by Carla Caruso
Celeste shrugged. ‘To be honest, I’m not really sure yet. There’s no real evidence. The best outcome would be if Minka came clean herself — soon — and attempted to pay back the money.’
‘Yeah,’ Kaiden mumbled. ‘Well … well, I’d better go.’
‘See you, Kaiden.’
Slowly, the mail contractor turned and headed back towards the mansion, Celeste shadowing him. Despite Kaiden’s suspect taste in women and his ability to be easily influenced, Celeste had to believe there was still some good in him. That he wouldn’t let the cat out of the bag to Minka about what Celeste knew, because that could prove dangerous.
While Kaiden headed for the front door, Celeste diverged towards the back. As she headed through the breakfast room to the living space, she was suddenly confronted by an image that made her body freeze and her heart race. Behind the island bench, Minka was handing Natalia a glass of slimy-looking, green stuff. No matter how innocently Minka was acting, Celeste was certain it looked poisonous.
Just as Natalia lifted the glass to her lips, she leapt forwards, batting the drink from the fitness guru’s hands. It hit the ground with force, glass shards littering the ground and green liquid splattering the floorboards and Natalia’s pink leggings like the paint in an abstract artwork.
Natalia turned on Celeste, her eyes round. ‘What did you do that for?’
Behind the fitness guru, Minka had a hand on her hip, a bemused look on her face. Celeste knew how she could wipe off that expression quick-smart, but now wasn’t the time.
‘I-I thought the drink might have got mixed up some with cleaning fluid I left lying around,’ Celeste lied. ‘I’m so, so sorry. I’ll get a sponge. And a baby wipe—’
‘It’s chlorophyll water,’ Natalia cut in. ‘Minka thought an energy hit might help me because I’ve been a bit stressed with the launch coming up tomorrow. But maybe I’ve been working you too hard, Celeste.’
‘No, no, apologies again. I was just being paranoid. Acting before thinking.’
‘You’re sure?’ Natalia’s eyes were full of concern — particularly nice considering all she had on her plate.
‘I am.’
‘Well, I’ll show you to the ballroom then and what I was hoping you could take a look at. And I’ll get the cleaner onto this …,’ she gestured at the floor, ‘this mess. My leggings I can change.’
Celeste was grateful that Minka didn’t join them on the walk to the ballroom. Inside, the space certainly looked different to the messy state it had been in when Celeste first met Lenny. Everything now gleamed, from the wood parquet flooring to the row of obligatory chandeliers hanging from the ornate ceiling. Huge, expensive-looking paintings also lined the walls, while a flashy stage had been set up at the far end. It was the perfect place for a party — if a certain person didn’t ruin things. It felt cavernous as Natalia closed the wooden doors behind them, confining the room to just the two of them.
‘Well, I can’t imagine what you’d need organising in here.’ Celeste clasped her hands together, looking around, suddenly nervous. ‘It all looks immaculate.’
Natalia pulled a grimace. ‘You haven’t seen what’s behind the stage. I want it all orderly, so that everything runs to schedule on the night, from the presentations to the gift bags being handed out at the end. If that’s okay with you, of course. I know it’s a little outside the box of my usual request, but I’ve got Minka rushed off her feet as it is.’
‘That-that’s fine with me.’
‘Shall we check out the stage?’
‘We should. Although, Natalia, there was just something I wanted to quickly say first.’ Celeste’s heart drummed in her chest. This was her moment. While they were alone. She didn’t want to think too hard about what she was doing. It was now or never. Her voice softened. ‘Or should I call you “Gertie”?’
Beneath the bronzer, Natalia’s skin seemed to pale, as though she’d just seen a ghost. ‘Excuse me?’ she squeaked. Then she put a hand to her chest, the skin around her eyes stretching. ‘Oh, gosh. It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the blackmailer. I trusted you.’
Celeste reached out to pat Natalia’s shoulder, reassure her, but the fitness guru shrunk back as though afraid. ‘It’s not me, Natalia — I’m on your side — but it is someone close to you.’
‘Who?’ Natalia whispered, panic in her eyes.
‘Minka,’ Celeste said, at last, and was just quick enough to grab Natalia’s elbow before the fitness guru slid to the floor. Escorting Natalia over to the stage for a seat, Celeste sat alongside her and quickly relayed everything to her she’d learned and how.
Natalia shook her head, still seeming dazed. ‘So what do I do now? Minka’s asked for a massive sum before my party — anonymously, of course — or says she’ll reveal every sordid detail of my past on the night.’ Another miserable shake of the head. ‘I brought forward the launch date, thinking I’d outwit the blackmailer. I figured it was someone from my past life in Kalgoorlie who’d read about me in the paper and worked out who I was. Little did I know it was Minka, who knows my diary inside-out anyway.’
‘Look, the way I see it there are only two options if you don’t want the blackmailing to continue: come clean about your past to the audience and beat Minka at her own game, or catch her in the act of trying to sabotage things on the night, so you’ve got the proof needed to take matters to the police and keep things out of the public eye.’
Neither option seemed particularly palatable to Natalia, judging by her weary expression. ‘I guess I’ll have to try catching her in the act somehow …’
Celeste rested a hand on the fitness guru’s shoulder. ‘Lenny and I will help you — don’t worry.’
Natalia’s eyes widened some more. ‘He knows, too?’
Celeste nodded. ‘Yeah, but he’s a trustworthy type. He won’t spill your secrets either.’ And, as she said it, she realised it was true. He was honourable, dependable, caring, even if he wasn’t quite ready for a relationship, and that last didn’t make him a bad person per se. Celeste nudged Natalia in the side, trying for a light moment. ‘So is there anything about this “Natalia Samphire” character you’ve created that’s real?’
One corner of Natalia’s mouth lifted, which was something. ‘Well, we both like dancing. That’s all I ever really wanted to do. But when you grow up in a housing-commission block to a drug-addled single mother, you don’t really get the chance to pursue your dreams. You just do whatever you can to survive and get out as soon as you can.’
‘So you became a skimpy?’ Celeste asked gently.
‘Yeah, when I first left home, I moved around the place, finding work wherever I could in the hopes of one day funding some dance study. I wound up in Kalgoorlie, and when I heard what the topless barmaids earned I couldn’t believe it. And all they had to do was wander around the bar in skimpy outfits, collecting money in a beer jug from patrons as encouragement to remove more clothes. It sounded pretty easy, and I figured it was better than prostitution. And you do make a heap. But after the millionth guy with a wife waiting at home asks you to rub ice cubes over your chest in a backroom while he drinks his beer, it does get to you.’
‘Is Kalgoorlie where you met Mike?’
‘Mike?’ Natalia looked surprised that Celeste had made the link, then let out a small sigh. ‘Yeah, he worked in security at the bar where I used to work. My old boss was a real sleaze, so Mike used to keep an eye out for me. And,’ Natalia offered a tiny smile, ‘we fell in love. We both wanted to escape the joint — it wasn’t the best work environment or industry. Then one day everything changed when Arlene Minson came to town. I was also doing a bit of waitressing for corporate-catering gigs on the side, and I happened to cover her speaking event. When I heard her talk and saw how much money she made just by what she wore and the car she drove, the idea for coming up with my own health and fitness brand — involving dance — hit me. As crazy an idea as it was, I knew it would be a way for Mike and me to escape that place if I suc
ceeded. I just had to create a new persona and get people to believe in it, thinking they could share in the positivity. And somehow it did work, beyond anything I could ever have dreamed. I would have come up with a better name for the dance school I supposedly went to, if I had known, but thankfully no journos dug too hard!’
‘Why does Mike still live in Kalgoorlie?’
‘Funnily, he ended up buying a string of bars there, improving the conditions for the skimpies. But it’s also why I haven’t wanted our marriage to be in the spotlight. It was too risky for people to make the connection between him, as a big Kalgoorlie bar owner, and my past.’
‘So the healthy eating, the clean living, it’s all … fake?’
‘Well, the funny thing is it’s become real. The more I educated myself on healthy living and the more the company grew, the more I began to live the mantra. Okay, so occasionally, when under duress — as I have been lately — I’ll still have a sneaky chocolate or cigarette, as I would have done in the past, but only on occasion. And I hired your help to make sure my new home looked as sleek as my new image. Okay, and the blonde hair, tan and blue eyes aren’t exactly natural gifts either, and I might have had the odd dermal filler, but the rest is legit. All that’s left as a reminder of the old me is, well, this necklace.’
Natalia felt under the collar of her Ballet-Tastic T-shirt and pulled out the squiggly gold neck pendant Celeste had spied at their first meeting. So it was meant to resemble the letter G — for ‘Gertie’.
‘Wow,’ Celeste breathed.
Natalia suddenly snapped her fingers. ‘Slightly off-topic, but I had a girl who reckons she’s an acquaintance of yours ring today, letting me know all about her firm’s interior design services. Apparently she’s thinking of getting into a bit of professional organising, too.’
‘Imogen Karmel,’ Celeste guessed dully. Not only had the interior designer bypassed Celeste in getting to Natalia, now she was trying to steal her professional organising work, as well. The gall! Celeste whipped around to face Natalia. ‘Look, if we’re being honest with each other, Imogen’s a former boss of mine and more like a nemesis than a friend.’
‘I thought as much. When you work behind a bar for a while you get to know people, and I could smell her kind a mile off. So I told her to get fruit-tingled — in the nicest possible way, of course.’
They shared slightly lopsided grins. Maybe things could even turn out all right in the end.
25.
The last thing Celeste felt like doing that Saturday afternoon was a fun run, although at least it might help expend some of her pent-up energy before Natalia’s launch. The street outside the school oval where it was being staged had been overrun with parked cars, so Celeste had had to try for a spot around the back. The Pink Run was obviously a popular event, even for its first time.
Imogen, being Imogen, had only sent Celeste scant details about the charity run, including the time, location, and where to deposit her entry fee. If she’d had time, Celeste might have done some of her own online research before arriving. But she’d barely placed a foot on the grass before the interior designer herself descended upon her, an event kit in hand.
‘Celeste, you’re one of the last to arrive! The start chute opened twenty minutes ago.’
‘But your email said—’
‘Here’s your race bib,’ Imogen cut her off, thrusting a bit of pink material at her.
Stepping back, Celeste properly took in Imogen’s outfit. The interior designer looked like she was waiting for a street-style fashion blogger to take her pic in the fluoro orange singlet she wore, which almost looked hi-vis, and tiny grey shorts with bows on the side.
‘You’re not running, too?’ Celeste flatly guessed.
‘No, no, I’m too busy with committee work.’ The snake. Imogen gestured to her right, though it was hard for Celeste to see over the sea of heads — some there obviously just to watch and others to compete. ‘The start line’s over there. Quick!’
With heavy feet, Celeste headed in the direction gestured. What had she gotten herself into, and why? She had better things to do on a Saturday, like vacuuming her floors with her new Dyson cleaner and preparing for tonight. How had she gotten sucked in by Imogen again?
Unfortunately, Celeste’s view was no better once she was among the race-goers. She did recognise a few property types in the mix, though she couldn’t really imagine wanting to network with them after sweating buckets. Quite a few were channelling a ‘cool runner’ type vibe with bandannas, dark shades and even goggles. The starting pistol fired and Celeste found herself being swept along with the hordes. Okay, maybe this wasn’t so bad. She was keeping up. Perhaps it could even be fun.
The crowd suddenly dispersed as the diverse fitness levels kicked into gear and what lay ahead became clearer — Celeste’s heart sinking as she realised it wasn’t an ordinary stretch of grass beckoning. Because this was no ordinary fun run. It was an obstacle course. A muddy obstacle course. Including a hay bale mountain, a cargo-net crawl, and a barrel-filled mud pit. Not that darn Imogen had mentioned that fact. So much for wearing a white T-shirt! It was Celeste’s worst nightmare and nothing she had trained for.
She gasped as pink powder suddenly showered down from up above, stinging her eyes and filling her mouth. Around her, the race-goers cheered. She guessed that was the ‘pink’ part of the race then. It was all brown from here.
Up ahead, Celeste could see Imogen standing on the sidelines, cheering the race-goers on, while nicely staying mint and pristine herself. And all at once, anger welled up inside Celeste — at not making her dad, whom she’d just visited that morning, clean up his place before he got hurt, at her mum for not being there when Celeste needed her most, at being nicknamed ‘Not-So-Pretty’ as a schoolkid, at Imogen for trying to steal Celeste’s client and sometime boyfriend and smugly landing a design column in the paper, at Lenny for wanting to control everything in life, including when he fell in love …
And suddenly, before she really knew what she was doing, Celeste was swerving towards the sidelines, grabbing Imogen around the waist and dragging her down the slippery mud slide with her.
By the end of it, as they sat at the edge of the slide, Imogen’s street-style fashion no longer looked so blog-worthy. A camera flashed and Celeste recognised an Astonvale Press photographer behind the lens, capturing Imogen eating dirt. Thank heavens Celeste wasn’t deemed worthy or recognisable enough for a similar snap. Obviously the paper wouldn’t be letting Imogen’s columnist role get in the way of a good story.
‘Celeste! What the hell?’ Imogen exclaimed, trying to flick the mud from her eyes and face as other race-goers sailed past them. Happily, the sludge also clung to Imogen’s dark blonde strands. Celeste almost didn’t notice the muck, dripping in places of her own she didn’t dare check, just watching Imogen.
‘I thought you might benefit from a mud mask,’ Celeste offered mildly.
Not that she really had any reason to answer to Imogen anymore. So she got to her feet, leaving Imogen to her own devices as she struggled to sit up in the mud. A smile really was the best revenge.
Ripping off her race bib, Celeste left the track, heading into the crowd of spectators. Let them think she’d hurt something and couldn’t go on. She’d had enough and was going home. Her entry fee would go to charity no matter what. Luckily she had a towel in her boot to cover her car seat with. She wouldn’t bother with the showers on-site.
As she turned the key in her Astra’s ignition, she noticed a beige-looking woman with shopping bags in hand climb into a little red Fiat a few cars up. Minka. Celeste’s blood ran cold, all thoughts of Imogen and her minor win instantly forgotten. The PA must have been busy spending up Natalia’s cash somewhere nearby.
In a split-second decision, Celeste decided to follow Minka, even though she knew she should really be getting ready for the party that night. But maybe being covered in pink powder and filth had made her go slightly mad. And she just had to know why
Minka had done what she had. Especially if there was going to be some sort of showdown later on.
Feeling like she was in a spy movie again, Celeste discreetly followed behind Minka as the PA pulled up at various shops and a chemist — maybe even, among things, buying an outfit for that night. Other passing drivers must have thought Celeste an odd sight cruising in her muddy, pink-speckled state, but for once she didn’t really care. And at least Minka didn’t appear to notice she was shadowing her.
The sky was dark before Minka turned into a residential street — not too far from Lenny’s in actual fact. The ‘Hollywood Hills’ of Astonvale. She watched Minka’s Fiat pull into the driveway of a block of flats, as nondescript as the PA herself, so quickly parked her own Astra a little way down the street. Locking the car, she then unlocked the boot and slipped her tote into it for safety. Celeste tiptoed down the road towards the long drive, in her mind likening her muddiness to camouflage.
After cutting through the residential car park and over a small patch of lawn, Celeste looked left and right and noticed one of the last bay windows aglow. She stepped closer. And, suddenly, there Minka could clearly be seen, oohing and aahing to herself over a new pair of Pucci-print heels in her shoebox-sized front room. Stacked floor-to-ceiling appropriately with shoeboxes. The girl had a serious footwear fetish. Maybe that was what all the blackmail had been about: bloody shoes. Celeste had seen more than enough. Taking a deep breath, she turned on her own heel, not minding that they were just muddy sneakers.
It wasn’t until Celeste was back at her Astra that she realised she’d left her tote in the boot — with the car keys inside. Some of the mud from the fun run must have leaked into her brain. She tried opening the boot, but — cripes — it wouldn’t budge.
Maybe the driver’s door would be better, or the passenger one. Nope, nope, nope. Celeste gritted her teeth, despairing. The stupid Astra had done the seemingly impossible, locking itself with the keys inside. There was obviously a fault with the stupid vehicle. Which meant Celeste was left with no wallet, house keys, phone, or — Celeste checked her watch — time to get home and frocked up in time for the party. Just when she didn’t need to be late. What a fool she’d been.