Playing the Field

by Foster, Zoe

  I watched ‘Josh’ flash and flash until the screen went dead and the keypad locked itself. My eyes went up to Col’s. ‘Do think he’ll leave a message?’

  ‘Hmmmm,’ she said, popping an olive thoughtfully into her mouth. ‘Yes. Yes, I do. God knows what – I mean, there’s not much you can follow up a text like that with.’

  I watched my screen. Nothing. He wasn’t leaving a message. Shit! I should’ve answered. Why didn’t I answer? Reading my mind, Col spoke up.

  ‘Jay, if you’d answered, it’d be like saying, “Oh, sure, you can kick me in the babymaker via text and I’ll still happily answer your calls. No problem! And hey, while I’ve got you on the phone, is there anything else you’d like to say to smash my ego? Maybe you think my nose is big? My boobs too small?” ’

  I smiled despite myself. An envelope appeared on my phone, indicating a voicemail had been left. ‘He left one!’

  I dialled my mailbox, heart racing, eyes locked onto Col’s as I began to listen to Josh’s voice. The message was an epic and by the time I reached the end, I was shaking my head, a disbelieving smile on my face. When I finally hung up, Col was chomping her short painted nails in suspense.

  ‘What? What did he say?’

  ‘Okay, so get this. Man. Okay, so Tess came around to their house Friday night, a total mess and claiming she’d been contemplating self-harm, and demanding to see Josh. And he still lives at home, right, in this granny flat that’s not really part of the house. So his mum lets her wait until he gets home, ’cos he’s at a team dinner. Anyway, so he gets in the door, sees her, hears her out, and tries to be a gentleman about it, and after an hour or so, he drives her home, and then when he gets home, he realises she’s stolen his mobile!’

  Colette’s brow was furrowed in confusion and disbelief.

  ‘But it gets better! So he calls it, and it’s off. So he goes over to Tess’s – she still lives at home too. And he’s panicking, thinking she’s going though every number and message in that thing, and their maid – I know, can you believe people actually have maids – says she doesn’t want any visitors. And he’s like, “She’s got my phone, I need it,” but the maid is adamant: no, he can’t come in. Then Tess’s dad, Henry, walks past the door, and he’s the chief of the board at the club, right? And he sees Josh there – you won’t believe this part – and says, “Oh, I’ve been meaning to call you. Come in for a chat.” And then he lays it on that he would really love it if Josh would reconsider his position with Tess, because she’s so upset about it all, and they really do make a “sterling” couple! And of course Josh can’t say what a madwoman his daughter is, and that she is going through his phone right now, so he just leaves, and has to leave his phone there.’

  ‘Fuck off. No way!’ Col’s eyes were the size of CDs.

  ‘Yep, but it gets even better! So on Saturday he goes around again, only to find out she’s gone down to Melbourne for the weekend. With his phone and —’

  ‘She’s actually insane. Like, clinically.’

  ‘Oh, totally. And she’s the one who sent that text to me late on Saturday night, pretending to be him!’

  ‘Oh – my – fuckin’ – God. You wouldn’t read about it, would you?’

  I could only shake my head.

  ‘This calls for more wine. Excuse me, excuse me! Hi, yes, another two of the same, please? Thank you.’

  I was relieved and shocked and freaked out all at once. I thought things like that only happened in movies or TV soaps, except that it would then transpire that Tess was actually possessed by the devil, or already under psychiatric watch for having ice-picked her last boyfriend. Maybe she had.

  ‘Wonder why he didn’t just cancel his number or something, once he knew she had his phone,’ Col said, cutting some more brie and spreading it onto a cracker.

  ‘Yeah, I thought that too …’

  ‘So clearly he got it back somehow, to be calling you from it?’

  ‘Yeah – this is the best bit. He skipped the after-game function today and drove to their place, mad as hell, ’cos the players always stay in a hotel the night before the game, so it was his first chance, and their maid had the phone waiting for him in an envelope. How weird is that? Like nothing had happened – it was just waiting for him, as though they’d been expecting him!’

  ‘That is some fucked-up shit. Who are these people?’

  ‘Frank did say she was psycho …’

  ‘He did, didn’t he? But that’s like, you know, the whole family are in on it or something. Creepy. Reminds me of that Twilight Zone episode where the guy runs out of petrol and ends up in that place and the girl has no mouth.’

  I laughed, still shaking my head. It had been shaking solidly for five minutes, as if I were one of those toys executives have on their desks.

  ‘Well, at least it wasn’t him who sent the text. That’s some good news. And he obviously called you as soon as he got his phone back. Did he know she’d sent that text?’

  ‘Yeah, she left it in sent items – what a fruitloop. I mean, you’d at least delete it, right?’

  ‘Unless she wanted him to see it.’

  ‘Where’s the benefit in that?’

  ‘Who knows, with Madam Bunny Boiler …’

  ‘Anyway, he was very, very apologetic. And so embarrassed.’

  ‘She’s such a dipshit – thanks for that, just there, thanks – he’ll never get back with her now, after she’s pulled shit like this on him.’ Col raised her fresh wine glass.

  ‘He sounds pretty angry with her.’

  ‘Makes you look like a saint. She’s actually helped your cause, if you think about it. Seriously, she just took her chances with Josh out the back and shot them.’

  A rush of excitement raced through me at this realisation. It was true: Tess had just made a monumental dick of herself. And I was the poor victim, for whom Josh now felt terrible. Poor little perfect, non-phone-stealing Jean.

  ‘Will you call him back?’

  ‘I should, shouldn’t I? I mean, it wasn’t his fault.’

  ‘S’pose so. But later. Tell me again how she got the phone in the first place …’

  ROUND 17

  Explanations vs Forgiveness

  ‘I’m really sorry.’ Josh sat twisting his body to face me, his lovely big eyes searching for any hint of upset in mine. He’d come around as soon as I’d called him back, preferring to apologise in person, and now we were parked at a lookout more suited to making out than apologising about mentally unstable ex-girlfriends.

  I smiled. ‘Josh, I understand; it’s not actually your fault. At all.’

  ‘I know, but … well, no, it is my fault, because I could’ve got Colette’s number off Frank and got the message through that way, so you didn’t think I was a pig who said he’d call and then never did, and especially after last week’s non-calling fiasco, and after I’d invited you to the game … That sounds like the work of a class-A arsehole.’

  ‘Relax,’ I said casually, trying hard to be the no-fuss, no-drama girl I thought Josh would like. In fact, I was thoroughly enjoying playing the Holy One. ‘It’s all good. So, you guys won today?’

  He exhaled deeply. ‘We did, actually. Finally.’

  ‘And how did you play?’

  ‘Not bad, to be honest. Two tries. Would’ve been three if you’d been in the stands.’

  I blushed, despite myself.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be out having a drink with the boys? To celebrate?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess. They’ll be going all night, though; I might meet up with them later. This – seeing you, explaining everything – was important.’ He looked me directly in the eyes and put his hand on mine, caressing it gently. His touch made my whole body stand to attention. I felt like a schoolgirl on the path to her first kiss.

  I looked back into his eyes. I knew that look: it was the one that immediately preceded a ki— Josh leaned over and kissed me. His lips were soft, his breath sweet. He opened his mouth ever so slightly and I
took my cue to kiss him back in a similar manner. We kissed slowly, our heads moving gently from side to side, both taking care not to make a tender moment into a first-base moment. He placed my hand in his and locked our fingers together, taking his other hand to the nape of my neck at the same time, carefully, softly caressing my head. Oh, he was good – very good – at this.

  He moved forward in his seat, kissing me with more intensity. I mirrored him, leaning into him, taking one hand over and onto his chest, rubbing his muscles. We remained like this, our breathing getting faster, our kisses becoming hungrier, my hair becoming more and more rat’s-nesty beneath his hand, until his phone blared with ‘Eye of the Tiger’. We opened our eyes at the same moment, and laughed. I settled back into my seat, smoothing my hair as best I could, trying to steady my breathing as he fumbled for his phone. He looked at the screen and shook his head.

  ‘It’s Pilko.’

  ‘Ahhh, Pilko,’ I said. ‘Pilkomatic. The Pilkster. How is he?’

  Confusion flickered in Josh’s eyes before he broke into a smile. ‘Smartarse.’

  ‘Let me guess. He’s calling to say stop making out and come have a beer?’

  ‘Something like that.’ He smiled and leaned over to grab my hand. ‘But I’d rather stay here with you, doing what we were just doing …’

  I smoothed my jeans over my legs and gave him a coy smile.

  ‘Well, you know, you’re only human,’ I said, giving Col’s line a spin.

  ‘You’re not.’ He came in close and kissed me on the lips, then looked me in the eyes. ‘You’re from another planet. You’re too perfect.’

  ‘That’s —’ he kissed me, ‘so —’ he kissed me, ‘cheesy,’ I mumbled as he kissed me.

  He sat back and sighed. ‘I really couldn’t be arsed …’

  ‘Cold beer waits for no man, Foxman.’

  He laughed, shaking his head. ‘That’s what the boys call me.’

  ‘Go on, go.’

  ‘God, you’re so laid-back! Tess – sorry to bring her up again, but she used to hate me going for drinks with the boys. She’d always kick up a massive stink. And you’re basically telling me to piss off and start drinking. Funny thing is, that makes me want to go even less than I did before I saw you in that top.’

  I looked down at my top; it was veeeery low-cut. My wearing it had not been an accident. I smiled, blushing.

  We drove back silently the few blocks to my place, Josh’s hand resting on my thigh. I wanted him to leave it there forever. Thank God for automatics.

  ‘You know, you could come with me, if you wanted.’

  I grabbed my handbag off the floor.

  ‘Thank you, but no. I’m beat.’ It was true. His antics, or rather Tess’s, had exhausted me. My mind had been in the red zone for days. ‘Have fun.’

  ‘Jean, I’m so sorry and so embarrassed about this whole thing. Rest assured I’ll be strapping my phone to my flesh from here on.’

  Just then, ‘Eye of the Tiger’ kicked in again. We laughed.

  ‘See ya.’

  ‘Bye, Jeanie. I’ll call you tomorrow. You have my word.’

  He leaned over for a goodbye kiss. I made it a short one, pulling back just as he was beginning what could easily have turned into another session.

  ‘Playing hardball, huh?’

  ‘You know it.’

  I winked and got out of the car, closed the door, and strutted up our steps in a way I hoped looked sexy. Did I just wink? Jesus. Where did that come from? Last time I’d tried to wink sexily at a guy, it was Jeremy and he’d thought I had something in my eye. And yet I’d just pulled it off with Josh. Josh the superstar footballer and town hero and phenomenal kisser and boy who would’ve preferred to stay in his car making out with me than go drinking with the boys.

  As I unlocked the door I wondered why Tess had cared so much when he went out. So what? They’d won and they wanted a few beers, what was the big deal? She had some serious issues. A whole encyclopaedia of them.

  I skipped into the living room, dumping my bag on the dining table. Josh liked me, Josh liiiiked me! And he wasn’t back with Tess, and I was a winking, easygoing, fun-loving girl. And even if I wasn’t, he thought I was.

  My phone buzzed.

  Perfect Jean, I forgot 2 ask, du want 2 come 2 charity ball 4 the club wed nite? Boring but wd love u 2 come. Want 2 show u off …

  Actively ignoring the painful phonetic format, I focused on the content: Josh was inviting me to a ball. With all of the players and all of their wives and girlfriends and maybe even Tess. At the very least, a lot of people who knew Tess. And knew her to be Josh’s girl. My heartbeat raced at the idea; I couldn’t think of one thing that would be more terrifying, fatal earthquake aside. Nope. Nothing. What would I wear? And what the hell did ‘ball’ mean? Was it a gown situation, or was a cocktail dress all that was required? Ingrid would definitely be handing over the Best Dress in the Shop for this, whatever it took on my part.

  I’ll arrange for my horse and carriage to be free that night. Thank you for inviting me. Have a fun night.

  Kiss? I’d given him one last time and that hadn’t done me any favours. Nope, no kiss. I was playing the cool dream-girl too well to drop the ball, as it were, now. Immediately, my phone buzzed.

  I’ll b honoured 2 hv u by my side. See u then x

  Ha! He did the kiss! I tilted back my head and laughed. And you know what? I could hold my own at this ball thing. I was Perfect Jean.

  ROUND 18

  Elegant vs Excessive

  My insides had been taken hostage by a heaving swarm of frenzied, nausea-inducing nerves. There was as much chance of me being cool and calm at the ball as there was of a kiwifruit conducting a tax audit.

  At least I had a dress sorted. Ingrid had said I could wear the Ultimate Cocktail Dress if I did all the paperwork by today. She was a bit of a cow like that, but the lure of wearing that dress – all black and slinky and bust-boosting and tight as a glove in all the right places before dropping elegantly to the floor, and thus being non-tight in all the right places too – was intoxicating. The explanation behind her generous sartorial permission slip was that if I looked good, and the WAGs noticed, they might slither into the shop and spend some of their partners’ hard-earned cash. Simple kindness of heart would be too much to ask.

  Thankfully for my twice-not-called, three-times-shy paranoia, Josh had called yesterday to confirm and to make sure I was still coming. He said he would pick me up at 6.30, and that he was looking forward to seeing me all dressed up. I had casually dropped into the conversation the fact that I was feeling a little nervous about meeting everyone. He guffawed and said that they’d love me, as though bringing a new girl to a big event were entirely quotidian.

  I wasn’t so sure. I figured they were probably all tight with Tess, and would heavily resent me and the electrifying pace at which I had sauntered onto the scene and thieved Josh away from her, even though I was a nobody, had only ever had a handful of professional blow-dries in my life, and there was an aggressive pimple beginning to mass in a very antisocial manner on my chin.

  Josh was either blissfully ignorant of my anxiety, or else he was playing the role of Confident Guy beautifully, unprepared to let on that despite the fact he had just replaced his long-term girlfriend with a velocity usually reserved for small mating amphibians, everything was totally cool.

  The more I allowed my thoughts to fester, the more jittery I became. Not only was I going to be walking onto Tess’s turf, against a tide of acid-tongued, acrylic-taloned cronies, but at the very least I was attending a ball with a guy I barely knew, and no reliable intelligence of the fucking dress code. I was a little girl from Queensland – we wore thongs year-round, and believed that lycra made for an acceptable evening dress! I needed to calm down. I needed intravenous Valium. Fuck! Where was Col? Col would help.

  ‘All ready for the ball, WAGarella?’

  ‘Col, I’m starting to think I shouldn’t go …’

 
‘What? Are you retarded?’

  ‘No, hang on. Think about it: these are WAGs. They’re fucking perfect! You saw them at the game. They’ll probably all take the day off to get spray tans and blow-dries, while I finish work an hour before I’m being picked up – and I had to fight Ingrid even for that. And my hair needs a colour, and I’ve got a spot, and Tess might be there, and even if she’s not, all the girlfriends will be pro-Tess —’

  ‘Okay, someone needs to put the crack pipe down.’

  I took a deep breath in, releasing it slowly. My heart was racing.

  ‘Now, listen to me. You are going to this ball. You are wearing a hot dress. Josh asked you because he wants your company and he wants to show you off, but I also think he’s smarter than you’re giving him credit for. I think he’s making a statement by taking you so soon after he broke up with Tess; it shows he’s not gonna pussyfoot around in the shadow of the Great Nutbag.’

  ‘Do you think?’ None of that had occurred to me. Especially the part about Josh orchestrating this as a kind of PR stunt.

  ‘She stole his phone, for fuck’s sake!’

  ‘Hmmm. Guess you’re right.’

  ‘So, you’re going to look hot, and smile at all the haters, and —’

  ‘Did you just say “haters”?’

  ‘And you’re going to enjoy your evening knowing you deserve to be there just as much as any of them bitches.’

  ‘You’re so gangsta, Col.’

  ‘I’ll try to get home by six to help you get ready. Did you still need fashion tape?’

  ‘Thanks Col. Oh and heeeey, who’s the new dude, huh?’

  ‘Whaddyamean?’ Col’s voice changed ever so slightly, taking on a hint of defence.

  ‘Well, I saw some big guy’s hoodie in your room this morning. Figured you must have worn it home from his place …’

  ‘It’s Holly’s,’ she said quickly. ‘I was at hers on the weekend and it’s her boyfriend’s.’ She sounded nervous. I had a hunch she was hiding something from me.