Grand Slam (13 page)

Jack stared at me for a long time.

‘What?'

‘I have no idea what to say about that.' He looked around at the overturned chairs and crying people. ‘Tell me about it.'

I gave him the details and added, ‘I couldn't understand a word the guy was saying. I don't think he spoke English. He made everyone hand over their jewellery and wallets.'

Jack said, ‘Were you aware the three dead fishermen were Russian?'

I stared at him. ‘No. I wasn't. What does that mean?'

He shrugged. ‘We don't know. Yet.'

I nodded. I wanted to ask him more about WA, but now wasn't the time. Across the room, Martin McGann was making a great show of being annoyed about his day being messed up.

‘They must have known about the event,' I said.

‘Definitely tipped off.'

‘I wonder if it was all just about Emilio's lucky charm? Probably worth a bit.'

‘They might hold it to ransom.'

‘I reckon he'd pay anything to get it back.' I huffed again. ‘Don't know what happened to the security guards.'

‘There was security here?'

‘Yeah. The venue staff plus security at the doors. You didn't find any strangled ones behind some rubbish bins, did you?'

‘No, should I have?'

I shrugged. ‘Just a thought.' Then, ‘Speak of the devil.'

The two missing security guards had returned, looking sheepish. Police approached them immediately, led them into the room and separated them. I wondered what they'd been up to.

It was four o'clock by the time I dealt with police questions and got back to work. People were saying the men had Russian accents. Interesting. The security guards had confessed (pretty quickly) that someone had given them money to ‘disappear' during the lunch. Emilio was so angry and upset about his amulet he wouldn't speak to me. Teresa had said on the phone that I didn't realise the implications of what I'd done. What I'd done? Allowed an armed guy to rob me? I asked if she realised the implications of what might have happened to me at Emilio's charity event. But apart from the near-death experience, losing the amulet, Emilio's distress, Charlotte, Rosalind, my mother, Jack, etc., I was feeling pretty good. God was surely watching over me. He'd sent a robber to take the fake charm, save me from having to fess up about losing the real one. And now all I had to worry about was a legal fight if Emilio decided to cut ties with Dega again. I thought about going to church with Mum this Sunday.

I snuck into the office and sat at my desk. Charlotte was typing. I asked what she was working on.

She didn't look up. ‘A new media schedule template.'

‘What?' I peered over her shoulder. ‘We don't need one.'

‘I suggested it to Rosalind and she agreed.'

Hmph. Standing at my desk, I called the supermarket and asked if the lucky charm had turned up. They said it hadn't, and suggested I stop harassing the staff about it. I said that if they didn't find it, I'd harass the staff until they needed group counselling.

‘How was the event?' Charlotte looked up at me.

‘Eventful.'

She held out a Tupperware container. ‘I made scones in the canteen. They were so happy with them they want me to make them every day.'

‘But you won't have time.'

‘I don't mind. I can make them at home. They'll pay me and they let me take some today.'

‘Can I have one?'

‘Sure.' She opened the lid. ‘I prefer to make date scones but they didn't have any dates,' she said. ‘What sort do you like to make?'

‘I don't cook.'

‘Shame.'

I shrugged. ‘I try. Sometimes.' I checked my watch. ‘I want to leave by five. It's been a big day.'

‘What are you doing tonight?'

‘Oh, not much. My parents have fish and chips on Friday night. I might get home in time for that.'

‘I
love
fish and chips.' She leaned in, eyes shining.

Without understanding why, I said, ‘Would you like to come?'

There was possibly a part of me that was fully nice. I really didn't know. Maybe it's there and I was yet to discover it. But I struggled to understand my invitation to Charlotte Johnson to come to my parents' house for dinner. I barely knew the girl. My parents were really embarrassing. I was her
boss
, for God's sake!

Upon acceptance of my invitation, Charlotte asked me where in Chadstone I lived. She said she lived not far, which at first I thought was a good thing and then I thought might be a bad thing. I didn't know. I told Charlotte I would drive her, but she told me she had her own car and would drive herself.

‘I thought you didn't drive,' I said.

‘I thought
you
didn't drive,' she said.

We agreed to meet at my parents'. She said she wanted to go home first to change.

On my way, I got a call from
The Saturday Morning Show
, cancelling my appearance the following morning. The appearance I'd forgotten about and therefore wouldn't have shown for anyway. They told me after my ‘performance' at the charity lunch, during which Emilio's precious amulet was stolen, they thought I'd no longer be a popular guest on their show. That their viewers might change channels if I were to show my evil face.

I called Jack. We hadn't finished our conversation after the lunchtime heist. I wanted to know about WA. I wanted to know when I'd see him. I wanted to know if he was bonking Sharon Stone. My phone rested on my knee, and the tinny ringing sound echoed out of it. I hoped it didn't go to message bank, because if it did, I'd have to assume he and Sharon were having sex.

But he answered. ‘Where are you?'

What? He stole my line. It took me a second to find a response. ‘Should I be somewhere?'

‘Your mother wants to order the fish and chips.'

‘My moth— you're at my
parents'
?'

‘Uh-huh. Hurry up. I'm starving.'

‘Mum called you?'

‘She did. This afternoon.' And then a muffled, ‘Thanks, Margaret.' She was probably giving him a foot massage. And ‘Margaret'? No-one in my generation calls Mum by her first name. ‘Mrs J' maybe, like Steve and Lucy, but only if you've known her a very long time. ‘Are you on the way?'

I hesitated. My brain told me to put away all confusion and panic and focus on what was important. ‘Yes, and I'm bringing a friend. Can you tell Mum to order extra?'

Silence, then in a flat voice, ‘Not Méndez, I hope.'

‘No!'

‘Good.'

‘He's not talking to me.'

‘Good.'

We hung up. Fifteen seconds later, Mum called.

‘Who are you bringing? I haven't dusted the crystal!'

‘Just a girl from work. She's new and she lives not far.'

‘I don't even know what she likes! Fried flake? Potato cakes? How would I know?'

‘Just order the same as me.'

‘I don't know how many potato cakes you want.'

‘Two.'

‘Jack wants four, and you want two, and your father wants three, and two for your friend. That makes—'

‘Eleven, Mum. Eleven potato cakes.'

‘I'll order ten. They always throw in an extra one.'

‘They don't always.'

‘When will you be home? Jack is starving. The poor man works so hard.'

‘He doesn't work hard.'

‘He's exhausted! I think he's had a very traumatic day.'

‘
I've
had a traumatic day.'

‘Hurry along, dear. You'll need to pick up the order.'

I heard Jack in the background say, ‘I can get it, Margaret.'

‘Yeah,' I said. ‘Jack can get it.'

She hung up.

When I got home, I could hear Mum carrying on, flirting in the kitchen. I approached with caution. Even Dad was out of his chair and offering Jack another beer or whiskey. Jack had brought Mum flowers. Of course he had, the suck. Axle was in his arms. What was missing from this picture? Me. I barged into the happy little group.

‘Where's your friend?' said Mum.

‘On her way.'

I said hi to Jack and he smiled down at me. His perfect face was clean-shaven; my favourite after his three-day-stubble look. Or his full-beard look. Or any look.

I took Axle and put him down. ‘Let's go get the fish and chips.'

‘Jack's having a drink with your father,' said Mum, whose daily desperation to be eating by 6 p.m. in order to avert global catastrophe was suddenly on the back burner.

‘No hurry,' said Jack.

I crossed my arms, tapped my toe.

‘Why don't you have some juice?' said Mum.

Because I'd rather have champagne. Wine. Beer. Don't suppose I could slug down a whiskey in front of my mother.

Dad took Jack outside to show him the vegie garden. Axle and I watched from the back veranda. Jack's got such nice manners, he'd ask Dad all kinds of questions about things he wasn't interested in. Even when Dad bent down to pull a weed and farted, Jack didn't skip a beat in the conversation, or even smirk. Mrs Booth's cat was sitting on the fence, watching us. I shivered, picked up Axle, warned him, ‘Don't you go near that spooky one. It might try to take over your body so it can live here with Mum and her roast chicken.' Axle squirmed out of my arms and ran inside.

When Dad and Jack returned, Mum said, ‘Show Jack your room, dear.'

Wasn't that a bit risqué for my mother? She'd probably want to chaperone. ‘Why?'

Jack said, ‘I want to see your room. Where you slept when you were a little girl.'
Now
he was smirking.

I huffed and stomped down the passage and Jack followed. Mum didn't, surprisingly. We stood inside the door of my bedroom and Jack looked at all the pink frills, and the mess on the floor.

‘Single bed. Cosy.'

He gave me a look that could have caused me to do something inappropriate. He leaned in, about to whisper something naughty in my ear, I knew, and I blushed and quivered, but then a voice from the kitchen hollered, ‘Erica! Show Jack your brother's room. His train set is in there.'

Time to get the fish and chips.

When Charlotte arrived, everyone was seated at the table. Mum was in the kitchen, singing a tune from
The Sound of Music
. ‘Raindrops on whiskers and kettles on kittens . . .'

I opened the front door. Charlotte had dressed for a formal event – one that required a short skirt and high heels.

‘Oh, it's quite casual here.'

She shrugged. ‘This is casual.'

Right, whatever. I introduced everyone to Charlotte. I said Jack was my friend. ‘And that's my cat.' I pointed at Axle, who was happily settled on Jack's lap.

‘I love cats.' She snatched Axle up. But he hissed and swiped at her face. She dropped him, pronto, and he ran under the table. Gawd, even
I
wouldn't dare take Axle off Jack's lap. And I'd probably hiss and scratch if someone tried to take me off Jack's lap. I put him outside.

‘I'm so sorry!' I inspected Charlotte's face. No dripping blood or claw marks.

‘I don't mind.' She settled between Jack and Mum in my usual seat. I sat on the other side of Jack. Mum came in from the kitchen with a tray containing a bottle of tomato sauce, jar of mayo, jar of tartar sauce, salt and pepper and a bottle of fake lemon juice. I introduced her to Charlotte.

‘I hope you like fried flake,' Mum said. ‘It's not good enough for
some
people.' Her eyes cut to me.

Charlotte smiled. ‘I love flake.'

Mum opened the wrapped up fish and chips and served everyone, counting the chips to make sure Jack got the most. She gave me one potato cake.

‘I ordered two.'

‘They only gave us ten.'

Jack had four potato cakes. He held out his plate. ‘Have one of mine.'

‘Erica doesn't need it, Jack. She likes to maintain her figure, don't you dear?'

Happily, Dad turned on the telly.
Family Feud
was almost over.

Mum said, ‘I love
Family Feud
.'

Charlotte said, ‘I love it, too.'

The evening news would be starting soon.

‘Can we change channels?' I reached across the table but Dad slapped my hand away. ‘Ow!'

I didn't want to see the news, be reminded about the lunch heist, which could cause me to have a delayed reaction to the trauma and which might cause Mum to notice I was no longer wearing her wig.

‘There was a massacre at the tennis today,' said Mum. ‘I heard it on 3AW. Can you imagine?'

Charlotte looked at me. ‘There was a massacre?'

‘No. Not a massacre.' I turned to Mum. ‘No-one was hurt. It was a robbery.'

‘Still, Erica, your company was involved
again
.' She gave me a look, like I was personally responsible for all the bad things my company does.

‘I was there. No-one was hurt. Besides, it had nothing to do with Dega.'

‘I'm glad you didn't let them steal your watch.' Mum addressed Jack and Charlotte. ‘It was a twenty-first birthday present from Erica's father. He used to be a jeweller, you know. He had a shop at Chadstone!'

The news started. I said, ‘Did you hear Myer's having a big sale?' Mum shooshed me.

The lunchtime heist took the number one spot. The theft of Emilio's lucky charm was number two. Someone had taken a video on their mobile phone. I watched the tall, fat gunman rip the amulet from around my neck and the wig from my head. At the time I thought I'd done a pretty good job fending him off, but from the angle the footage was taken, it looked like I readily gave up the amulet to save the wig.

Mum gasped. ‘Is that you, Erica?'

‘No.'

There was footage of Emilio's devastation. Of him on the floor in the foetal position. The report said he may not be able to compete in the tournament.

‘Oh, for God's sake,' I muttered.

Mum tsked. ‘Blasphemy.'

The news said people had reported that the men spoke Russian. I glanced at Jack, who was watching me. Charlotte stared at the television, eyes shining.

The Dega Oil explosion was the next item. At least it was no longer top story. However, the brilliant journalist noted that the charity lunch, where the heist had taken place, was hosted by the very same company that had ‘caused' the death of three men and four dugongs, which are apparently endangered.

‘They're not endangered,' I mumbled.

The news said that police were investigating a possible connection. They didn't mention the Russian connection, only that Dega Oil was at the centre of both ‘heinous' events. I hated the news. My mobile buzzed with messages. A Facebook friend commented that I'd single-handedly killed Emilio Méndez's chances of winning the Australian Open. What about the fact
I
could have been killed?

There was a text from Luce saying:
Can I have your autograph?

Helpful.

She messaged a smiley face. I ignored that and she sent another:
No, really, you okay?

Please someone talk about something else.

Charlotte said, ‘You're wearing a lovely necklace, Mrs Jewell. I love necklaces.'

Oh, perfect. Thanks, Charlotte. Thanks very much. Let's remind everyone of Emilio's missing amulet.

Mum gushed, her fingers fluttering at her throat. ‘It was a gift from Erica's father.'

Charlotte said, ‘And you've got a lovely home.'

God bless Charlotte.

Mum said, ‘I'll give you a tour of it, dear. After tea. You can see Erica's room if you want.'

That's right. Just show my room to whoever.

‘Erica has a wig, you know. I bought it for her and she's had it cut. I don't think she realises how much I paid for it,' Mum said as though referring to someone not in the room. Did she not see the news just then? ‘It was long and luscious, like her own hair used to be.'

Jack came to my rescue. ‘I like Erica's hair.'

Charlotte's face flushed. ‘I love your garden, Mrs Jewell.'

‘Oh, Tom works so hard to make it nice, don't you, Tom?' Mum nudged Dad's arm and he grunted.

Mum and Charlotte chatted some more. I could see Mum glancing at me, making comparisons.
Why can't Erica be a nice girl to her mother? I bet Charlotte is nice to her mother.

‘Do you play bridge, Mrs Jewell?'

‘Not for a long time. I used to belong to a bridge club, you know.' She gazed wistfully at the wall. ‘I loved playing bridge.'

‘I love to play bridge.'

‘Well, we should have a game!'

Maybe Charlotte would like to move into my bedroom and I could move into Jack's bedroom? While Mum and Charlotte made plans for a happy future together, I took the opportunity to quietly ask Jack about WA. ‘How was your . . . fishing trip?'

He glanced around the table. Dad was fully focused on adding potato cakes to his salt, Charlotte was flattering Mum, Mum was trying to work out how to give me back and keep Charlotte.

‘Reasonably successful.'

‘You caught some fish?'

‘Not exactly.'

‘How can it be successful if you didn't catch any fish?'

Mum tuned in. ‘I didn't know you like fishing, Jack. Tom, you should go fishing with Jack in the bay. You could borrow whatsisname's boat.'

Dad grunted. Jack smiled at Mum and gave me a look.
Do we have to do this now?

The answer was yes, we did. I gave him a big smile.

He said, ‘We learned some things about the fish.'

‘So that when you go again, you'll know what you need to do to catch them?'

‘Not necessarily.'

‘So you'll go fishing in that same spot again?'

‘Probably not.' Jack jumped slightly then, and there was a small frown. It was like he'd felt something. Something under the table. I narrowed my eyes at Charlotte. She was intent on soy-saucing her dim sim.

Mum said to Dad, ‘Erica's pussy is so naughty, Tom.'

Dad grunted. Charlotte froze. Jack cleared his throat.

I continued, ‘What about that . . . Sharon fish? I've heard it's pretty easy to catch.'

A small smile. ‘I wouldn't know.'

Mum said, ‘Your pussy went fishing, Erica.'

Jack had a coughing fit.

I watched Charlotte, who didn't look away from her plate. ‘Is that so?'

‘He came in last night with a goldfish wriggling in his mouth. A goldfish! We don't even have a pond, so I don't know where on earth he found it. The neighbours will probably come knocking, wanting compensation.'

‘I'll buy them a new one.' I turned back to Jack, not wanting to let him off the hook, no pun intended. ‘Some big fish were killed by that explosion in Western Australia.'

Mum said, ‘Oh, those poor dolphins! There, you see? Your company blowing things up again.'

‘Dugongs, Mum.'

She shook her head in disgust at the loss of dolphins, dugongs, whatever.

‘And those people were killed.' I watched Jack carefully. ‘Russian fishermen.'

‘Tragic.' Jack took a sip of water. ‘I believe there was something about it on the front page of today's
Herald Sun
.' He looked at me pointedly, smirkingly. ‘Perhaps there's a copy handy?'

‘Well!' squealed Mum, jerking upright, snatching unfinished plates off the table. ‘Let's have ice-cream! Come on, dear. You can organise the sweets.' She walked past, giving me a shove with her hip and almost knocking me off my chair, calling over her shoulder, ‘Erica's a marvel in the kitchen, Jack!'

After dinner, Charlotte helped Mum with the dishes. Not something I'd bother doing because I'd get it wrong – if I put something in the dishwasher, Mum would move it. But all I heard from Mum was: ‘Oh, you're very good at stacking the dishwasher, Charlotte.' And from Charlotte: ‘You've got a lovely kitchen, Mrs Jewell.' Mutual admiration society in the kitchen.

Dad settled in front of the telly in the lounge room. I dragged Jack into the hallway and whispered but it probably sounded like a hiss. ‘What was going on under the table?'

‘What's going on with Méndez?'

Mum yelled, ‘Tom! Just look what pussy brought in this time!'

I opened the hall cupboard and pulled Jack inside. It was pitch black in there.

‘You were playing footsies with Charlotte!'

‘She nudged my foot. Actually it was probably the cat.'

‘It wasn't the cat and it was more than a nudge. I could tell by your face.'

‘Okay, it was a rub.'

‘A rub?'

‘It was fleeting.'

‘Like, she rubbed your leg with her toe?'

‘Something like that.' He chuckled. ‘Might have been your mother.'

‘Yuck! Don't say that!'

He put his hands on my hips. ‘Pretty cosy in here.'

‘Maybe you'd rather be in here with Charlotte. Or Sharon.'

‘Oh, for God's sake.' He pulled me against him.

I put my hands on his chest. ‘What was all that fishing business?'

‘I have no idea.'

‘You were talking in riddles.'

‘Come here.'

He put his arms around my waist and nuzzled my neck, his breath scorched my skin, lips softly tracked the line of my jaw. Which caused me to forget what I was saying, and my body to go off on its own little tangent. My arms threw themselves around his neck and, with my fingers in his hair, I kissed him. He tightened his hold and the kiss got deeper. It was pretty sexy actually, knowing we were at my parents' house, kissing in their cupboard. He gave a little moan and I wrapped a leg around his waist.

And then, there was light. We separated and I blinked at my father. There were a few seconds where no-one said anything, and Dad stood there with a look of slight amusement. Something vaguely interesting had finally happened in his house.

I could hear my mother. ‘Goodness gracious groceries!'

‘Broom?' said Dad.

I reached behind Jack and plucked the broom off the wall, handed it to Dad. He nodded and closed the cupboard door, and we were in darkness again.

But the moment had, unfortunately, passed.