by Carla Caruso
Not knowing what else to do and not wanting to be stranded anywhere near Minka’s, Celeste decided to walk. Maybe she’d bump into a car burglar who could help get her back into her Astra. Or perhaps she’d pass someone who would think her homeless and throw coins her way, looking as dishevelled as she was, which she could then use at a pay-phone. If she could find a pay-phone, and if she could remember any of her family and friends’ numbers off by heart.
But the street was quiet — eerily quiet for a Saturday evening. Knowing her luck, the only person who’d pass her would be Minka on her way to sabotaging Natalia’s party. Celeste shuddered, the chill in the evening air seeming to have set in.
She was almost at the main road when she heard the purr of an engine behind and felt the glow of headlights on her. With apprehension, she slowly turned, not really wanting to but feeling backed into a corner.
‘Need a ride?’ a familiar voice sang out.
‘Do I look okay? Honestly?’
Lenny looked up from ironing his shirt in the lounge as Celeste edged in, wearing a knockout, fire-engine-red dress, which hugged her in all the right places. To him, she looked more than okay. She looked bloody sensational. Not that he was going to tell her that exactly.
He’d had to call in a favour from a local boutique owner he’d done some building work for to have a selection of frocks and heels sent up to his house for Celeste to loan. She’d also used some makeup Perla had left at his house. There’d been no time to try to get Celeste’s car open again — and her home — when Lenny had found her walking the streets. It must have been Fate that he’d found her, as worried as he had been when he’d seen her in the state she was in. Dress-wise, he was pleased she’d gone with the red — she would stop traffic in that frock.
For a moment, he could almost imagine what it’d be like to have Celeste to come home to, to even have miniature versions of the pair of them running about the place. Oh, there’d be fireworks between them, that was for sure, but there’d also be a helluva lot of fun. Finally, he could admit it, at least to himself: she’d gotten under his skin.
He might have been with women who’d be considered more classically beautiful than Celeste before, but the layers of herself she’d revealed over the past few weeks just made him want to stick around and delve even deeper. If only Mitchell weren’t still in the picture and Lenny hadn’t been so stubborn, so set in his ways, before realisation dawned.
Despite all that was running through his head, he tried for a joke. ‘You scrub up all right for a pretty mess.’
Celeste pulled a face, tugging at the dress’s hemline. ‘It’s a bit Dolce & Gabbana-style for my usual tastes, but it’s certainly better than turning up in fitness gear, covered in mud!’
‘You know, it reminds me a little of what you wore when I bumped into you that night with Perla, who you assumed was just another airhead date of mine.’
Adorably, Celeste’s cheeks flushed a similar hue to her dress. ‘You know that was just a disguise. And I was actually on the money there: the manicurist turned out to be a fellow skimpy, according to that newspaper article I told you about.’
Celeste had already filled in Lenny on the rest of Natalia’s past, and he’d agreed to her plan of trying to catch Minka in the act of sabotage that night. It had been a lot to take in, but he was glad, in a way, that things were drawing to a conclusion. Glad for Natalia.
Lenny cleared his throat. ‘I forgot to say before, the whole skimpy thing made me realise why Mike looked so familiar to me, too. I actually went up to Kalgoorlie when I was looking at investing in a housing development up there with a mate. I didn’t end up investing, but my friend did drag me to one of those skimpy bars while we were in town. Though he wound up getting thrown out by security when he drank too much and was messing around — the security guy who sent him packing was Mike.’
Celeste’s arms neatly folded across her front. ‘I’m sure you were dragged there.’ Suddenly, her eyes widened. ‘You didn’t see Natalia half-naked on the night, did you?’
‘No, not from memory. Although, it does better explain Mike’s tattoo.’
‘Yeah, the clue was on his arm all along,’ Celeste agreed softly. She reached to the counter for the small shiny black purse she’d loaned. ‘I guess we’d better go do this — save Natalia or go down with the ship. Mitchell will be waiting for me.’
The guy’s name was like a lead weight on Lenny’s heart. He hadn’t known Celeste was meeting up with Mitchell there. Perhaps he should have guessed.
He picked up his crisp white shirt, still warm from the iron. ‘Fine. I’ll just go get changed.’
Celeste ducked her head, peering up at him coyly. ‘So who’s your date?’
‘No one. For once, I’ve decided to solo.’
‘Mind if I steal Celeste away for a minute?’
Celeste jolted at the sound of Lenny’s voice near her ear in the ballroom. Mitchell, whom she’d been dancing with, released his grip and stepped back with a small smile. ‘Sure, why not?’
Mitchell was being quite a good sport about things — and friend — that night, considering she’d sort of dumped him last week. And considering she’d been distracted by trying to keep an eye on Minka all night. Not that she’d seen or heard anything suspicious yet, although the local police were on alert, thanks to Natalia finally filling them in. Celeste had also told Flip about what had been going on, and the twenty-something had even seemed mildly impressed, looking forward to some possible action.
Also distracting Celeste had been seeking Lenny’s face out in the crowd time and time again — and not necessarily for any reason to do with saving the face of their client.
Peering up at the man in question now, she felt her palms grow clammy again at the sight of him up-close in his tuxedo. Talk about scrubbing up all right. She didn’t think she could have seen anything sexier than him standing at the ironing board earlier on, but he’d since surpassed even that. And it was nice to know he didn’t just send his shirts to the drycleaner’s once a week.
He hooked his elbow with hers. ‘Let’s take the lift, so we can chat in private.’
Why did the idea secretly thrill her so much? She nodded.
As they glided through the ballroom, for a moment she allowed herself to enjoy being on his arm and the little envious stares directed her way by other women. The ballroom had been made up to look like the inside of a ginormous jewellery box. Real-life ballerinas twirled at the edges, while gilt mirrors and swaths of pink satin and tulle added to the décor and spotlights flashed magenta beams. Thanks to the number of party-goers who’d frocked up, it was also more crammed than inside a dancer’s pointe shoe. Apparently they hadn’t minded the short notice.
The lift was sleek and silver inside, Celeste discovered. Nicely, she and Lenny had the small space to themselves, though she wasn’t sure if it was that prospect which had her pulse racing or the thought of what Minka might have planned. The big speeches hadn’t happened yet.
His eyes dark, Lenny reached inside his jacket and pulled out a diamante-covered USB flash drive. It didn’t look like his style. ‘Look what I found when I was doing a “check” behind the stage.’
Aha. Celeste’s eyes rounded. ‘What is it?’
‘It contains Natalia’s PowerPoint presentation, but it’s been doctored to show incriminating photos from her earlier days rather than promotional shots. I had a quick look on a laptop backstage. There are obviously twin flash drives and Minka was going to swap them last minute.’
Celeste reached for the spangly device in awe. ‘It’s the evidence we need! And now Minka won’t have it to ruin Natalia’s party with.’
‘Exactly — unless she’s got something else planned.’
‘Yeah,’ Celeste said, her shoulders slouching again as the lift pinged. They both turned to look out into the hallway, lined with the glamorous photographed portraits of Natalia. ‘What should we do now?’
‘Maybe we should duck into the library, w
here it’s quiet, and call the police. They’ll be able to get a hold of Minka before she does something stupid.’
‘Good idea,’ Celeste breathed, though she couldn’t help shivering at the thought of sending the PA to the clink. It still felt so unreal. Lenny already had his phone pressed to his ear as she shut the carved wooden door behind them.
The television above the ornate fireplace, like all those at the mansion, was tuned to the same live feed as the big screen downstairs. Currently it was on the dance-floor. Oh gosh, there was Mitchell doing some racquet-swinging dance move alongside Flip demonstrating the ‘tart drop’. The latter involved putting one hand up in the air and quickly dipping into a squat before shooting back up again. She hoped Flip had at least remembered to wear knickers. Celeste also prayed the camera hadn’t been trained on her, in her lairy red dress, at any point of which she’d been unaware.
A squeaky movement suddenly pulled Celeste’s gaze askew, and her stomach plummeted to the depths to which Flip’s barely-there behind had just visited. Because, there, sitting in a brown leather egg chair, which had just spun around like an evil dictator in a movie, was Minka, her hands clasped in her lap and her thin lips pursed. Celeste noticed Lenny’s phone-holding hand slip from his ear to his pocket, without having breathed a word into the mouthpiece.
‘Well, well, I was wondering when you guys would turn up.’ Hearing Minka’s confident tone chilled Celeste more than downing a frozen margarita had earlier.
‘You were?’ she heard herself squeak.
Minka pulled something small, silver and blade-like from the folds of her frothy grey dress, which made her look like a ballerina gone bad. Black Swan on acid.
Striding forwards, Lenny cut in. ‘Now, Minka there’s no need for that—’
Her cackle cut him off. ‘Hold onto your britches, Muscat, it’s just a nail file.’ Then she began sawing the instrument against a stubby thumbnail, making Celeste feel even more repulsed. ‘Now don’t think I didn’t see you two in that Commodore on Monday night. Too bad you were both asleep.’
Celeste gritted her teeth, wanting to kick herself in the ankle — and Lenny.
Minka pushed on, ‘I’m guessing you guys are here because you want your cut. I’m about to give Natalia a “sneak peak” of the latest weapon in my arsenal, anonymously texting her some pics from her past and jacking up my asking price, so you came at a good time. I’ll show her for not paying and thinking I wouldn’t go through with things.’
Celeste stepped forward, hoping if she kept Minka talking, like in the TV shows, they might get a motive from her at least. ‘Why did you start all this anyway? Is it just the money you want?’ She tried to sound assured, but her voice sounded decidedly wobbly. Thankfully, Minka didn’t appear to notice.
‘The money, yes, and because I was sick of Natalia barking orders at me, asking me to do this and do that, like some sort of slave.’
‘Isn’t that … isn’t that what you get paid for, though?’
Minka threw down her nail file, her eyes flashing. ‘Not by some low-rent barmaid like her. I couldn’t believe it when I came across her stupid scrapbook! I mean, I went to one of Adelaide’s most prestigious colleges and my mummy and daddy know everyone who’s anyone. Then they cut off my trust fund just because I ran up a little bit of credit-card debt, like happened to my friend Jenny, too, and the only job I could get was as a stupid PA to Natalia Samphire. Who came from nothing and should be a nobody.’
Minka and Imogen would make great mates if ever they met.
‘Maybe you should admire Natalia,’ Celeste hedged, ‘rather than be angry at her — everything she’s worked for.’
‘Pffftt. As if,’ Minka shot back, sounding as flippant as, well, Flip. ‘The only thing I admire are those gold, strappy heels you’ve got on. Actually that dress looks hot on you, too. I could never pull off a colour like that.’
Minka shot Celeste such an appreciative look that Celeste was certain she wouldn’t be telling Kaiden about it. It didn’t seem as though Minka batted for his team.
But the PA was shaking her head now. ‘All that money, too, and all Natalia could invest in were stupid ballet flats, espadrilles and bloody bejewelled flip-flops.’
Lenny closed in. ‘We don’t want a “cut”, as you say, of anything. And unfortunately your plan to sabotage Natalia’s presentation, if she doesn’t agree to pay you, won’t go so well without this.’ From his pocket, he unearthed the flash drive he’d found, holding it up. It sparkled like a disco ball beneath the chandelier lighting.
Minka threw back her head and laughed, giving them a good view of her pale, limp neck. ‘Oh, so that’s how you’re going to play it, is it? Hoping to get brownie points with the client — a bonus — by outfoxing me? You think I don’t have multiple copies, you fool!’
Well, there went that plan. Cripes.
Unflinching, Lenny unearthed something from his other pocket. His phone. ‘Astonvale Police Station has also been listening in the whole time. Do you want to say hi?’
Minka’s jaw dropped floor-wards while inside Celeste was doing cartwheels. Good on Lenny! ‘The police? But it was just a bit of fun. Meaningless. Play money—’
Familiar music swelling made them all suddenly turn towards the TV screen. It was the theme song to Natalia’s workout videos, signalling that the formal presentation was about to start. Within seconds, Natalia’s bronzed face filled the screen. The fitness guru had taken to the stage early in her Barbie-pink ballgown, foiling Minka’s plans.
While Minka remained glued to her seat, apparently thunderstruck that things hadn’t panned out as planned, Natalia looked poised, positive and utterly screen-worthy as she leaned into the microphone.
‘Good evening, ladies and gentleman. Welcome to the official launch of Ballet-Tastic in Astonvale. To begin, though, I wanted to first let you in on a little secret.’ She waved a manicured hand in the air, an engagement ring actually sparkling on her finger. ‘You might know me as Natalia Samphire, but, before all this, I was Gertie Samson and I used to be a skimpy barmaid in Kalgoorlie. One who’s never been to Paris. Sometimes you’ve got to embrace the past to usher in the future. So let me tell you my real-life story and judge me how you see fit …’
Celeste shared a gob-smacked look with Lenny. She could not believe it. After everything — all the money Natalia had doled out, the stress, the high stakes — the fitness guru had decided to come clean anyway. And the relief was written all over her glowing face. Ursula must be going mad out there with her shorthand.
Just as Celeste was pondering what Astonvale’s society set would think of it all, the door burst open with cries of ‘police’. Uniformed officers rushed in and tagging behind them was Flip, jauntily teaming a police hat with her yellow mini-dress. The twenty-something must have conned one from an officer somehow. She could be quite the charmer when she wanted to be.
Amid the commotion, other sounds erupted downstairs — whoops, applause and foot-stamping. Happiness bubbled inside of Celeste. It sounded like the Astonvale gang liked their heroines with a bit of sass. Hallelujah. They weren’t going to just throw Natalia on the scrap-heap; they were going to embrace her — ugly past and all. Maybe there was even hope for the likes of Celeste in this town.
After Minka was taken away, Celeste and Lenny had to provide some more information to the police, and then it was just the two of them standing alone together in the library again. Celeste hoped Flip was back on the dance-floor and hadn’t run off with an officer, still on duty.
Lenny was running a hand through his lustrous, dark hair, shaking his head. ‘We did it. Who’d have thunk it?’ He shot her a sideways look. ‘Reckon Mitchell might even allow me one dance with you, after all we’ve been through?’
Celeste crinkled her forehead. ‘Why ask Mitchell? Why not ask me yourself?’
‘Because he’s your boyfriend.’
‘He’s not my boyfriend. I told you we broke up, not that we were properly seeing each other to b
egin with—’
‘Don’t lie. I saw you through the window at your place. I drove to your house on Sunday night — to tell you about what I was doing at your dad’s and why I was late back — and I saw you with him. With my own eyes. Laughing and having a good time. It painted a pretty clear picture. And,’ he shrugged, seeming uncharacteristically embarrassed, shy, ‘you’re here with him tonight.’
Celeste pressed a hand to her heart, now beating at an abnormal rate. Lenny had glimpsed through her window, just like she’d done with Minka, but instead had put two and two together and come up with five. ‘Mitchell wanted us to be tennis partners again, among other things, and I said no. We’re here together as friends, that’s all. I swear.’
‘Oh.’ Lenny fiddled with his black bowtie. ‘I see.’
Both were quiet for a bit, the only noise being the TV, which had since refocused on the dance-floor, not that Celeste could see Flip in the crowd. But she’d worry about her later. For the moment, Celeste had business of her own to attend to.
She coughed, breaking the silence. ‘Um … I thought you might be interested to know I booked in for genetic testing for ovarian cancer. My GP put me onto a familial cancer unit. I guess I might as well know the risk and try to minimise against it, if needs be. You were right. I-I can’t leave everything to chance.’
Lenny’s eyes softened and he reached out to touch her arm. She revelled in the physical contact. ‘Good on you. It was a brave thing to do.’ His mouth twisted to one side. ‘You know, I think I’ve been mentally wedded to a few ideas of my own that are no longer valid, too.’
‘Oh … such as?’ Her heart still betraying her by pounding away. He hadn’t taken his hand away. Thank goodness. She breathed in the scent of starch ironing spray.