The Wrong Girl Page 10

  Lily’s eyes widened: had Jack just stood up for her? And complimented her?

  Eliza was enjoying Jack’s assertive defence of Lily about as much as a broken collarbone.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you were all having fun, meanwhi—’

  ‘Fun is the name of the game, Eliza. Always.’ Sasha’s calm, wise voice floated into the room as she walked past the kitchen and continued on her way, like a perfectly timed yogi. How does she do that? Lily wondered.

  Eliza’s head snapped to the left to watch her boss, her eyes wide with humiliation, or at the very least a close cousin.

  ‘I wish you would all learn to control yourselves; you’re giving me a flipping heart attack. It’s live TV for goodness sake,’ she said, defeated, before chasing in an undignified fashion after Sasha.

  Lily and Jack raised their eyebrows conspiratorially at each other and a wide grin washed over Lily’s face. She was still glowing in the memory of his gallant verbal protection.

  ‘How long have you worked here, Lil?’ Jack asked, sipping his water, leaning back against the sink like some kind of hunk advertising filter-tap systems.

  ‘Um, almost two years now.’

  ‘Isn’t that about the time you Gen Ys start getting fidgety?’ he asked, with a knowing smile. He was so warm and chatty today. She basked in it.

  ‘Spoken like a true Gen Xer.’

  ‘Whoa, settle down, I’m only thirty-four. So then, what’s the big plan? Where will you be in five years?’

  She looked into Jack’s blue eyes as she thought about her answer. His skin was a bit tanned, a bit weathered, kind of . . . lived in, she noted. It gave him a touch of The Man From Snowy River. Handsome and rugged, they’d call it.

  ‘I’d love to be an EP one day, like Sasha. Literally like Sasha – she’s so experienced, and talented, and wise, and generous, and so well respected in the industry. First I have to make series producer though.’

  ‘You after Eliza’s job?’ he asked with a cheeky grin. It was dazzling. Whatever had been slipped into his coffee that day, Lily wanted a cruise liner’s worth.

  ‘Noooo . . . No, no, no. Well, kind of. Yeah, I guess. Very much so.’

  Jack laughed, the small gap between his front teeth on full show. The excitement in her stomach and her enormous grin indicated to her that perhaps she was a little bit failing this man-detox. But maybe, maybe that was the whole point of it, the thing she and Simone had failed to see – that when you stop trying to attract men and stop thinking about them so much, it happens organically. Yes. That made perfect bloody sense. Put that in your essential oil burner and light it, Sim.

  ‘Yours for the taking,’ Jack said, finishing off his water, and plonking the glass in the dishwasher, like everyone else never did. He looked at her as he closed the dishwasher door.

  ‘You’re good at your job, Lil. That was a circus this morning, but you had it under control, you let us know when to rein it in, and you knew when to encourage us. Plus, you know, I’m new to all this, and you’ve made it a lot less nerve-racking. I reckon you definitely have Sasha’s perspective on things. It’s good.’

  With that he walked out of the kitchen.

  ‘Aren’t you going to tell me to cook it, share it, enjoy it?’ she heckled after him.

  He popped his head back into the kitchen, his face etched in light humiliation. ‘Ease up, Woodward, it just fell out of my mouth.’

  ‘Too bad. It’s now your official catchphrase. We’ll probably get some T-shirts made.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ he asked, eyebrows at risk of punching through the atmosphere.

  ‘Sorry!’ she said in a not-at-all sorry voice, turning back to pour her hot water and add her two sugars.

  ‘You will be,’ he muttered, before walking off, leaving Lily smiling like a loon. She did a quick mental spreadsheet: Jack could cook like a dream, was fun and charming, was a natural on TV, baked peanut-butter-based desserts, was Ken-doll handsome, and was thoughtful, fun, kind and supportive. It was too much. If Lily was being tested, she’d just decided to fail by volition.

  Alice walked into the kitchen barefoot, something she was told repeatedly not to do for OH&S reasons, but continually did, for comfort reasons. Dale was behind her, but he simply filled his aluminium water bottle before darting out again, a corduroy-clad fawn in a big scary forest.

  ‘God, Eliza’s stink today, isn’t she?’ said Alice. ‘She gave me a serve for not getting a giveaway today, when she knows I’m only supposed to have two a week, and I’ve already done both this week.’

  ‘Inside voice, Al, inside voice.’

  ‘Sorry, Woo, didn’t mean to interrupt your daydreaming about what lurks under Jack’s undies.’

  ‘Hilarious!’ Lily said boisterously, clapping. ‘Please, more of this fantastic comedy!’

  ‘I saw him walk out of here; I know I’m right.’ Alice was busy making herself a Milo milkshake, because she was five.

  ‘Oh, well, obviously.’

  ‘Bad news on that front by the way . . . Prince Charming is seeing someone,’ Alice continued, stirring her drink furiously with the bottom of a butter knife.

  ‘What?’ Lily forgot to play cool.

  ‘According to Siobhan, who knows everything that is pointless, he was at Bondi beach with some blonde bird yesterday afternoon.’

  Lily wondered how she could get more information without looking obvious.

  ‘And judging by his buoyant mood today, she mustn’t be the treat-’em-mean type, if you know what I mean.’ Alice winked lecherously and walked out of the kitchen, her little high-waisted red shorts cutting a line right down her arse.

  Lily walked, biting absently into her cold toast, computing this new and horrible information. Of course he was dating someone! Jesus, why wouldn’t he be? She herself had just compiled a solid list of why he was perfect. Even though Lily knew she was being hyper-optimistic to assume he would ever be interested in her, especially if he was dating some blonde slice of heaven, she grew resentful of the man-detox all the same.

  It was time to end it, she confirmed. It was fucking useless. It was making no dent whatsoever in Lily’s life, except for maybe a small wishful one that involved missing out on a lifetime of happiness and small gaps between teeth and eating homemade cookies in bed. Once at her desk, she picked up her phone and texted Simone.

  Wanna get dinner?

  An immediate response, which was unusual for Sim.

  Yessss! Sakura? Lets say 7 will txt if running late xoxo

  Done x

  Lily shuffled through the tiny, cramped restaurant to the back where Simone was waiting. She looked like a Bond girl, all tanned with enormous, hot-rollered hair, intense black eye make-up and a denim jacket over a little black dress. Lily knew this was post-shoot hair and make-up, but the other customers may not have. Sim was oblivious.

  ‘Don’t you look a treat tonight.’

  ‘I couldn’t be arsed taking it off,’ Sim said, making way for Lily’s big brown satchel on the bench next to her. ‘I ordered some edamame, I’m staaaarving.’

  The girls ordered their usual eggplant miso, seaweed salad, teriyaki tofu and a large bottle of warm sake, and Lily couldn’t help thinking Sim had something on her mind. Oh God, maybe she was back with Michael. That was it. Of course that was it. They had been trying to do cold turkey ever since they’d split, but Simone was rubbish at refraining from drunk texting or calling. She had once even passed out on the steps of his apartment block after a particularly heartbroken mess of a night.

  ‘Babe, so, I actually need to talk to you about something . . .’ Simone said, gulping down her teeny cup of sake.

  ‘I knew it! I knew something was up.’ Lily’s energy was probably a little too frenzied for the situation, but she was starting to feel anxious and wanted Sim to get talking.

  ‘Promise you won’t be mad? Simone seemed as anxious to keep her news locked in her mouth as Lily was for her to spit it out.

  ‘Come on, whatever
it is, I’m sure it’s fine.’

  A deep breath, and then: ‘I’ve met a guy.’

  ‘Simone!’ Lily sat back in her chair, her mouth gaping. She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head slowly. Secretly she was thrilled it wasn’t about Michael, and even more secretly she was double thrilled because this meant she wouldn’t have to call the detox off.

  ‘It’s not Michael, is it? I thought you were maybe going to say you were back in touch with him.’

  Simone shook her head quickly. ‘Nope, haven’t spoken to him for ages.’

  ‘Well, who is he?’ Lily asked with a tsk-tsk in her voice, a faint smile trying to peek through.

  ‘I know the man-detox was my idea, and I promise you I was doing it properly, and I haven’t kissed this guy or anything, I just . . . I think, well, he might be different.’

  ‘Let the record state that you didn’t even last two months.’

  ‘I know! I know.’

  ‘So, you admit I win?’

  Simone frowned. ‘It wasn’t a competition. I thought we were doing it so we could reject the all-consuming and dominant male energy and return to our pure and feminine sta—’

  ‘Reject what? I didn’t have any men to knock back. The detox cursed me.’

  ‘I mean, we both agreed this was a good thing to do, and you were tortured over Pete, and it gave you some time out to get your head straight.’

  Lily sighed. ‘Whatever. It’s over now and the important thing is that I won – now, who is he?’

  Simone’s mouth broke into a wide, gooey smile. ‘Well, I don’t know that much about him, to be honest. He’s been coming into the shop for a few weeks, buying all kinds of weird herbs and ingredients, and straight away you notice him, because he is like, incredibly handsome, Lil, like, all tall and chiselled and these amazing blue eyes . . .’

  ‘Don’t you usually go for small, shifty types who live on vodka and lies?’

  ‘That’s the thing, he’s different . . . Normal. Anyway, so being on our detox I obviously didn’t chat to him beyond small talk, like with everyone else, but he would sometimes linger when he bought a smoothie so it got like, really awkward for me to not talk more.’

  Lily laughed. ‘Oh, well, you mustn’t be rude, Sim. Can’t have that.’

  ‘Anyway, last week I had a juice with him, just as friends, just at the cafe, and then, um, we went for a coffee in Bondi yesterday after work —’

  ‘You shit! You stood in that kitchen with me last night and didn’t say a peep!’

  ‘— and then when he mentioned plans for dinner, THAT’ – she increased her volume considerably, seeing Lily open her mouth to harangue her – ‘THAT’s when I realised that I needed to talk to you, babe, and tell you that I was opting out.’

  ‘It’s not a mobile phone contract, Sim, I won’t penalise you for breaking your contract early. I do, however, maintain teasing rights.’

  ‘Well, I think he’s worth it, so knock yourself out.’

  ‘So when’s your dinner with Mr Normal?’ Lily asked, popping some soy beans into her mouth and stripping the peas out with her teeth.

  ‘Tomorrow night.’ Simone was grinning in the specific way that had seen her escape punishment hundreds of times. ‘He is so hot and a total gentleman. Isn’t even judgy that I am a cossie model or anyth—’

  ‘What man has ever judged you for that, Sim? So what does he do?’

  ‘He’s a chef. Lil, can I just say, this is the first time I’ve felt a proper spark since, well, Michael —’

  ‘Where does he chef?’

  ‘Um, he just moved here from middle of nowhere, Mudgee, I think it’s called, where he was at some posh restaurant, and now he’s doing some TV stuff . . . actually, you might know him!’

  The invisible, cool snake of comprehension slithered down Lily’s neck and onto her back. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no. NO. It was Jack. Her Jack. Of all the people in the fucking world.

  ‘Jack Winters? Tall, stacked, blondy-brown hair, loves checked shirts, drives a ridiculous black ute?’

  ‘Yeah . . . Wow, how did you know all that?’ Simone’s face was bunched in amused confusion.

  ‘Um, he’s my chef at The Daily, my new chef who started this year . . .’

  ‘You are KIDDING me. No way! Babe! I can’t believe this! You work together?’

  Lily folded her arms against her chest and gave her best, ‘well, how about that’, expression. The deep-fried tofu that Lily had dreamed of all afternoon sat steaming before her, but she’d suddenly lost her appetite. Her heart was working triple time and the pit of her stomach was gurgling unhappily. Simone had managed to find Jack, and woo him with her big-busted sorcery and perfect hair and general loveliness. How perfectly predictable.

  Whoa. Lily caught herself. That was unfair. Simone had no idea it was the same guy. And Lily wasn’t even into Jack like that . . . was she? Nothing like one of your best friends grabbing the guy first to bring that to light, she thought bitterly. At least now Lily knew she’d never even had a chance, if his thing was luscious blonde models.

  Simone grinned. ‘Anyway, so I think he wants to cook for me tomorrow night.’

  ‘Gosh, straight to home-cooked meals after one date,’ Lily said feigning excitement for her friend of whom she had no right to feel angry with or jealous.

  Sim had stopped listening; she was too high on goo. ‘I think it’s so romantic. Don’t you think it’s romantic? Isn’t he such a lovely guy? I bet you two get on great, be hard not to. I love me a country boy. You know . . . I think I manifested him, babe. I wanted a regular guy to go away with on weekends and cook with, and BOOM! Look who walks into my life! Ask, believe, receive . . .’

  Lily exhaled. All of this was forcing her to face up to her feelings about Jack, which was making her extremely uncomfortable. She looked over at her friend, eyes glittering in the way only someone who was deeply, irrevocably infatuated did, and smiled.

  ‘He’s a really lovely guy. And just think of all the grilled capsicum recipes you two can drive each other mad with . . . I propose a toast to the end of that stupid detox and your potential new beau. I heartily approve.’

  Simone grinned and giggled, glowing with excitement, and Lily held up her tiny sake cup and clinked Simone’s, not daring to think what all of this might mean.

  16

  Jack was in a spectacularly good mood at work on Monday. Lily had increased her test kitchen visits by fifty per cent since he’d started at The Daily, and was now usually rewarded with a friendly, boisterous chat, allowing her to gauge his moods almost perfectly. It was nice, since during the show it was usually too fast-paced and manic to talk beyond giving instructions or making last-second changes. Sadly, after her chat with Simone the other night Lily now knew the sunny mood came down to her flatmate’s existence in his life. She resolved once more that she shouldn’t be jealous, or territorial. After all, she didn’t like him like that.

  ‘Hey Lil,’ he said, beaming with good skin, a fresh haircut and, of course, a checked shirt, filling up a water jug with filtered water.

  ‘Hey chef,’ she said, stirring sugar through her fourth cup of tea for the day.

  ‘Can you believe my burner blew up? Hope it didn’t affect Rob’s pasta. I saw you sneak off with a plateful so I’m guessing you’d know?’

  Lily had had the idea for Jack to cook each of the on-air talent’s favourite dishes. Rob, being a child of the ’70s, had chosen fettuccine carbonara.

  Lily blushed. ‘Mel doesn’t eat dairy, wheat, sugar – or food in general – so I didn’t want it to go to waste. But yes, it was delicious . . . And I hate carbonara.’

  ‘Glad you liked it. Why didn’t you get a dish choice? Would’ve been peanut-butter pancakes or the like, I’m guessing?

  Lily’s mind began gorging itself on the visual of him making her pancakes on a lazy Sunday morning . . . She was going mad. Was she really so competitive that as soon as he was someone else’s she had to possess him? How embarrassing
.

  ‘Might have been foie gras, you’ll never know,’ she said, walking out of the kitchen and away from the treacherous and unfounded thoughts swimming through her head. She couldn’t talk to him when he was in such a good mood and being so adorable.

  Nikkii was advancing towards her, doing that bouncy, self-aware strut that Alice loved to mimic when she’d had a few beers. Lily gave her a tight smile and kept her head down but Nikkii had her in her crosshairs.

  ‘Heyyy, Lil!’ she said, stopping in the hallway and giving her over-the-top greeting as though it was a Christmas present and Lily should be thankful. Lily knew the fastest way out of this was to talk about the exact thing Nikkii was going to bring up anyway.

  ‘Hey, Nikkii, nice piece with One Direction last week, you seemed to really have fun with them. Nice guys?’

  In truth it was a horrible interview; Nikkii was flirty and infantile and the boys gave monosyllabic, bored answers.

  She placed her hand on her heart, a good half-centimetre of bare nail between her grown-out red gel polish and her cuticle, and sighed dramatically.

  ‘Oh my GOD. They were so . . . charged, Lily. Like, they were literally on heat; do you know what I mean? It was intense. I had to just take a moment afterwards, to be honest. All that male energy directed at you on live TV can be a bit much. Oh, and you’ll LOVE this . . .’

  She rambled on and on, Lily listening blankly, nodding where appropriate. Of course Nikkii would interpret the interview as being about her, not the fact that One Direction were basically walking penises with cute shoes and decent singing voices.

  ‘ . . . so it all went totally cray-cray after Harry asked for my number, and the piece in The Telegraph only made it a thousand times worse, and so I’m like, thanks guys, thanks so much, and now I’ve literally been getting death threats and it’s just so full on. Eliza told me to delete my Twitter account but I am totally anti-troll and refuse to give them any power.’

  She said this as though she were running for prime minister, and had just delivered her oratory king hit.