Sharp Turn

by Marianne Delacourt

After saying our farewells at Jim’s, I drove straight home. I wasn’t sad to see the back of the van. A week of serving lunches had confirmed my opinion that I only liked to eat food, not prepare it. Cass, on the other hand, looked a little sad.

  ‘You enjoyed that, didn’t you?’ I said as we pulled into Lilac Street.

  ‘Yeah. Beats hanging out at Burnside Station. And I got paid.’

  ‘Speaking of which . . .’ I parked near the kerb and handed Cass the rest of her pay. ‘You did a good job. Maybe you should think about working in the food industry.’

  She shook her head firmly. ‘Nup. I want to work for you.’

  I sighed. ‘Look, Cass, it’s been cool this week, but I can’t afford to keep paying you. Plus you need to get on with your life.’

  Her face took on a stubborn set. ‘I’m gonna go to TAFE and get better at reading. Your mum’s gonna try and get me a job at the Claremont Growers Market. But when I can read, I’m coming to work for you.’

  She was ready for an argument and I wasn’t in the mood, so I let it go. At least she had some short-term direction. She was doing better than me.

  When we got home, Cass went off to see Joanna and I called Bok.

  ‘Sweeeeetie,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen you in over a week.’

  ‘Just checking that you’ll be at the photo shoot this afternoon.’

  ‘Course. Can’t let you loose around Jenny Munro without supervision.’

  I could tell he was smiling, but I wasn’t. ‘I need to talk to you about Ed.’

  ‘Something wrong?’ His tone changed instantly to match mine.

  ‘Yeah . . . and yeah.’

  ‘Okay. Stay cool and I’ll see you at four. We’re shooting at Swanbourne, opposite the Vomit House.’

  Bok and I had gone to a schoolies party years ago in a house near Swanbourne Beach. Of the sixty teens present, fifty-eight had vomited in the garden, or the toilet, or the sink, from excessive alcohol consumption. We still couldn’t drive past the house without groaning.

  ‘Don’t be late,’ he added. ‘The photographer’s constipated about the light. We need to be ready to go when he says so – I’m paying him a crapload of money for this.’

  ‘Got it.’

  When I hung up, I felt better. Bok would have a plan. He always did.

  I collected the address for the Aprilia office in Fremantle, then got changed, planning to go straight on to the beach shoot.

  What to wear took some thought. I needed a business suit for Aprilia and then something more casual for the beach shoot. The suit part was easy: a navy blue light jacket and pencil skirt that I hadn’t used since my last government job. The beach thing was more difficult. I had a fair bit of hurt ego to dress. That meant my best cut-off jeans with strategic tears, and a sexy singlet top. Eat your heart out, Ed, I thought as I packed them into my beach bag.

  I walked back up the driveway, pulling faces at the birds as I passed them. Brains steadfastly ignored me, but Hoo flapped his wings and did his Linda Blair Exorcist impersonation.

  Out by Mona, the prickling feeling I’d had all day came back with force, as if an acupuncturist had cut loose on my skin. I glanced up and down the street. Was there someone behind that tree? In that parked car? On that roof? Behind that bush?

  I jumped inside Mona and accelerated away from the kerb way fast.

  By the time I made it to the highway without incident, I began to settle down again.

  By the bridge, I figured I’d been imagining things.

  Parking was hard to find in the afternoons in Fremantle and I ended up having a fair walk to Aprilia. Normally I enjoyed the Freo buildingscape but today I was preoccupied.

  I stepped up to the counter of the small but attractively appointed office in my best businesslike manner. The girl behind it was well groomed and smiling.

  ‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Beautiful day, isn’t it?’

  ‘Too good to be at work,’ she agreed and looked enquiringly at me.

  I flashed my Western Suburbs library card at her so she only glimpsed the large WS letters in the corner. ‘Look, I’m from Western State Recruiting over on Fothergill Street behind the prison. I wondered if you could run a reference check on a couple of applicants who said they worked for your company in Europe?’ I leaned onto the desk. ‘I’d normally ring, but it was such a nice day for a walk.’

  She nodded understandingly. ‘Sure. Who are they? I’ll see if I can help you.’

  I read their full names to her, which I’d gotten from the Motorcycling Western Australia registry, and waited while she searched her database.

  She frowned a few times and then held up her finger. ‘Please excuse me a minute.’

  I was left to enjoy the gallery of motorbike pictures on the walls while she disappeared into another room. When she returned, she was wearing a fixed smile.

  ‘My manager informs me that we can provide an exemplary reference check for Clem Jonas. With regard to David Bower, however, you’ll need to contact his previous employer through the Aprilia main website in Italy.’

  Interesting!

  ‘Thank you so much,’ I said. ‘You’ve been most helpful.’

  Employers usually only withheld references in that way when they were negative. I wondered what Riley’s wrench had been up to.

  I raced back to my car and did a quick clothes change in the front seat. I was late to pick up Ed, so I called Smitty while I was driving and put her on speakerphone.

  ‘I’m on my way to fetch Ed to take him to a photo shoot.’

  ‘Bok told me about it. Swimwear. Lucky you!’

  ‘Smitty, I think he’s seeing someone else.’

  ‘Bok?’

  ‘No, silly. Ed.’

  ‘What? How do you know?’

  ‘It’s a long story. But can you come down to Swanbourne South for half an hour? I need moral support.’

  ‘Oh, darling,’ she said. ‘I’ll see if I can get away. No promises.’

  When I reached Ed’s units, he was waiting outside, backpack slung over one shoulder, looking like an advertisement for everything that’s hip and gorgeous.

  ‘What happened to your face?’ he asked.

  ‘Brains,’ I lied. ‘A cat scared her and she scratched me.’

  He gave me a quizzical look.

  A nervousness of a new kind set in as I drove to the beach. Should I ask him straight out about the girl, or wait and see what he said? If he said anything. After ten minutes, I still hadn’t decided what to do. Ed was polite and friendly but I sensed some reserve.

  ‘Did Bok tell you who you’re shooting with?’ I asked as I pulled into a parking spot opposite the Vomit House.

  He shook his head. ‘Just that it’s a sporting heroes theme.’

  ‘You’re paired with Jenny Munro.’ I tried not to spit out her name.

  He frowned. ‘Isn’t she the one who you beat in the triathlon?’

  Goddamn it! Even his frown was beautiful. It was that mixture of Spanish and whatever else he had in his bloodlines; a magical racial interplay.

  ‘Yeah. It goes back further than that, though. She also broke my nose in a basketball grand final in juniors years ago. She’s an Ironwoman these days.’

  Ed slapped his brow in semi-mock despair. ‘Oh, shit!’

  ‘It’s okay. I’m cool,’ I assured him. ‘Totally.’

  He gave me a more serious look. ‘Are you sure? Tara, this shoot is important. Maybe . . .’

  ‘I’m sure,’ I said stiffly. ‘I just wanted you to know before we get there.’

  His expression lightened. ‘Thanks.’

  Bok was already there when we arrived, as were the photographer and Jenny. Jenny’s face lit up when she saw Ed then promptly fell into a scowl at the sight of me. I ignored her and gave Bok a wave. Then I sat myself on a towel slightly south of them, close enough to see but not be in the way as they got organised. The swell was moderate and the breeze not too stiff for a spring afternoon. In the distance, a freighter headed of
f to Sri Lanka or Africa. Right now, though, it looked like a cigar floating out to sea.

  The shoot proceeded swimmingly, the photographer oohing and aaahing and Jenny rubbing up against Ed. I managed to contain my jealousy by reminding myself that even though she was all muscle tone, her body was still shaped like a cardboard box. Not only that, I chided myself, but Ed and I weren’t married. We were friends dating, currently without benefits. I wasn’t sure how long even that would last now. Part of me believed that Ed was just finding his city legs, and that soon he’d spread his wings and fly away. Maybe with a girl named Vonny.

  But it still felt bad watching Jenny sliding her hands all over Ed’s butt, because the truth was I really liked him.

  ‘You doing alright, T?’

  Bok squatted by my towel and dropped a kiss on my head. His beautiful Eurasian face was creased with concern. I wanted to tug his silky dark locks – the envy of every woman who saw them – from their Dior clasp and set them free for the breeze to tangle.

  ‘It’s just photos, you know,’ he added.

  I felt like a kid whose mummy had just told her that the Cybermen on Doctor Who weren’t real, they were just people running around in silver suits. For that I gave him my best scowl.

  ‘You’ll get wrinkles,’ he warned.

  If we hadn’t been at work – Bok’s work – I would have wrestled him into the sand. We’d had some epic engagements in our time. He was stronger in theory, but I weighed more and was generally fitter. Bok could eat gargantuan amounts of food but didn’t seem to store a single calorie. I, on the other hand, had to run and work out like a demon for every mouthful of vanilla slice.

  ‘Oh my God.’

  Jenny’s next pose totally distracted me from Bok. She’d laid her body full length along Ed’s and was performing a push-up over the top of him that could have doubled as a Kama Sutra position. The photographer sprayed her with oil and murmured encouragement about how sexy she looked. Skin glistening and muscles taut, she tilted her head sideways to give me a wink and a long slow lick of her lips.

  Bok saw it and placed a warning hand on my arm.

  Then I caught sight of something monstrous galloping towards me, dragging a slight figure behind it.

  Bok saw it too. ‘Jenny,’ he shouted. ‘Duck!’

  But Jenny was so caught up in what she was doing that she didn’t register. The first thing she knew of impending disaster was when Fridge’s giant back paws clipped her body as he jumped over her and sent her spinning like an ice skater in a sideways twirl.

  Jenny’s flip was worthy of a standing ovation, but I had other things to contend with, like the approach of a lumbering mammoth.

  I dropped to one knee and bellowed, ‘Sit, Fridge!’

  Fridge dropped onto his haunches and slid to a stop a foot away, leaving a wide furrow behind him.

  I stood up, patted his saliva-streaked nose, and saw that Smitty had stopped to help Jenny up out of the sand. Ms Oil-drenched, Ego-maniac Ironwoman had turned into a sandy sea monster dotted with seaweed and bits of broken shell.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Smitty. ‘Goodness, look at you. I’m SO sorry!’

  Ed was on his feet, trying not to laugh, while the photographer made distressed birthing noises.

  Jenny shrugged off Smitty and stormed towards me.

  ‘You set this up!’ she shouted, her fists balled.

  I tensed my muscles. She wasn’t above trying to clout me in public – she’d already broken my nose once.

  ‘Jenny,’ said Bok calmly, ‘it was an accident. Let’s get you washed off. We were pretty much finished anyway.’

  She turned her fury on him. ‘I should have known better than to work with a friend of HERS. My agent will be speaking to you!’

  ‘Actually, I think you look good like that,’ I said innocently.

  She took a step towards me and thrust her fist at my face.

  Fridge bared his teeth at her and barked – well, more of a deafening ‘rowl’ really.

  ‘Fridge!’ cried Smitty.

  But Fridge had decided I was in danger and his haunches were set as if ready to spring.

  Jenny took a step backwards. And then another. She kept going until she’d grabbed her bag, then sprinted up the beach towards her car.

  ‘I’m sorry, Bok,’ I said.

  He stared after Jenny without speaking. I felt terrible. Bok’s magazine was everything to him.

  Finally he looked at me, his face grave. ‘There’s nothing she can do. The contract is signed. The photos are done. She’ll get over it.’

  Then, without warning, he smiled and knocked me sideways onto the sand. It was on – a wrestle to the death. It wasn’t long before Fridge joined in, with Ed and Smitty watching on and laughing.

  Chapter 20

  ED WAS QUIET ON the way home and I wasn’t sure if he was tired or upset.

  ‘The photos should be great,’ I ventured as I parked out the front of his unit.

  He nodded dismissively. ‘I need to remember to bring mints to those kinds of bookings.’

  It took me a while to get the inference. I grinned. ‘She had bad breath.’

  ‘Worse than Fridge,’ he said.

  I roared with laughter.

  Unexpectedly, he leaned over and kissed me. It was soft and exploratory, as though he was trying to find out something.

  When we broke contact, he sat staring at me. ‘I can’t work you out, Tara.’

  He couldn’t work me out?

  ‘Thing is, I’d like to know you better, but you keep brushing me off, like you’re not taking me seriously.’

  ‘Do I?’

  He took my hand. ‘Yes, you do. Can you stop, please?’

  I thought about how to reply. Now was the time that I should mention I’d seen him with someone, but the words wouldn’t come out. I really didn’t want to act like a jealous nutcase. So I opted for a more general approach.

  ‘Ed, you’re younger than me and you’re hot. You’re also new to the city and you’ve got a career about to happen. I’d be stupid not to consider all that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, you’re still finding your feet. Things will change for you, and that’ll include who you want to spend time with. So I’m just giving you time to work that out before . . .’

  ‘Before?’

  Before I get my feelings trampled all over. Before I get deserted again. Before you run off with someone. ‘Before we get into anything.’

  He stared out the front window considering what I’d said, and I got a chance to admire his flawless profile.

  ‘Tara?’

  ‘Uh-huh?’

  ‘Why would someone be watching us with binoculars?’

  My breath caught. ‘Where?’

  ‘Over by the hedge in the next block of apartments. Leaning against the mailbox. You can just see a lens reflection.’

  It took me a few seconds to locate the watcher.

  I slid the keys out of the ignition and dropped them into Ed’s hand. ‘Stay with the car so it doesn’t get stolen. Please.’

  ‘Tara, you can’t –’

  I didn’t hear any more because I was out of the car and running flat out towards the hedge. It took my stalker a few moments to realise I was onto him. I launched myself and managed to latch onto an arm before he could escape.

  I held on doggedly, digging my nails in, but strong fingers ripped my grip away and I fell face-first into the hedge. By the time I’d got to my feet and staggered around the letterbox, my stalker had vanished.

  Then a hand gripped my shoulder.

  Without thinking, I used Hoshi’s break-hold to rid myself of the hand and swung around, letting go the same roundhouse punch that I’d taught Smitty’s son Joe. The person behind me went down with stunning effect.

  Trouble was, it was Ed.

  ‘Oh, fuck!’ I fell to my knees alongside him.

  He was clutching at his nose while blood streamed out of his left nostril, and co
ughing horribly.

  I held up two fingers. ‘How many?’

  He pushed me back. ‘I’m al-wight.’

  ‘Ed, I’m –’

  ‘Save it. I’m gow-ing.’

  ‘Let me –’

  He held out a hand, signalling me to shut up, and tossed me my car keys. Then, hand pressed over his nose, he got to his feet and headed towards the stairs up to his apartment block. The lobby door banged with meaning.

  I hastened back to Mona. The rear-view mirror told me that I looked nearly as bad as Ed: fresh bloody scratches from the hedge to add to the cactus scars on my face, and my hair sticking out. Lifting my top, I spied a large graze just above my belly button.

  I drove home feeling miserable in so many ways. My phone rang as I pulled up outside Lilac Street. It was Wal.

  ‘Yo, boss,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, Wal?’ I didn’t feel much like talking to anyone.

  ‘Ignatius got another threat.’

  ‘When?’ I asked, immediately alert. ‘How?’

  ‘Text again. Another picture.’

  ‘Can you send it to me?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  I waited for it to come through. It was even more graphic than the last one: a man naked and caught in a vice with a knife resting on his back.

  Cass was right. Something about the image seemed like porn.

  I had a think and rang Wal back. ‘Does Bolo have a laptop or PC there?’

  ‘In his study.’

  ‘Think you can get a look at it without him knowing?’

  ‘Maybe later tonight. When he’s asleep.’

  ‘Good. Check his browser cache for the last few days. I want to know what he’s been looking at.’

  ‘Got it.’

  I didn’t tell Wal about the stalker. He’d be conflicted about who he should protect, and right now I wanted him with Bolo.

  After a good look in the rear-vision mirror and several glances up and down the road, I got out of the car. As I walked past the birds, they screeched loudly and jumped around in their cage, trying to attract my attention. I felt guilty that I’d barely given them any time lately.

  I offloaded my bag and had a quick shower to clean up my face. I had to go to Hoshi’s nightclub job tonight and I didn’t want to scare his client.