The Wrong Girl Read online

  ‘Yep, yep, all good.’ He nodded quickly. Well, thought Lily, maybe he doesn’t need my help after all. Or maybe he just needs a bit of time alone. She began to walk away when she heard a familiar voice.

  ‘Ummmm, hi! I’m Nikkii, I’m the entertainment and celeb producer, SO nice to meet you finally! I’ve heard such amazing things about you, Jack Winters.’

  Lily swivelled around to see Nikkii, all heavy bronzer and twelve-centimetre heels, swoop over to kiss Jack on the cheek, because that was super appropriate and all. The scent of her thick, syrupy, undoubtedly celebrity fragrance invaded the entire set. It was indecent at this hour. She was indecent.

  ‘Hi, nice to meet you – Nikki, is it?’ Jack was polite but clearly overwhelmed by her general Nikkii-ness.

  Here it comes, thought Lily.

  ‘Yep, two “k”s, three “i”s.’

  One hand slid up to run over her perfectly uniform curls. She never had any other hairstyle. Just the same middle-part, the same extensions, the same toffee highlights over a chestnut base and the same unconvincing curls from tip to ears, leaving the top flat.

  ‘So I just realised we need to haze you! We’re having drinks Friday night at this bar, like, literally two streets away; you should come. They do the BEST mojitos, ohmygod, I die. You have to come!’

  Lily started walking away again when she heard Jack call out.

  ‘Actually, Lily?

  She stopped and turned back to Jack, who, on top of being attack-invited by Nikkii to what would be the worst Friday night drinks since Fridays were invented, was now being dabbed aggressively with a powder puff by a make-up artist.

  He continued quickly, ‘Can I check a few things?’

  Aha, Lily thought. He’s not so tough after all. ‘Sure, what’s up?’ she said.

  Nikkii turned and aimed.

  ‘Lil! Can’t believe you’ve already been here working and I’ve been slacking off til today . . . I’m so bad. Did you have a good one? I went to Bali with my girls, and we stayed in this heaven villa. It was NUTS, like, literally reality-TV-show nuts.’

  ‘Sounds fun,’ Lily said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster for a woman who was consistently trying to make the workplace as tacky and insincere as possible. Alice disliked Nikkii equally, but conceded she was good presenter, which, in Lily’s more generous moments she agreed with. No one could engage the camera quite like Nikkii. When she was on, she was on. All those pretentious media courses had paid off, evidently. It was Nikkii’s lazy producing and vast ego Lily took issue with.

  ‘Hey, we go on in a few minutes. I just need to sort this out with Jack. Do you mind?’

  There was a flash of annoyance in Nikkii’s eyes. How dare the boring cooking girl get to hang out with the new chef hunk.

  ‘No probs, I am totally snowed anyway; we have Delta Goodrem on tomorrow so there’s SO much to do.’ She turned back to her prey. ‘Soooo good to meet you Jack, you’re going to kill it, I can tell. Toodles!’ And with an over-exaggerated smile to Lily, she stalked off.

  Jack held up his script – more of a recipe with comments, really – visibly confused and slightly amused by the whirlwind that was Nikkii. ‘It is vital I stick to this word by word?’

  ‘No, no, it’s just meant to act as a loose run sheet for the segment . . . Look, you do need to roughly follow it, because it’s the step-by-step for the recipe and Rob uses it as his autocue, and when he or Mel are on here with you – and they won’t always be, remember, there’ll be plenty of time for you to get creative when it’s just you – they’ll rely on it, just like in the rehearsal last week.

  ‘And remember that today we have two three and a half minute segments with an ad break in between, so the camera crew will need you to stay within the allocated time . . . Jack, are you okay?’

  Jack looked like he was in danger of self-implosion. His eyes were the size of golf balls and were darting frantically from left to right, trying to make sense of what Lily was saying. Oh God, Lily suddenly thought. He’s dyslexic. He’s about to break down and tell me he can’t read a single fucking word.

  ‘Jack?’

  She watched his Adam’s apple slide up and then back down as he gulped.

  He cleared his throat, ‘It’s just that I’m really more of a ad-lib guy, you know, so, say when I’m cooking the prawns, I’m probably best off talking about it as I go, instead of doing the lines . . .’

  Lily was torn. On one hand she felt for this poor guy, who was clearly way out of his comfort zone, plucked from the country and thrust into the big smoke, hurled in front of a national audience. On the other hand, he’d waited until it was a LIVE TV SITUATION to tell her he was struggling.

  ‘Yes, no, we definitely want that, it’s all about you having a chat, and talking us through what you’re doing, connecting with the viewers, all of which I’m sure Eliza went over with you —’

  ‘She didn’t really go over any of that stuff,’ he said, looking to Lily with panicked eyes. She marvelled at the change in him – from the cocky, abrupt man she’d seen yesterday, to this scared little boy.

  ‘It’s fine. It’s simple, I promise. You chose this recipe, you know it back to front, and Rob will be there with you, asking questions and guiding the segment. All you have to do is cook the meal, and tell the camera – and him – what you’re doing in as simple terms as you can . . . Assume the viewer has never turned on a stove in their life. Be conversational, like they’re your friends, and you’re just explaining the dish as you cook it, in your own, very well-lit kitchen.’

  Lily tried to give Jack her widest, most comforting smile. Whether he was a pig or not, and she was sensing that perhaps he was not, it was her job to make sure he felt comfortable, and not like he should quickly re-appropriate his deveining knife. When the segment went well Eliza nicked the credit, but when they fell flat, or the talent was hopeless, Lily copped the blame. It was in her best interest that he feel good.

  He exhaled and closed his eyes for a few seconds, a smile coming over his face.

  ‘Thanks. Yeah, that’s what I thought it was, but with all the cameras and being on set and with the clock counting down . . .’

  Lily smiled again, this time genuinely. How attractive he was when he was vulnerable, she thought perversely. Perhaps they would get along after all.

  ‘Totally normal. You will be great. I promise. And remember, I’m here to help: need a coffee? Water? Shot of Bundy rum? That’s what you cowboys drink, isn’t it?’

  He smiled broadly as he looked at her, shaking his head for no. Just as he did so, the full set lights came up, and Lily faintly heard the sound of harps and angels gently shaking their gilded locks. Oh, my, she thought as she bathed in his luminosity. So this is why Eliza chose him.

  She nodded and walk-ran off the set to find Dale, tweet a backstage pic of Jack as a teaser, and find a Red Bull.

  The segment was a success. Rob and Jack’s chemistry was great, the set looked unreal, and the entire female population of Twitter, including Sophie J, a pretty and famous singer/DJ with 145 000 followers, had panted and lusted obscenely over Jack, which pleased Sasha very much.

  Despite the fact Jack had wigged out pre-show, and had a pretty shocking rehearsal, he’d been deceptively confident in front of the camera today. He began a little shaky, but as soon as he and Rob started bantering, he was off. Lily was amazed that he seemed incapable of holding a human conversation in real life, and yet on live TV, he was suddenly the world’s most charming man.

  ‘Told you he’d be fantastic!’ Eliza whispered excitedly to Lily as she helped Dale clean up the set. She was giddy with relief.

  ‘Yeah, he did well,’ Lily said, smiling enthusiastically.

  ‘Rob talked over him – when doesn’t he? – but he held his own, and what about that bit where he barrelled the camera and smiled? I mean, I nearly collapsed.’

  ‘Mmm, it was pretty great,’ Lily agreed.

  ‘Did you think it worked?’ Lily asked Dale
when they were alone. ‘Honestly, guys’ perspective?’

  Dale thought for a second. ‘Yes.’ And he walked off to the real kitchen with a stack of dirty pans.

  Lily was glad that Dale thought Jack did a good job. Dale might be socially dyslexic, but he was a good nuts-and-bolts guy, and had a strong understanding of what was successful and what sucked. Plus, he was male, and therefore not influenced by Jack’s physical radiance. Lily had promised herself she would not be granting Jack any concessions just because he was a dreamboat, but thankfully, she might not even need to.

  11

  Lily drove home, weary and impatiently scarfing chips from the bag of takeaway she’d picked up as a treat for a good first show. She couldn’t get Jack out of her head, or from underneath her skin. She couldn’t very well talk to Simone about it, because even though Lily knew there was definitely no crush, Simone would be on the same Mills & Boon page as Alice, and accuse her of falling for him. And that would be a clear violation of the man-detox. Even though Sim was the one who had been in the bathtub topless with Zoolander last night. Which reminded her of the mess Lily might be walking into tonight, if Simone hadn’t yet located her brain, or was still asleep to make up for the sleep ‘fast’ she’d been on since Saturday.

  Opening the front door, she called out to her flatmate. No response. But Simone had clearly been awake. She’d been expressly awake, in fact, judging by the sparkling kitchen, the fresh bunch of pink oriental lilies – Lily’s favourite – on the coffee table and the smell of expensive fig candles in the air. Lily dumped her handbag and takeaway on the bench and read the handwritten note propped against the vase.

  Lil . . . I am so SO sorry for last night and my behaviour in the bathroom (!!!) and just all of it. I hope I didn’t ruin your day too much. Let me take you for dinner this week to say sorry, please, babe! I have dinner with Dad who’s in town tonight but will see you if you’re still awake when I get home. Sorry, sorry.

  LOTS OF LOVE AND APOLS XOXOXOXOXO

  Lily could’ve predicted this exact scenario, because every time Simone had a bender, it was the same: intense guilt, manic cleaning and apology flowers. At least Sim wasn’t on suicide watch, which was how she jokingly referred to the day-after downer. Lily shook her head and wondered how much longer she could live with Simone. Lately she’d been fantasising about living on her own.Maybe turning thirty this year was the kick up the arse she needed to finally do it. Not that Sim was a terrible flatmate by any means, but these benders did Lily’s head in, and sometimes just the sheer presence of another person in the house was enough to irritate Lily after a long day at work.

  Mimi had always said a woman must live on her own at least once in her life, before ‘the husband and children’ claimed all available space and time, and Lily kind of agreed. She wasn’t going to use bathgate as her impetus, though; that was unfair. Simone was an excellent flatmate most of the time, even if she had an unnecessary and unwarranted vendetta against cow’s milk and soft drinks; plus she charged Lily embarrassingly low rent. Nonetheless, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to sniff out what was available in terms of non-prohibitively expensive one-bedroom apartments in the area. Ideally Lily would buy one, but with only five grand saved up – another thing she had to work on – that was as likely as Simone gnawing on a T-bone.

  In a pitiable attempt at being a grown-up, Lily dumped her burger and the remainder of her chips onto a dinner plate before settling on the sofa to watch The Big Bang Theory. It was the most delicious portion of her day by a long stretch, and only a Snickers ice-cream bar would’ve made it better. Lily heard the keys in the front door. A smile crept onto her lips; Simone would be very sheepish after last night, and it was always fun to laugh at her in her depleted state.

  But if she was either of these things, she didn’t show it: she walked in wearing a short pink dress and long silver and orange earrings, her hair loose and flowing. She looked fresh and pretty, like the girls in tampon ads who rode horses and frolicked on the beach, no matter how bloated and crampy they supposedly were.

  ‘Do you just not get hangovers?’ Lily said as she took in her flatmate.

  Simone looked as though she didn’t understand why Lily would say such a thing.

  ‘Are you serious? I felt so gross all day! I just had a casting this arvo, that’s all. Took several Sudafed to wake me up, don’t you worry.’ She flipped her keys back and forth in her hand and looked anxiously at Lily.

  ‘Babe, I am so sorry for last night. What you saw was disgusting. I’m . . . we just got caught up in the mood, and we clearly didn’t know when to stop.’ She placed the keys on the dresser and walked over to the couch, perching on the arm.

  ‘Yeah, I figured that when I got home on a Sunday evening to find you having a spa party.’ Lily smiled.

  Simone smacked her hands over her face in embarrassment, a muffled ‘ohmygod’ slipping between the fingers.

  Suddenly she ripped her hands off and stared straight at Lily, eyes wide.

  ‘I didn’t do a THING with Kane, by the way. He’s a friend of Skye’s – well, they hook up, but sometimes he has a boyfriend too – so, you know, but anyway: point is I know how that would’ve looked, but I did NOT break our pact, babe, trust me.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Lily said, playing unconvinced, opening her laptop to fire off a few emails before bed.

  ‘Lil! It would take a HELL of a lot more drugs to get me to do anything with him – so not my type, and anyway, have a little faith in your girl! I can party without hooking up, you know.’

  Lily raised one eyebrow.

  ‘SKYE was with him! Not me, I was dancing!’

  Lily broke into laughter. ‘I didn’t say a thing! You’re on your own here.’

  Simone tossed a cushion at Lily. ‘Anyway, it won’t happen again.’

  The memory of how bad Lily had felt that morning sharply reminded her that she was not in the mood for playing Lady Gullible tonight.

  ‘Sim, it will, and you and I both know it. But it’s your house, and you’re allowed to do as you please. I should’ve just stayed at Mimi’s. Was my own fault.’

  A look of hurt crossed Simone’s cherubic face. Lily had ruminated and analysed it all so intently – most of it at one a.m. this morning in a fit of fury – that she’d forgotten that to Simone, hearing it at ‘conclusion’ point, it sounded pretty harsh.

  ‘Babe, you live here too. It’s OUR home, our sanctuary. I’m sorry I did that; will you forgive me? Please? I hate when you’re all cranky with me.’

  ‘I was definitely pissed at you this morning, but I’m over it now. I’m just tired. It was first show back today.’

  Simone’s left hand flew up to cover her mouth. ‘Oh NOOOO! And you didn’t get any sleep!’

  Lily gave her freakishly fresh-looking friend a weak smile. She would not have managed it ten hours ago. ‘It’s fine, Sim. The new chef was surprisingly good, which is a relief.’

  ‘Guy or girl? I can’t remember, sorry.’

  You can’t remember because I didn’t tell you, Lily thought to herself. There was no point introducing the idea of a hunky chef at the workplace during a man-detox, it would just make Simone suss and annoying. And she never watched the show, so Lily’s secret was safe.

  ‘A guy. He’s nice enough, quiet country lad.’

  Simone eyed up her flatmate. ‘Is he hot?’

  ‘If you like Ken dolls. Not my type.’

  ‘You won’t get a crush on him, by any chance, will you, babe? We’re not even a month into this thing and —’

  ‘You’re already sharing baths with nude men I know! It’s a disgrace.’

  Simone giggled and poured herself a glass of water from the filtered, alkaline water jug in the kitchen, which Lily never bothered with because she was too lazy to refill it. She poured one for Lily and placed it next to the evidence of her burger on the coffee table. She didn’t say a word about Lily eating takeaway, which Lily knew meant she was really trying to behave hers
elf.

  ‘So how’s your dad?’ Lily asked with her eyes on her screen checking if she’d missed anything in the final script for tomorrow’s show.

  ‘Oh, fine. Usual distracted self. Babe, I’m beat, I’ll see you in the morning.’

  On her way upstairs, Simone called out, ‘Are you free for dinner anytime this week? I thought we could try the new Mexican place on Victoria Street?’

  ‘Sold!’ Lily yelled back, then hit send on the email to Dale with the script. She decided she’d get in before her usual six a.m. start tomorrow so she had a chance to go over it with Jack before the segment, and make sure he was completely comfortable with it. Then maybe they could finally just be regular workmates instead of him being a weird, anxious guy with a stunning jawline and great hair.

  She closed her laptop with a flourish and dragged her feet up to bed to not think about Jack.

  12

  Sasha was in a very good mood. The first two weeks of ratings were excellent. They had beaten The Jenny Show three times, which was a big deal, since last year they had beaten her that many times in as many months.

  ‘All comes down to the Adonis in the kitchen, I’d say. Have you seen what women are saying about him on social media? He was all over Twitter on Friday, just because his white T-shirt got wet. I’ve never seen anything quite like it, to be honest.’ Sasha shook her head, her bright lipstick immaculate, her haircut crisp and sharp.

  Eliza nodded like a robot at everything Sasha said, mmm-ing enthusiastically. Her grey knee-length skirt was clinging to her in an unnatural and unsightly fashion, as though she were meat in a sausage, albeit a very tiny, thin one. She was missing an earring, Lily noted.

  ‘Well, I mean, I think we’ve had a reeeally strong line up of guests, too.’ Nikkii butted in, leaning forward to assert her presence, in case her lurid aqua top didn’t do the job. ‘Miranda Kerr certainly helped, and don’t forget we were up again—’

  ‘It’s Jack,’ Sasha interrupted, looking down at her phone as she spoke. ‘He is our golden goose, and we need to make sure we keep him top of mind. I’d like some more publicity for him too, Siobhan – he hasn’t quite got the profile we need yet. There’s no reality TV background, no cookbook to speak of, no high-profile dolly on his arm – do what you can to put a bit more wind in that sail, would you? Perhaps The Night Show can get him on every now and again, and let’s have him do some more radio, too.’ Sasha stood up, collecting her iPad and phone, and fluffing her deep-violet scarf lightly with one hand.