Don't Mention the Rock Star

by Bree Darcy

  “Not so fast, it ain’t finished yet. I’m dying it blue.”

  “No way!”

  “Yes, way. I’ve got the box here, ready to go. You can give me a hand.” Andy went to toss me the dye.

  “Uh-uh,” I wagged my finger at him. “I’m playing no part in turning your hair into a homage to Marge Simpson.”

  “I’ll do it.” Mum, the traitor, walked up behind me. “Hi Andy. Nice cut, I like it short.”

  “Thanks, Missus B. I was too scared to let my cousin continue.” He turned around to show a big streak of black dye along the back of his neck and ears.

  And so over the next half hour, while Andy was getting his blue hue, I blasted New Kids on the Block from my bedroom to annoy him. Finally he was hosed off outside and I begrudgingly came to check him out. He looked older. More menacing too. When we walked to the deli, I’m sure some women held their breath and clutched their handbags tighter until Andy passed by. All except one pensioner with an affinity for blue rinses, who nodded in comradeship.

  Later Andy and I were lying on my bed, he was humming melodies while I read a magazine.

  “Listen to this, Andy.” I elbowed him in the side. “Apparently Aquarian matches like us either go really well or really disastrously.”

  Andy rolled his eyes but I continued to read from the article: “The person who falls in love with the Aquarius male will need a lot of patience. They like being completely free to do what they want when they want. – ‘Oh, don’t I know it!’ – It will take a lot of effort to assure an Aquarian that he can stay interested in just one woman. – ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’ – Friendship is so important to him that you may feel his pals are more important than you are. They usually marry the wrong person the first time.”

  “Don’t tell me you believe this shit.”

  “Sexually, the Aquarius guy is lots of fun because he is so experimental. Passion in the bedroom is one of his strong points.”

  “Now it’s starting to ring true.”

  “His most striking quality is creativity. The Aquarius male is not particularly showy with the romance but then he will say something so beautiful it will blow your mind. He also shows an obsession for cleanliness and personal hygiene.”

  I sniffed his armpit before tossing away the magazine. “Nope, you were right the first time, obviously a load of rubbish.”

  He rolled over to tickle me and I stared in dismay. “Andrew Jovanni Dangerfield, what have you done!” A big blue streak had ruined my beautiful cream broderie anglaise quilt cover.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  How I longed to be with my family at the beach right now, instead of being one of the few skeleton staff on duty at the office. It was so muggy – the only sensible thing to do on a day like this was to plunge yourself into the nearest body of water. With most businesses shut over the Christmas-New Year break, that’s what everyone was doing, with record crowds expected at Bondi and Manly.

  At least, I thought as I dejectedly booted up my computer, I was in air-conditioned comfort and about to view endless photos of celebrities having fun in the snow.

  “You’re in early,” said Lenny, setting down some Tupperware containers and wiping the sweat from his brow. “Had a nice Christmas with your family?”

  “Yes thanks, Lenny. How about you?” As far as I was aware, Lenny didn’t have much family around. I had heard him mention a brother occasionally but I was pretty sure he lived overseas.

  “It was grand,” he replied, filling plates with mince pies, shortbread, rum balls and fruit cake. It was a substantial feast considering there was only us in that day.

  “It’s always nice to keep the festive spirit going as long as you can, don’t you think,” he said, holding out a bon-bon for me to pull. “Did your mother come over for Christmas?”

  I shook my head. Mum had not had a particularly festive time, with Ken not being able to come home after all.

  “Ah, it’s a shame Perth is so far away. Has she always lived there?”

  I explained that she was brought up in Queensland but left there when I was two years old to go live with my Aunt Beth and Uncle Al on the west coast. “Her parents weren’t supportive at all, constantly telling her ‘Carol, you’ve brought disgrace on yourself and your family’. Finally she had enough and we moved interstate. I never saw my grandparents again before they died.”

  “That’s a shame they never got to know you properly. But what a lovely festive name your mum has!”

  As he walked away humming I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas, I thanked my lucky stars that Lenny wasn’t holding any grudges over the horrible staff party last Friday night.

  * * *

  The Jar Wine Bar was packed by the time I arrived – alone. Curtis had been roped into driving Ewan’s family out to the Hawkesbury River region for the day but had promised he’d be here no later than seven-thirty. He still had twenty minutes to make good on his promise.

  Zara was holding court in a circle of executives, looking spectacular in the same Giorgio Armani black dress that Charlize Theron wore to the Screen Actors Guild Awards. Her crystal headband sparkled in the light as she nodded in agreement at something the chief financial officer said. To her right, somebody in a Christmas pudding costume was bending the ear of a company lawyer. I didn’t need him to turn around to know that was definitely Lenny.

  Passing the team from Inside Homes magazine fiercely debating whether the avant-garde artwork lining the walls were a brave and inspired choice or clashed horribly, I caught the eye of Zoe, who was leaning against the music booth, chatting up the hipster-looking deejay. “Where is everyone?” I mouthed and she pointed me towards a booth up the back.

  Two hours later, Curtis still hadn’t shown up. As Adele’s boyfriend Max, a hunk of a Maori bloke, joined a scrum of sport reporters talking rugby, I tried unsuccessfully to get hold of Curtis again. What on earth was keeping him, I wondered, drumming my fingers on the cream leather lounge. He knew that Zara expected partners to show. No excuses. Even the team from the National Express newspaper, who had late deadlines, was here now.

  Finally I spotted him, weaving through the crush, holding two jugs of beer aloft, and flashing the vintage Rolex watch I’d given him for his birthday. As he slid in next to me without any explanation as to why he was so late, I offered him a cool cheek to kiss and a napkin full of now cold chicken wings, egg rolls and beef skewers. He poured himself a beer and looked around bored as us girls continued our discussion about the new musicals in town.

  “Fancy being my date to Strictly Ballroom?” Adele asked me. “Lenny says it’s absolutely marvellous and I can’t imagine Maxy will be willing to be dragged along.”

  “You can count me out too,” Curtis butted in. “Only gay men like Lenny would willingly go along to a musical.”

  “That’s rubbish,” I said. “And Lenny’s not gay. Why would you think that? Does he look gay to you?”

  We turned towards Lenny, now sans-pudding outfit and chatting to a bevy of girls from a teen fashion magazine. He high-fived a couple of the guys from a lads magazine as they raced past, lacy red bras strapped around their heads.

  Curtis shrugged as he topped up his glass. “I always assumed … I mean what sort of guy would want to work with a bunch of girls writing about Hollywood stars and poncey singers. No offence to you ladies, of course.” He swept his hands around, knocking over Zoe’s glass of sangria.

  Apologising profusely, he ineffectually dabbed a napkin at her lap as the red liquid seeped into her white shorts. As she stood up to assess the damage, he splashed my glass of riesling at her crotch.

  “Zoe, I’m so sorry!” I screeched. “Curtis, what on earth are you doing?”

  “Getting the stain out with white wine. I saw it on an episode of Live and Learn,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

  “It’s no problem, really,” Zoe assured us before disappearing to the bathroom.

  As Curtis drained another glass, Adele announced she wo
uld grab Max and head home.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Just feeling a bit under the weather.” She did look peaky.

  “Isn’t that what happened to Zara’s fella? He was always under the weather … or should I say weather girl.” Curtis chortled into his beer. “Although fair play to him, no man in his right mind would choose your nightmare of a boss over that hot weather girl. And speak of the devil, here she comes.”

  “Great turnout,” Adele said diplomatically as Zara glided up to our table.

  “Hmmm,” she replied. “From what I can see it’s an excuse for some to overindulge and act like idiots.” She narrowed her eyes at Curtis, who simply raised his glass, and grinned back inanely.

  Zara leant down to speak low into my ear. “I was hoping to introduce you to a few people from the National Express. I’ve been telling Doug Munroe that you’re keen to move back into news.”

  That was fast work. It was only a few weeks ago that I told her I was interested in a new work challenge, so I really appreciated her talking me up to the Express editor. “That would be fantastic. Thank you. Is now a good time?” As I spoke, my pain of a husband slid his arm around my shoulders to make a clumsy attempt to fondle my breast.

  A look of disgust crossed Zara’s face. “Apparently it appears now isn’t a good time, I can see you have your hands full.” She stalked off.

  I slapped Curtis’ hand away and turned to him, eyes blazing. “Thanks for nothing. You just made me miss a chance to network my way into a new job. Who knows when Zara will do me a favour again?” I removed the glass from his other hand and stood up next to Adele. “Come on, there’s no point us hanging around. We’re leaving too.”

  Curtis pulled me on to his lap. “What’s the rush? It’s Christmas. Mum’s got the kids. It’s time to let your hair down. Come on, let’s show ’em how’s it done on the dance floor.”

  By now the sophisticated bar sounds had morphed into a collection of the daggiest dance hits of all-time, from YMCA to Gangnam Style. It was surprising the uber-cool DJ would allow such tracks in his repertoire – until I noticed Lenny up at the decks.

  “Why have you never been the type of girl to dance on a bar?” Curtis asked, eyeing up two young staffers gyrating away, Coyote Ugly style. “You’ve still got the pins for it.” He toyed with the hem of my red cocktail dress. “Come on, let’s dance.”

  “I - don’t - want - to,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Be a spoilsport, then. I’ll find someone else.” And with that Curtis boogied away.

  I kissed Adele and Max goodbye, then stood self-consciously on the sidelines watching Curtis head up a conga line.

  Lenny sidled up. “Your husband seems merry.”

  I quickly explained that he wasn’t normally like this but was letting off steam after a particularly stressful time at work.

  As the first bars of the Macarena rang out, Lenny signalled towards the tightly packed dance floor. “Well, it looks like you could do with some cheering up. And what better way than dancing with me.”

  I shook my head vehemently.

  “This is my favourite song, I’m not taking no for an answer.” Lenny pushed me towards the dancing masses and as the infectious beat took over, I couldn’t help but laugh as Lenny flung his arms around and swivelled his hips, all while pretending to be fluent in Spanish.

  “Who knew you were such a smooth mover,” I said, catching my breath after being spun around repeatedly.

  “I’ve been taking salsa lessons,” he panted, his sweaty hair matted to his head. “Great way to meet the ladies.” He demonstrated some fancy footwork before dipping me as the song ended.

  “Thanks Lenny, that was fun,” I said, giving him a friendly hug.

  Next thing I knew Curtis had barrelled into his shoulder. “Get your sleazy hands off my wife,” he yelled.

  “Curtis, for goodness sake! We’re just dancing.” My cheeks flushed as I found myself having to apologise for my husband yet again.

  Lenny took a step back, and those dancing near us stopped to observe the commotion.

  “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, buddy.” Curtis jabbed his finger at Lenny’s chest. “Pretending you care about what George Clooney is up to, just so you can get close to women. I’ve been watching you all night, making eyes at the young girls. You’re a disgrace and if I see you near my wife again -”.

  I mouthed an apology to Lenny as I dragged Curtis out the back exit.

  “What’s your problem? Lenny was just being Lenny – why did you have to be so rude?” I seethed, cutting off his pathetic excuses with my hand. “You’re drunk and belligerent, and right now I’m ashamed to say you’re my husband. We’re leaving, NOW! And if we see Lenny on the way out you are to apologise. Understand?”

  As I steered my sozzled husband back through the bar to the taxi rank, we didn’t bump into Lenny. But Zara was shaking her head, having witnessed the entire ugly exchange.

  The next morning, I was up bright and early to finish some chores – for starters, clearing out the dust bunnies from under the bed. As the sunlight poured through the raised blinds, Curtis responded by burying his head under the pillow. Fortunately I soon couldn’t hear his moaning over the roar of the vacuum cleaner. Served him right.

  * * *

  “Kellie!” Curtis bellowed from our outdoor kitchen. “I need something to hold the meat.”

  Sending Ciara out with the serving tray, I continued placing the dishes on the dining table. Green salad, potato salad, pasta salad, prawns, chicken drumsticks and now a platter heaving with pork sausages, steak and beef kebabs.

  “What a quaint little table setting,” Delia exclaimed, examining the small pots of African daisies I’d used as centrepieces. “It’s so refreshing to see such a relaxed approach to entertaining.”

  Curtis, for one, had not been taking a relaxed approach. He’d been on a rampage all morning, insisting everything looked perfect for his brother, who was visiting our home for the first time for a New Year barbecue.

  It seemed his efforts paid off too. “What a beautiful house,” Felicity gushed, admiring everything from the sandstone portico, oak-floored living areas and the curved staircase. “Look at all this space. Oh, Curtis, you’ve done so well for yourself.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s always nice to prove people wrong,” he replied churlishly.

  After lunch, I escorted Felicity on an extended tour of the top floor. We were taking in the view of the park from our bedroom balcony when she caught hold of my arm. “I forgot to say at Christmas, sorry for holding Curtis up the other night. It had been such a lovely day out, and I wanted to watch the sun set behind the harbour bridge. I didn’t know he was meant to be at an office party with you. I overheard him telling Delia you were mad at him but really it was my fault.”

  It was hardly her fault that he then proceeded to drink the bar dry and nearly started a brawl with my colleague.

  “I also wanted to say I’m so glad things aren’t awkward between us,” she continued.

  “Of course not.” Felicity was obviously aware I didn’t think much of her boorish husband. But the least we could do was spend time with them before they returned home to England. They were family after all.

  “I always thought the reason we didn’t see much of each other back home was because of … well … you know … Curtis and I. I hated the fact that it came between us.”

  “As if,” I said, not quite understanding what she was getting at.

  “Even the thought that Curtis and I once dated. Utterly hilarious. Imagine where we might all be now if he hadn’t done that PhD course.” She tittered before taking in my stunned expression. She clamped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my goodness. You didn’t know?”

  I shook my head.

  “Oh no, me and my big mouth,” she wailed. “I feel awfully embarrassed, letting the cat out of the bag. Please don’t tell Curtis. I don’t want to give him another reason to hate me. I assumed he
would have told you years ago.”

  Her eyes brimmed with tears so I lay a comforting hand on her wrist. “Of course I won’t say anything. I’m sure there’s a good reason he’s never mentioned it. But just between us, I want to hear all about it.” I steered Felicity into the spare bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind us.

  And that was how I found out that before Curtis left to study in Canberra, he had been going steady with Felicity for about a year after meeting one weekend at a mutual friend’s manor house. Despite agreeing to do the long-distance thing, Felicity found herself falling for his brother instead. I would have met Curtis maybe a month or so after that. I tried to remember what he was like – were there any signs he was nursing a broken heart? At that Pulp Fiction screening, was he envisioning mowing down his brother and Felicity in a hail of bullets? Of course it did explain why he had always been so standoffish with his sister-in-law.

  “I was so, so happy to meet you,” Felicity assured me now. “That he had found someone else, so I didn’t need to feel so guilty. And of course I knew, as soon as I met you, that you were perfect for him.”

  “I can’t believe I never had an inkling,” I admitted, sinking on to the bed.

  “I hope it won’t cause any dramas now.” Felicity looked anxious. “I don’t want you thinking there’s anything between us. I’m certainly not keen on Curtis anymore.”

  I smiled. “Don’t worry, I understand. There are plenty of times I’m not keen on him either.”

  As a rattled Felicity headed outside to join the others, I pottered around in the kitchen while digesting this surprising news in private. How did I not know that Curtis had once dated his brother’s wife? I should have figured out there must have been a reason for all that tension between them. And so many of the digs Ewan had made over the years now made perfect sense. It was the ultimate case of one-upmanship, stealing his brother’s girlfriend. But why hadn’t Curtis told me?

  I felt a tiny prick of jealousy as I studied Felicity though the window. She was reclining on a lounger under the gazebo, her long legs daintily crossed at the ankles and her pretty face hidden beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat and large Audrey Hepburn sunglasses. What was it about her that had caught Curtis’ eye? Did he still find her attractive?