'Yes, Mummy.'
'Well, I'm going to keep it. I have to do some work for the next few weeks and that's it. Then we're going to have a holiday, okay?'
Jeff interrupted. 'Rosie, I would still like Leon to come with us to Perth. Heather and I have decided to have our wedding over there. I've been leaving you messages at work about it, but . . .'
Rosie felt that familiar stab of guilt and, if she was honest, envy. Jeff and Heather were going to be a family, something Rosie wished she could give Leon as well. Still, she would do everything she could to make his home life with her as normal as it could be from now on. Who knew, maybe one day she would even remarry herself. Anything was possible now, especially considering what she was feeling for Daniel.
'I'm sorry, Jeff,' Rosie replied. 'Of course your son should be at your wedding. If Leon is happy to go, I'm happy for him to go.'
Vera shot Jeff a look and Rosie realised her mother could still make her former son-in-law quake. 'Sounds fair, doesn't it, Jeff?' Vera snapped, ending any further debate.
Jeff paused for a minute, then looked at Rosie warmly. 'What, no argument?' he asked, smiling at her like he used to for the first time in a long time.
'No, Jeff, no argument. And I want to thank you. You've been wonderful with our son while I've been off the rails at work. I can't thank you enough. But I want you to know I'm going to be there for Leon from now on. Things are going to change for the better.'
'I'm happy to hear that, Rosie, for you and our boy.'
* * *
Rosie didn't let go of Daniel's hand as they headed back to their cars, both precariously close to being over the limit. Much champagne had been drunk during what was one of the best nights she could remember since . . . forever. Jeff had taken Leon and Elroy home with him earlier, so neither Rosie nor Daniel had parental duties to stop what they both knew was coming next.
'So, Rosie, are you going to run away from me again tonight?' Daniel asked, reaching over to brush her bottom lip with his.
'Not bloody likely,' Rosie replied, blushing but no longer caring. 'Follow me, Big Boy,' she said, trying to sound old-style sultry as she waved her keys in the air. But before they parted for the short drive back to her place, she grabbed at his shirt, pulling him in close. Then she kissed him in a way that left no misconceptions about how she felt about Daniel Jones.
CHAPTER 36
Rosie rolled onto her stomach, trying to drag enough sheet over with her to modestly cover up her behind. Daniel was having none of it, pushing the offending cotton out of the way, taking in the curve of her naked thigh in the early dawn light.
'You are so beautiful. Look at you,' he said, caressing the soft exposed skin with a sweep of his tanned, capable hand.
Rosie rolled onto her side to face him. Amazed by just how calm and uninhibited she felt, she ran her finger along his lips tenderly and reminisced about where they had been only moments earlier – and all night before that.
'You make me feel that way,' she replied. 'I know it sounds corny but you just do.'
Daniel grabbed Rosie's hand and held it open in front of his face, then drew it in to kiss her palm. 'Is it true what you told your mother last night?' he asked. 'About not going back there, to your job?'
Just the mention of Network Six sobered Rosie out of her post-coital euphoria, but only momentarily. She wasn't going to let anything ruin this bliss.
'I'll go back but I'm not going to stay,' she replied. 'I actually need to get some advice from you about all that mess if I can. A few things have cropped up lately which I think are legally . . . shall we say dubious? I wouldn't mind you having a chat with a few former colleagues. Oh, and there's a letter I gave my boss Keith yesterday I'd like you to see.'
'Anything for you,' Daniel replied, moving in closer. 'This sounds fun. But we really should organise a means of payment for my services here as word has it you're a likely flight risk.'
'Ah, Lou,' Rosie laughed, realising her friend had been extremely honest with Daniel regarding her past history. 'Lou is well meaning and only wants the best for me, which she has decided is you.'
'And what about you, Rosie? Have you decided?' Daniel asked shyly.
Rosie slid into the groove of his body, resting her eyes on the small dragon tattooed beside the delicious ping of his left nipple.
'You know, I think I could fall in love with what's underneath here,' she replied, stroking the ink design over his heart.
'You know if you stroke that picture too much,' Daniel said as he straddled her, stopping just a few frustrating millimetres away from being inside her, 'the beast will come alive.'
'Promises, promises,' Rosie replied cheekily, tossing Daniel onto his back and arching hers like a purring Siamese primed to be caressed. As she lowered herself onto him, Rosie felt the light fill her every cell.
* * *
When her alarm sounded, Rosie shut it off with her foot. Nothing was going to spoil her day. Not long after, she heard her phone.
Just a few more days, she promised herself, groping blindly on the floor beside the bed, hoping to locate the handset without leaving Daniel's embrace.
Snatching it up, she saw it was her PA calling from her mobile and decided to take the call.
'Lisa, honey, what's up? I know I'm late but—'
'Rosie, I don't know what the hell is going on but I just got to work and Jan and Grace have been fired from the kitchen. It seems Keith gave official permission for Simon Nash to run this place until he gets back and he's already set about cost-cutting.'
Rosie was upset though not surprised.
'But there's more, which is why I'm ringing you from my mobile. I got an email by mistake this morning. Nash's PA sent it to me. Rosie, you better see it. Its basically outlines Nash's plans, and I think you'll be very interested to see what's involved.'
'You know, nothing surprises me any more, but thanks, Lisa. Can you send it to my home email address? Oh, and while you're at it, I think Mae—'
'She's got it,' Lisa said, showing once again she could read Rosie's mind.
'Thank you, Lisa. Now, I have one more thing to ask you. Can you cover for me for a few hours? You have my planner with the minute by minute rundown for the Kennedys and if you can stall any other calls until this afternoon we should be fine.'
Lisa paused, then finally said: 'I'm only going to do this, Rosie, because you are up to something and I think I'm going to like it.'
'Yeah, I reckon you will too,' Rosie laughed. 'But I have a lot of work to do until then.'
Rosie hung up and turned to Daniel. 'Put your meter on, baby, we're getting to work. I have some names and numbers I think you should call. Legally, you'll find what they have to say very interesting.'
PART IV
CHAPTER 37
Rosie reluctantly stepped out of her fragrant bubble bath when room service rang her bell. She had only ordered the champagne minutes earlier and was impressed with the speed of its delivery. Then again, she had booked some eighty-odd rooms for the night, so if anyone was going to get special attention, it should be her.
The porter seemed curious to see Rosie answer the door in her robe in the late afternoon but she didn't care less. This was her big day and she was determined to enjoy every second of it by doing exactly what she wanted.
After popping the cork, Rosie poured herself a glass of sweet French fizz and padded to her dressing-room in her fluffy white hotel slippers. She saw the heavy beaded gold gown on its plush hanger and felt a well of excitement: soon she would be wearing the exquisite dress. But first there was make-up to be applied and the rest of the champagne to be enjoyed. Rosie took out her cosmetics bag and emptied its contents on the hotel room desk. The light was good in that corner of her suite and the large mirror reflected the Melbourne skyline at perfect eye level.
Sorting the foundation and concealer from the eye shadows and lip liners, Rosie moved her two phones to the far corner of the desk to make room to line up the various tubes, jars
and compacts. As she did, she noticed both displays showed missed calls and smiled to herself, imagining the irate messages that must be banked up on her voicemail. The frantic knocks on her hotel room door which had punctuated the silence throughout the afternoon were a good indication that her presence was much missed. Still, it was nice to know her new colleague Nathan would be getting first-hand knowledge of the complexities of his new role. Nothing like learning on the job, after all.
* * *
Downstairs, the last of the red carpet was being tacked down and floral arrangements put in place. The media accreditation booth was already set up and name cards had been placed on the carefully planned table settings Rosie and her team had agonised over the previous day. Inside the auditorium, final sound checks were being made and camera angles sorted. The dancers from the opening number went through their moves in a last rehearsal while, backstage, two armed guards stood watch over the trophies to be awarded, now engraved with the winners' names. The Six hair and make-up team were installed in the massive three-bedroom suite downstairs that Rosie had booked for the purpose of getting her talent red-carpet ready in time for their staggered arrivals.
Each female celebrity had jewellery, shoes and bags allocated in separate garment bags. Rosie had learned from last year's fiasco that there was no use letting the women preview what their colleagues would be wearing as it only led to jealous last-minute fights. In fact, last year one starlet had actually added up the cost of what her so-called friend wore and left an invoice for Rosie the next day to make up for the discrepancy.
Meanwhile, in the men's grooming suite, bald spots were being sprayed with coloured lacquer, tissues tucked in to protect white collars from make-up, drops inserted to whiten hung-over eyes and, in the case of one would-be stud, a sock inserted into jocks to bulk up his package in his slim-line tuxedo pants.
A sudden scream was followed by a loud thud as a hairdresser fainted, her dryer still buzzing as she lay lifeless on the carpet. Peter Ingles looked down at the prostrate stylist and wondered what on earth had happened to scare her.
* * *
Rosie checked herself in the mirror again and was happy with what she saw.
Looking at her watch, she realised it was time. The red carpet arrivals were about to begin. She should show her face. Turning her phones back on, Rosie placed them in her clutch, along with her lipstick, room key and a bottle of Rescue Remedy just in case. As she walked out the door, she could hear the missed message alerts beeping frantically within the satin confines of her bag.
The elevator to the car park area under the hotel was packed with celebrities when Rosie got in. Not that anyone in there was aware that another body had joined the throng, so busy were the occupants checking their teeth for lipstick or just simply appreciating their own reflections in the lift's smoked mirrors.
As the doors opened onto the car park, Rosie felt like she had stepped into a rock concert mosh pit, so intense was the energy, only this excited horde was better dressed. Bracing herself for the onslaught, Rosie did a quick check of her crew. Everyone seemed to be in place and following her instructions to the letter, corralling the talent into groups of four, ready for the limousines to pick them up and drive the 200-odd metres from the underground car park to the hotel foyer.
'Rose, well about time,' a flustered voice exclaimed. Turning, Rosie found herself face to face with her new colleague, Nathan. Looking far less calm and collected than the last time she'd seen him, he yelled into his walkie-talkie headpiece: 'I've found her!'
'Hi, Nathan,' Rosie said breezily. 'How's it all going?'
'It's fucking hell,' he screamed, exasperated. 'No one wants to be first on the carpet. The executives' wives are complaining that no hair and make-up people were allocated to them. At last count some twenty-three people have turned up without RSVPing and now expect seats. Jason Jarvis managed to break security and got into the auditorium and changed the place settings, complaining that his table was further away from the stage than his counterpart's at Three. We still have no word as to whether Keith will actually be turning up to accept his Lifetime Achievement Award. The after-awards party caterers are complaining there is nowhere to set up and the extra glasses still haven't arrived.'
'Great,' Rosie said with a smile. 'Best I head to the foyer to usher our talent around the reporters. Seems you have everything under control.'
'What do you mean, under control?' Nathan screamed as he watched Rosie glide towards a waiting limousine door. 'No one is doing anything I ask!'
'Welcome to your first Kennedy Awards,' Rosie replied, closing the door behind her. As the car took off, she threw Nathan a royal wave and watched the stunned PR guru shrink into the distance.
* * *
Alighting from the limousine a few minutes later, Rosie saw her PA standing in her designated spot at the revolving front doors and wolf-whistled to attract her attention. Lisa turned to look at her boss admiringly.
'Well, well, you scrubbed up okay, didn't you?' she said wryly.
'And you too, Morticia,' Rosie replied, taking in Lisa's dramatic black fishtail gown replete with studded collar and cuffs. 'I thought I'd be the only corpse here tonight.'
Lisa threw Rosie a huge smile, then stepped forward and hugged her. 'This is it, isn't it?' she asked knowingly.
'Yes, honey, this is the end of the line for me. But don't worry, I won't be leaving without having my say.'
'It has been an honour and a pleasure,' Lisa replied, attempting a low curtsy in her tight-laced dress. 'I can't wait to see what you have planned. Something tells me it's going to be a doozy.'
'Let's just say this will be a night of nights for more than just awards,' Rosie replied. 'Now, where are we at?'
'It's all going well except that young Nathan seems to have dropped a litter of kittens somewhere. Talk about flustered – the guy's having a bloody coronary.'
'I know, I just saw him. Maybe TV PR won't be as easy for him as he thinks.'
'He's certainly not as cocky as he was, that's for sure.'
'Let's not give him too much grief. The poor bugger will soon find he has enough volunteers to break his spirit.'
* * *
The sheltered workshop channels' stars were some of the first to arrive, their PR heads no doubt hoping that by sending their charges in early, they might get some camera time before the real crush began. Unfortunately, none of the assembled reporters and photographers seemed au fait with the hosts of Finance Report or World Affairs Tonight, instead craning their necks in case a nubile soap star might be following behind.
From her vantage point on the other side of the carpet, Rosie made a hand signal to Lisa, indicating that now would be an ideal time for a limo load of Six stars to arrive. Lisa whispered into her headpiece and returned Rosie's glance with a thumbs-up.
As usual, Crystelle Callaghan was the first to alight, clad head to toe in iridescent fuchsia sequins. Rosie couldn't stop herself from breaking into applause when she noticed her friend had accessorised her gown with a matching sparkling walking stick and gave her full points for exploiting her recent accident to the hilt. The flanks of photographers went wild, snapping madly at the star, who playfully prodded them with her cane in a mock joust. Rosie realised just how much she would miss her ebullient friend, a true star in every sense.
Following behind Crystelle was Jason Jarvis. Unlike the other executives, he had chosen to walk the red carpet arm in arm with his partner who, not wanting to be missed, wore a glittering T-shirt featuring his character Caspar the Cat under his velvet tux.
Next came the Balls Eye team, who garnered a round of applause as they stepped out of their limo and onto the carpet. But the applause ceased as Graham Hunt showed his face and a dull round of boos ensued. In the tiers of spectators behind him, placards suddenly appeared reading 'Takes a ho to know one' and 'Hunt's a Cunning Stunt'. The TV cameras swooped in to capture the moment, while the media pack inside splintered, with several photographers racing outsid
e to shoot the posters as police grappled with the spectators to remove them.
The Boys' Club Page 30