Love is the New Black

by Chrissie Keighery

Mason looked down at the empty pizza box between them. ‘Do you like fashion and dieting? Do you like the magazine?’ he pushed.

  Piper crinkled her forehead, unsure of how to respond.

  ‘I just want your opinion,’ Mason said encouragingly. ‘I trust your good taste. I mean, as an anchovy-with-extra-cheese enthusiast, what do you think about a magazine full of dieting tips?’

  Piper laughed. ‘You sure you want my opinion? This is, like, my second day here.’

  ‘Exactly!’ said Mason. ‘You haven’t been tarnished by the industry yet. I’m interested to hear what you think. Tell me. Would you buy the magazine for yourself?’

  ‘Um. No. Well. It’s not my kind of magazine, if I’m being honest,’ Piper said carefully.

  Mason didn’t seem upset. Or surprised. ‘So, would you buy the magazine if it were different, somehow?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Piper. ‘I like that glamorous high-end fashion feel it has. But, well …’

  Mason nodded, encouraging her to go on.

  ‘I think the articles need to be better,’ she began, thinking of Wendy and her desire to deepen the article she was working on. ‘There are enough magazines out there making women feel like shit. The magazine is called Aspire. What do women aspire to? It shouldn’t be just looking good. I’m sure they aspire to have interesting conversations, and to know more – not just read celebrity gossip.’ Piper warmed to the topic. ‘It’s possible to do more. One of the best articles I’ve read in a magazine lately was a series of interviews in Marie Claire. I can’t remember what it was called, but it was about four twenty-year-old women from all over the globe, exploring their views on sex and love and marriage. Instead of something like that, Aspire seems to prefer to focus on snippets and grabs that never really go anywhere. And,’ Piper said, getting to her main problem, ‘I hate the way so many magazines make you feel bad about yourself. There’s always that implication that the reader isn’t quite sexy enough, or skinny enough, or rich enough. If I’m going to buy a mag, I want to feel better about myself after reading it, not worse!’

  ‘I see,’ said Mason.

  Piper was on a roll now. It was great to give a release to the thoughts that had flown through her mind when Wendy was in Rose’s office. And more opinions kept coming to her as she spoke. She was so in the moment that she didn’t even think of how she might sound or look while talking, or how Mason was receiving her views.

  ‘The fashion is great. It’s ridiculously expensive, of course. So no-one I know could actually buy it. But that’s okay – it’s kind of arty. But to me, it just seems silly to have such frothy articles alongside it. They’re so shallow, it almost makes the clothes look bad. It’s like the magazine is for people who are either rich enough to buy the clothes or dumb enough to read the articles. Or both rich and dumb. And that’s not a great market. You know? Where’s the stuff for people who have half a brain?’

  For a while Mason didn’t say anything, and Piper was sure she’d gone too far.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘That was kind of a rant.’

  ‘No,’ said Mason slowly. ‘You’ve given me a lot to think about.’ He looked at his phone. ‘Thanks for your work, Piper. It’s getting late. It’s probably time you went home.’

  ‘Oh,’ Piper said. She had definitely stuffed up.

  She packed up her things. Mason slid the panel door open. The hallway outside was pitch black.

  ‘I’ll walk you to the lift. Sorry, the lights turn off automatically after eight, and the manual switch is down near the lift.’

  Piper walked down the dark hallway towards the elevator. Mason’s hand touched her back lightly, just to guide her. It sent a bolt of electricity through her.

  ‘You know …’ Mason’s voice was smooth in the darkness. ‘You’re really not afraid to speak your mind.’

  Piper thought she heard him add, ‘I like that.’ But it was spoken so softly, she began to doubt if he’d said anything at all.

  For a moment, they stood in front of the elevator doors. Piper stared at the two square buttons, lit around the edges, pointing in opposite directions. One up, one down. She could hear Mason breathing next to her. His smell – aftershave, soap, whatever it was – was divine. His hand was still lightly on her back. In the darkness, it was almost possible to forget who he was. He was a shadow, sending electricity along her spine with his slightest touch, and she wanted his hands all over her.

  ‘So, thank you,’ Mason said suddenly. ‘And, er, thanks for staying back.’

  He quickly switched on the lights. Piper blinked her eyes to adjust to the brightness.

  Mason pressed the down button and the doors swiftly opened with a soft chime.

  ‘The foyer lights should still be on,’ he said, and handed her a Cabcharge from his wallet. ‘Use this to get home. ‘Night, Piper. Thanks again,’ he smiled.

  ‘’Night,’ said Piper, and the elevator doors slid closed.

  Mason let the Aston Martin Virage idle in front of his dad’s bayside mansion.

  God, what had he been thinking? He had let his guard down with Piper. He should have handled that situation better.

  She was cute and funny. And now that she’d pointed it out, he could see what she’d said about the magazine was entirely true. He hoped his jaw hadn’t dropped when she mentioned the great article she’d read. A fellow passenger had handed a mag to him on the long plane trip home from the States. Despite not normally being remotely interested in women’s magazines, he had read every amazing word in very article Piper had mentioned. The writer was so good that she made a twenty-five-year-old Anglo-Saxon male feel what it might be like to be a twenty-year-old Pakistani woman. He had googled the writer when he got home. Megan Roach, a freelance journalist, had won the Best Article of the Year three times running at the Australian Publishers Excellence Awards.

  So Piper definitely had instinct in that area. She’d been there for almost no time, and yet she was already aligned with Rose’s opinion about the direction Aspire needed to go in. An opinion that was starting to gel with Mason, despite the risks involved.

  He almost wished that Piper hadn’t said any of it – because it made him see that she wasn’t just cute and funny, but intelligent and switched on too.

  Why did he have to go and order pizza, like they were on some kind of teenage date?

  The way she devoured that pizza was a complete turn-on. The way she laughed without pretension. In the dark hallway he would have liked to slip his arms around her waist. He’d flicked on the lights as soon as he could, just to stop himself from having those thoughts. She was an employee! Jesus.

  Mason shook his head. He really needed to refocus. To get her out of his head and solve the various crises that threatened to swamp him completely. And then get out, back to the States, where he needed to start his real career.

  Mason hit the steering wheel with the palms of both hands. He stared through the windscreen and out across the choppy water in the darkness.

  His phone rang. Kara. He took a deep breath and pulled himself together. She needed him. And, to be honest, he needed her too.

  ‘Mase,’ Kara said when he picked up, ‘too much bloody phone tag. Did you get my voicemails on Wednesday?’ She sounded okay. Better – clearer than she’d sounded for a while, actually.

  ‘Yeah,’ Mason replied. ‘Sorry. I was flat out that day.’

  Kara didn’t contest this, but it was obvious she knew what was going on. Mason always took Kara’s calls, regardless of what he was doing. But last Wednesday, he took only work calls. He’d been so busy, there was no time for emotions. This year, on the anniversary of his mum’s death, he couldn’t even share memories of her with his father.

  ‘I lit a candle for her,’ Kara said. ‘Well, several candles actually.’

  Mason had a sudden flash of his mum before she got sick. Of himself as a little boy, feeling so grown up at being allowed to strike a match and light a candle by himself. Then the memory drifted back to wh
erever it came from. He opened his eyes.

  ‘Mase. Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, of course,’ he said. ‘I’ve just got a lot on, with work and Dad and all.’

  He could hear Kara filling up a glass. ‘Christ, and I’m not helping, am I? Making you play my crazy game. That stupid tabloid dropping you in it. You must be so sick of it all.’

  Even though Kara couldn’t see him, Mason shook his head. They’d been through this all before. ‘Kazzy, honestly, I don’t mind.’

  He could picture her reaction. The nickname that had followed her through their teenage years. Even then, she’d hated being called Kazzy. He used to do it to tease her. Well, actually, it was probably more about provoking her. If their first physical contact was her punching him, he’d be up for it. It was a teenage flirting strategy of sorts, with plenty of room for development. Well, that’s what he’d thought at the time.

  ‘If you call me that again, I’ll have to drive over there right now to thump you,’ she said, rising to the bait as always.

  ‘All right. I’ll consider myself warned,’ he said, considering whether he might risk one tiny Kazzy at the end, just for fun.

  But Kara started talking again. ‘Honestly Mase,’ she said, ‘I just don’t want to do this to you anymore. I feel like I’m stuck between a rock and a hard bitch.’

  Mason smiled. ‘You could always give Anita a few tips on what to do with her advice,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a few creative suggestions if you’re short on ideas. But it has to be your decision, Kara. And there’s no rush. Not from my end anyway. You’ve got a full schedule for the next few weeks. Maybe you should take some time off to think about it properly after the supermodel shoot?’

  Mason could hear Kara munching at the other end of the phone. It would be Twisties for sure. They’d been Kara’s thinking food since Mason first knew her. Since he fell in love with her when they were teenagers. Rose had introduced them when Kara was doing her first shoot – Kara had been from out of town, with no friends in Melbourne; Mason had been more than happy to oblige. The two of them had kind of grown up together from then on.

  Right from the beginning, they cared for each other. Mason had Kara – as well as Rose and his father – to thank for stopping him from completely spinning out of control after losing his mum. He’d cared for Kara, too, when she was all alone in a new city. It felt like love.

  And it was love, just not the kind that Mason had in mind. That side of things had been a struggle. In fact, lots of the stuff between Kara and Mason had been a struggle. A bit of a train wreck, really. But what they’d salvaged was precious.

  ‘Are they chicken or cheese Twisties?’ he asked.

  ‘A combo,’ Kara replied. ‘Desperate times.’

  ‘Better go for a run around the block afterwards,’ Mason joked. As both of them knew, Kara’s stress levels were a great calorie burner.

  ‘Seriously though, Mase, if someone comes into your life, someone you want to date, you have to tell me, okay?’

  It was absurd that an image of Piper came to mind. Kara was probably doing him a giant favour, taking him off the market. Mason shook his head. ‘Kara, I shall die alone, thinking of you.’

  ‘I reckon you should get a few cats,’ Kara replied. ‘You know, to feed on your decomposing body until the postman finds you.’

  ‘Excellent suggestion. Thanks.’

  ‘No problem. Are you coming to the Bojangles bikini shoot on Friday?’

  ‘I might find a moment to pop in,’ Mason replied. ‘Apparently my supermodel girlfriend is going to be there. Since she doesn’t put out, the least she can do is give me an eyeful.’

  ‘Poor Mase,’ Kara said. ‘You’re the best boyfriend a girl doesn’t have.’

  ‘Ditto.’ Mason leant back in the bucket seat, enjoying the sound of Kara’s laughter.

  ‘Just one more thing. One itty bitty request?’ Kara said.

  ‘My firstborn?’ Mason joked. If felt good to have a bit of banter. Life had been so serious lately, he’d barely raised a smile. Except for a couple of moments in the boardroom today …

  ‘On Friday, can you please bring that new girl you’ve got working for you? Piper Bancroft.’ Mason’s heart thumped hard as Kara continued, oblivious. ‘Kind of straight-looking, you know, serious shoes and a little bit bank-teller. Vivian sent her to give me a hand at the Langham yesterday. There’s something about her that makes me feel … well … grounded, I guess. And the models I’m working with at the Bojangles shoot are pretty grim. Quite a few be-arches, you know. Do you know the girl I’m talking about?’

  Mason’s eyes rose to the sky. ‘Yeah, I think I know who she is,’ he said.

  ‘Cool, then. I like her. She’s funny. And I think she might actually be real.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Mason said, hanging up. He knew exactly what Kara meant. Piper was so refreshingly genuine, funny and cute. But the situation was freaking impossible. She was an employee and, as much as he’d just wanted to have her right there and then in the boardroom, he knew it was incredibly unprofessional for him to make a pass at her.

  From tomorrow, I’ll make sure it’s purely professional, he vowed.

  Mason could tell, by the half-empty bottle of scotch, what his father had been up to that day. Patrick Wakefield lay on the couch in a semi-conscious state, his left hand dangling down, still wrapped around an empty glass on the floor.

  Mason flopped into the armchair next to his dad and looked around the giant lounge room. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach were about the only thing that felt the same. Abigail had taken things with her in the divorce that had never belonged to her in the first place. In the space where the Brett Whiteley used to hang, only a pale square remained on the wall.

  Patrick looked terrible. It hurt Mason to see the sallow skin and slack jaw. He’d been so strong when Mason’s mother died. He’d been brave and bold in the face of that incredible challenge.

  This man seemed different. Maybe the pain had added up? Maybe Abigail leaving was the final straw?

  It didn’t really matter. What mattered was getting him better.

  ‘Dad,’ Mason gently shook his shoulder.

  Patrick edged his way up onto an elbow. ‘Mason,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to be here.’

  ‘Let’s not talk about that, Dad,’ Mason said. ‘I’m here now.’

  ‘You’re here now,’ Patrick agreed, nodding slowly. ‘Cleaning up my mess.’

  Mason detected moisture glistening in his father’s blue eyes. He prayed for a glimpse of the old Patrick, who’d demand a blow-by-blow rundown of everything that was happening at the office if he’d been called away even for a day.

  ‘Do you think she ever loved me?’ Patrick asked. Mason’s heart sank. ‘Do you think she loved me and then stopped loving me? Or did she never love me at all?’

  Mason tried to change the subject. ‘Rose has come up trumps with this month’s cover. I sent it to your email. Have you checked it?’

  ‘I went on the computer today. When I googled Abbie, an image came up of her on his yacht …’

  ‘Well, anyway, the cover looks great,’ continued Mason. ‘Oh, and I’ve fixed the flat battery in the Virage. It’s a dream to drive.’ Maybe Patrick couldn’t talk about work yet, but at least Mason could try to keep the subject away from Abigail. Mason wasn’t that into cars, but Patrick had been ecstatic when he’d bought the car a year or so ago. He’d raved about it over the phone, like a child with a new toy.

  But when Mason arrived back in Melbourne, the Virage hadn’t been driven for months.

  ‘Abbie and I chose that car together,’ Patrick sighed. ‘She thought it was –’

  ‘Dad!’ Mason interrupted. When his father bought the car, Mason had actually been pleased. He’d wondered if maybe he was wrong about Abigail – maybe she could make his serious dad feel joy again. It was a wonder she hadn’t got her claws on the car too.

  ‘What?’

  Mason sighe
d. Obviously Patrick wasn’t going to be drawn into a conversation about the business, or even about the car he’d been obsessed with.

  ‘Dad,’ Mason said firmly, ‘Abigail was a gold digger. She’s gone. You need to forget about her and move on.’

  Patrick leant down and poured more scotch into his glass. ‘Whatever you think, I had something real. At least, it was real to me. Marrying Abigail may have been a risk, but taking risks is part of being alive.’ Patrick took a giant swig of his drink. ‘Not that you’d know anything about that. It’s obvious to everyone that there’s no passion between you and Kara. Sorry to say it, Mase, but there just doesn’t seem to be any frisson there. And everyone needs some frisson. Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,’ he said wistfully. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes.

  ‘Doesn’t look like it,’ Mason said dryly. He picked up his car keys. He was glad that he’d rented an apartment rather than trying to stay with his dad. It was just too hard, seeing him like this all the time.

  Mason drew the blanket up to his dozing father’s chin, and switched off the light.

  Piper was exhausted. It had been a long day, with so many peaks and low points she felt like she’d been on a swing.

  She put on her most comfy pyjamas, the flannelette ones that felt like a hug, and sat at the desk in her room. She opened up her laptop and pulled up a blank Word document. What she needed to do was some creative writing. She would start a piece she could use in her next folio. A piece that would hopefully get her into the creative writing course next time.

  The blank page was daunting, so she typed whatever came into her head, just to fill the empty white screen.

  I will not fall in love with my boss. I will not fall in love with my boss. I will not fall in love with my boss. I will not fall in love with my boss.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about being in the boardroom with Mason. Seeing the pulse move in his neck. Feeling that flicker of electricity between them. The moment, just before he turned on the lights, when she thought something might happen.