Vanessa: Em?
Jessie: You still there?
Needing some space and time to digest why the hell I even cared, I knew I had to assure them first and then find the chocolate.
Emma: Sorry. Was reading. She’s pretty.
Sienna: You’re better
Vanessa: Fuck yeah. I’d do you…you know if I was that way inclined.
Emma: Thanks girls. I’m fine.
Vanessa: Really?
Emma: Really. It was one night.
Sienna: One night you can’t stop thinking about
Emma: Yeah.
Jessie: You’re not fine
Sienna: You’re full of shit
Emma: I’m fine. Sure, it was awesome, but it was weeks ago. I haven’t heard from him since.
Vanessa: Do you want to?
Shit! There was the million-dollar question I wasn’t ready to answer. The problem wasn’t that I didn’t know what the answer was, the issue was I did. I wished he’d call. I’d lost I don’t even know how many hours staring at my phone like a loser hoping he’d call or message or something. But my phone stayed silent. And now this. I guess the upside was this put an end to my patheticness, all the hoping and waiting and acting like one of those girls I pitied.
Emma: Doesn’t matter.
Emma: He’s with Madeline now.
Sienna: She’s a skank
Vanessa: He could do better
Vanessa: You’re better
Jessie: He’s missing out then
The best thing about having girlfriends was they always had your back. No matter what you did, how stupid or how big of a fuck up you’d made, they always backed you one hundred and ten percent. Even if you all knew it was bullshit, they’d say it just to make you feel better. I wasn’t dumb. I knew exactly what they were doing. Madeline looked fucking stunning in that pink dress, with her perfect hair and perfect makeup and perky boobs. Then here I was in my favourite flannel pyjamas and fuzzy bed socks and dirt under my nails. There was no comparison. Madeline was his equal. I was just some fun one weekend in Melbourne. Knowing that sat uneasily in my stomach.
Emma: It’s all good.
Emma: Thanks, girls.
Emma: Love ya guts.
Vanessa: We love you too
Jessie: We’re here if you need
Sienna: If you need me to come over and trash him with you, just call
Emma: Thanks. Night all.
Sienna: Night Em
Silencing my phone, I dropped it into the drawer of my dresser and clicked off the lamp. Even though I knew sleep wouldn’t come easy, I had to try. Today had kicked my arse at work and now this. Closing my eyes, I rolled over and hugged the pillow to my chest before the first tear slid down my cheek.
***
Waking up the next morning with a hangover, I stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. Looking out the tiny window, I saw the day looked like I felt. Dreary, overcast and my first thought was to crawl back into bed and try again tomorrow. After briefly considering calling in sick, I knotted my hair in a bun on top of my head and stepped into the shower. Quickly I rushed through my morning routine, all the while thinking about the extra-large, double-strength coffee I was ordering on the way to work. Maybe I’d even indulge in a chocolate croissant to go with it. It’d be worth the extra couple of kilometres on the treadmill I’d have to do to repay it.
I’d just locked the door behind me when I remembered my phone. Ducking back in, I grabbed it, dropping it in the bottom of my bag and hurrying towards the train station. Missing my normal train, I waited for the next one while sipping on the scalding hot coffee. Around me, men and women dressed in perfectly pressed business suits did the same. Seemed like this time of morning, coffee was the elixir of life, it certainly was for me anyway.
I waited until I was on the crowded train and tucked in a corner seat before pulling my phone out. While I hadn’t been expecting any calls or messages, I couldn’t decide if I wanted any or not. Bloody Sienna, she just couldn’t let up. In that moment I loved and hated that girl simultaneously.
Sienna: Check this out.
Sienna: She went to town on him.
Sienna: Not that he didn’t deserve it.
Then there was another link. Part of me didn’t want to open it. Then again, if it was Sienna sending it to me that meant she’d already screened it and it wasn’t going to hurt. Or maybe it would hurt it just wouldn’t scar.
Glancing around the carriage to make sure no one was watching me; I was relieved to find they were all wrapped up in their own little worlds. While some businessmen tried to make themselves look important as they battled to turn the oversized pages of the newspaper in the confined spaces, women huddled over their phones or e-readers.
Satisfied no one cared what I was doing, I opened the link. As soon as it opened, I snorted. Loudly. There was a reason I worked with plants rather than people. Taking a bite out of the flaky goodness of my pastry to stop any more embarrassment slipping out, I focused on the screen in front of me.
‘Today in the WTFWHT files, I present #BryceImAnIdiotMasters.
Bryce Masters seemingly has lost his brain or at least isn’t thinking with it, letting other parts of his anatomy lead him astray. Last night, Adelaide’s favourite footballer stepped out with TV diva, Madeline Higgins. And while Higgins looked happy to be clinging to Masters’ arm, he appeared constipated when interviewed on the red carpet.
When asked about the couple’s relationship, Higgins confirmed they’d been long-time friends before reconnecting. Well, I for one am calling BS. Masters, a known player, isn’t likely to be tied down or up by the bright lights of TV. Besides, I have it on good authority that they didn’t end the night like the fairy-tale some would lead you to believe.
Higgins, the attention seeking actress was seen, only last week clinging to the arm of another B list celeb at a restaurant in Sydney. Maybe Master’s was just another pawn in her game to get the statue come awards season later on this year – here’s hoping anyway.
And as for Masters and Higgins’ relationship – frankly, I for one think he can do better. Masters, pull your head out of your a$$ and step up. And please, for the love of god, stop hanging out with bimbos.
Love T.’
I read and reread it three times before setting it down. Whoever this ‘T’ was, I freaking loved her. She pulled no punches and called it just like she saw it. The only downside of her blog post was the hope it gave me. I’d been okay, well not exactly okay, but I was working on it before, and now I was left wondering if I could possibly be the mystery woman alluded to in the article. Could it be that the reason I hadn’t heard from Bryce was he didn’t have my number? I know I didn’t give it to him, and he never asked, so maybe. Damn! There was that blasted hope again.
Sienna: What’d you think?
Deciding not to lie, I replied.
Emma: Interesting.
I was going to have to come clean to Sienna and the girls.. We didn’t have secrets, although sometimes I wish we did. I mean, did I really need to know that Jessie’s husband liked a finger in his butt when she blew him. Nope. Absolutely not. But ever since she shared that nugget of information, I hadn’t been able to forget it. Or look at him the same way again. There was definitely a time and a place for secrets, but maybe sharing this one with my girls wouldn’t be so bad. Something I’d need to consider, and sooner rather than later I suspected.
Sienna: Interesting?
Sienna: That’s all I get?
Emma: It doesn’t mean anything
Sienna: Bullshit.
Emma: Coming to the station. TTYL.
Sienna: Fine. Live in denial. But you know I’m right.
Sienna: TTYL.
Sienna: Oh, BTW Don’t forget dinner on Friday night either.
Shit! I’d already forgotten about that. Guess there was no getting out of it. Damn it! The train screeched to a stop and I joined the crush of people to get off. After shuffling through the station, I stepped o
ut onto the street and into the pouring rain, drenching myself instantly. Today was going to suck donkey balls.
***
I looked like an alcoholic.
I was sitting on the train, by myself, ear buds in so I could pretend the world outside didn’t exist, hugging the brown paper bag to my chest. Thankfully, Sienna was picking me up at the station so I didn’t have to walk up the hill carrying them. As we bumped and rattled along, I winced at the pain shooting through me. I’d twisted the wrong way earlier this morning as a particularly stubborn weed refused to budge. With one final wrench, I pulled it and my back in the same movement. Ever since then I’d been walking around like I had a stick shoved fair up my arse. Something that amused my co-workers to no end.
By the time we pulled into the station I wanted to cry. Actually, I wanted a hot water bottle, a family sized block of chocolate, Chris Hemsworth massaging my back and a good cry. With the chance of getting any of them non-existent, I climbed the stairs slowly and emerged from the underground station to find Sienna sitting in her silver hatchback singing along with the stereo. Even from my spot on the footpath I could hear her singing and see the dancing. She was definitely entertaining herself and anyone else who just happened to pass by.
I knocked on the window and she jumped with alarm before unlocking the door.
As I slid into the passenger seat, she turned down the music before turning to me. “What the fuck? You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry. When do you go on tour?” I asked, wincing as I set the paper bag between my feet.
“Tour? What the hell are you on about?”
“Well, after that performance, I just assumed you’d be off on your world tour any day now.” I shrugged as my seatbelt clicked into place.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a bitch?”
“Not in the last five minutes,” I replied, smiling sweetly. “Now, chauffer. Take me to Mama’s house. I know she’s cooking up a storm and I for one am hoping Tiramisu is on the menu.” It was no secret Sienna’s mum was an awesome cook. It’s why I agreed to trudge all this way out here once a month to join them for family dinner. Her food alone was worth dealing with all the weirdos on the Sydney trains.
“You know it is. Has she ever not made it when you’re coming?”
“Good point. Let’s go!”
For a few minutes we drove in silence, well, we tried to anyway. It was like the road gods were against us tonight and we got every blasted red light possible. When we turned the corner onto the main road, a road which should be moving steadily, we came to a dead stop. Up ahead you could just see red and blue flashing lights and I knew we weren’t going anywhere in a hurry.
“So, how’s school going?” I asked Sienna.
Sienna was the only one of us who’d finished university and decided she hadn’t had enough of studying. Where I was more than ready to get out of the classroom and on with my life, she was quite happy to take her time, changing her major. Now she was in her final year of nursing. Even the idea of dealing with blood and vomit and everything else that can come out of a human being made me queasy.
“You know. Exams are coming up.”
“You’ll nail them.”
She always did. Sienna was one of those super smart people who was good at almost everything she tried. But she didn’t believe it. Instead she’d work herself up to the point she made herself sick and then fall in a heap. I’d never forget the cram sessions the night before an exam when we were at Uni where I was eating my emotions and we studied into the early hours of the morning. When Sienna disappeared, I got worried and went looking for her. I found her with her arms wrapped around the toilet, chunks of vomit on her shirt and her textbook on the bathroom floor. For the next four hours, she read and reread her notes, pausing every half an hour to throw up, before wiping her mouth and forcing herself to keep going. I don’t know if it was sheer stubbornness or genuine smarts that pulled her a ninety-four on that test, but I never questioned her methods again.
“Let’s hope so. How are you anyway? You’ve been super quiet lately.”
“I’m fine. I’ve just been busy,” I deflected before launching into a story about my boss’s new brilliant/stupid idea.
With the car crawling along at a snail’s pace, we eventually edged passed the accident that was blocking the traffic. Looks like a tradie had taken the corner too quickly and spilt his load of tools and machinery across the intersection where three other cars had hit it. One car had a concrete mixer sitting on its bonnet but the people all standing around talking to the police all looked okay which was a relief. I hated seeing accidents where someone was injured. Even seeing a kangaroo on the side of the road after being hit by a car made me want to gag.
Eventually we made it to Sienna’s place, only to find the driveway filled with cars. Not that it was unusual with Sienna’s family; it was more I just wasn’t prepared for it. Family dinner meant me, Sienna and her mum and dad. I think they felt sorry for me because I lived by myself in the big bad city while my parents were a couple of hours away.
“What’s with all the cars?” I asked as Sienna parked on the street instead of her usual spot under the tree.
“Family dinner,” she replied matter-of-factly as she climbed out of the car.
Grabbing the wine, I tried to get out, my eyes watering as I used the open door to pull myself up.
“Shit, Em. What’ve you done to yourself this time?”
She made it sound like I was always injuring myself. I mean, I was clumsy, and I was often bruised or bleeding, but I didn’t need to be reminded about it. Pain did that for me. “Just twisted the wrong way. Is that Izzie’s car?”
I loved Izzie. She was Sienna’s older sister and the one who took us out nightclubbing for the first time. It’d be good to see her again.
“Yeah. That’s Izzie’s and the minivan-looking thing is Arianna’s.”
“Arianna’s here too?”
“Yep. And Luca.”
Coughing, I managed to remember how to breathe properly again and not drop the wine on the driveway. “Luca’s here too?”
“Ah, yeah. Is that a problem?”
CHAPTER NINE
BRYCE
“You’re a tosser, you know that?”
“Nice to see you too, little brother,” I grumbled, staring up at him as I walked down the race towards the showers.
“Ah, he loves me,” Seth declared loudly, catching the attention of the other people still hanging around trying to get an autograph. I’d scribbled a few for kids but I didn’t like doing them for adults anymore. It’d become a thing. I felt like the only reason they wanted one was so they could sell it online and try to make a quick buck. It was bullshit.
“Don’t count on it. You hanging around?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll call you after I shower,” I told him before getting swallowed up in the rush of teammates who were all bouncing around and full of life.
The best thing about playing outside Melbourne was the comradery with your teammates. We were always together. From the time we boarded the plane, to the bus to the hotel, to the game and the dinner afterwards. Rooming with them was another thing. I’d shared rooms with guys who stunk, guys who ordered so much room service, just looking at the piles of greasy pizza, burgers and chips coming through the door made me want to hurl, and guys who spent way too long in the bathroom and claimed to be washing their hair.
This time though, I think I’d drawn the short straw. Actually, I know I did. Rooming with Jake was torture of epic proportions. From the second we’d received our room keys, he’d done everything in his power to piss me off. Stepping through the door, I’d tripped over his bag that was dumped in the entry while he bounced on both beds. Who the fuck tests both beds in a hotel room? What was he? Six? It sure as shit felt like it. But that wasn’t the worst part. No, the tripping over I could handle. The bed springs squeaking I’d live with. I’d even get over the pile of wet towels on
the floor and the flecks of toothpaste splattered on the mirror. I could live with it all, if only he’d shut up for two seconds.
All he wanted to do; all he did, was ask questions about Madeline. After they’d been introduced the other night, it was like he’d fallen in love with the illusion she presented. He’d shown me photos on his phone of her on set and even one on some blog, by a blogger I was going to maim if I could get my hands on her, of Maddy and I on the red carpet looking every bit the young couple in love.
“Bryce! Roomie! You in for dinner tonight?” Jake asked while I stood there wearing nothing but a towel, still dripping from my shower.
“Sorry, man. Can’t,” I replied, offering a half-arsed shrug.
As much as Seth busted my balls, I was more than happy to use him as an excuse to get some time out from the incessant diva worship Jake was wrapped up in here. I know I could’ve told him the truth about her; how she was conceited and self-centred and a complete pain in the arse, but I just couldn’t do it. It’d shatter the illusion and knock her firmly from the pedestal he had her on. I wasn’t about to shatter his dream.
“Dude!”
“Sorry, brother’s waiting outside.”
Pulling on my jeans and t-shirt, I grabbed my stuff and hauled arse out the door, my bag on my shoulder. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I called Seth who was, surprise surprise, waiting out on the concourse for his donuts. Not that I could really blame him. Those hot, jam-filled sugary balls of deliciousness from the old beat up caravan were worth the extra hour in the gym. I don’t know what it was about them, it was probably safer that I didn’t know when I thought about it, but I hoped the little bastard got me one.
Played: A Second Chance Sports Romance (Playing Games Book 2) Page 7