Playing the Field

by Foster, Zoe

  ‘And did you even know BillyJeanSkyBelle was sick?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s got cancer.’

  I felt as though I’d been punched in the stomach.

  ‘She’s got cancer? But she’s only young? And so healthy. You couldn’t find a more loved, better-looked-after cat … ’

  ‘Yeah, well, cancer’s indiscriminate, Jay.’ More tears, this time from the Guilt and Sadness sector, came forward to offer their wares. ‘Mum told me last week. She said she’d tried to call you but you never called her back. Surprise, surprise … ’ She punctuated her sentence with a bitchy raised eyebrow.

  But I was oblivious to Col’s conversational thorns; my thoughts were with Mum. BillyJeanSkyBelle was like her third child; she’d be a mess. I was disgusted with myself for not calling her back, and not realising she was upset. How did I go from living with her, seeing her every day, to not even finding the time to call her back?

  Col exhaled loudly. ‘Don’t get all angsty and suicidal. Just make sure you call her tonight.’ She got up, stretching out her legs, and then sat on the edge of the sofa, looking at me.

  ‘Rough day, huh?’ she smiled.

  I placed my head in my hands and shook my head. ‘The worst.’ My words were muffled, my heart broken up like some kind of infographic pie chart into all the areas of my life I had screwed up and needed urgently to rectify.

  ‘So, what you gonna do about Josh?’

  I took my hands away, folding them across my chest.

  ‘Don’t think there’s anything I can do.’

  ‘I agree. You should give up.’ I looked up at her, bewildered. She had a mischievous smile pasted on her face. ‘Of course you don’t give up, idiot. You love him, right? If you think about it, he really hasn’t done anything wrong. Poor bastard. Look, he’s a bit dumb, done some silly things, but he adores you, and he’s a good man. You both made mistakes but, God, it’s not like you fucked his best friend, or he had a gang bang in the dunnies with a bunch of groupies – you’ll both get over it. What was that I was just saying about everyone deserving a second chance?’

  My face was focused on Col but my mind was already out the door. She was right. This was ridiculous. We’d been set up and it wasn’t fair. Josh would understand, of course he would! He loved me, and I loved him, and this was just a big, ugly, garlicky hiccup. I’d tell him everything, and we’d get back on track and things would be wonderful again.

  The Preliminary Final

  I called Josh again. No answer. Maybe he was in the shower, or at the gym or something. It was 11 a.m., so even if he’d gone out and had a big night, he should be awake by now. Time for a text.

  Foxy, can we talk? Please call me when you get this x

  Two hours passed; no reply. Steph called, but I let it ring out. Her voicemail was so sweet, so protective – asking if I was okay because Mitch had mentioned that Josh and I were having troubles, and could she do anything – that it almost brought me to tears. It didn’t even bother me how fast word was spreading – right now I was grateful for support and offers of shoulders.

  But no call from Josh. I turned my phone on and off to check that it was still working, and called it from the shop, just to double-check. It was working. I tried calling once more – nothing. He would now have six missed calls from Little Jeanie, which was how he’d saved me into his phone (along with a smiley picture of me from our weekend at the beach house). I’d tried to call three times last night, after my chat with Colette, filled with hope and intention and resolution, but he hadn’t answered. I’d called Mum first, and had an hour-long catch-up, peppered with apologies (mine), dismissals of apologies (hers) and tears for BillyJeanSkyeBelle (hers and mine).

  I needed to get some feedback, some reassurance from Col. I was losing my mind trying to relocate my heart.

  Col, he’s still not answering …

  I stared out at the street. I wondered if Cameron Fuckstick was next door. I hoped he was, and that someone had poisoned his coffee and he was currently writhing about on their stupid polished-concrete floor in agony.

  As I leaned miserably on the counter, it suddenly occurred to me that my jewellery stand was gone. Oh, Ingrid was unbelievable, she really was. I’d briefly shown it to her yesterday, when I was a complete mess, and sure, maybe I couldn’t muster the enthusiasm the occasion deserved, but even so, why would she take it down so callously the moment I left? She’d told me she was impressed, and that the pieces I’d made were perfect now that the weather was warmer and we’d had a rash of light, flowing ‘Hippy Luxe’ dresses and tops come through. Said she would probably even sell some of it last night! Told me I was talented, even! And then she’d gone and taken it away – probably jammed it out the back with those ugly ruffled skirts not one person had bought. She was a bitch, a deadset bitch. I’d worked so hard on that stuff.

  My phone lit up, vibrating and chiming with expectation. What if it was Josh? No, Col.

  J, don’t 4get he knos u kissed cam … prbly v v hurt

  Of course. For all I knew, Tess had painted an outrageously salacious picture of what happened between Cam and me, and Josh was sitting there looking at my name flash up, thinking: Fuck off, you filthy little tramp. Why don’t you go hang out with your DJ mate?

  I felt nauseas, jittery, panicked. I hated to think of Josh thinking so ill of me that he’d just write me off, wipe his hands of me, without even allowing me to explain myself. I couldn’t bear it. I needed to see him. It was an emergency. The longer he thought badly of me, the more people who’d find out and the harder it would be to convince him things weren’t as they seemed. My breath was short, sharp, fretful, like I’d just come up for air after being underwater those few seconds too long.

  Col, I feel sick. What should I do?? He must hate me.

  This time, she was quicker to respond.

  I guess u need 2 trk him down. Wd he b @ his house?

  She was right. I needed to confront him, this, everything. I needed to ask him for forgiveness, and explain the extent of Tess and Cam’s meddling. I went out the back to get my bag and re-do my makeup. Where the fuck was Ingrid? Couldn’t she come into work before 3 p.m., just once? Too bad. I would call her and tell her it was an emergency and I had to go.

  I heard the electric alert signal that someone had entered the shop. Dammit, not now! I came out to see a girl of about my age, dressed in tight faded blue jeans, a cool little red blouse, and muted silver ballet slippers. She had a brown bob with a sharp fringe, and winged eyes masterfully lined with liquid liner. Wow. That kind of liner perfection was impossible.

  Her eyes were scanning the counter anxiously.

  ‘Hi.’ I tried for a relatively cheerful tone. ‘Can I help you?’

  She looked up, eyes wide, sparkling, smile beaming.

  ‘Hi! I’m just wondering if that big cuff is still for sale? I’m hoping it hasn’t been sold, but I didn’t get paid until today, and the woman – the other woman, with the dark hair? – she said she couldn’t put it aside because someone else already said they were coming back for it … ’

  I looked at her, frowning.

  ‘Which cuff was it, sorry?’

  ‘Um, it was kind of gold and black, with, like, leaves and —’

  ‘Birds?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s the one!’

  She was talking about my cuff, that I made. She wanted to buy it – she’d come all the way back with her money. Pride and excitement tried to push their way into my cerebral cortex, but anxiety and panic had already set up camp there so territorially that they had to settle for perching on a small rock until it was their turn.

  ‘Um, I’m really sorry, but I don’t know where it is …’

  ‘Where what is?’

  The First Lady of Fashion had strolled in, looking impossibly thin and glamorous, still wearing her enormous black sunglasses and holding a coffee.

  ‘Oh, hi!’ said Fringey. ‘I came in last night? I was hoping to buy that black and gol
d cuff with the—’

  ‘Yes, I remember. Unfortunately I sold that one. I’m really sorry, I had no idea those pieces would sell out in one day’ – she shot me a look which, although I’d never seen it before, I guessed was the Ingrid equivalent of a high-five – ‘but the designer should be delivering a new collection within the next few weeks.’

  Fringey scrunched up her nose. ‘Oh, shaaaaame. I really liked it. Can I put my name down, maybe, so I don’t miss out next round?’

  ‘Of course. Jean here would be happy to take down your details.’

  I looked at Ingrid, my hands shaking, asking with my eyes if this was really happening. She nodded, smiled and winked.

  ‘Okay, so it’s Hannah Atkins, A-T-K-I-N-S, and my email is Hannah at Gloss, G-L-O-S-S …’

  I heard her but wasn’t listening. I wrote down the letters and numbers she told me, but there was a good chance I’d written them in Sanskrit. Once she had gone, I turned to face Ingrid.

  ‘What just happened?’

  ‘What? It’s fairly simple: your collection sold out. In one day. Half a day. What’s there to be confused about? It’s no big deal.’

  There was a mischievous smile etched onto her perfectly made-up face.

  I smacked my hands onto my cheeks in disbelief.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. Congratulations, Jean.’

  And then Ingrid did something so foreign to her that I almost forgot how I was supposed to respond: she came in for a kiss on the cheek and a hug. It was awkward and it was over quickly, and I was grateful that it was, but still, affection! Who knew she was even capable of such a thing.

  She reached into her Hermès shopping tote and pulled out a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne, wrapped with a big bow.

  ‘This is for you and your new career as a world-famous jewellery queen.’

  ‘Ingrid, you shouldn’t have! Thank you.’

  Today was fucking ludicrous. Here I was thinking she had taken my work out the back because it made the shop look cheap when, in fact, it had completely sold out and she was pleased. It occurred to me that I hadn’t priced any of the pieces; I was going to let Ingrid do that.

  ‘What did you end up selling them for?’

  ‘I started at, what was it, $75 for the earrings and went up to $150 for the necklace. Could’ve gone higher, easily. Silly, really. Never mind, there’s always next time. There’s a nice little envelope for you under the till.’

  I was in shock: people were prepared to pay $150 for one of my necklaces?

  ‘Ingrid, thank you … ’

  She smiled genuinely and began to scan the racks for protruding hangers. I took a deep breath.

  ‘Um, Ingrid, I have a favour to ask. There’s … we … I can’t go into it right now, but I messed up with Josh and he thin—’

  ‘Go.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Come back later, if you can.’

  I picked up my bag and phone, and smiled at the strange, kind version of Ingrid standing before me. Was she real? I didn’t have time just now to find out.

  ‘Don’t forget your fizz. Maybe you two can drink it as you’re making up.’

  She held out the champagne, winking.

  If we made up, I thought.

  The Semi-final

  He wasn’t home. Even his parents seemed to be out. I called his mobile and his home phone – nothing. I considered switching off my caller ID and calling again, but would need to wait, as he’d surely figure out my tactic if I did that straight after my other calls.

  I sat on his front step and thought about what I should do. What I could do. The season was over, there was no training – he could be anywhere. I racked my brains – had he mentioned anything about what he was doing this week? – but came up with nothing. I stared at my lifeless phone, wishing with all my might for him to call.

  I knew who to call – Paola! I’d been meaning to call and tell her all this for days. I was mindful that she may have already heard, but figured she would have called by now if she had. Steph and Lou were both away, but because of complications with Jimmy’s injury, he and Paola had had to postpone their trip to NYC. Paola was understandably thrilled.

  On multiple occasions I’d heard the girls talk about how hard it was to cope with injuries – not only physically, but emotionally. The boys turned into surly, miserable lumps. Lou was particularly enraged that the club always made the boys get any lingering injuries operated on as soon as the season was over so that the off-season was spent recuperating rather than having fun or travelling. She thought it was a ploy to make sure the boys didn’t party too much.

  I dialled Paola, praying she would answer.

  ‘Shut up!’

  Bingo.

  ‘I was gonna call you today! You musta got my ESPN!’

  ‘ESP?’

  ‘Whatever. Now, chica, you got some things you wanna tell me? Huh? Here I am thinking you this sweet little girls and turns out choo haves two men!’

  I cleared my throat. ‘Um, well, why don’t you go first? Tell me what you’ve heard. Sounds entertaining.’

  She laughed. ‘Jeanie, genie, ’sokay, no judgements from me.’

  ‘What have you heard?’ The familiar feelings of nervousness and illness swooped back into my stomach.

  ‘Well, the first one I heard is that you and Josh are over. This one true? I told Jimmy it can’t be; you two are in love! Did this really happens?’

  I took a deep breath and filled her in on every sordid detail. Articulating it somehow made it sound even worse than it was, as though I was describing another girl – another awful, stupid little girl who any third-party observer could tell had made a categorical error. I momentarily wished I was back with Mum and Godfrey, pottering along, living an easy life. Hell, I’d even give Jeremy another chance, just so long as life could be simple and easy again.

  ‘Oh, chica. It’s a sad story. But I’m sure wherever Josh is – actuallys, I know where he is, he’s in the Gold Coasts with Bones – he’s not happy, and he’s missing you.’

  I tried not to think about what a single Josh and a single Bones could be getting up to on the Gold Coast, where girls preyed on footballers like the Japanese preyed on whales. I shuddered. Any money he was taking ‘revenge’. I wanted to find Tess and place an iron set to linen on her hand for several minutes as I gave her a piece of my furious, spinning mind.

  ‘Honey, this is movies stuff! What choo gon do?’

  Missing its cue by a few seconds, the golf ball in my throat quickly scooted up to somewhere near the back of my mouth.

  ‘That’s why I’m calling you … I have no idea. I’ve been trying to call Josh, but he’s not taking my calls, and I even went to his house, but obviously he’s not home ’cos he’s off having jacuzzis with Bones and a bunch of eighteen-year-olds …’

  I could hear her take a gulp of whatever it was she’d been sipping throughout the phone call.

  ‘What you need to do is ’splain everything, like you did to me. He’ll be angry but he will see your view. What choo really need is Tess to tell everything.’

  ‘What does she care? She’s wanted me gone from day one. I bet they get back together again now …’

  I heard the sound of liquid being rapidly expelled from a mouth without any warning or intention. Then some muffled expletives (no doubt) in Spanish, before Paola was back in my ear.

  ‘Are you kidding? After these trick she’s played?’

  ‘But he doesn’t know that!’

  ‘Then you tells him!’

  ‘How? He won’t answer my calls.’

  There was a thoughtful silence, and another mouthful taken.

  ‘Jus’ shows up.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Friday night! It’s presentation night! He has to be there. Just shows up and talk to him.’

  Presentation night. Of course. In all the drama, I’d forgotten it was this Friday. I had bought an incredible olive-green floor-length dress and made a speci
al pair of earrings for it, too. I’d even helped Cassie choose a dress from the shop, to prevent her from looking like one of the girls who accompanied rappers to nightclubs in film clips, which is the effect her original choice would’ve had.

  ‘Isn’t that kind of stalking?’

  ‘Noooo! Maybe. Chica, you gotta tells him what happened. You can’t let it finish like this. I won’t let you.’

  I started blabbering, nervous at the idea of what she was suggesting, and quietly delighted at how protective and supportive she was being. I had to hand it to them; the WAGs had really stepped up to the plate in my time of need.

  ‘But … what if he takes Tess? He might take Tess instead of me. Everyone takes partners, right? What would stop him from taking her? In his eyes —’

  ‘Jeanie, it’s perfect! I’ll tell Jimmy we will pick up Josh, and then when we getting close, you’ll be waiting there, and I’ll walk away with Jimmy, and you grab Josh and tell this story.’

  Paola sounded very satisfied with her plan.

  ‘Just ambush him?’

  ‘You tells me another way that is better.’

  She had a point. Even in Spanglish, she had a point.

  The Grand Final

  I sprayed on some more Chanel Coco Mademoiselle, which Josh had bought for me duty-free when he flew to New Zealand last month, and checked my makeup for the eighteenth time in as many seconds. I’d deliberately done Josh’s favourite look: a string of winged brown eye-liner along the lash line, à la Audrey Hepburn, and lots of mascara. Fresh, glowing cheeks, lots of gloss and my newly dyed, shiny, mahogany hair blow-dried to soft, bouncy perfection, and I was as Jean as I could be. The hair had been done in an attempt to show him that I was still the same girl he fell in love with, that I hadn’t really changed. I had had far too much time over the past few days to think about what a different person I had become since meeting Josh, and most of it was pretty unsavoury.