by Foster, Zoe
She opened her door and, hearing silence, walked out gingerly and leaped into the bathroom to clean her face. She saw a rugged, expensive-looking male watch on the vanity and picked it up. Jack’s watch. The watch he wore every day. In her hands. Realising what a creep she was being, she gently placed it back, applied some tinted moisturiser and brushed her teeth. Then sprayed some perfume. Why not? Her hair was tousled and messy, but she was starting to prefer it that way with the new length. It was far cooler than she was, and she needed all the help she could get when it came to looking cool.
Walking out into the hallway she cocked an ear, but they’d definitely gone. She walked downstairs, wondering how it had come to pass that the only chap she’d felt something for in a while had decided to fall for one of her best friends. It really was quite remarkable. Her phone buzzed in her hand.
It was a number she didn’t recognise.
How was your pizza?
Who was that? Lily wondered.
It’s Byron, by the way! Pizza shop guy.
Bless him, Lily thought. How many Byrons could any one person possibly know or meet in their life? He was actually, when she thought about it, more Alice’s type. Which wasn’t the best thought to have when you’re supposed to be interested in getting to know a guy.
It was lovely, thank you . . . and yours?
How boring. She really needed to get better at this. And the ellipsis; how predictable. She never used them in real life, just when texting boys.
Too many beers but it’s just the way Friday night goes, isn’t it. So, are you busy tonight?
So forward! Lily kind of liked it. She hoped it wasn’t just because it had been so long since a guy had shown interest. Or because seeing Jack and Simone together had ignited something strange and covetous within her.
I am, yes. But don’t have plans this afternoon . . .
She had always been rubbish at playing hard to get.
Would I be able to take you for a drink? I’d say coffee but I don’t drink it and don’t want to give you an impression that I’m sophisticated.
She texted back,
We could both have a coke spider?
There was a pause. Lily’s heart was racing with the fun of it all, and the anticipation of a drink with a guy who had said she was ‘very, very pretty’.
Would you think less of me if I had creaming soda?
She laughed.
Maybe a little.
Lily congratulated herself for passing Flirting Basics, Level 1.
Can I pick you up, or is that a weird thing to ask a girl these days and we should meet somewhere? Is 4 okay?
A pick up would be lovely. My address is 34a Green St, North Bondi.
Why don’t you give him your pin number and blood type while you’re at it, she could hear Mimi hissing in her head. Oh well. He seemed nice enough.
See you at 4. B
Lily chucked her phone down and flopped back onto the sofa. What an odd twenty-four hours it had been.
22
The following Monday morning Lily stood watching anxiously as one of Melbourne’s top chefs, Tony Agnositi, performed a barbecue cook-off with Jack. Despite having never met before, and Tony being at least twice Jack’s age and four times his experience, the two men were having quite a laugh. Jack wore a snug T-shirt under his denim apron, photos of which Siobhan made sure she plastered all over social media for the online pervs. It was entirely sexist, but Jack didn’t seem to mind or even notice.
Once Mel had controversially announced Tony as the winner, and the ad break had kicked in, Lily moved on-set to help clear up the bench, which was covered in herbs and drips and splodges. Jack was chatting and farewelling Tony, his new best friend by the looks of things, and Eliza, never one to miss a celebrity visit, was standing on set too, laughing uproariously at everything that was said and indiscreetly putting a large portion of steak aside for herself.
As she cleaned the filthy set with Dale, Lily was unable to miss the fact that she hadn’t had a chance to try the steak. Typical. They were bloody vultures around here. Finally Eliza left, and so did Tony, and when Dale scarpered off to replenish stocks for tomorrow, only Lily and Jack remained.
Jack had started scrubbing the grill they’d brought in specially for the show, which Lily appreciated since it was a job she enjoyed about as much as a deep knife cut. Lily could tell he wanted to say something.
‘Everything all right there, soldier?’ she said. ‘Is that a tear I see? You’re sad because you didn’t win the cook-off, aren’t you?’
He laughed, shaking his head.
‘Devastated. I almost think you chose him specifically because you knew he’d smash me.’
‘How dare you.’
‘You know Mel and he are old mates, right? I was never winning that one.’
‘Well, be better at cooking and maybe you will.’
She grinned widely at him, thrilled to be back in the throes of their silly banter. He didn’t return the smile. In fact, he suddenly looked very unsmiley indeed.
‘Hey, I did want to ask you something, actually.’ His voice dropped and he started fiddling with a tea towel. ‘Was Simone home last night?’
Lily swallowed. Bloody Simone. She’d known this moment would come.
‘You know, I’m not really sure,’ she said vaguely and with about as much conviction as a pissed teenager feigning sobriety.
He frowned. He should do that more, Lily thought. His smile was lovely, but his frown was magnificent. Brooding suited him.
‘Was she home this morning?’ he asked, confusion rising in his voice.
‘Um —’
‘Look, I don’t want to be That Guy, Lil. She’s a grown-up and I know she’s probably fine, but she hasn’t answered her phone since Saturday arvo and, well, I’ve got two younger sisters and I guess I overthink things . . .’
‘Hang on, what about paella on Saturday night and all of that?’
‘It didn’t happen in the end, she went out with Skye and Grace . . .’
‘They would’ve gone out and had a bit too much to drink and she would’ve stayed at one of their places.’ Lily smiled in a closed-book-that’s-that fashion. Better he knew Simone was a trashbag than thought she was in a trashbag.
Lily cleared her throat. She wondered how to best put this.
‘I didn’t see her this morning, per se. But she was probably sleeping.’
Jack’s brow furrowed.
‘She’s fine. You know she doesn’t mind a big night every now and then. Dancing and carrying on, you know.’
He looked at her in a way she felt sure his little sisters were very familiar with.
‘When you say, likes to party . . . I’m assuming you mean party, party?’
Lily bunched her mouth over to one side in neither admission nor denial, pulling the dishcloth in her hand over and over between her fingers.
‘This happens pretty frequently, Lil. Is there something I should know? Do you ever worry if anything . . . you know, bad has happened to her?’
Lily felt horrible. She knew her loyalty should be with Simone, but she felt sick for poor Jack, whose guts were tied into knots thinking his gorgeous new girlfriend had been drink-spiked and was now passed out, minus her kidneys and purse, in a dingy apartment somewhere.
She took a deep breath and put the dishcloth down. She would have to deal with Simone later, but served her right for being a cocaine-fuelled, pharmaceutical-loving shit who didn’t answer her phone when her handsome, perfect boyfriend called.
‘She’ll wake up later and call you, and be totally fine. She just goes a bit feral when she’s out with those two, they can go all weekend, and half the next day. It would be impressive if it weren’t so gross.’
Jack exhaled and unfolded his arms. He seemed happy enough with that. He’d want to be; she’d just ratted out her friend.
‘You know she’ll kill me if she finds out I said any of this to you, right?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. And th
ank you. I’ve seen her put away a fair amount of booze, but I’m assuming it’s more than booze that’s keeping her out for two days straight.’
‘It’s a gorgeous-young-model thing. Par for the course.’
Lily wondered as she said this whether she believed it.
‘I feel a bit like an anxious dad . . . ’
‘Know the feeling. I feel like her older sister sometimes . . . but I am technically older, so that’s not so weird.’
Jack smiled. ‘How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘Thirty next month. It sucks. I haven’t done half the stuff I wanted to. Don’t even own a dog, let alone my own apartment. And I always told myself I was allowed to have a dog by twenty-eight, because that’s grown up.’
He laughed. ‘I have three dogs back home; you can have one of them. I think you’d like Rocky. He’s not that good at being bossed around but you could give it a go.’
‘You saying I’m bossy?’ She recognised the distinct tone of flirting but seemed unable to stop.
‘You’re meant to be bossy, otherwise clowns like me wouldn’t know what to do.’
‘Hmm.’ Lily raised her brows, loving the banter, but also feeling bad for loving the banter.
‘I prefer my thirties. I was a mess in my twenties. Simone and I would have got along famously back then . . . You don’t know who you are, so you just kind of stumble through, following everyone else, putting pressure on yourself to do things, and have things and be things before a certain age. But once you get there, you realise it’s not about that. It’s about enjoying the journey. Being happy in yourself. All that jazz.’
Lily couldn’t help thinking this was what people in their thirties always said to make themselves feel better about being in their thirties, plus, it was fine for Jack, he was a top chef and TV-star hunk with a stunning model girlfriend – Lily was the one falling behind on every level, personally and professionally.
Jack knew he’d lost her.
‘Hey, thanks again. I won’t rat you out. Promise.’ He locked eyes with her and after a few seconds Lily had to look down at the bench. Shit. She wanted to hold that gaze for about a week. That wasn’t a good sign for their totally and completely platonic work relationship.
Don’t worry about Sim. She’ll call soon,’ Lily muttered non-chalantly as she finished up.
She smiled at Jack as he turned and walked away, wondering if she had betrayed or helped Simone by giving Jack an insight into her ways. Who knows, maybe he would be her saviour, her one-man intervention, and he and Simone would go live on a farm somewhere making perfect little humans with terrific cooking skills and gorgeous hair. Lily felt depressed visualising that, even though it didn’t seem very likely. Sim loved travelling and beaches and clubs and knowing the right people on the door too much. How could their relationship possibly last? she found herself asking. Sim would surely get bored of Mr Chilled Out eventually.
23
‘He’s nice, but I just couldn’t be bothered with a second date to be honest. I haven’t written back to his text yet. He sent it on Wednesday.’
‘Nice. We both know what that means.’ Alice looked at Lily with one eyebrow raised and a smug smile.
They were walking through a modern art exhibition in a huge warehouse, on a small island on the Harbour, and with all of their chatter, had barely noticed a thing. Alice had liked the chandelier made from toasters, but that was an opinion mostly formed by hunger.
‘No, no, you’re putting words into my mouth —’
‘Speaking of which, can we get a coffee or nuts or . . . anything really? I am about to eat that fat little girl’s arm.’
‘Yes, you lead . . . Byron is fine, it’s just that —’
‘Fine! That’s even worse than nice! Imagine if he could hear the horrible things you’re saying behind his back.’
‘We had a nice date and he’s a cute guy. I can’t give you much more than that.’
‘The problem is that he isn’t Jack. That’s the problem.’
‘Here we go.’
Alice, whose eyes were scanning the great expanse of cavernous warehouse for any sign of sustenance, seemed happy enough with that.
‘Don’t waste time on “nice” guys, Woo. If there’s no spark, it’s just a waste of time, and you’re better off alone or with another guy.’
‘You’d know . . .’ Lily couldn’t resist making a dig at Alice.
‘It’s fun. You should try it. Even sex, you should just try some sex.’ Spying a small coffee cart, Alice darted off, grabbing Lily’s hand as she went. She had such a freeness and spirit about her, Lily mused, with a small amount of jealousy.
As they waited in line, Alice hoarding two giant muffins in her tiny hands, Lily thought about her date with Byron. She was reluctant to concede defeat – especially to Alice in bloody Wonderland, who was never short of a suitor – because Byron was cute and they did have a nice time, but nice wasn’t the adjective one should be using after a first date. Or any date, really. He did all the right things, he picked her up, he took her to a cool bar with an ivy-walled courtyard, he asked all about her, he worked as a sound engineer at concerts, he was friendly and had a lovely smile. But, as Alice pointed out, he was no Jack.
‘Remember how much you hated Jack at the start?’ Alice asked, a told-you-so ready to leap from her lips.
‘He was such a dick,’ Lily remembered how furious he’d made her with his arrogance and kettle-thieving.
‘That’s sexy. Nice guys are . . . nice.’ She shrugged and raised her brows.
‘You date nice guys! Matt was THE nicest guy! He would make you breakfast to take to work!’
‘And where is Matt now?’
‘You broke his heart. You’re making all the nice guys out there messed up, you know. Ruining it for girls like me.’
‘They’re better when they’re a bit fucked up. Angry at the world. Nursing some big secret or out to revenge their father’s death.’
‘You’re a sicko.’
‘I just like intriguing men.’
‘You spent Christmas with a couple of barely legal German backpackers. How intriguing could they have been?’
‘They were hot. Trust me.’ It was Alice’s turn in the line. ‘Just these and a double latte, please. Do you do flavours?’
‘Just coffee flavour,’ the guy serving said.
‘Do you know I haven’t had sex or even a kiss since filthy Pete?’ said Lily. ‘Are you, do you want a hand?’ Alice was about to drop some or all things.
‘Mmm.’ Alice bit into her muffin with an enormous, gaping mouth, teeth bared and eyes wide open. Then, with a mouthful of food mumbled indistinctly, ‘Well, that’s your fault, really.’
‘Show me a decent man in Sydney and I will show you my penis.’
‘They’re everywhere! If you came out with me occasionally you’d see.’
‘Why does everyone keep saying that? I do go out!’
Alice looked at Lily dead in the eyes, her furious chewing suspended for a moment.
‘You used to with Pete, but all you do is work now —’
‘Do you know I didn’t get home before nine p.m. this whole week?’ Lily conceded. The week had flown. She hadn’t even had a chance to carefully suss the Simone going AWOL situation.
‘— Or hang with your mum, and I love the shit out of Mimi, but come on: do you think you’re gonna get laid hanging with a woman in her sixties every weekend?’
Before Lily became defensive, she considered what she was being accused of. It was true. She was incredibly boring.
‘Ohmygod. I’m Dale.’
Alice laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth to stop stray bits of cake shooting out.
‘He needs a shag as much as you do, why don’t you both —’
‘Don’t. This isn’t funny. I’m about to leave my twenties as a total loser. HOW, Alice, HOW is it going to get any better in my thirties, huh? There is no magical fairy that comes and bloody spits magic d
ust on your head on your thirtieth birthday . . . It’s just going to get harder!’
Lily flopped dramatically onto some wide, wooden steps and shook her head. How did this happen? She was the Girl Most Likely all through school, the hero of uni, head of the fun squad in her early twenties, and now, she’d just become a dull, lonely workaholic whose best friend was her mum.
Alice stood directly in front of her friend with a look of concern and, finally, satiated hunger. She bent down so that she was at eye level, one hand on Lily’s left knee for balance.
‘Listen, idiot. When the world looks at you they see a sexy, Eurasian babe with a killer smile. Foxy hair. Great arse. House in Bondi with all the trendy wankers. A job that everyone wants, working on a TV show everyone watches, with awesome workmates like me. Hot rig, funny and a total world-beater. You’ve got everything, Lil. It’s all in place. Now you just need to enjoy it. The boys will come; trust me. The more I live my life how I want, and do what I love to do, the more guys I meet. You just gotta unclench your sphincter a bit.’
Lily looked up at Alice and gave a closed-lip smile of agreement.
‘You’re right. Everything is in place but I keep thinking something is missing.’
‘Best way to waste a life,’ Alice said earnestly as she stood up and took a long slurp of her dull, caramel-free coffee. ‘See it all the time.’ She sounded like a cop talking about what drugs do to people, but to her credit, for her twenty-five years, she had lived a lot.