The Wrong Girl (10 page)

‘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.

An immediate response, which was unusual for Sim.

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.

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.

‘Gosh, that's crazy . . . I had no idea.' Lily had read something about it online, but would never let on that she ever read or thought about Nikkii in a million years.

‘It was even on the
Daily Mail
, it went completely worldwide; it's been
really
intense.' Lily could hear the sound of Nikkii's conversational fishing rod plop into the water, but she wasn't about to bite.

‘Sorry to hear that, Nikkii, hope things get better.' And with a smile, Lily began to walk off, keen to get back to daydreams about Jack and cake.

‘Hey, can I ask you something?'

Lily stopped and turned back to Nikkii. ‘Sure, what's up?'

‘Weeeeelll, I
actually
wanted to ask your advice. You see, I'm applying for Eliza's series producer role. Of course I am literally
dying
that she's leaving in a month, I will miss her to pieces, but I wondered if you had any ideas for how to make my application super-amazing. You're good at that stuff, aren't you? PowerPoint and whatever?'

Lily blinked a few times as though that might assist her understanding of what she'd just heard. Good things: Eliza
was
leaving. Bad things: the job had already been made public and she hadn't known; Eliza would pretty much hand it to Nikkii in a muffin-lined basket. Hopeful things: for once Nikkii's chronic mis- and overuse of the word ‘literally' might be true, and she was actually dying.

‘It's been announced, has it?' Lily said, needing Nikkii to know she already knew about it.

‘Lize told me about it, she thinks I have a
reeeaally
good chance.'

Of course she fucking does, Lily thought, because she is your number-one fan, and also, she has NO CLUE about what a series producer is or does, despite being one herself.

‘Should I do a whole reel for Sasha, do you think, or just, like, a PowerPoint?'

‘Series producer is a big role, Nikkii, it might mean you won't get to do all your on-air stuff any more . . .' Without fully realsing it, Lily was dissuading Nikkii from the role.

‘Lize said they'll make exceptions,' she said swiftly. ‘It's a flexible role.'

Lily couldn't tell if Nikkii was deliberately fucking with her, or genuinely didn't know she was being offensive, and that Lily would obviously be going for the role too.

‘Um, I'm really not sure, Nikkii. Eliza will be more helpful than me, I'd say.'

‘True, 'kay, thanks anyway. Wish me lu-uck!' and with a spin, she bounced off down the hallway, her bum wiggling in just the fashion a bum shouldn't in the workplace.

Lily couldn't even accuse Eliza of colluding with her star staffer to get her a promotion, because she'd told Lily about the role, too. Oh well, Lily sighed, she would just have to dazzle Sasha with her application and her actual, tangible and documented skill set. There was nothing to worry about, Lily told herself, she was
completely
qualified for this job. It was her time. She deserved it. Bring it on.

Returning to her desk, she saw a missed call and a text from Mimi.

The order of her hugs and kisses (wrong) always brought a smile to Lily's face. And actually, dinner with her mum and a bottle or twelve of red wine sounded like an excellent idea.

Lily woke up her computer screen, a menacingly empty word document glared back at her. She had decided to create a food tour for Jack, to take the segment out into the country and give all the horny housewives a chance to see him in person, and jam up their Facebook feed with photos of him.

Sasha had agreed to it, but wanted places that already had a ‘foodie' slant, so they weren't going to be devoid of an audience, and preferably there would be an existing event in place that they could crash, and borrow all of the equipment and infrastructure. Lily had to give it to Sasha for being so resourceful.

So far, Lily had the crayfish wharves on the south coast, a wine festival in the southern highlands, a cheese fair on the north coast, and a ‘condiments' market in the Blue Mountains. And they were all shit. There
had
to be a better way to do things. She'd instructed Dale to get thinking, and was doing the same. This could be her moment to shine, Lily realised; the thing that made Sasha realise she was totally ready for a new role and new responsibilities and a new salary. She had to come up with something cool and fun and unique, and then project-manage the shit out of it.

Alice had walked over and was perched on Lily's desk to chat, scooping out the bottom of a yoghurt tub.

‘Can I borrow a tenner? I forgot to go to the ATM at lunch and I lost a bet to Grimmo.'

‘Um, yeah, hang on a sec,' Lily was finally deep in work mode and didn't appreciate the distraction.

‘Oh
shit
,' Alice yelped. ‘I'm meeting Sasha at four, fuck a duck, shit, fuck!' and she dumped the empty yogurt carton in Lily's bin and was gone.

Why
was she meeting Sasha? Was it about the role? It had to be; why else would Alice be meeting with the EP? Why wasn't Lily meeting with Sasha? Why was everyone else getting the job she wanted? Fuck! Panic set in. She had to get this role. Life at
The Daily
under one of her co-workers – friend or foe – would be no life at all.

‘Why don't I eat this every night? This is the greatest meal ever.' Lily was inhaling her delicious, crispy fries, dipping them into the wine merchant sauce poured generously over her minute steak.

‘You'd die of heart disease at forty, darling,' Mimi said as she elegantly chewed on garlic-soaked escargot. ‘You're looking so slim, Lil. You look lovely.'

Mimi
loved
skinniness. As she'd been deprived of it for so many years, an early menopause ensured that, it was now her holy grail. If Lily were the impressionable type she would have developed an eating disorder young. She was probably a
touch
skinnier than usual at the moment because she was stressed, but there was no point telling Mimi that, she'd just ask where she could buy some.

Lily shook her head and sipped her wine.

‘Everything's a bit shit.'

‘Really?' Mimi's eyebrows raised. ‘That good.'

Lily sighed and rested her knife and fork on her plate for a moment; her stomach could probably do with the breather anyway.

‘A series producer role has finally come up, and I want it, and I
dese
rve it, but I don't think I'm going to get it.'

‘Rubbish. You work harder than anyone else in there, Bean.'

‘We all work too hard. Alice is going to apply too. Every dick and his dog is.'

Lily picked up her cutlery and stabbed at her steak. She knew she was being a sook, but she wanted this job so much more than Alice or Nikkii did, she knew she did.

‘Don't let this one slip out of your hands because you've convinced yourself someone else beat you to the punch. I taught you better than that.'

Mimi was right. Lily was being theatrical and juvenile.

‘Hey, so Simone broke the man-detox pact last night.'

‘And thank
God
for that. What a load of nonsense, keeping two gorgeous, trim creatures like you man-free when you're in your prime. There will come a time when it's involuntary, then you'll curse the day you did it willingly, I promise you.'

‘She broke it off cos she's seeing Jack. My chef Jack.'

Mimi's hand stopped mid-air on the way to her mouth. ‘
No
'.

‘Yep.' Lily took a long sip of her wine.

‘Well. This is
wonderful
news! I'm
thrilled
! What a gorgeous couple. It's about time she ditched the bad boys and went for a nice guy, and we all know they don't come nicer than him.'

Lily cleared her throat. What was she, chopped liver? Her own mother didn't even for one nanosecond think that Jack might be better suited to her own daughter?

‘Yeah, well, it's all very new, so who knows,' Lily said quietly, a cardigan of wine-based spite hanging loosely across her shoulders.

‘What genetically gifted offspring they'll have. Can you even
imagine
?'

‘Whoa, calm the farm, Mimi . . . they've been for like, two dates.'

‘Bean, you're not . . . jealous, are you?' Mimi peered at her daughter while stealing a few more of Lily's fries.

Lily took a long sip of water, suddenly remembering she had to drive home, and
might
have enjoyed too much wine.

‘Don't be ridiculous. He's not my type. They're much better suited.' Lily ate some more fries, then realised she had already eaten half a kilo's worth, and placed her napkin over the remaining mound to stop herself from eating more.

‘Don't you thin—'

Before Mimi could finish, a man in a white shirt and jeans came over to the table. He was in his mid-fifties, tanned, dark hair flecked with grey, with a warm, smiling face.

‘Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but I wanted to know if everything was to your liking this evening?' He had a slight accent, but Lily couldn't pick it.

‘Oh, yes, it was
marvellous
. The escargot! My goodness, just divine.' Lily was amused to see Mimi pick herself up a little and tuck her hair behind her ears.

The man looked at Lily's napkin covering her plate. ‘Was there something terrifying in your meal you cannot bear to look at?'

Lily laughed. ‘No, no, just a bit of “out of sight, out of mind” with the fries. I gave them a good nudge, I promise. And the steak was perfect, thank you.'

‘I should introduce myself. I am Niko, and I am
not
French, I am Croatian, but I prefer French food. This is my restaurant, we're new and anxious to please, so I like to make sure everyone is enjoying their food, and then butter them up with some free sweets. Which I will return with shortly. Excellent choice of wine, by the way, vacqueyras is the perfect pairing for escargot.' He gave a dazzling smile to Mimi, and disappeared back into the kitchen.