Rosie knew this would be an ideal time to interject and let Keith know what was really going on with Portia, and that it was actually Simon who was betraying his beloved network to the Sentinel. Instead, she calmly watched as Keith continued talking, proud at her newfound ability to disengage.
'Well, Rosie, I've asked young Nathan here to help you with the Kennedys,' Keith said, gesturing to the new inner-circle guy. 'Simon here tells me he's a good operator.' Suddenly it was all too clear. Keith was introducing Rosie to her successor. The old TV wheel was spinning as per usual.
'It's just for a while,' Keith added, remembering that Rosie was no fool. 'We can't afford any more PR fuck-ups around here. Even you have to admit your track record is looking pretty fucking bad at the moment and Nathan here, I'm told, knows what he's doing.'
Rosie's reputation, all her hard work and loyalty, had just been erased before her very eyes. But instead of standing up for herself, she grinned as she listened to herself say, 'Great, welcome aboard, Nathan,' while the others looked on incredulously.
* * *
Rosie knew she was expected to hang around for drinks after the meeting, or at least until Keith finally left, so she made a play to speak to him privately before she snuck out through the kitchen on her way home. Watching him head toward the executive loo, Rosie followed, then hid herself behind a pylon outside and waited for the Big Man to do his business so she could catch him as he left. Rosie heard a loud groan before the toilet flushed, and shuddered at what might have caused such a brutal noise. In the time it took to run two huge hands under a tap, Keith appeared.
'Hi, Keith. I just wanted a word with you before you leave.'
Keith looked surprised and uneasy. 'Yes, sweetie, what is it?'
'Keith, just answer me one question. Did you fire Lara Green from my old job because Graham Hunt asked you to?'
The Big Man looked pale, and desperate for a diversion. He had none.
'It's a simple question, Keith. Yes or no?'
'Oh, sweetie, it was a complicated business. A big last-minute mess. Hunt had us over a barrel.'
'So, you're saying you did fire her for no other reason?'
Rosie remained collected and calm, her voice at a low hum.
'Well, if you insist on busting my balls, sweetie, yes I did. You happy now? When are you going to learn that this is a tough business, Rose? You almost have it and when I think you finally do you let me down with shit sheila-talk like this. Look, the fact is you butt heads around here. I know you don't like Nash but I gotta tell you, there's nothing the man doesn't know about TV. He's basically rewritten Alicia's drama for us, saved us from an expensive disaster. In my eyes, that makes him indispensable. I'm not about to break my most loyal lieutenant's balls because he doesn't get on with the PR chick. You seem to be missing the point: it's all about loyalty in this business. Those boys are like sons to me. I love them. And what's more, they love Six like I do. This network is more than a job. We're family. We stick together. We're brothers.'
'Bros before hos,' Rosie said, laughing as she raised her arm in a triumphant salute.
'Yeah, I guess that's right,' Keith replied uneasily. 'If you want to put it like that.'
'No problems, Keith, thanks for your honesty,' Rosie replied politely. 'If you can just do me a favour, then, in light of this conversation, and sign this,' she continued, pulling a document she'd prepared out of her handbag, 'we'll be done then.'
Keith tore open the envelope with his ungainly mitts and read its contents hurriedly. He then turned to Rosie and asked blankly, 'Do I have a say in this?'
'Er, no actually, you don't,' Rosie told him.
Mumbling profanities, Keith went to pull out a pen from his inside jacket pocket, but Rosie already had hers out, its top off, waiting. Keith stabbed a signature on the bottom line and turned to look blankly at Rosie again.
'Well, see you at the Kennedys then,' she said, and walked slowly towards the lift, savouring each step. 'Oh, and Keith, you might want to give Jason Jarvis a call. Ask him about Peter Ingles. And you'd better bring your new bro Nathan along.'
CHAPTER 35
Rosie stopped in at the bottle shop near her mother's house, the same one she shuddered to remember buying $2 flagons from with her pocket money as a teenager. One of the guys working the drive-through recognised her from school, and although Rosie couldn't put a name to his face, she felt a warm glow, having someone know her from her early days or B.S. (Before Six). It was nice to be on home turf, she realised. She was even looking forward to seeing her mother.
She selected two bottles of Vera's favourite champagne and a bottle of Tia Maria. It was an old joke of the family's that Tia Maria was all Vera Lang ever got as a present – before Rosie started earning more money, routinely treating her mother to cashmere scarves and day-spa beauty treatments.
After asking her old school acquaintance to put the liqueur in a gift box, Rosie paid for the bottles and walked back to her car. As she started the engine, she stopped to check how many cigarettes she had left in her pack. After discovering it was a mere four, she undid her seatbelt once more. Regardless of what kind of scene she was about to face, Rosie knew it would take more than four to get through it. After the Kennedys, she would give up.
Everything would be better then.
Pulling up at the kerb near her mother's driveway, Rosie reminded herself that Leon was fine, and ignored the number of cars present. She had already checked with Little Darlings Daycare and her boy was safe and happy watching Shrek, waiting for his father to pick him up. At least, he had been when Rosie rang an hour ago – but that sure looked like Jeff's car, in her mother's driveway of all places.
Rosie used her key to let herself in, setting her mother's Maltese, Bertie, off into a yapping tizz.
'Shh, Bertie,' she yelled at the pooch, who looked even pinker than the last time she'd seen him – and he'd been pretty well chewed bare then.
'Bertie, who is it?' It was Vera's voice, coming from the formal lounge room. Rosie's parents were casualties of the 1970s, who still believed every house should have a formal room, for when guests came over. In this lounge or living room – unlike the informal family room – only the good china was used, along with the crystal wine glasses Vera and Mick had received as wedding presents that were always off limits to Rosie as 'too good to use'.
'It's me, Mum,' Rosie yelled down the hall, bending to scratch Bertie on his upturned belly. 'Sorry I didn't call, but I got Lou's email saying she was here and thought I'd come straight over.'
'Muuuummy,' Leon screamed, racing down the hallway and into his mother's open arms.
'Hello, my beautiful boy,' Rosie said, scooping him up and showering his face with kisses. 'What are you doing here at Grandma's? I thought Daddy was picking you up.' Rosie held Leon to her chest as she walked down the hall.
'Don't be mad with Daddy, Mummy,' Leon said, nuzzling his mother's neck. 'He's in the big room with Grandma and Grandpa and Aunty Lou.'
'Oh, is he now?' Rosie asked.
'Yes, and Uncle Stephen is here and Elroy and his dad too.'
Rosie stopped in her tracks at the mention of Elroy's dad, Daniel.
What the hell is he doing here? With my mother and my ex husband? Rosie grabbed a firm hold of Leon and turned and ran towards the front door as fast as high heels, two shopping bags and a four-year-old son in her arms would allow. She didn't know what her mother was up to, but suddenly Rosie knew she didn't want to be any part of it.
'Rosemarie!' Vera screeched, bringing Rosie to a grinding halt. 'Don't you dare! Come back here, please. There are some people here who love you and want to talk to you.'
Vera was standing in the entrance way to the lounge room with her hands on her hips, her face crimson with anger. Rosie suddenly realised where she got her annoying blush from and cursed genetic inheritance.
'What are you saying, Mum?' Rosie responded. 'You're scaring me. A girl could think you were doing something stupid like holding a
n intervention when you talk like that.'
'Come in, Rosemarie, let's have a nice chat,' her mother continued, now talking so calmly it was as though Rosie was a recalcitrant infant rather than a thirty-five-year-old woman.
Rosie realised there was little she could do but enter. Vera would always catch up with her. There really was no place she could run. Everything would be okay, she just knew it. This was merely another blip. Things were getting better all the time . . .
Lou jumped up out of her chair and ran to Rosie as soon as she entered the room. 'Babe, this was your mother's idea. I'm sorry. She called me over saying there was an emergency.'
Rosie gave Lou a hug and told her not to worry. Everything was all right. No problem at all.
Turning to Lou's husband, Stephen, who was sitting upright on the straight-backed lounge, Rosie was amused to note he looked almost as sheepish as her own dad, Mick, who was cowering in the corner behind an upside-down TV guide. Beside him was Jeff, her ex, also looking like he'd rather be anywhere else but in the good guest chintz chair he was parked in. But the most-uncomfortable-person-in-the-room award undoubtedly belonged to Daniel Jones, who smiled lamely, obviously as ill at ease as Rosie herself. Rosie started to laugh and found she couldn't stop. The scenario was so spectacularly absurd she felt as though she had stepped out of her body and onto the set of an Almodóvar movie.
'Well, as no one is saying anything,' Rosie finally began, forcing herself not to crack up again, 'I'd better start by telling you it's not my birthday so, if you'd all like to go home, you can leave your gifts over here and I'll call some cabs.'
Daniel beamed at her and she matched his grin tooth for tooth. There was no option other than to laugh. The situation was ridiculous.
Over the distracting sound of Elroy and Leon playing loudly in the kitchen, Vera determinedly began: 'Rose, I asked everyone to come here this afternoon because, well, frankly we're all worried sick about you. You are not yourself at the moment and we all realise it is because of that job of yours.' Vera was clearly flustered, rattling the ice cubes in her highball.
'Oh, Mum, you needn't have done this,' Rosie said. 'I have it under control now, believe me.'
'Under control? Well, I can't see how that can be!' Vera exclaimed, now nervously playing with her wedding ring as she did when super-riled. 'I mean, imagine how we felt hearing on the radio about you having sex with some naked man in a hotel lift! Your father nearly died when he heard! God knows who else listened to that gutter filth, I can only guess!'
'Mum, it wasn't in a lift.'
Rosie turned to Daniel and attempted to back-pedal.
'I mean, there was a naked man but I didn't have sex with him. I only stayed the night in his room.'
Daniel frowned.
'He passed out!' Rosie explained, laughing. 'Don't you get it? It was Greg Leach, my old friend from the Sentinel. He got mutantly drunk and made a disgrace of himself. He asked me to stay because he was in a bad way and didn't want to be alone!'
'Oh, that was nice of you, dear,' Rosie's dad piped up from the corner. Mick and Greg had enjoyed a few sessions together over the years, and he was aware Greg more than liked a drink or ten. 'See, Vera, our daughter does have manners!' Mick added proudly.
'I never said our daughter didn't have manners, Mick!' Vera snapped at her husband. 'It's just that, well, look at her! She looks scrawny as a waif. Our beautiful daughter who – when we get to see her, and lately that's rarely – is usually crying her eyes out or yelling at one of us.'
Vera looked at Jeff, who promptly looked down at his feet. It was clear who had complained about the yelling.
'Look, babe,' Lou began, 'your mum is making a point. Stephen and I have been worried too. You haven't been yourself, always so stressed and snappy.'
Rosie looked at Lou's face, which was etched with real concern, then down at that tiny swell of a bump emerging from her crocheted knit top. Rosie realised suddenly she couldn't wait for that baby to arrive, as if Lou's pregnancy was only real now that the clouds were shifting. She smiled at her beautiful friend.
'So, what are you all suggesting here?' Rosie asked calmly.
'We want you to quit that horrible job of yours, that's what!' Vera pleaded. 'You can always move home with Dad and me for a while if money is tight!'
'Rosie?' Lou put in, claiming her friend's attention in an effort to distract her from the horror of Vera's suggestion. 'Babe, there are so many other jobs you could be doing. You're a born writer and I doubt you've written a word since you've been at Six.'
'Not even a consonant,' Rosie replied, still smiling. 'But that's about to change. I have an idea now and have never felt so inspired. It could be a book, a TV show, a screenplay. I am going to get straight into it. I promise you, Lou. Thanks for caring though. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know.'
This time, Lou joined Vera in a gobsmacked stare.
Rosie then turned to Daniel and radiated a smile lit from within. She couldn't resist. Something about that man made Rosie crack open to reveal her real self and she adored him for it.
'And what about you, Mr Jones – who I barely even know, it may be noted?' Rosie said cheekily, throwing a mock glare at her mother and Lou simultaneously.
'All I know is I was looking for an excuse to see you, so when Lou rang . . .' Daniel paused and turned – like the rest of the room – to look at a cringing Lou. Then he turned back to Rosie, pushing a distracting stray brown lock from his sparkling green eyes. 'Anyway, on the way back from daycare this morning, I heard some poncy-sounding dude on the radio saying he'd spotted you having sex with a naked man and something about a hotel lift. I nearly ran off the road.'
Rosie knew she should have been recoiling with humiliation, but could only laugh instead.
'Anyway, about five minutes later Lou rang to tell me that if I had heard what she had heard, it couldn't be true. She convinced me to come here to let you know I know you didn't sleep with anybody. You still with me?'
Rosie looked back at him, dreamy with adoration.
'Anyway,' he continued, 'Lou said she was worried that somehow you would blow things with me.' He too was smiling again. 'That's something she says you tend to do. Blow things.'
Rosie laughed and looked at Lou, who was doing her best to sink into the cushions of Vera's best visitor's chair and disappear altogether.
'Lou, thanks, lovely. I know you only mean the best for me. That was a sweet thing to do.'
Lou smiled timidly, unsure whether Rosie was being facetious. But she wasn't. She meant every word.
'So, Rosemarie, will you think about it, darling?' Vera asked.
'About what, Mum?' Rosie asked.
'About leaving that horrible job, that's what!' Vera cried, exasperated.
'Oh, of course! Don't worry, it's over. I'm out. I just have a couple of things left to do, that's all, and then I'm hitting the computer and getting back to my writing. Promise. In fact, there's a really hot solicitor I need to talk to to help me wrap things up.' She turned to look at Daniel.
'I'd love to help any way I can,' he replied softly. 'For you I will happily come cheap.'
Rosie contemplated kissing Daniel right there and then, but Leon's wide-eyed stare from the hallway distracted her.
'Come here, champion,' she said, her boy running to her side. 'Sweetpea, I know I've been horrible since I went to work at the TV station, and I'm sorry,' she said, her voice low.
'You get grumpy a lot,' Leon admitted timidly, 'but you are still the best mummy ever.'
'No, my darling, you are the best child ever,' Rosie replied, cuddling her boy to her. 'Do you remember I made a promise to you that day Daddy and I had our big fight?'
The Boys' Club Page 29