Just Breathe

by Janette Paul

  ‘Have you seen the papers yet?’

  Something about his voice sounded a warning. ‘No,’ she answered cautiously.

  ‘Okay. Don’t be upset but there’s a story about us in the Telegraph.’

  Upset? ‘What kind of story?’

  ‘It’s a beat up but it pretty much outs us. The pictures look like they confirm it.’

  ‘There are pictures?’ Dee had visions of grainy shots through bedroom windows.

  ‘Yes, but as outings go, it’s not too bad.’

  ‘So it’s another Roxburgh Girl story?’

  He took a second to answer. ‘Not really. They’ve made it look like we’re sneaking around. And it’s possible someone’s been following you.’

  Dee glanced suspiciously around the café. ‘Who? When? Oh my God. There was a photographer outside the yoga school yesterday.’ She sucked in a breath. ‘And that reporter from the club. He came to a class last night and asked about you.’

  A beat. ‘What did you say?’

  She repeated the conversation outside as best she could. ‘The astrophysicist thing was a joke from the club. About why you didn’t date ordinary people.’ Would he think she’d laughed at him? ‘I thought he was being funny until he said “yoga teacher”, then I just got the hell out of there. That gave it away, didn’t it?’

  ‘Dee, it’s not your fault. You wouldn’t have to worry about this kind of thing if it wasn’t for me. It was going to happen sooner or later. Just don’t take it personally.’

  ‘What do you mean “personally”? What does it say?’

  ‘You need to see it for yourself. Why don’t you come back here and I can show you.’

  ‘No, I’ll just go buy a copy.’

  ‘It might be better if you wait until we can read it together.’

  That didn’t sound good. Made her feel a little nauseous.

  As soon as she hung up, her phone was jangling again.

  ‘You’re sprung,’ Leon said.

  A waitress appeared with her breakfast and cast a furtive backwards glance at her as she left.

  Dee whispered into the phone. ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’

  ‘Let’s just say you look great in the photos.’

  She pushed her plate away. ‘I think I might throw up.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do it in public or they’ll be saying you’re bulimic as well.’

  ‘As well as what?’

  ‘Let me see.’ Dee heard pages being rustled. ‘It goes on about Ethan finding a new look Roxburgh Girl, recaps a bunch of old Roxburgh Girls and gives you pretty low odds of claiming the RG title. Then it talks about you. And I quote – “Nichols, the yoga girl in the successful Health Life Insurance advertising campaign, is renowned for her alternative lifestyle. She rarely wears make-up or jewellery, dresses like a hippie and has a penchant for arriving at parties without shoes. When not modelling, she teaches yoga at a private Eastern Suburbs ashram and is a devotee of its strict meditation techniques.”’

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘Wait, there’s more. It talks about an art show opening, says you were holding hands and talking intimately, something about hanging out with his Aunt Grace Roxburgh … Oh, here we are, I quote again – “Nichols is a regular visitor to Roxburgh’s harbourside penthouse apartment and there are rumours she has already moved in. One source said she refers to Roxburgh’s apartment as home. She told me she was going home to do some work then called me from Ethan’s apartment, the source said.”’

  ‘I never did that.’

  ‘Just as well or I’d be really pissed off you hadn’t told me you’d moved in.’

  ‘I sound like a fruitcake.’

  ‘You are a fruitcake but not for anything that’s in the paper. In fact, I think the story proves Ethan Roxburgh has finally come to his senses and found a nice, non-conformist, anti-shoe kinda girl.’

  She was glad Leon was around to take the anxiety down a peg. ‘What am I meant to do now?’

  ‘The same thing the soap stars do when they get splashed all over the paper. Go back to work and get on with it.’

  After five more calls, she turned off her phone. It was irritating trying to explain she hadn’t arrived at Lucy’s party with no shoes. And the question about Ethan – what could she say? For two weeks, she’d avoided putting a name to what they were. The word ‘relationship’ implied a future – and that was something she didn’t want. Call them a couple and she might begin to have expectations. Say he was her partner and she might be tempted to cling.

  She just wanted to enjoy his company and walk away when she had to. Because she would have to. He was Ethan Roxburgh. There was only so long he’d want to hang out with her – the newspaper confirmed it.

  When she turned her phone back on later that afternoon, the message bank was full. There were calls from her mother and Amanda and a heap of text messages, most of which she deleted without reading. There was a call from Ian the Bastard Reporter, a couple of other journalists and several from Ethan. He sounded worried.

  ‘I thought you might have a paparazzi pack following you around,’ he said when she rang from the car before her last class.

  ‘God, no. That’d be awful. I was just sick of answering questions.’

  ‘Have you read it yet?’

  Her eyes flicked quickly to the newspaper on the passenger seat. ‘I couldn’t not.’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Sure. I’ve been to one of those strict meditation sessions and I feel great now.’

  ‘Don’t go home tonight.’

  ‘Which home? Apparently I have two.’

  ‘It’s bullshit, Dee. Let me make it up to you. We can have dinner and burn the paper, page by page. It’ll be fun.’

  She smiled. ‘Okay. Should I wear a disguise?’

  ‘Just wear shoes. No one will recognise you.’

  Outside Ethan’s apartment, Dee couldn’t help taking a cautious scan around before she got out of the car. The thought that someone might be watching made her want to run to the apartment block. Then she thought how stupid that would look if someone was taking photos.

  Ethan was in the lift when it opened on the ground floor. ‘Just wanted to make sure you were alone.’

  ‘Wow, you must have had it bad some other time. I’m sure they couldn’t possibly be that interested in me.’

  Up in his apartment, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. ‘I just want you to know it doesn’t matter what gets written in the paper. I want to be with you, with or without shoes.’

  His words should have been reassuring but they were too much like a declaration. She didn’t want that. She just wanted to be with him – today, whenever. No promises. No future.

  While Ethan slid food into the oven, Dee sat on the marble counter and sorted through the latest batch of phone messages. Ian the Bastard Reporter again, Val and Amanda again, Leon and Arianne again. At least the list of callers was reducing, even if the quantity wasn’t. As she deleted the last one, the phone rang in her hand.

  Dee pulled a face. ‘It’s Mum.’

  ‘Will she be upset about the paper saying you’ve moved in?’

  ‘No, she’ll be ecstatic. Hey, Mum.’

  ‘I’ve been ringing all day. You’re in the paper. It’s very exciting. Everyone’s called.’

  Famous by association. ‘Where are you?’ Dee could hear voices in the background.

  ‘It’s our tennis night. Are you really sleeping with Ethan Roxburgh?’

  ‘That’s a bit personal.’

  ‘I thought that’s how everyone talked these days. Are you seeing him then?’

  Dee was tempted to lie but it was her mother. If the story went on, it was only fair to let her know. ‘Yes, we’ve been seeing each other for a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Oh, that’s lovely, Dee. He’s such a nice man.’ Then she yelled, ‘Yes, she’s sleeping with him!’ which was followed by a chorus of whistles.

  ‘Mum! I was about to ask you not to tell anyone.’


  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Dee. You should be proud you’ve got someone at last, especially someone like Ethan Roxburgh. And I know you’re busy but you really should try to make time to update your wardrobe. That outfit you were wearing in the paper looked like it came from a market-stall.’

  ‘It did.’

  ‘We could go shopping after we inspect that new apartment down the road. They’re finished now and there are some very stylish stores nearby. We could buy you some make-up, too. How about Tuesday?’

  Talk about seizing the moment. ‘Not this Tuesday.’ Not any Tuesday, if she had her way. ‘I’m shooting the DVD.’

  ‘I wouldn’t leave it too long if you want to hang on to him, Dee. Men like that want a woman they can take anywhere.’

  A spark of anger flared and words snapped out. ‘It’s stressful enough being picked apart in the newspaper without you joining the fashion police.’

  ‘I’m just trying to help. Have you still got my hairdresser’s phone number? I’m sure she could fit you in on Monday if I explained the situation.’

  ‘Don’t try to help, Mum. I’ll call you later.’

  She switched off the mobile, tossing it on the counter, where it landed on the newspaper like an underscore for the headline on page five – ‘New Look Roxburgh Girl’. She slammed the paper shut. Damn. Even the front page seemed to insult her by default – ‘Health Life Hits Up Members: Big Fee Hike’.

  ‘My mother just used a loud hailer to tell her tennis club about my sex life.’ Ethan slid his arms around her. ‘I’m sorry. I know you wanted to keep all this quiet.’

  ‘It’s too late for that now. We may as well make it official.’

  Dee stiffened in his arms. ‘But they made all that stuff up. It’s just speculation.’

  ‘If you try to hide, it gives them reason to keep speculating. If we fess up, there’s no story and they’ll leave us alone.’

  Fear knotted in her stomach. ‘Fess up to what? We haven’t even talked about … us.’ Didn’t want to.

  ‘I think it’s pretty obvious what’s happening.’

  Her heart thumped. ‘I, um …’

  He ran a thumb down her cheek and across her lip. ‘If you want to talk about it, we can.’ He bent his head, kissed her. ‘Or we could just let it happen.’ He nuzzled her neck, her throat.

  She slipped hands under his shirt. ‘We don’t need to talk. Not when your mouth can be put to much better use.’

  Sundays were never so good, Dee thought, listening to Ethan’s heart drumming under her cheek, smiling as he wound a strand of her hair through his fingers. Her first lesson was three hours away. They had time to get tangled in the sheets again.

  ‘Let’s have coffee in bed with the papers,’ Ethan said.

  ‘Naked?’

  ‘Of course.’

  As Ethan moved about the apartment, Dee stretched luxuriously under the covers. She’d stowed a basket of clean knickers in his walk-in robe the other day and an extra toothbrush had appeared in the en suite last week. It didn’t mean anything, she told herself. It was just being practical.

  Ethan appeared with coffee and she sipped while he tore the wrapping off the Sunday papers. When he spoke, it was more breath than voice.

  ‘Fuck.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ethan threw the paper on the bed. The headline was huge.

  Pay Up And Relax: Health Life Fee Increase Spent On Yoga.

  ‘Ohmigod.’ Dee snatched it up, reading a smaller headline:

  Roxburgh’s Girl Given Job.

  ‘Oh. My. God.’

  Ethan sat and they read the article together. It was awful. Ian the Bastard Reporter, under a large byline, suggested Health Life Insurance’s fee increase was to pay for the production and distribution of Dee’s yoga DVD. He quoted her saying that even she couldn’t afford to pay their fees and that the DVD was a big budget production. Worst of all, it implied Dee had been given the job because of her relationship with Ethan and his position on the board of the insurance company.

  While Mr Roxburgh’s involvement with the model only became public yesterday, they were seen embracing as early as February this year, shortly after Ms Nichols appeared in the Health Life commercial. The decision by Health Life to use Ms Nichols in the promotional video was made in late March.

  ‘Shit. Shit,’ Ethan said.

  Accompanying the article was a series of photos, including one of Dee and Ethan pressed to each other on the dance floor at the advertising dinner, when she was drunk and he rescued her boobs from exposure. Unable to keep their hands off each other in February, the caption read.

  Dee felt sick. ‘I can’t believe he’d write this stuff. He asked me about the fees and how much the DVD was costing and I told him I didn’t have a clue. I didn’t say any of that.’

  ‘Shit. Shit,’ Ethan said again, raking a hand through his hair. ‘Okay, tell me exactly what you told him.’

  Dee went through it, hoping she wasn’t incriminating herself. Ethan’s eyes went all flinty and his mouth became a hard line. When she’d finished, he didn’t speak for a long time.

  ‘It’s not true, is it? I didn’t get the job because of you, did I?’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he answered curtly, then, standing abruptly, made for the door. ‘I’ve got to make some calls.’

  This was bad. Very bad. It wasn’t a lightweight guess at a relationship. It was casting aspersions on Ethan’s business ethics. Dee wanted to strangle Ian the Bastard Reporter, shout her innocence from the rooftop, punch something really hard. Instead, she stood for a long time in the shower, hot water pouring over her head – breathing steam in, breathing steam out.

  As she stepped from the en suite, she heard voices from the other end of the apartment. Someone else was here. She went to the door and stuck her head into the hallway. Lucy. And she was arguing with Ethan.

  ‘… a shit fight.’ Her tone was sharp.

  ‘Don’t you think I know that?’ Ethan snapped.

  ‘What the fuck were you doing letting her loose on the media?’

  ‘You were the one who put her in front of the media.’

  ‘For pictures. That’s it. She wasn’t meant to say anything.’ Dee heard a papery slap, as though one of them had thrown the newspaper down.

  ‘It’s not her fault,’ Ethan said. ‘You know that arsehole. He’s made a career out of creative quotes.’

  There was a pause and Dee heard high-heeled footsteps move about on the timber floors. Lucy was talking again but too far away for Dee to hear. Did she want to hear? Her mouth was dry and her face was flushed but she took a few steps into the hallway anyway.

  ‘… reflects badly on all of us,’ Lucy said and Dee imagined her pissed off stance – hands jammed on her hips. ‘I was the one who suggested the damn DVD.’

  ‘Don’t go into panic mode, Luce. It’s bullshit.’

  ‘I don’t know how you can be so calm. You’re the one who’s had shit shovelled all over you. What the fuck were you thinking anyway, escorting her around town like she was some kind of Roxburgh Girl?’

  Ethan lowered his voice to a growl. ‘She’s not a Roxburgh Girl.’

  ‘No, she’s not. Nice to know you’re smart enough to realise that, at least. So what are you going to do about it?’

  Dee retreated to the bedroom, leaning hard against the door. God, oh God. Dee didn’t want to be a Roxburgh Girl but their words made her feel like a peasant trying to steal food from the royal table. Her heart was a lump in her throat, her face burned with shame and embarrassment. She didn’t want to know what Ethan planned to do. She wasn’t going to give him a chance to do anything. She threw her stuff into her basket and stepped back into the hallway.

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ Ethan was saying as Dee walked into the lounge.

  They turned to look at her.

  Lucy’s mouth dropped open. ‘Oh my God.’

  Ethan was wide eyed. ‘Dee, how much did you …?’

  ‘G
oodbye,’ was all Dee could manage through clenched teeth. She pressed the button for the lift, relieved when it opened straight away.

  ‘Wait,’ Ethan said.

  Great big chunks of her wanted to do what he asked, to stay and hear him out. No, she warned herself. Be a warrior and get the hell away from him. She stepped in.

  Ethan made a move to join her. She put a hand to his chest and pushed him back over the threshold into the apartment. ‘No!’

  Dee knew that walking away would hurt – and it did – but it was better than waiting for someone else to do it.

  She didn’t walk, though. She ran – out of the building to her car. Then she drove and drove, passing through suburbs she didn’t know, steering around traffic so she wouldn’t have to sit still. She felt like she’d been injected with a vial of negative emotions. Her feet were sweating and her palms tingled and her head throbbed. And every way of looking at the events of the morning produced another flood of horrible sensation.

  She felt assaulted by newsprint, couldn’t believe that Ian the Bastard Reporter had pretended to be nice so he could make a fool of her.

  The tone of Lucy’s voice kept ringing in her head – thick with scorn, running with disdain. Escorting her around like some kind of Roxburgh Girl. Dee was aware that in Lucy’s powerful world she was just her yoga teacher, but she’d thought Lucy actually liked her. Perhaps only if Dee knew her place.

  And Ethan – she was one big, painful melting pot where he was concerned. She was angry and embarrassed, felt stupid and naive and deceived. She was never a contender for Roxburgh Girl but hearing him say it, just half an hour after she’d sat astride him, made her feel like every other woman desperate for a shot at the title.

  It was more than that, though. She liked him. A lot. Much more than she should have allowed herself. He’d got under her shell, let her talk about the hard stuff, had wrapped her in his arms, taken her to his bed. She’d clung to him without realising and, as much as her head was telling her to go, her arms hadn’t found the quick-release button – and they were aching with the effort to hold on.