The Wrong Girl (11 page)

‘
Well
. That doesn't happen every day, does it?' Mimi said, blushing slightly, pulling out her make-up mirror and checking her teeth, and fixing up her curly brown hair and applying some dusky-pink lipstick.

‘No ring, I noticed.'

‘Oh, stop it,' Mimi said, but her grin gave her away. ‘He had a terrific smile, didn't he? Probably gay. This is where they thrive, after all. Denis's boyfriend lives a block away.'

Lily's heart was warmed, seeing her mother fluff and primp for the handsome devil from the kitchen. What was it with the Woodward women and chefs?

Simone had either been chewing through her Benzo stash, or she was caught up in the lust bubble. All Lily received when she asked how things were going with Jack on a dull Tuesday morning was:

Her description of their latest date when she and Lily finally caught up a few days later was not much better. It was peppered with swooning and smiles and sighs and more gushing than a broken dam. She and Jack already had their next date planned: a trip to the grower's market, naturally, and after ‘J' – Simone was an enormous fan of calling people by their first initial – had commented positively on Simone's freckles, Simone, all giggles and smiles, admitted she had now ditched foundation on her cheeks so that they could better peek through. Lily listened to all of this with a fresh, steely resolve to be happy for them both, and not be weird about it, and see it as a blessing, because Simone might finally kick her Michael thing once and for all, and the beautiful twinset could only be good publicity for the show. That Lily
also
had freckles was entirely irrelevant.

Lily walked over to Alice's desk where she sat working away, chewing on a pen, hair wild, humming loudly.

‘Come to the snack machine?'

Alice turned and saw Lily's grim facial expression.

‘Whoa,
stormy
lady . . . Did your little red secret arrive? I thought we were in sync, mine came last wee—'

‘No, no. Come on, come,' and she turned and walked.

‘Hey, will you go for Eliza's job, do you reckon?' Lily said once they reached the hallway, trying to play cool, indifferent, no-big-dealsy.

‘Rather eat my own vom. But YOU should go for it. Man, I would fucking love being your slave.'

Lily turned to look at her friend's huge eyes and wanted to hug her.

‘Thanks, Al. I'd give you a million-dollar raise immediately. But sadly I fear Eliza will hand-deliver it to you-know-who.'

‘Then we'll both leave and open a strip club.'

Lily exhaled, nodding. She stared at the snack machine, which, being wedged between two old printers at the far end of the corridor, was the perfect place for gossip and the secret shame of drinking Fanta.

‘Also, Jack's blonde? Simone.' Alice had been on site so much lately, Lily hadn't even had the chance to spill the news.

Alice's mouth broke into an enormous O.

‘
You're
fucking kidding me.'
Alice smacked her right hand up to her mouth, her eyes huge and sparkling with excitement and disbelief.

‘Simone broke our man-detox for it. He's already had her over for a home-cooked meal.' Lily tried to keep any bitterness from her tone.

Alice's arms crossed in front of her with suspicion. ‘Does he know you know?'

‘Assume she told him, but I haven't mentioned it. It's his personal life, you know?'

‘Jeeeez. Small fucking world, isn't it. What are the chances? Are you weirding out?'

‘Why would I be?' Lily asked, a bit too quickly.

Alice's head flopped to one side, her expression one of disbelief.

‘Still pretending you don't have a crush on him, huh?'

‘You think I have a crush on everyone. Even Trent the soundo, for God's sake.'

‘You just
know
he's the biggest masturbator in the southern hemisphere, don't you? I bet you could crack his bedsheets . . .' Alice shuddered.

Lily turned and quickly punched in her favourite code, B22, and slid in two two-dollar coins one after the other.

‘I don't have a thing for Jack, and his going for Simone indicates his type of girl is several postcodes from me, so you can drop that idea now, I reckon.' She bent over and claimed her salt and vinegar chips and then stood up with a flourish, flicking her long hair as she did so.

As Lily began walking, urgently opening her chips and jamming a handful in her mouth, Alice deep in thought behind her, Jack walked out of Sasha's office and towards the girls.

‘Mind, here comes your non-crush . . .' Alice said in a whisper.

‘Salt and vinegar, the flavour of kings', Jack said cheerfully as he passed the girls, with a doff of his head to Lily's chips, and a large smile, and kept walking.

Alice said, once he was gone, ‘That is called
flirting
, Woo.'

‘Al, that's not flirting. That's Jack in a good mood because of his hot new girlfriend.'

‘You're such a wet sock,' Alice mumbled.

‘Blanket,' Lily corrected, rounding the corner and moving towards her desk.

‘Whatever.'

As Lily sat down in her chair, she looked at the spreadsheet on her screen, and a shiver of excitement whizzed through her body. Sometimes, with so much stress and so many morons taking precedence much of the time, she forgot how much she loved her job. Jesus, she was getting her jollies from Excel; she really needed some action. But as Lily read over what she'd created, she couldn't help the small hum of delight from creeping back in. She'd come up with a Big New Idea for the food tour, and was now channelling all of her energy and time into it in the hope that Sasha would see how much more creative and invested in the show she was than someone like Nikkii, who essentially used the show as fodder for her multiple social-media accounts. Also, Lily figured if she worked this hard for the next month the whole Jack and Simone thing would become so normalised that any feelings of unrest would kick a tyre, have a sulk and eventually leave.

The Big Idea involved touring in a retro-style food truck. She'd read about one in the US that travelled for a whole month and got all kinds of national press; people were following the truck in their cars and camping alongside it. It sounded so incredibly cool.
Far
too cool for
The Daily,
but she could tailor it. She had sourced an old newspaper truck they could do up and brand. The idea was that for a fortnight they would take Jack around to rural areas, hosting the segment from the truck. Each meal would be themed according to what the area was known for, be that berries or cheese or lamb or bloody lemon butter, so they'd be keeping Sasha happy. The idea was almost finished: she had six very strong shows complete and three fairly strong backups, although heading to Bundanoon to make haggis edible might be a stretch. Eliza would nod vaguely and sweetly, unable to comprehend the idea but willing to assume some form of ownership over it if Sasha liked it, but Sasha was Lily's first stop. She wasn't going to let this one slip away.

Dale suddenly appeared from behind her with a folder full of printouts. He seemed nervous, as usual, and kept his eyes facing down lest the floor suddenly start cracking and rippling, and the demons from hell started climbing up, and he needed to make a quick exit.

‘Found a woman in Coffs Harbour who claims to be a descendent of the Russian royal family and is in possession of the original pavlova recipe. She's open to a visit. I have a meeting with Sasha now, so I could be late for production.'

And he walked away.

Dale.

Dale
was being considered for the job. Dale, the lowly assistant producer, admin monkey and onion-chopper? The last – only! – decent idea
he'd
come up with on this set was the one to cut off his stinky, greasy long hair. Lily slammed the folder down on to her desk and clicked angrily on her mouse to let off some steam. Shit was getting
completely
out of hand.

‘What's all this about?' Lily asked, arriving home to find her flatmate tearing around the house manically, polishing and wiping. Lily knew the answer already and hated it. They had a cleaner, who came every week. Someone ‘special' must be coming over. Someone Lily would rather not see on her home turf, majestic land of tracksuit pants, no bra and reruns of
Veep
.

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.

‘W
hat!
'

‘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 make 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.