Grand Slam (16 page)

‘What brings you here today?' I kept an eye on Emilio, who was happy with all the attention.

‘What brings
you
here?

‘Looking after Dega Oil's charge.' I pointed to Emilio. ‘And I suppose I need some more clothes for work. I guess I could get them now.'

‘Yes, I need to get new clothes for work. Where do you usually shop?'

I shrugged. ‘Everywhere.'

‘Yeah, I'm not fussy either.'

‘Oh, I'm pretty fussy once I'm inside a store.'

‘Me, too.'

Okay, Madam Robot. Time to move on. I said goodbye, that I had to keep Emilio moving. The crowd around the world's two top tennis players was huge and growing. They'd been forced out of the store by the oozing throng, and more security guards arrived to help keep everyone calm. I pushed through to Emilio, poking and pinching people to force them out of my way. As I got near the front, one girl took particular offence at my poking and shoved me, and if the crowd hadn't been so thick I would've hit the ground. Instead I was pushed into someone else who also gave me a shove, so then I was like a ball in a pinball machine, bouncing off angry people. I heard Emilio shout, ‘Hey! That is my Emily!' and he forced his way through the crowd to reach me. Some bloke shoved Emilio for some reason, which caused another guy to shove the shoving bloke and then there were lots of blokes throwing punches at each other. And girls throwing punches at each other. Someone threw one at me but I ducked and it landed on Emilio's chin, which he ignored. He flung his arms around me, backing out of the crowd using his body as a buffer.

‘Emilio.' I watched the mess of bodies, sprawled on the floor, diving and hitting. ‘Can we please leave?'

‘But, Emilita, I have not bought you a gift.' He rubbed his chin.

I pulled his hand away and inspected it. A small, red mark that would probably bruise. ‘Sorry, Emilio.'

He grinned. ‘I have saved you.'

I couldn't help but smile back. He was so cute. I kissed his chin. ‘Thank you.'

‘And now,
ángel
. Let us shop!'

And so we did.

The brawl at Chadstone Shopping Centre made the evening news, with footage that had been taken on mobile phones and posted all over YouTube. It had even taken precedence over the train crash at Hughesdale, and newsreaders discussed the trail of destruction left by Emilio Méndez and his girlfriend, mentioning again the charity lunch heist, and the missing amulet, and throwing in a remark about the oil-rig explosion, because that's got everything to do with me, right?

I watched television with Mum and Dad. Can't imagine what else a 33-year-old woman would be doing on a Saturday night but watching the news with her parents. Especially when her charge had ‘finished' with her for the day and especially as she was too proud to call her friend-with-benefits to see what he was doing.

Mum, resting the knitting on her lap and pointing at the telly, said, ‘Is that you, dear?'

‘Yeah.' I sighed. On the screen, Emilio was in the process of hoisting me over a couple of women grappling on the floor.

‘I knew that foreign man was a troublemaker.'

‘He's a famous tennis player, Mum.'

‘Still.'

‘Actually, I think I might have started it.'

Mum clicked her tongue and resumed interest in her knitting. ‘I had a visit from that nice girl this morning. The one who came for fish and chips.'

‘Charlotte?'

‘That's it. I couldn't for the life of me remember her name.'

‘What time did she come?'

‘Oh, not long after you left with the dark-skinned man.'

I swear if I ever have children I'm not letting Mum near them until they're at least twenty-one and well informed about the world and its prejudices. ‘Emilio, Mum. His name's Emilio.' And his skin's not even dark. It's more . . . tanned and gorgeous.

She pursed her lips.

‘What did Charlotte want?'

‘She brought me some roses from her mother's garden. Wasn't that nice? But I don't think her mother's a very nice person.'

And you're so lovely, Mum. ‘What makes you say that?'

‘Well, she doesn't give her daughter guidance on certain things.'

‘Like what?'

‘Like choosing appropriate outfits for certain occasions. She was dressed quite scruffily, you know.' Mum's eyes flicked over me, a not very subtle suggestion that I, too, dress quite scruffily. ‘She wanted to see your room. She saw it last night but she wanted to see it in daylight.'

How embarrassing. ‘Why?'

Mum shrugged. ‘That's another reason why I don't think her mother's very nice. I don't think Charlotte has a nice bedroom like yours. She was quite taken with it, you know.'

‘It's pretty messy.'

Another look:
Yes, it is messy. You should have tidied it in case someone wanted to see it.

‘I don't really want people going into my room, and I don't want you to get too close to Charlotte. She's an employee, remember.'

‘I've invited her to come any time she wants, for a game of bridge.'

‘I wish you hadn't.'

‘The Bible profitised this, you know.'

‘Prophesied what?'

‘Children being rude to their parents. It's a sign that the end of the world is nigh.'

‘You think the world is about to end because I asked you to respect my privacy?'

Pursed lips. End of discussion. Mum focused fully on her knitting, even though she didn't need to look to know what bits went where. She was creating something that looked suspiciously like a baby beanie to add to her collection of knitted baby clothes. I knew better than to ask who it was for, because this was no doubt Mum using the law of attraction to get what she wanted. And what she wanted was me, decently married to none other than Jack Jones, spitting out five or six babies like the good Catholic girl I was supposed to be.

Jack called me as I was getting ready to hop into bed with Axle and read. It was nine o'clock.

‘Hope I'm not interrupting anything.' His voice was edgy.

‘Oh, yes, you certainly are,' I purred. ‘You're interrupting me and Mr Darcy.'

‘Mr . . . you mean —'

‘That's right. This is the third time I've read it. I probably should read something different but I can't decide what.'

‘Where are you?'

‘About to get into bed.'

‘Alone? Apart from Darcy?'

‘No, Axle's waiting for me. He's keen to know what happens after Elizabeth refuses Mr Darcy's proposal. Mr Darcy makes out he's doing her a huge favour by proposing and she basically tells him to shove it. Elizabeth's my hero.'

‘Why doesn't she just say yes? He's got plenty of money.'

‘Money's not everything, you know. Besides, she's got her pride.'

‘And that awful mother.'

‘Yes. That's why Elizabeth and I understand each other.'

He chuckled. ‘But Darcy wants her, so doesn't mind the mother.'

‘That's right. You've read it?'

‘I have. But if you tell anyone —'

‘You'll have to kill me.'

‘Correct.'

‘You'll have to catch me first.'

There was silence for a few seconds during which I imagined a game of chasey around Jack's vast bedroom, and I wondered if he was doing the same. ‘I should come and get you,' he muttered. ‘Break into your room and kidnap you.'

‘Save me from my awful mother?'

‘Save you from Elizabeth's bad influence.'

I laughed. ‘Actually, I'm really tired. It's been a big day.'

‘I know. I saw.'

‘Uh-oh. You've been watching the news.'

‘What started that brawl?'

‘Me.'

‘How? No, don't tell me.' He blew out a big breath. ‘Erica,' he said, suddenly serious, ‘I'm going to talk to Degraves. I don't want you working with Méndez.'

‘It's fine, Jack. It's my job.'

‘It's
not
your job and no, it's not fine. There was an armed hold-up at his charity lunch on Friday. Today you were nearly cleaned up by a train and crushed in a shopping centre brawl. That's
not
fine.'

‘The train just bumped into us. It wasn't a big deal.'

‘It could have been worse.'

‘At least my life's not boring.'

‘I
want
you to have a boring life. I want you to work in a nice, safe office from Monday to Friday and spend your weekends shopping or reading or in my bed, which wouldn't be too dull, I promise.'

What a promise. But for how long? How long would Jack enjoy his weekends with me in his bed before he got bored and wanted another lover? How long would I enjoy it before I wanted to go somewhere? Somewhere like a winery for lunch. Anyway, there was no point arguing with Jack about my work with Emilio, because, well, there was no point. I'd made up my mind. If I didn't get the amulet back and Emilio lost the tournament, my life wouldn't be worth living. At least, I'd never be able to face the crowds at Chaddy again.

‘So, what did you do today?' I said, an attempt at distraction.

‘What I said I was going to do. I took Sharon to see some of Victoria's finest wineries.'

Stupid, stupid me. Why didn't I stick with the me-being-in-Jack's-bed convo? Now my whole body was flushed with jealousy and I had to bite my lip very hard to stop myself from saying something snarky. But there was a coldness to my tone when I said, ‘Did she like them?'

‘Yeah. I guess.'

‘Did you go to the Mornington Peninsula?'

‘Yes.'

‘Was it nice?'

‘Very nice. I bought a case of chardonnay from Montalto. I thought you might like it.'

‘Thank you.' I wondered if he bought the wine Sharon liked. I bet she said she liked the same wines he did. ‘Okay, well . . .' I was tossing up between my desire to go to Jack's house and save him from Sharon's advances, and my need for sleep. ‘If I came to your house now, would you chase me around your bedroom?'

‘Sweetheart, if I had you in my bedroom right now . . .' He sighed loudly. ‘It could start with a chase, yes.'

I found I was hyperventilating. Not because of his wicked suggestion, but because of ‘sweetheart'. Had he forgotten himself? But anyway, I knew if I went to Jack's house I wouldn't get any sleep. And then I'd have to come home again because God forbid I actually stay the night, like a hussy. ‘I'd better not,' I said. ‘I need sleep.' What I really wanted to ask was what he'd do with his evening now that I wasn't available, but I worried he might say something like, ‘I'll see if Shazza wants to see a movie.' Except he wouldn't say Shazza.

‘Shame.'

‘I know.'

‘Are you tucked up in that cosy single bed?'

‘I am.' I yawned, stretching. ‘It feels
so
good to be horizontal.'

‘Are you wearing those pink pyjamas?'

‘Yes.'

He whispered a curse. ‘Tease.'

‘I never tease.' Well, not unless there's a likely satisfactory outcome for all concerned.

‘I'm coming over.'

‘What? You can't!'

‘See you in ten.' He hung up.

I got out of bed and paced around, peering out the window. Would he really? Surely not. Yes, he would. I giggled at the mirror. Should I stay in my jarmies? Yes, he'd like that. I turned off the light, got back into bed and waited.

He was so stealthy, I almost didn't hear him come through the window. There was just a vague awareness of another human presence suddenly in the room.

He stood by my bed as I clutched the doona to my chin, tittering quietly.

‘Is that you?' I whispered.

Then his mouth was on mine, soft and slow. Against my lips, he murmured, ‘Who would you like it to be?'

‘Batman.'

‘You're in luck.'

He stripped off his clothes, and then he was naked in my single bed. I shuffled over to make room.

‘You're still wearing pyjamas.'

‘I thought you might like them.'

‘I'll like taking them off.'

And so he did.

My body shuddered, almost violently. No-one but Jack Jones could take me to such ecstatic heights and that's where I was when my bedroom door swung open. Jack went completely still under me. He held his breath and I went from upright to flat out on top of him in a heartbeat, doona pulled high around my shoulders.

‘Are you awake?' said Mum. ‘I heard moaning.'

‘I had a nightmare. Don't turn the light on.'

‘Why not?'

‘Ah, it'll wake me up. The light'll make my irises go small and I won't be able to sleep.' I could feel Jack's chuckle. ‘I'm fine, Mum. Go to bed.'

‘Well, I had to wake you anyway. It's that naughty pussy of yours.'

Jack sucked in a breath. It was almost audible.

‘What's he done now?'

‘He won't come inside. I've called and called! You'll need to get him.'

‘Just . . . just leave him out there.'