by Foster, Zoe
‘Yeah, the event management stuff.’
‘Of course. I can’t see any conflict of interest there … can you?’ Abby smiled broadly.
‘Nope. So, do we reckon this might work?’ Charlie looked at Abby with a half-smile.
Abby asked herself if this was the most mental idea ever conceived, right up there with the Segway. Or was it one of those glorious moments where everything falls charmingly into place, and the universe smiles softly from above, happy that it created another Perfect Moment in small-business staff hiring. Maybe this was why she met Charlie all those weeks ago, for this exact situation to be able to blossom! Abby started to fidget with excitement, her right leg tapping furiously on the ground as it did when adrenaline was given an opportunity to scream through her veins.
‘So, just to confirm, there’d be office time as well,’ said Abby, ‘which actually is based at my place now … Actually, there’s no reason you can’t work from home, and we’d just meet a couple of times a week, maybe. The whole idea is that it’s flexible and malleable, and we help each other out. I guess I basically wanted to clone myself, if I’m being honest. The big plan is to travel for a while … I wanted to be able to leave the company in capable hands while I did that.’
‘How long we talking?’ Charlie peered into Abby’s eyes in that arresting manner of hers.
Abby got nervous for a moment, as though she had to justify herself.
‘I don’t know, say, four/five weeks? I’ve never done it before, I always had to work, y’see. I don’t need to disappear on my life and backpack or any of that shit, I love my life and this city, but I do want to explore a little. I’m nearly thirty-four and I’ve only ever been overseas for two weeks at a time.’ She was babbling. Why did Charlie make her feel like she was a kid?
‘I did London for three years, Paris for two, and a stint in Berlin for six months. It was awesome, but I was ready to come home. The weather drove me fucking nuts, for starters. But you gotta travel, course you do.’ Charlie sipped from her wine, her eyes still locked onto Abby. Despite her cute wardrobe and adorable fringe, there was something a bit scary and Angelina Jolie-ish about Charlie, Abby realised. Probably has a flock of Satanic tattoos on her ribcage and a penchant for death metal. Meh, who cares; she would keep the girls in line, that’s for sure. Plus, the clients would be very impressed by her take-no-shit attitude. They’d be impressed by all of the new elements of the business, Abby thought excitedly. How slick and professional and successful she would look if she could launch the site, move offices and have an extraordinary new contractor all at once.
‘So, how would a regular week go, for example?’ Charlie asked, perusing the menu as she spoke.
‘The primary vessel of communication for Allure is the new website. So all bookings, all enquiries, all applications for work from new girls, it all goes through the site.’
‘So what do we do? Sounds like the web robot has it all under control.’
Abby laughed. ‘Kind of.’
‘Hey, you hungry? I am – shall we order from our charming waitress so we can get food on the way?’
‘Great idea. And also, let’s talk about your business! That’s why we’re here – not for me to seduce you into the glamorous and exciting world of promotional models.’
‘Oh, it’s such basic shit. Like, how do you register the business, who’s your accountant, what can you claim, who is your web design company, which brand of instant coffee is cheapest and most effective …’
Abby smiled. ‘More than happy to help. Wish I had someone to impart all of that stuff when I was starting out. I was like a drunk stumbling down a dark hallway, feeling around for things and hoping they were what I was looking for.’
‘You’re smashing it now, though. What a fun boss I have.’ Charlie had a grin on her face as she sipped her wine.
‘Are you serious? You definitely want to come on board? You don’t even know how much I’m paying or anything, an—’
‘I think you’re forgetting it’s actually me who benefits most from this. And as I’m currently earning nothing, and have a mortgage and a highfalutin’ lifestyle I have no intention of giving up, any job that affords me flexibility and pays me more than $5 a week is a win.’
Abby could not quite believe her luck. How glorious it would be: they would both be teaching each other things, and Charlie wouldn’t get under her feet or be hopeless, she would be a rock she could depend upon.
Well, she hoped as much, she’d only met her once but she seemed professional. A small voice in Abby’s head said she should get a reference from her old job, but she didn’t want to offend Charlie by asking for one. Maybe she would just call them anyway. Nahh, no need. Charlie was legit.
‘Let’s do it. And if it makes you feel more at ease, yes, you can wear an earpiece around the office.’
Charlie laughed and lifted her now empty wine glass up to cheers Abby.
‘To promo girls!’
As Abby sipped her wine, she saw her phone vibrate and light up on the table: it was a text from Marcus. Her heart immediately quickened. She wanted to read it, but didn’t want to be one of Those Tools who read every text or email as they came through.
‘Be right back.’ Charlie stood and strutted off to the bathroom, leaving Abby free to check the text.
I’ve been thinking of those little yellow knickers you wear to bed. Also, let’s go for a nightcap. I’ll come pick you up in an hour. X M
So bossy. Abby loved it. She checked her watch; it was not yet even half-past eight. She could do a nightcap, why not? It was a celebratory night, after all.
If you’re lucky I’ll wear them tonight. If you’re even luckier, I won’t.
Thirty seconds later, her phone vibrated.
Abby! That’s so unhygienic. Yuck.
Abby blinked a few times. Again, her phone vibrated.
I JEST. Skip the bra and shoes too, if you like. See you at 9.30. XM
‘Why so smiley?’ Charlie said as she sat back down, wiping her hands on her lap.
‘Just a silly text from a silly boy,’ Abby said, still shaking her head.
‘There’s no better kind.’ Charlie said, smiling devilishly.
‘I tend to agree.’
True to his word, Marcus arrived at Abby’s house at precisely 9.30 p.m., leaving the car running as he bounded up her stairs to knock on the door, with a small bouquet of neighbourhood-picked roses and a gleeful, pleased-with-himself smile.
Abby, who’d changed into jeans and a lightweight, short grey singlet over a very-visible black lace bralette, opened the door. ‘Uh, you know I prefer David Austins, right?’
‘Ah yes, but these are better, these are … Derek Boston roses.’
‘You’re a nonce.’
‘Bah, roses are roses.’
‘Some would argue that, but thank you all the same.’ She took them from him and immediately a small thorn pricked her finger.
‘Ow, fuck!’
‘Oh shit, baby baby; I’m sorry.’ He grabbed her finger and kissed it several times, then began creeping up her arm, Gomez Adams style.
Abby laughed. ‘It’s fine, stop, stop!’ They kissed tenderly on the lips before Marcus pulled back suddenly, his eyes flashing with excitement.
‘You look gorgeous, but you’d look better in my car.’ Marcus said, before breaking away and clapping his hands in excitement.
‘Come on, let’s go! Bring a jacket! Dump the Derek Bostons! Let’s go!’
‘Okay, okay, I’m coming …’ Abby grabbed a lightweight anorak off her coat hook and her bag and closed the door behind her, wondering what he had in store.
As they drove along, Marcus insisted Abby listen ‘properly’ to Washed Out, which was playing via his iPhone, because she’d never heard them, and they were ‘fucking gorgeous’. Abby asked where they were going, but Marcus continued to sing along, as though he’d not heard. She opened her window and listened to the pop-synth music Marcus was singing along to enthusiastically, enjoying the e
xcitement and exuberance of her passenger, and the delight of being taken on a surprise mission.
After ten minutes, Marcus pulled up and parked the car on the shoulder of a major highway, and what looked like the perfect scene for a swift, anonymous execution.
‘Uh, Marcus? What are we doing h—’
‘Sshh, sshh, fortune favours the bold. Come on; get out. Lock the door, bring that jacket.’
He went to the boot and pulled out a large blanket and a brown paper bag. It was a picnic. Abby smiled, despite herself. It was all so hilariously clichéd, but she was feeling convivial and open-minded and promised herself not to judge.
Marcus slammed the boot closed and grabbed Abby’s hand. ‘Follow me.’
They hopped over a crumbling barrier fence and walked down a path that ran perpendicular to the highway, walking over a small cusp to be greeted by a spectacular view of the city and half a football field worth of grass. Lights from the highway lit up the area just enough to keep it from being terrifying.
‘What IS this place?’
‘No idea. I helped a mate shoot a film clip here last week and thought it would be a beautiful place to bring you for a glass of wine and a pash. It’s just like that hill Bart and Lisa are always on in The Simpsons, looking over Springfield.’
Abby followed Marcus, her eyes locked onto the twinkling lights below her, until he found A Good Spot and arranged the blanket for them to sit on.
‘Bit of a cliché, I know, but you gotta admit it’s good, right?’
‘It is good. It’s creepy, a bit serial-killer, but it’s very beautiful too.’
He was busy arranging some fancy nuts, dip and crackers on the blanket, which Abby thought was incredibly endearing.
‘Chilled rosé, madame?’
He rustled around in the bottomless bag and produced two plastic wine tumblers, and a bottle of rosé from a zip-up bottle cooler. Abby laughed when she saw he’d written ‘Babe’ and ‘Hunk’ on them. He filled them to hangover-inducing levels and handed Abby hers carefully.
‘To a total babe.’
‘To a complete hunk.’
They tapped glasses and looked into each other’s eyes. Abby saw a boy who was potentially in love with her. Marcus saw a woman whose resistance was finally breaking down. They kissed, each calmly confident that they were in control. Both were wrong.
24
Abby woke up overtired, cranky and unexcited about the office clean-up ahead of her. Thankfully Marcus had left early and wasn’t privy to her foul mood. She’d started letting him sleep over, which delighted Marcus, and secretly Abby as well. He kept her in a vice-like cuddle grip all night, chasing her if she rolled the other way, immediately fastening his arms around her torso and kissing her shoulder before settling back into his slumber. Abby loved it, and the illusion of long-term intimacy it created. She hadn’t had a proper boyfriend for so long, and the softness of his skin against her as she slept reminded her of the secret world of two people in love, in their own little cotton cocoon each night, safe in each other’s arms. It was becoming addictive.
They had returned from their picnic, then carried on drinking till midnight on her kitchen stools, talking about life, work, Charlie (‘She’s definitely not a spy, is she?’) the website, the possibility of the two of them maybe sneaking off for a dirty weekend sometime soon. And also three rounds of Uno. Just enough to determine that Abby was unquestionably better at it than Marcus, even if she did occasionally cheat by slipping Wild cards under her arse and pulling them out when he was refilling their glasses.
It occurred to Abby as she sat there in knickers and singlet, laughing and sipping and kissing and talking that Marcus was a very good friend, as well as a terrifically sexy lover. She knew this was dangerous territory, because while it was hard to break up with a lover, it was even harder to shed a friend and a lover, and Abby couldn’t stop thinking that no matter how delicious and fun and gorgeous a time she was having with Marcus, the chimes of doom had to eventually sound.
They had to! Sure, she was enjoying herself now, but she knew that there was a huge, stinking mess waiting around the corner. Either she would implement a break-up, and that would be heartbreaking because there was a good chance it would be because she couldn’t take him or the relationship seriously, or they would ‘give it a chance’, and their inevitable differences would eventually scream so loudly that they would end up breaking each other and hating each other, too. She tried to push those thoughts out of her head and stop forecasting, but it was in her DNA. She did it with every man.
Before Abby could even get into her car, Chelsea was calling. She considered screening, but figured she owed Chels a chat, as she’d been a little absent from her friends for the past couple of weeks. Pah, she’d let it ring out then text her back. Chels, like Abby, was allergic to leaving voicemail.
Sorry honey, about to go into meeting, what’s up?
He has a WIFE AND CHILD.
Jeremy?!
Abby knew she should just call. But now she’d lied, she couldn’t. Shit.
Knew he was 2 good 2 be true. He’s such a fucking skidmrk
How did you find out??
Abby was risking several traffic violations and possible death with her texting and reading, but Chelsea was taking ages to write back so she kept driving.
Last night I put foot down, said I wanted to 2 go 2 his place. It’s been 2 months! He had usual excuse but I wdn’t take no for answer. We drove there n I asked whwwat he was hiding. Thought he was going 2 show me a S&M dungeon or retarded pedo broth
The text cut off, she had obviously written a novel and it was all still filtering through.
… er, n then he says I haven’t told u full story – DUHHH! He has wife who lives up northrn beaches, they split last yr n have a 2 yo son. He was 2 scared 2 show me house, because his son has bedroom n toys n shit there n he knew that would freak me out
Abby pulled over. Death or serious injury for Jeremy’s secret life wasn’t worth it.
Whoa. So, so heavy … I’m so sorry honey. Let me call you as soon as meeting over??
Abby’s guilt over her call screening was suffocating.
What sicko dates a girl for 2 months n keeps that stuff a secret?
Abby couldn’t take it anymore. She dialled Chelsea, who picked up immediately, and started talking as though they were mid-conversation. Technically, they were.
‘I mean, I can see how telling me he has a wife and kid was never going to be easy, but when the fuck was he going to come clean? How long did he think he could keep the charade up? I hate how men think playing little boy scared permits them to perform bigger atrocities, and then when they get found out, they get to play the “But I didn’t want to upset you” card, as if it wipes the slate clean.’
‘I’m surprised one of his frien—’
‘How do you just put a sheet over your whole life like that? I fucking knew something had to be wrong, it was all going too well …’
‘Hang on, so where did you leave it with him? What’s the exact situation he has with his wife?’
Another deep sigh. ‘They’ve been separated for eleven months, and she’s moved in with her parents till she finds a place. He sees Oliver once a week, for twenty-four hours.’
‘Sheesh … that seems a bit unfair.’
‘It’s just till he gets a bit older and she feels he can “take care of him adequately”.’
‘Oh. So does that explain all those times he was working on weekends?’
‘Yes! Urgh, I can’t believe he lied all those times, Abs. Lied to my face.’
Abby was silent, thinking about how she could best sneak in some perspective without copping a verbal serve.
‘Would it be fair to say, though, and just hear me out, would it be fair to say it would’ve been hard for him to find a way to tell you this? You’re not the most placid of girls …’
‘Don’t you devils-advocate me, Abs, not today. He could’ve told me on the first date and I
would’ve digested it and dealt with it, and then decided if I wanted to pursue something with him. Now that I’ve fallen in love with him, and I’ve found this out … I’m fucked, you know? I don’t want children, or did you forget that? And now, if I am to stay with him, I immediately inherit one.’
Abby hadn’t heard Chelsea this emotional for a very, very long time. She felt like she’d missed some crucial ingredients in the Jeremy/Chelsea love story, she had no idea Chelsea was so into him. Guilt crept in as she realised it was because she’d been so caught up in a tapestry of work and Marcus.
‘Chels, I’m not siding with Jeremy. But it seems like despite his terrible decision to keep this from you so far, he was doing it with good intentions … in as far as the idea of you leaving because of it was too awful an idea to entertain.’
‘Can’t you just be angry with me for once? Instead of trying to sprinkle fucking pixie dust all over everything?’
‘Chels, I’m just trying to talk it through with you, like adults do.’
‘Well maybe I don’t feel like being an adult right now.’
And she’d gone. Hung up. Left Abby with a dismissive symphony of beeps and a sick feeling in her stomach. Abby called Chelsea back, but it rang out. And then she got cross, a combination of too little sleep, too much wine and being reprimanded for trying to help merged into one simmering hotpot of rage: what was Chelsea playing at? Were they in high school? She’d send a text and let it go. Who got to their mid-thirties and still hung up on people? Who did that? Abby tried to calm herself by remembering how supportive and solid Chels had been for her over the years. That despite being testing at times, her veins and arteries were paved with gold.
Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. You know I back you without exception. Please call me Xxx
Of course, even after Abby arrived at the office, she’d received no response. She dialled Chelsea again once she reached her desk. No answer. She left a long-winded, apologetic voicemail and again pleaded for her to call back.
