Rory put out his hand. Jasper shook it as if it were a wet fish. I couldn’t believe it. He was standing in a really stupid slouchy way and chewing gum. I’d never seen him chew gum before.
“Yeah right, hi Rory, howareya? Anyway, catch you on the flip side, dude, Nick and I have some serious shit to talk about. See ya.” And he made to put his arm around my waist in a proprietorial fashion. I wriggled away. There was no way I was going to be stuck listening to his “serious shit” with Plonker. Dude? What was he talking about?
“Rory’s just taking me to meet Cordelia,” I said and turned to him with a panicked expression on my face. I mouthed “HELP” and crossed my eyes.
“Oh yes,” said Rory, getting it immediately. “She’s inside. Come on, Georgia.”
“I can see why you call him Plonker,” he said, once we were in the house. “What’s with the American accent? ‘Catch you on the flip side’ . . . Puhlease.”
Oops, I thought. Wrong plonker. I couldn’t believe Jasper’s behaviour. I couldn’t believe ghastly Real Plonker was a friend of his. But I was beginning to realise that there was about half a degree of separation between everyone who lived in Sydney.
“Shall we get a drink?” I said quickly. “And if we see Cordelia, I really would like to meet her.”
“Here she is now . . .”
She looked exactly how I thought a Cordelia should look—tall and willowy with long wavy auburn hair. She was wearing a long green dress with tiny glass beads embroidered over the pattern and a headdress made of real calla lilies. She gave Rory a huge hug.
“Oooh, you gorgeous thing,” she said. “I’m so glad you decided to come after all. I really want you to have a good time—and I really want you to like Michael. He’s not a horrible greedy lawyer—he’s a nice one, or I wouldn’t have married him.”
She paused and looked Rory straight in the eye.
“I wouldn’t have married anyone I didn’t think Alastair would have approved of, Rory,” she said gently and he smiled back at her, sadly.
“I’ll look forward to meeting him then,” said Rory. “I haven’t seen him since I was thirteen and he was a big scary boy in Year Twelve. Cords, this is Georgia Abbott.”
“Hi Georgia,” she said and kissed me, which I thought was charming. “I’m so pleased to meet you. I’ve heard such a lot about you. You’ll have to come over for dinner one night when it’s not so manic here. I suppose I can get your number from Rory . . .”
Yeah, right, I thought—not. I glanced at him, but he was staring studiedly off into the distance.
“You can always get me at Glow,” I said. “On the switchboard number.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” said Cordelia. “I know that number off by heart, because we send Debbie so many bouquets. I’ve learned always to ring first, because there are so many days when she’s out working on location.”
Something like that, I thought.
Then Cordelia swept us off to meet Michael, and she was right, he was a nice lawyer. As well as his money-making clients, he also represented anti-logging groups and environmental charities—for nothing—and that was how he and Cordelia had met. She’d been chained to a tree at the time. Despite Rory’s misgivings I could see that he did like Michael, so I thought I’d leave them to bond and went off to find the loo.
Cordelia directed me upstairs to her private bathroom where I found Jasper—doing cocaine with Plonker.
“Pinkie darling, there you are,” said Jasper, throwing his arms open extravagantly. I didn’t run into them, but I saw Plonker’s eyes flicker as he registered the intimacy between us. I really hoped he’d have the restraint not to fill Jasper in on our previous acquaintance. It made me feel like a slut. From what I’d heard Plonker was the biggest slut in Sydney, but it was OK for him, of course, he was a bloke.
“I see you boys are powdering your noses,” I said, icily. “I’ll see you downstairs, Jasper.”
“Don’t you want a little line, Georgie?” asked El Plonko.
“I’d rather set fire to myself.” I flashed a big fake smile and left them to it.
Back downstairs, the party was beginning to take off and people had started dancing. Trudy and Betty were out shaking it on the dance floor, so I joined them. Rory was sitting on a sofa chatting happily to a fair-haired girl I didn’t recognise.
It soon turned into the usual Sydney mayhem. Trudy was jiving with me. Betty was doing some kind of tango with a very attractive Asian guy. Lulu and Tania were doing the twist. Rory was dancing with the fair-haired girl. I asked Trudy who she was and he didn’t know, so she clearly wasn’t part of the “in” crowd. In between spins and turns, I took a good look at her.
She was wearing a dark red suit with a very short skirt, natural-coloured pantyhose and black shoes. Lots of fussy gold jewellery. And too much lipstick. The girl in the polyester suit. Not someone I’d want to go on a villa holiday with, I said to myself, sniffing.
After a few more songs I saw her leave the room and Rory came over to me.
“May I have the pleasure of the next dance?” he asked, bowing low.
“I would be enchanted,” I said, dropping into a curtsy, and we grooved and shimmied and generally got down. After we’d danced to a couple of tracks I saw the girl in the red suit come in, spot us and walk straight out again. Rory didn’t notice, taking me into his confident waltz hold and spinning me around the floor to a dance mix of “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.” And as he dropped me down into that familiar dip at the end, I realised I was beaming up at him.
Then, as the music changed to the unmistakable opening bars of “Groove is in the Heart,” somebody grabbed me, quite roughly, from behind.
“There you are, Pinkie my darling,” said Jasper, pulling me close and shoving Rory out of the way. “Sorry mate,” he said to Rory, “but I think it’s time I danced with my date. Hop it.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but Jasper had turned me round and propelled me to the other side of the dance floor, where he started pumping his groin into mine in a grotesque way. I looked over my shoulder to see Rory stare with amazement and then turn on his heel.
“Jasper, what are you doing? That was so rude.”
“Oh sorry, did I offend your nice middle-class friend? I’m so sorry if I don’t know the correct etiquette.” He had a really unpleasant tone in his voice and a hard glint in his eye. Maybe it was the coke, maybe it was Plonker’s evil influence, but I hadn’t seen Jasper like this before. Suddenly I didn’t feel like dancing anymore. Specially not the pervy way he was swivelling his hips.
“Jasper, I’m going to sit this one out,” I said, coldly.
“What’s wrong? I’m not good enough for you now? You only want to dance with the private-school boys?”
“Get over yourself, Jasper. I’m going to get some fresh air—the atmosphere in here just got a big muggy. I’ll see you later.”
I went outside and sat on the wall of the terrace. What had got into him? I’d never seen this side of him before and I didn’t like it. Through the open doors I could see him dancing with Lulu and Tania and he seemed quite happy. Plonker appeared with a very pretty girl who looked about seventeen. He was gazing into her eyes and singing along with the words to “It’s Raining Men”—all very familiar. Cordelia and Michael were clasped around each other, apparently oblivious to their guests. After a while Rory came back onto the dance floor with Red Suit. She had her arms around his neck and was pressing her large breasts into him. He didn’t seem to mind. But I realised I did.
After a while I saw Jasper leave the dance floor and Tania came out and sat with me.
“Why the long face, Georgie?” she said. “You seemed to be having a good time earlier.”
“Oh, I just don’t feel like dancing any more.”
“Is Jasper being an arsehole?”
I looked at her. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Cocaine. Doesn’t suit him.” She rolled herself a cigarette from a little embroidered po
uch she always had with her.
“How did you know he’d been doing coke?”
“I’ve known the guy since he was twenty. I know Jasper better than just about anybody, I suppose.” Tania was smiling smugly to herself. “He’s always been a pain in the arse on coke. Makes him paranoid and brings out his pent-up anger. And coming to houses like this makes him aggro too.”
“But he lives in a house bigger than this.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t own it. He likes to pretend he’s Mr Laid Back King Boho—and if he smokes enough pot he is—but deep down he’s really bitter about the way his career has tailed off.” She lit the roll-up and took a deep puff. “It all started to go wrong for him when he got involved with that Liinda Vidovic,” she said, with smoke pouring out of her nostrils.
I stared at her. “What?”
“Doesn’t she work with you on Glow?” Croatian. Big hair. Great writer, total nutcase . . . used to be a junkie, now she’s a one-woman Salvation Army.”
“What do you mean by ‘involved’?”
“She was madly in love with him. He was screwing every model in town and wasn’t interested. He liked her intellectually, but he didn’t fancy her. Jasper likes blondes . . . Like you. And me. Anyway, one night he was stoned and horny and she was the only woman around, and he fucked her. That was a biiig mistake. She stalked him relentlessly—she thought he should marry her because they’d slept together once. She was relentless. Phoned him day and night. Followed him. Left threatening messages for any woman who went near him. It was insane.”
I couldn’t believe it. No wonder Liinda had warned me off him so intensely.
“Is she still in love with him?”
“If she is, she’s not so obvious about it. But she’s the reason Jasper can’t work for Glow anymore and a lot of other places. Terry would be the one to ask.”
“Who’s Terry?”
“You know Terry, big guy, bald, nose ring, works at Radio National, you’ve met him at the house. He’s a very good friend of Liinda’s—they’re both AA, NA and all the rest of it.
Aha, a mystery solved—that was how she knew I’d been to Caledonia that time. I wonder what else he’d told her.
“I haven’t seen him around for a while,” I said.
“No, he’s been in Melbourne for weeks—there was a big NA convention and he stayed on.”
Tania carried on smoking and I just sat there feeling winded. I really liked Liinda—I didn’t want to become her love rival. She took feuds very seriously. And she had that knife. I’d enjoyed my time with Jasper—until tonight—but I didn’t like him enough to risk making my life at work total misery.
“Thanks for telling me all this, Tania. I wonder why Jasper didn’t warn me not to tell Liinda . . . I could have gone into work and told her I’d met this wonderful man.”
“I think he reckoned you were strong enough to take Liinda on.”
“I think he’s overestimated me,” I said, stunned. This was too much. Did every man in Sydney come with several steamer trunks of emotional baggage?
“I hope I haven’t spoiled your evening,” said Tania, grinding the butt of her roll-up into the terrace. “Jasper’s a good guy really, but his career’s on the skids and he needs people to blame it on. And he needs all the help he can get to put it right again.” She smiled at me innocently.
What exactly was Tania telling me now? Was she implying that Jasper was only seeing me in the hope of getting work from Glow again? I’d had enough unpleasant revelations for one evening so I decided not to pursue that line of thinking. Maybe Tania was a bit of a stirrer. And then another thought occurred to me—maybe she fancied Jasper for herself. I’d noticed her looking at him in a certain way and she certainly spent an awful lot of time at Caledonia for someone who didn’t actually live there.
Living in Sydney’s tangled web of relationships was beginning to smarten me up. I was going to check out everything she’d told me before I acted on it.
“Well, thanks for letting me in on the background, Tania. I think I’ll go in and see if Jasper’s mood has improved.”
The look she gave me as I got up made me think I’d been right in my deduction. Perhaps she thought her sordid revelations would make me go home. Well, tough luck.
Jasper was back on the dance floor.
“Pinkus, Pinkus—there you are. Come and dance with me. I know I was a pain earlier, I have to admit I was jealous. Those middle-class boys make me feel like the peasant I am. Gets me every time. Do you forgive me?”
“Not entirely. But I’ll consider it if you don’t take any more coke tonight. It makes you aggressive.”
He saluted me smartly. “Yessir. Nosir. No more cocaine. Sir.”
“OK. At ease,” I said. “And please don’t do that pervy dancing. It’s embarrassing.”
My feelings about Jasper were rather confused. Part of me wanted to walk out and never see him again, but I wondered if that was overreacting. And anyway—it was a great party and I was determined to enjoy what was left of it. I danced with Trudy and Betty and their friends for a while, but when a slower track came on, Jasper sensed my weakness and pulled me into a clinch.
I looked over his shoulder and saw Rory doing the same with Red Suit. At that exact moment he glanced straight at me and I saw something—Surprise? Irritation?—flicker across his face. Probably the same thing that had just flickered across mine. I looked away immediately and surrendered myself to the music and Jasper’s incorrigibly wiggling hips. Then he kissed me, one of his long, slow, dreamy kisses, and I forgot all about everyone else. He may have been more complicated than I’d thought, but Jasper was a blissful kisser.
After a couple more slow songs I was beginning to feel drowsy and Jasper picked up on it—he knew he’d been out of line earlier and was being his most tender and adorable.
“Want to go home, little Pinkie? Had enough excitement for one night?”
I nodded with my eyes closed like a sleepy puppy.
“OK, come on then, little girl.” I let him lead me towards the door.
As we left the room I saw Rory sitting on a sofa with Red Suit on his knee. They were smogging madly.
“Bye, Mr. Silvertail. Have fun,” said Jasper, quite unnecessarily, tapping him on the knee as we went by. I looked back and saw Rory open one eye. It opened a bit wider when he saw who had spoken and who was with him. Then it closed again. Tightly.
Chapter Eighteen
I was standing on a stool in Antony’s workroom. He was kneeling at my feet with pins in his mouth, wearing the white coat he always wore to work in, like they do in the Paris couture houses.
“I don’t want to get threads on my beautiful clothes any more than they do,” he said, when I suggested it was just a tiny tad pretentious. (Actually he said, “I on’t ont oo et freds on y ootiful close any or an ay oo.”)
I pointed out that he was wearing white Levis and a white T-shirt, not a Saville Row suit—and that he’d never make it as a ventriloquist.
“Ay are ootiful oo e,” he said and told me to keep still. He was pinning the hem on an evening gown he’d insisted on making for me after hearing that I’d worn a polyester flamenco dress to Cordelia’s party.
He sat back on his heels and took the pins out of his mouth.
“Whatever possessed you, Pussy? None of my girlfriends can go out looking trashy. I don’t allow it. It reflects so badly on me. I made Cordelia’s dress—did you like it? It was her wedding present. That beading cost me a fortune. Of course, I know why you wore it—it’s the influence of that trashy Jasper O’Connor. He loves a bit of polyester. Mad for it. Probably has dark brown nylon sheets. I can’t believe you’re seeing him, after all I told you—and I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Oh, give it a rest, Antony,” I said crossly. I was still pissed off with Jasper for his behaviour at the party and I didn’t feel like defending him. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d go on and on about how unsuitable he is—like you ar
e. Get over it. I’ve got no intention of marrying him and I’m not really seeing him anymore anyway. I just wanted some male company . . . no strings attached and no judgments from well-meaning friends. It can be a terrible strain going out with potential husbands and having to be fascinating all the time. Exhausting. I find non-potentials much more relaxing.”
“Oh, I see, you just wanted a root—or a ‘shag,’ as I believe you English girls say. So, is he a good fuck?”
“Oh Dolly darling, you do have a way with words. Yes. He’s a top root.”
“How does he compare with Nick Pollock and his pneumatic penis?”
“Well, I have to admit that Nick could compete internationally—it’s a spectacular display. But it rather loses its gloss when you find out that it’s really just a matter of practice makes perfect. Jasper is much more sincere and you get the feeling the experience is spontaneous, rather than a well-rehearsed medal-winning routine, the way it is with Plonker.”
“HA HA HA . . . Plonker. I love that.”
Which meant the rest of Sydney would soon love it as well, I thought. Good.
“Oh well, if he’s a good fuck, what the heck,” said Antony. “Enjoy yourself, but remember that he won’t enhance your stock around town.”
“Am I in a cattle auction?”
“Pretty much.”
“Lovely. I suppose Betty and Trudy told you I was smooching with Jasper at the party.”
“That’s right. I must say you’ve done very well to keep it quiet for so long.”
“Well, as I told you, it was never a relationship. It’s my version of your anonymous sex.”
“Good. Keep it like that.”
“Yes, dearest,” I said meekly.
After he’d finished pinning and fussing we sat on the roof garden and Antony opened his customary bottle of Cristal.
“Actually, I’ve got some far more juicy gossip than you and that grubby photographer.”
“What?”
“You know your friend Billy Ryan?”
Pants on Fire Page 23
