by Foster, Zoe
Simone looked up at Lily, her pupils dilated. ‘Hi, babe! J is coming over tomorrow and I’m shooting all day, and so I am making the house perfect tonight.’
Lily immediately confirmed to herself she would be out tomorrow night.
Simone peered at her friend. ‘Will you be around tomorrow night?’
‘Plans,’ Lily said, smiling. ‘You’ll have the place all to your perfect selves.’
‘Babes, don’t be silly! I was going to ask if you wanted to join us!’ Sim’s pupils were the size of raisins. She was definitely high.
‘I’m seeing a movie with Alice, but thanks anyway . . . You seem awfully awake, Sim; been making Sudafed smoothies, have we?’
Even in her hyper state, that clearly cut. Simone frowned and rested her hands on her hips. ‘Well, that was bitchy. What’s with you today?’
Lily shook her head, feeling like an arsehole. ‘Nothing, I’m sorry. I just – work is a bit shit right now. Everyone seems to be getting an interview for this promotion except for me.’
Simone was quiet for a moment.
‘Okay, I did take some Codral, but only because I was feeling so tired and needed some extra motivation to clean.’
It was getting out of control again. Simone was back to upping or downing as soon as she felt herself vary from perfectly normal. Failed to mention that on her holier-than-thou blog, didn’t she, Lily thought bitchily. No, no, it was all green juice and spirulina with activated almond sprinkles if you needed energy in blog land.
‘Do you think they might be spacing the interviews out or something? Maybe on Monday you’ll know?’
Lily unpacked her Indian takeaway and took a fork out of the top drawer.
‘Maybe. I am working on a project that will blow the EP out of the water, so I guess some extra time wouldn’t be the worst thing.’ Lily took her plastic container and fork and walked to the table, where she pulled out a chair and collapsed in it dramatically.
‘Do you really want this job?’ Simone asked.
‘Yes! I’ve been segment producer for two years now; I’ve done my time. I’m good at what I do and I —’
‘I wasn’t saying you aren’t, I just think if you’re serious you might need to, well . . .’ She stopped and looked at Lily, ‘You might want to maybe change . . . this.’ She pointed at Lily’s outfit. ‘Y’know, just to show you’re the right person in every way.’
‘How does what I look like have anything to do with my competence?’ Lily asked irritably.
‘Have you ever heard about wearing clothes for the job you want, not the one you’ve got?’ Simone said, only slightly butchering a perfectly decent adage.
Lily looked down at her outfit: black jeans and an old chambray button-down with her trusty black ballet flats. Her hair was shoved back in a long plait and her face hadn’t seen make-up for days. Her instinct was to be defensive and carry on whenever Simone chided her for her sartorial choices, but maybe she had a point this time. Maybe this was the problem. Maybe she wasn’t showing the world she should be taken seriously.
She exhaled, her body slumping as she did. ‘You’re probably right.’
Simone squealed, her blonde ponytail bobbing, ‘Does this mean we can go shopping?’
‘This is not going to turn into some lame montage sequence from a sitcom, so forget it. I’m seeing Mimi Saturday, I’ll pick up some stuff with her.’
‘Mimi! You’re going to shop with Mimi? You’ll come back looking like a bloody jazz singer! Let me take you, babe, please?’ Simone did the cute, pleading face that had sunk a million men.
‘No, no, it’s fine. I only need a few things.’
‘Fine. Well, can you at least read my new Vogue and Elle for inspo?’ She pointed them out on the coffee table. ‘Take them to bed and study them. You’re nearly thirty, so start dressing like it.’ This, coming from the twenty-six-year-old currently dressed like a fourteen-year-old cheerleader.
‘Okay, okay . . . So, what are you cooking for Jack? How intimidating. Definitely don’t cook lamb, he’s the king of lamb, and also he does incredible risotto, so I wouldn’t challenge that either, his fish is —’
‘Well, it will be vego, obviously, duh. Something with loads of tofu, since he doesn’t reckon it’s possible to make it tasty and filling.’ Simone cut Lily’s ramble off and gave a blissful, confident smile. Was it annoying for Simone that Lily already knew Jack so well? Lily wondered. Nah, Simone was too lovely to care about shit like that. And Lily had to give it to Sim for not grilling her on every detail she knew about him.
‘Proud of me for finding a nice guy for once?’ Simone said, as she went back to her cleaning.
Lily spoke with her mouth half full of curry. ‘Indeed. Specially since it means disgusting Michael is finally out of the picture.’
Simone went quiet.
‘What!’
‘No, no, nothing . . . I just, I was feeling calm and in my power, so I wrote him an email saying I forgave him and wished him all the best. I think it was a good thing to do.’
Lily peered at her friend. ‘Did you mean it?’
‘I really think I did. Babe, I can’t keep dragging this chain around forever. Anger makes you sick, not the object of your anger. He’s getting on with his life, why shouldn’t I? I know the break-up messed me up, and I’ve had a few slip-ups, and maybe it’s because now I’ve met a GOOD guy that I’m feeling stronger, but I just felt like I needed to make contact and get some closure.’
Lily had watched Simone try and ‘get some closure’ with Michael for almost a year now. Emails, visits, catch-up coffees, drunken Facebook rants . . . But it never worked because Simone’s self-confidence still hadn’t fully returned, and she still wasn’t completely over Michael. Lily decided the lecturing threshold had already been reached for tonight and let it slide.
‘Well, good for you.’
*
Mimi was suffering from the kind of happy shock that required a stiff drink: she had finally been asked to go Grown-Up Shopping with her recalcitrant tomboy daughter. She was in such a tornado of delight that she ‘accidentally’ closed the shop early, even though it was Saturday, her best trading day. She even wore her best walking shoes – ‘they look like old-lady shoes but they feel like soufflé’.
Lily had made her agree that it was Lily’s shop choice and her say was final, and that no further discussion would be entered into. Mimi immediately contravened this by suggesting they pop into an atrocious formalwear shop targeted at misguided teens and bridesmaids. From there on she was relegated to sit silently in the boyfriend chair until her opinion was requested.
Lily had studied the magazines, and knew she was in need of at least: black cigarette pants, dark skinny jeans, a simple black blazer, a good white shirt and some heels. Simple, pointed-toe ones in nude seemed to be the go. Or black. She tried to stop herself from always defaulting to black, but it was who she was. She just didn’t care for looking like a tropical fish, all decked out in yellows and pinks and with garish necklaces. She tried to think about what Laura wore, the stylist who was a guest on the show each week; she had great style. She wore a lot of leather, Lily had noted, but also jeans. Yet she made them look fancy . . . How? HOW did she make them look fancy? Lily wondered as she removed another horrible dress in the cramped changing room. Dressy tops, she realised. Dressy tops and good hair.
HAIR. That was it! Lily thought. She would get a haircut. Isn’t that what women did when they wanted to show the world they were sophisticated and stuff?
Lily popped her head out from behind the change room curtain. ‘I’m going to cut my hair off!’
Mimi removed her glasses to hear her daughter better.
‘Oh, Lil, I don’t think that’s why we’re here today, is it?’ There was fear in her voice. Just as Mimi lived through Lily’s slim figure, she also lived through her lovely long hair, which Mimi had always had until her sixtieth birthday, when she had begrudgingly cut it short.
‘We’re here to m
ake me look like a professional woman, and professional women don’t have hair this long. Young actresses and schoolgirls, yes, but not women who want to be taken seriously at work.’
Mimi shook her head. ‘Did you break up with someone I don’t know about? Why the sudden changes?’
‘I want this promotion!’ Lily said and closed the curtain with a flourish. She wondered if Jack would notice all of this on Monday, the high heels and swishy silky tops. She wondered what he would think, or say . . . Maybe he might see her a little differently, no longer as just his daggy producer. Immediately she chastised herself for her thoughts. He was Simone’s boyfriend. What he thought of her appearance was inconsequential.
19
‘Holy shit, look at your HAIR!’
Alice had arrived to the production meeting late and minus her sense of meeting etiquette. She took her seat, her eyes never once leaving her friend’s hair, an enormous grin on her face.
Lily blushed and dropped her head. ‘Stop it, Al!’
‘Oh! I was wondering what was different,’ Eliza said, trademark confused expression on her face. ‘It looks fantastic, Lily!’
‘It does look great.’ Siobhan said excitedly, touching her own hair. ‘You might have inspired me to do the same.’
Simone had just about choked on her carrots and hummus when she saw Lily’s hair, and had declared her the most beautiful she had ever looked, and that she must never, ever not have her hair this length again, which was a lot of double negatives in one sentence, but Lily understood. And she was chuffed to have Simone’s blessing. It was always nice having the pretty, popular girl pat you on the head for giving it your best shot.
Dale was looking down at the table, and Sasha was busy on the phone. Lily hadn’t realised cutting her hair was such a big deal, especially since she’d made the decision in less then three seconds. Who cared? It was just hair and it gave her the shits half the time anyway. Now it was all one length and sat swishing about just below her chin. She wasn’t one to think of herself as attractive, but even Lily could concede it accentuated her jawline and cheekbones, and seemed to make her lips and eyes stand out more.
Even Mimi, President of the Long Hair Party, thought it looked terrific. ‘My little girl’s all grown up,’ she kept saying on Saturday night, as though Lily had just bought her first bra. Lily had texted Simone Saturday afternoon after the shopping/hair trip, telling her she was crashing at Mimi’s and she and Jack would have the house to themselves til tomorrow. She did this despite feeling unsettled knowing Jack would be in her home, on her couch.
‘Right, where were we?’ Sasha said, placing her iPhone gently back on the table.
‘Lil got a haircut!’ Alice said, in the cute, fruity way that only she could and not sound insipid.
Sasha looked at Lily and smiled warmly. ‘Very becoming. Like the jacket, too. It’s all working. Siobhan, how are we doing with numbers for the Circular Quay show, please? And did The Night Show confirm when Jack is going on?’
‘Almost full and yes,’ Siobhan said confidently.
Lily sat radiating in Sasha’s compliments. Precisely the desired effect.
‘Siobhan, those photos of him in the trash mags today, what are they about? I haven’t seen them.’
‘It’s him and some girl in a cap at the markets. She’s skinny. Gorgeous. He might not be single any more.’
‘Is she known?’
Lily gulped quietly.
‘Um, it just said, “gorgeous mystery friend” in the caption and I didn’t recognise her, but I’m working on it.’
Alice shot Lily a look. Lily shot one back, with a micro-shrug and tiny brow-raise thrown in. What was she supposed to do, throw Sim to the gossip wolves? No.
‘Don’t worry too much, and don’t bring it up with him just yet,’ said Sasha. ‘Any pap shots are good pap shots at this stage. Now, what’s the story with our beauty and health expert, have we settled on someone regular yet?
When the meeting was over, and everyone began to file out, Lily heard Sasha call her name. She turned, hoping she’d heard right. Sasha’s face was smiling and she beckoned her to hold back.
‘Lily, would you mind popping by my office after lunch? Say, three?’
Oh, yes, yes, a million goddamn times yes, Lily thought, her heart racing.
‘Yes, of course. Do I need to bring anything?’
‘Just yourself,’ Sasha said serenely.
Lily walked calmly to the kitchen, trying not to fall off the ray of sunshine under her feet. She finally had her meeting. Finally! Jesus, she’d need to make sure her food-truck pitch was tight before then. One cup of tea and maybe a Kingston or two, and then to work.
Someone walked into the kitchen as she was pouring hot water into her mug, then she heard a polite ‘Sorry’ as a hand reached over her to grab a mug. It was a Jack hand. She turned to face him.
‘Well, you’re being very polite,’ she said with a smile.
‘Woodward!’ he cried, a friendly smile on his face. He had the effervescence of a man who’d recently started sleeping with a swimsuit model. It was revolting.
‘You look so . . . different!’ He gave her a polite once-over, taking in her subtle new sartorial direction. She was wearing her pointy-toe heels, jeans and a white T-shirt under a blazer. Baby steps. But! She’d put it together all by herself.
‘Job interview?’ he asked gently, obviously confused at her new appearance.
Well, pretty much, she thought . . .
‘Nope, just wanted to change things up a bi—’
‘Hair! That’s what it is!’ He reached over and felt the ends of her hair, as a friend might do, and Lily’s body tensed up at his hand being so close to her face, touching her actual hair. How ridiculous, she chided herself. Get a grip.
‘Guys are terrible at noticing hair, sorry. Really suits you, Woodward. All of it. You look great.’ He nodded his approval, leaning back against the table to take her in. She blushed furiously, turning quickly to the fridge so he wouldn’t see.
He was the one who looked great, Lily noted. He was wearing a dark-blue V-neck sweater, the kind only boys who went to private schools knew how to carry off, and it was doing a dreadful job of hiding what kind of body was underneath.
‘It’s just what we girls do, I suppose.’ Because Lily would know, obviously.
This morning Jack had cooked crumbed lamb cutlets and the whole studio, no, station now smelled of them. The finished product was delicious, something Lily knew because the hosts were not interested in eating anything fried; whereas for Lily that basically qualified as a food group, especially with homemade dijonnaise and mustard-seed potato mash. Even at nine a.m. Especially at nine a.m.
‘So, been having fun at my house?’ Hoping her face was no longer the colour of tomato sauce, Lily turned back to Jack, stirring her tea, looking at him with a playful smile. This was the first time she’d acknowledged him and Simone, but what, was she supposed to play dumb forever?
He grinned sheepishly. ‘Lovely place you girls have. I went through all your drawers, obviously.’ He moved to the sink and filled his mug with water.
‘I’ll know if any of my dirty magazines are missing,’ she said, surprising even herself with her bawdiness. Who had this hair turned her into?
He laughed, tipping his head back.
‘You banana. No, it was lovely, and as you no doubt know, Simone can really cook. Anyone who can make tofu taste good is impressive.’
‘When she saturates it in tamari and fries it, it can actually be okay.’
Jack looked at her as though she’d read his diary. ‘That’s exactly what we ate!’
Lily pushed the visual of them making out on the sofa out of her mind.
‘Next time you’re over I’ll have to cook some of my famous Heinz spaghetti on toast.’
‘Remind me to never come over when you’re cooking,’ and he was gone. Lily imagined what a home-cooked meal in her house with Jack might be like, and then, remembering
he was already doing that with her friend, shook her head quickly. She did not have a thing for Jack, and she was happy for Simone. He was good-looking and nice, but so were lots of guys. Whatever.
She walked back to her desk to prepare for her meeting; she would blow Sasha out of the water today. Her makeover couldn’t have come at a better time. How prescient, how utterly fortuitous, she mused, a confident smile playing on her lips. This was her moment.
Lily emerged from her meeting with Sasha unsettled. It felt a bit . . . obligatory, like she had to give Lily a meeting, because she had to give everyone one. On the plus side, Eliza was definitely leaving, which was good news no matter which way you looked at it. Sasha seemed kind of impressed with Lily’s food-truck idea, but she was pretty economical with praise in general. Lily tried not to get flustered. Maybe she was just having a bad day, Lily told herself. We all have them. The important thing was that Lily had made the best of her time in there, perched on one of Sasha’s uncomfortable Eames chairs, eyes constantly gliding to the bright red and yellow Bellenger print on the wall behind Sasha. Lily felt confident she had made it very clear as to why she was the right candidate for the role, and how ready she was, and how this was just the challenge she was looking for. Surely her new hair and outfit and Big Idea made that clear? Sasha was no fool. She knew Lily was capable. She liked her, too. That counted. Right? Right?
Alice popped up above her computer screen across the office like a meerkat and mouthed the word ‘Well?’ when Lily walked back to her seat. Lily shrugged and screwed up her mouth to one side. She honestly didn’t know. At least she knew Alice wasn’t competition since she didn’t even want the gig. She looked over to Dale, who was adding another colour-coded sticky to his wall of perfectly organised stickies, deep in thought. Surely he wasn’t going to be the boss? He was an assistant! He could barely look Jack in the eye! He was a planner and a researcher and a food preparer! Not a leader and delegator and ideas-generator!
Lily wasn’t sure she could wait out the next couple of weeks, knowing it might not be her who got this role. All she could really do was ensure she did, she decided, waking up her computer and getting straight to work. She wasn’t alone. The office was humming with the sound of typing; everyone was hard at work for once. This could be put down to the fact that The Jenny Show had started doing titanic, Oprah-style giveaways, and The Daily had dropped in ratings as a result. Because of this everyone was being forced to produce ‘magic’ on every segment every day. Plus, the station as a whole was now third, after years of being number one, and the money guys were not super-thrilled about that, so EPs like Sasha were under inordinate amounts of pressure. This obviously filtered down, which was why the usually nebulous Eliza was now a fidgety maniac. Lily tried to imagine herself in that position, to see how she’d handle it when/if she got the role, and visualised herself as a calm genius who helped alleviate the stress with brilliant, bold ideas and an excellent array of sugary, ‘keep up the great work’ treats.