by Ali Berg
‘Aren’t you meant to be working on your presentation?’ Zach yelled back. He was making zucchini noodles in the kitchen, banging pots and pans, pouring water and grating things. Bea was touched by the gesture, but really, all she wanted was some peace and quiet. And carbs.
‘Soon. ’ Bea said, not tearing her eyes away from The Children Act.
Zach walked out of the kitchen, a tea towel slung casually over his shoulder. You don’t want to blow this work opportunity for the sake of these silly notes. It’s not worth it.’
Bea ignored him, taken aback by his abruptness, and continued to read.
‘Look at you. You’re obsessed. It’s taking over your life! You’ve barely looked me in the eye since I walked through the door,’ Zach pleaded
It was true, Bea had hardly acknowledged Zach. Not just tonight, but not properly since her overwhelming run-in with Dino at The Nook. She closed the book and looked up at her boyfriend. Really looked at him. She wanted to give this thing with Zach a proper go, but everything had happened so quickly. She didn’t quite know how she had arrived here, with the fake Mystery Writer cooking fake noodles in her kitchen.
‘I’m sorry, this is just something I need to get to the bottom of. And I would have hoped you might understand that. Especially after everything we’ve been through.’
Returning to her place in the book, Bea skimmed to the end of the page and then grabbed her phone, angling it so that she could take a picture of the page for Instagram.
‘Jeez, enough with the photos, the Instagram this and the Instagram that,’ grumbled Zach as he fell onto the couch next to Bea, grabbing at her phone.
‘Zach, stop it! You’re ruining the lighting,’ Bea whined, less playfully than she had intended. She shuddered at how much she sounded like Lizzie.
Catching her hand in his, Zach delicately pried the phone from her grasp. Bea sighed and crossed her arms firmly across her chest. ‘Please, come back to me,’ he said softly.
‘What are you talking about? I’m here. I’m literally right here next to you.’
‘But are you? Are you really present with me? I feel like all you ever think about is work and those damn squiggles. You’re consumed by them and I feel like I can’t measure up.’ Zach ran his hands through his hair, the loose curls springing back into place as his fingers travelled along his scalp. ‘I mean, I know I work hard on training my clients and setting up the gym. We both love work, and that’s great. I love how driven you are. But this is different. This is too much. I feel stupid for even saying this, but I think I’m jealous of a bloody ballpoint pen.’
Bea put her hand on Zach’s knee. They watched as Philip poked his head out of the little hut that sat in the corner of his cage, spotted Zach, hissed and then retreated quickly.
Zach made a hissing noise back at him.
‘Zach, I get it,’ Bea began, her stomach twisting for a reason she couldn’t yet identify. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve just been so swept up in work and the events and all this—’ she gestured to the book still open on her lap, ‘—and, well, you and me … I’m still getting my head around us. Maybe it’s all just starting to get to me a little.’
Zach blinked quickly, clearly not wanting to hear her doubt. He shook his head, interrupting Bea before she could say anything more. ‘You know I love you, right? I just hate having to share you all the time,’ he said, leaning in to kiss her lightly on the lips.
Softening under his touch, she kissed him back, hard, until he was on top of her. Neither of them spoke, only breathing heavily and running their hands up and down each other’s everywheres. The only time Bea felt like they were on the same page was when they were in this exact position. But tonight, Bea’s head wasn’t quite focused on the beautiful man on top of her. She was thinking about what Zach had just told her. Maybe she did have to let things go. Maybe she had to bring herself back from the depths of the pages and start living in reality. I can’t exist in the margins forever, she told herself in an attempt to ease the blinding disappointment that rested heavily on her shoulders. Or maybe the margins were the only safe place for her to belong.
Bea sculled an Uber Eats–delivered strong skinny latte from The Nook, then placed the cup on the kitchen bench. Somehow the coffee didn’t taste quite as good without one of Dino’s signature quotes scrawled across the cup. It was early afternoon and she was yet to leave the house. Having wasted far too much time trying to decipher the annotations in The Children Act, and ‘kissing and making up’ with Zach, she was paying for it now. She had been ferociously prepping all day for her big presentation with Mia and Janine, trying to play catch-up.
She stared in the mirror as she smoothed down her hair. The deep, purplish bags that weighed down each of her eyes were now covered, somewhat indiscreetly, with a slick layer of concealer, and her lips were painted a bright red (an attempt to distract onlookers from said weary complexion). She smiled at her reflection, baring her teeth in an exaggerated expression. You can do this, she told herself, pushing thoughts of disagreements and make-up sex with Zach and stone-cold silence from Dino to the back of her mind. Now was not the time to focus on confusing feelings. Now was the time to nail her presentation and win over her client.
She slid on her I’m-a-professional black pea coat as she bent over Philip’s cage, kissing the sleeping ferret goodbye on his furry forehead.
Bea sat in the yellow boardroom of her coworking office, tapping her moon boot impatiently. She glanced at her watch – 3.50pm. Only ten minutes until the ladies from Thelma & Clarke arrived.
‘Sorry we’re late,’ Martha said, bursting into the boardroom with Ruth, carrying a tray of coffees. Martha wore a knee-length velvet dress (like an absolute boss), paired with a black blazer. Her face was framed by a ginger wig cropped neatly at her shoulders. Ruth wore a checked jumper with a white shirt underneath and a small corgi brooch pinned to her collar. The two of them looked at each other and laughed at some unspoken joke.
Bea watched Ruth, who had only just recovered from the disappointment of Bea not bringing Philip to work, grab a croissant from the pile on the table only to see Martha swat her hand away, reminding her they were for the clients. In this moment, Bea felt lucky to have friends who had been selflessly helping her, for free, when she felt so out of her depth. Friends who cared for her with no hidden agenda.
‘Now, remember to smile. In business, there is no finish line, so enjoy this journey!’ Ruth briskly tore off a piece of Danish and shoved it in her mouth, and Martha looked less than impressed.
‘God, I feel a bit sick, Bea flicked the remote control that connected to the projector, testing it for the hundredth time.
‘Stop fretting. You’ve got this, Bea,’ Martha said as she removed a notebook and pen from her bag and placed them on the table in front of her. ‘Oh, by the way, your speed dating event is next week, right?’
‘Don’t remind me,’ Bea grumbled. She was yet to find a new space for her event.
‘Well, I found you a bar, if you’re interested. My friend owns a little place in West Melbourne called Willows & Wine. It’s cute and rustic and one of the walls is lined with a bookshelf. He said he’ll rent it to you free of charge for the night if you push drink sales,’ Martha said, reapplying a hot pink layer of lipstick, using a pocket mirror as her guide.
‘Really? Martha! You’re my knight in shining armour!’ Relief washed over Bea. Everything might just work out. It had to.
‘It’s nothing, really. Now, let’s go over what we’re saying today. Does everyone know their parts?’ Martha shuffled the papers in front of her, getting down to business. Bea and Ruth nodded. But, before they could say ‘content marketing strategy’, Bea’s phone pinged with a message from the receptionist:
They’re here!
Bea shot up from her chair and rushed out of the boardroom, limping to the front of the building in her coolest, I’ve-got-this hobble.
She found Mia hovering in the poky foyer, a certain calmness to her. Standing n
ext to her was the glamorous Janine Partridge wearing a grey power suit and a chunky emerald green necklace. She exuded authority.
‘Mia, Janine, nice to see you both again,’ Bea said, extending her hand. ‘I’ll just take you to the boardroom, where my two consultants, Ruth Lester and Martha Peters, are waiting.’ Bea led the women down the narrow hallway, listening to Janine’s heels click formidably behind her.
As soon as they entered the room, Ruth and Martha stood up, shaking each of the women’s hands. Bea walked to the front of the room and turned on the projector.
‘You can have some croissants. They’re for you.’ Ruth pointed towards the pastries, a smattering of crumbs on her cheek. Janine and Mia smiled kindly.
Bea flicked on her presentation, cleared her throat and took a sip of water. Keep your shit together, Babbage! She thanked Mia and Janine for coming, then ran through the agenda for the meeting, finding her feet and beginning to enjoy herself.
‘Who’s the main character from Cecilia Beechworth’s newest novel?’ Bea asked and looked around the room.
‘Rachel Belton,’ Mia and Janine both replied.
‘No. It’s Cecilia Beechworth.’ Pause for effect. ‘Cecilia has become the main character, the leading lady, of her own novel. People pick up a Beechworth novel to read her latest work, whatever it is, whoever it’s about. Others won’t read it, just because it’s a Beechworth, even though it’s a brilliant story. So, how do we strip all that back and let her characters – Rachel, Neville and Gloria – do the talking, while still intriguing existing crime fiction lovers, but also enticing those who might never consider reading a mystery at all?’
Janine scribbled something in her notebook and Mia gave Bea two subtle thumbs up.
‘Picture this.’ Bea flicked to the next slide, a book with a metallic cover and a bold green title. ‘What’s missing from this cover?’
‘The author,’ Mia replied.
‘Exactly.’ Bea beamed. ‘Imagine if we were to sell Cecilia’s books like this. The story will be as brilliant and addictive as usual, and of course there will be lots of hype about it, but we won’t tell anyone who the author is,’ she said, flicking to the next slide, which featured newspaper headlines.
‘We’ll run a press campaign: “Who is the mystery author? The biggest mystery of this book is – who wrote it?” We’ll let the protagonist be the real protagonist again, the setting be prominent – but the main character? The leading ladies and men? They’re every person who’s brave enough to pick up a copy of this book and read it without any preconceptions defining what they should think, or who they should be. Those who become detectives in their own narrative – on the hunt for the person who wrote this story that changed their world. You see, by removing Cecilia’s name from the book, we’ll in turn, let our entire audience become part of the story.’ Bea took a deep breath.
‘I can see publications like The Age, or even Cosmopolitan, going crazy for this campaign.’ She flicked to the next slide. ‘Then, one week later, once hype is at its absolute peak and people are tearing out their hair wondering who the mystery author is, we’ll reveal it’s the legendary Cecilia Beechworth. It’ll be a media explosion!’ Bea waved her hands in the air to signify the magnitude of the idea. ‘But more than that. It’ll change people’s attitudes. Allow them to be more courageous, more confident in their reading choices. And once we’ve done that, we’ve won them over for good.’
Bea then sat down as Ruth took the stage, taking the remote from Bea’s hand.
‘Now, let me talk a little bit about market research,’ Ruth began.
Bea, Ruth and Martha hovered outside the boardroom door, waiting for Janine and Mia to gather their belongings. As far as Bea could tell, the presentation had gone well, but she had no idea what Janine was thinking; she’d maintained the same cold, somewhat vague and judgemental smile with which she’d arrived. Please don’t hate it, Bea thought, nervously cracking her knuckles. Martha rubbed Bea’s back and Bea looked at her appreciatively.
After an excruciating wait, Janine burst from the boardroom, Mia on her tail. Janine took Bea’s hand and held it firmly.
‘Thank you very much for your presentation, Bea. I am impressed. Thelma & Clarke will be using your agency for future projects.’ Janine let go of her hand, shook Martha’s and Ruth’s swiftly, and went to leave, Mia following closely behind.
As soon as they were out of sight, Bea looked at Martha and Ruth and the three of them let out a squeal.
‘They loved us!’ Bea exclaimed, hands in the air.
‘They loved you, darling,’ Martha cooed.
‘I think they loved me too. Janine couldn’t stop talking about how much she adored Diana’s Muesli!’
Bea clasped her hands together, beaming at the women before her. ‘I really couldn’t have done any of this without both of you.’
‘You’re a natural, Bea,’ Ruth replied.
‘I take it that it went well?’ a deep, familiar voice asked.
‘Zach? What are you doing here?’ Bea asked. He had appeared next to them as if out of thin air.
‘I couldn’t help myself ! I had to hear firsthand how the presentation went. I’ve been hanging around waiting for it to finish. Tell me everything.’ He kissed Bea on the cheek and her heart stopped. She suddenly felt hot.
She began filling him in, rushing over the details, desperate for some air.
‘Stop being modest, Bea. It went fantastically!’ Martha smiled before introducing herself to Zach.
‘Bea, I knew you’d smash it. We have to celebrate!’ Zach said, pulling Bea towards him and hugging her around the shoulders. Ruth and Martha nodded in agreement.
‘How’s that for timing, I’m off to get a drink myself!’ Sunday appeared in the corridor, so there were now five of them squeezed into the tight space. She looked flushed and energised as she leaned against the wall to face Bea directly. ‘But what are we celebrating?’ she asked.
‘Oh, just us kicking goals in a big presentation!’ Bea shrugged.
‘Way to go, Bea!’ Sunday exclaimed, practically ‘whoop wooing’ on the spot. ‘Well, in that case, drinks are on me. And I know just the place.’
The group smiled back at Sunday, eyebrows raised in anticipation.
‘The Nook!’
At the mention of the café, the group’s enthusiasm noticeably wilted. Unperturbed, or unaware, Sunday carried on ‘Dan Murphy’s was having a killer sale on Kahlúa and vodka, so I stocked up. I stupidly left them in the pantry at our last WIP meeting and keep forgetting to pick them up. And if this isn’t the time for espresso martinis, I don’t know when is!’
‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to go to The Nook just now,’ Bea practically whispered, looking everywhere but at Zach.
Sunday looped her arm around Bea’s arm, forcing Bea to unlace her firmly crossed ones. ‘Don’t worry, hon, Dino won’t be there. He’s at some slam poetry thing tonight. Plus, I make a killer espresso martini!’
‘You didn’t happen to purchase any gin, did you?’ Ruth asked, giving Bea another excuse not to make eye contact with Zach. ‘My drink of choice is a Dubonnet with a dash of gin, same as the Queen.’ She smiled proudly. ‘I always carry a flask of the fortified wine just in case the opportunity for a stiff drink should arise!’
Sunday stared at Ruth for a moment. ‘I might have some strawberry liqueur handy? I can make something that looks like Dubonnet?’
‘We’ll take it!’ Martha interjected, pulling Ruth into a side hug. ‘Plus, I’m British, so how much more royal can you get?’ she said, nudging Ruth with her hip.
Zach looked at Bea, rubbing his hands across his stubble. ‘It’s your call, Bea.’
Bea sighed, trying to get back in touch with the high she’d felt only moments ago. She looked from Zach to the three ladies she had come to call her friends all of whom stared back at her, smiles wide. ‘Ah, what the hell. Let’s do this!’
‘Well, you heard the woman. We’re going to
The Nook! Ladies and gentleman, follow me!’ Sunday shouted, walking ahead as she plugged in her earphones and turned the music up so loud the others could hear the Spice Girls.
As soon as Bea entered The Nook, she felt nauseous. The familiar scent of the place, which had once soothed her, now jarred, reminding her of the intense moment she had shared with Dino. So much had changed since then.
Zach squeezed her hand three times, drawing her to him. She didn’t squeeze back, pretending, instead, to be distracted by a loose thread on her blazer. Ruth and Martha trailed happily behind Sunday. Entering the kitchen one by one, they crammed into the tight space. Thankfully, just as Sunday had promised, Dino was nowhere to be seen. Bea was both relieved and just a touch disappointed.
‘Aha!’ Sunday exclaimed, holding a bottle of vodka above her head triumphantly. ‘Right where I left it!’
The group cheered. Zach pulled mugs from behind Bea, sliding them down the counter towards Sunday. Before Bea knew it, everybody had a mug of espresso martini and they were clinking them together. The kitchen was alight with laughter and merriment.
‘You did it, babe,’ Zach whispered in Bea’s ear, his breath tickling her neck. ‘I’m so proud.’ He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead.
‘This drink is missing something,’ Ruth said, squinting down at her martini, which, after much cajoling, Sunday had talked her into trying.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Sunday retorted quickly. ‘If there’s one thing I know how to make, it’s an espresso martini.’
‘No, it’s definitely missing something,’ Ruth repeated, looking to Bea, of all people, for backup.
They all glanced down at the foamy beige liquid in their mugs and took another swig.
‘Tastes damn good to me,’ Zach said.
‘See?’ Sunday said, satisfied.
