and Sera had first married, she couldn't choose a curtain fabric without ringing Bella for advice. She was a lot better now, but they still spoke often.

  Sera was bending over at the dishwasher. 'There's a sight for sore eyes. What an arse!' he laughed, pinching her behind. 'Tony!' she squealed and wriggled away.

  'Do you need any help? I've done all my homework!' he said and selected an apple that was annihilated in three quick crunches.

  'What job do you want? Finish the dishwasher or dress the kids? Your pick.'

  'Dishwasher, definitely!' he said, taking over from her.

  'Chicken,' she laughed as she ran upstairs.

  'Not those jeans, I HATE those jeans!' Tony heard Harry's shrill voice drifting down the stairwell. Tony shook his head. He knew the jeans in question. They were so precious to Harry that Sera had bought an identical second pair. But obviously the second pair was not identical because Harry could discern some subtle difference between the impostors and his favourites.

  The phone rang. Tony picked it up: 'Tony Wilson,' he said.

  'We bringing booze, or what?'

  Vince Rimmel. He had a most disconcerting habit of presuming everyone knew who he was. 'G'day Vince, how's it going?' Tony had to force a pleasant tone.

  'You know how it is, mate, fleeced the lambs again this week, you know what I mean, eh? Eh?'

  Tony didn't but just agreed with him and moved on to address Vince's initial question. 'Don't know about the grog question, mate, hang on a tick.' He yelled up the stairs, 'Sera, Vince wants to know about grog.'

  'We're taking a bottle of champoo!' came the reply.

  'Champers, mate, probably appropriate for a brunch,' he said back into the mouthpiece.

  'Right, I'll bring French,' said Vince. 'Chicks love that shit.'

  *

  Vince hung up without saying good-bye. He hitched up his black jeans and cursed the tailor who hadn't cut the hems short enough. His white Puma street shoes had lift, though, so that should stop the cuffs from dragging on the ground. He checked the top of his head, yep the Dolces were firmly in place.

  He didn't want to go to this stupid bloody brunch. Mallory's friends were all boring wankers. That Thomas bloke, especially, was a fuckwit, and Tony acted like his shit didn't stink. Those air hostess sisters was stuck-up princesses, but their Asian friend was all right. And it was always a good opportunity for networking.

  He went to check on Mallory's progress. Tilly wasn't back from her sleepover yet, so with any luck he could get one away before they left. He felt a headache coming on and there was nothing like a quick root to cure all ills. He was in luck. Mallory was still in her panties. She looked fantastic for mid-thirties. He admired her tight body as she shuffled through her underwear drawer. 'How about it, Mal? Time for a quickie?'

  'Oh Vince,' she giggled, 'you're insatiable!'

  'I am at that, love. How many last night, three? Four?'

  'Um, I think two – ah, here it is,' and she pulled out the pink and turquoise bra that matched her knickers.

  'It was at least three,' he muttered.

  She pulled a hot pink sheath dress over her skinny form and slipped on a pair of aqua open-toed pumps.

  'Hello!' came a young voice as the front door slammed shut.

  'Tilly!' called Mallo
ry, and when her daughter appeared at the bedroom door they embraced. 'How was it?'

  'Sooo good, there was a Justin Timberlake special on MTV.'

  'Omigod, he's so hot!' Mallory said.

  'I know!' her daughter replied.

  'You were meant to be here an hour ago, Til,' growled Vince, taking his frustration out on his daughter.

  'Yeah, whatever,' she replied and, rolling her eyes, slung her overnight bag in the corner and went to the kitchen for a Diet Coke.

  'You ready, hon? We're going,' Mallory said as she followed Tilly into the kitchen.

  'Do I have to come? Those two boys are, like, so boring. All they want to do is talk about Dungeons and Dragons and shit.'

  'Pulease?' Mallory put on her puppy eyes.

  'Oh all right, only if I can bring my DS.'

  'Deal,' her mother said.

  *

  After handshakes and air kisses all round on arrival, the families retired to the patio for pre-brunch mimosas. The younger children were plonked in front of a DVD while the older children steadfastly ignored each other and the men supervised Thomas's barbecuing.

  'Is that S-Class out the front yours?' Vince demanded.

  'Yes, she is, as matter of fact. She's a magnificent beast,' Thomas replied coolly.

  'Heard they've got problems with the ABS. Aren't there recalls on them?' Vince asked.

  'No, no problem at all. Would you like a drive?'

  'Nah, thanks mate, I'd be worried I might be seen behind the wheel of an old man's car!' Vince brayed.

  It was so generous of Jacqueline to insist on inviting the grandmothers, Sera thought, as she watched them chatting together. Joan seemed relaxed, while Dara Kim happily showed photos of Sally in dozens of poses.

  Chantrea and Sam were talking about the horrors of single life, a conversation Sera didn't think she could add much to, so she glanced around for the hostess. Of course, she was slaving away in the kitchen. Mallory was with her, drying dishes.

  She went inside to help. 'It smells marvellous in here,' she told Jacqueline. 'What can I do?'

  'Oh, you're a darling. Here, just zest this lemon for me while I pop this tea out to Joan.'