Chapter Seventeen

C hapter Seventeen

A rna

S ince the side of my face and arse became the hottest celebrity in Sydney, sleep had been a foreign concept. I'd taken yesterday off work, refusing to leave my room or speak to another living person other than Marlee, who had Facetimed me no less than eleven times to ensure I was still alive. Dad also called to see how the dinner went, and I was eternally grateful that neither he nor Nan used social media otherwise the conversation would have gone down a very different path.

It was only a matter of time before the pictures made it to the paper though and then it was game over. While most of Sydney were playing ‘who is the mystery blonde', Dad would recognise me immediately and then I would be in for a world of questions from Queeny. My one saving grace was the fact my booty did look pretty good in those jeans and I mentally high-fived myself for that small slice of positivity among the rubble.

I'd spent a fair amount of time assessing the photos. I zoomed in on the way Andy was staring at my mouth as I flicked his tag back into his shirt more than I would admit to another living soul. I also felt the warmth of his arm around my body when I looked at the images of my back. The security he afforded as he pressed me into his chest to hide my identity from the men who wanted to pick me apart sat front and centre in my mind as I drifted off to sleep. But had I heard from him since that night? No. The apology text I sent the morning after was left on read, taunting me whenever I glanced at my phone.

Why did I drink so much at a work dinner ? Lowering my inhibitions, when I already found him as alluring as I did, was never going to be a smart decision. To be fair though, the second I came out of my room and saw him standing in my living room, all thoughts of work were out the door. The man had a presence like no other and I would be lying to myself if I continued to pretend I was not deathly attracted to him. I wanted to press my nose into his neck and breathe him in like an addict desperate for their next hit. The man was the personification of sex and we had gravitated towards each other as the night went on, but then Barbara took over, egging me on to take it further. If she had her way, the photographs plastered on every online media outlet would instead show my hands roaming further inside his shirt while I licked his cheek or bit his jaw.

I mean in hindsight, it could have been so much worse.

It was with that self-assured justification that I continued working, disregarding the closeted conversations of my co-workers who were undoubtedly discussing my current celebrity status. However, I could no longer ignore them when Darren arrived with his usual convoy of women. His shirt untucked over his large stomach and as usual his tie sat a few inches higher than it should. The man was a slob and he sought out any young female worker drawing them into his circle like moths to a flame. It was sickening and while I would never be caught dead pandering to him the way the interns and other editors did, a small part of me wondered why he pitted me as the enemy.

"Arnabelle. My office." The impatience in his tone startled me and the room instantly fell silent, all eyes on me.

Composing myself before I glanced up towards him, I replied with an artificial nonchalance, "Just a minute."

Grabbing my mug, I first headed for the kitchen to make another quick coffee. Partially in an attempt to take a second longer to suppress my frustration but also to get one last drink out of this company before I was sent packing.

When I entered his office, Darren was sitting at the round table with his regular scowl. Felicity and another new intern, I think her name was Chloe or Cara, were sitting either side, their conversation ceasing the moment I arrived.

Wasting no time, Darren chastised. "Arna, would you like to explain why you are plastered over every media site, other than Urban Pulse, in what could only be described as a compromising position - with a client ?" He tapped his pen against the desk while he waited for my response. Arrogant prick.

"With all due respect, Darren, isn't this a conversation we should be having in private?" I questioned, maintaining eye contact. If he was going to fire me, he was going to do it after he saw the side I usually kept on a leash while at work.

Felicity had the decency to look uncomfortable as she pretended to voraciously read whatever was on the screen of her laptop. However, Chloe/Cara was smirking at me, enjoying my discomfort, and I wanted to bitch slap the smugness right out of her.

"Given the fact that your photograph is all over Sydney, I wouldn't think you cared about privacy." He flicked his hairy fingers in the air dismissively. "I'm concerned, Arna."

"Concerned about what?" I asked, knowing exactly what he was about to say.

"Frankly, I'm concerned about your ability to remain professional. Clearly there is something going on between you and Andy Gloss." Mentally, I mulled over the best way to respond. Come clean and admit everything or go down fighting. But before I could offer either, he continued. "This is the sporting item of the year, Arnabelle."

My face pinched and I bit back a snarl. I hated when he used my full name like I was a child he was reprimanding. "This story will significantly elevate Urban Pulse in the ratings because Gloss doesn't do interviews. Going by the hype around the photos of the two of you, the release will be unparalleled."

"The dinner he and I shared was for the piece. Not that I need to justify myself. I have always been a consummate professional." Realising my blunder, I felt my eyes widen and bit my cheek so I didn't giggle at my double entendre. "Excuse the pun, of course."

Felicity covered the grin spreading across her face after casting me a furtive glance. She clearly had something to say, and I wondered if it would be as an ally to me or the tool we called our boss.

Darren narrowed his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. "We are worried about your ability to remain impartial. I don't think you should finish the interview." Chloe/Cara/bitch who is about to be slapped nodded in agreement and a fierce repulsion swirled through me.

No one would argue that the photos didn't look good but this was MY article. I never wanted to do it in the first place, however, after obligingly accepting, I took the time to get to know Andy and I could already see the spread coming together on the page. This was my piece, and I was not about to back down without a fight.

Raising my chin, I looked him directly in the eye raring for one last attempt at self-advocacy. "I am more than –"

Interjecting, Darren spoke. "I called the Hearts yesterday and pulled you from the feature."

I inhaled quickly as shock slapped through me sharp and loud. "Are you fu–" My words were again cut short.

"But – Andy Gloss' manager called me early this morning. If you are not conducting the feature, it won't be with Urban Pulse at all." He added. "So, at this point, other than firing you, what choice do I have?" I didn't answer, not confident that I wouldn't tell him to shove his job up his arse. This whole time he was sitting there implying he was doing me a favour when it seemed I was his ticket to success. My confidence returned despite his irritation.

"This is your only warning, Arna. As you said, your business is your business, but if you can't deliver objective coverage of Mr. Gloss, I will assign Felicity the feature."

"Andy made it very clear he didn't want me to do the interview, Darren." I examined Felicity as her challenge of his words took me by surprise. "For what it's worth, I think you will do well with this one. He always scared the shit out of me." I looked at her properly for what felt like the very first time, but she kept her eyes on the screen of her computer. "And it seems no one scares you." She mumbled before her eyes widened slightly as if she didn't mean for those words to escape and I again wondered if maybe my perception of her was incorrect.

No one spoke for a few seconds as the level of awkward intensified. "Is that all Darren? Because I have work to do." I pronounced.

He looked as though he wanted to say more, to reprimand me further while he had an audience. Thinking better of it, he gestured for the door indicating I was free to leave, and I took my opportunity, the untouched coffee still steaming in my hand.

Back at my desk, I knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate on any of the manuscripts I needed to edit before moving back to the feature. Packing my things I set my email to ‘out of office', grabbed my laptop and headed out. I needed to recalibrate and there were two people who were particularly good at bringing me right back down to Earth.

"G'day, love. What are you doing here?" Dad opened the door wearing a pair of tattered shorts and a singlet which had been washed so many times it hung loose on his already slim frame. The comforting warmth of being home wrapped around me like a blanket

"You need new clothes, Dad." I said, deflecting his question and giving him a kiss on his stubbled cheek as I passed through to the kitchen.

"What does an old man like me need new clothes for? Waste of bloody money." He scoffed as if the numerous holes in his singlets were perfectly acceptable. "Why aren't you at work?" Why I bothered to ignore his question in the first place when I was here to tell them anyway was beyond me.

I sat at the table in the same spot I always chose and sighed heavily. I never came home in the middle of the day, especially during the week, so he would have known I had an ulterior motive.

"Uh oh." Dad said from behind me as he shuffled past and took his allotted seat at the head of the table. Nan then appeared from the back sliding door with a washing basket of dry clothes wedged on her hip.

"Hi, Princess. What are you doing here?" She asked and the familiar warmth from earlier settled over me. I was glad I came here for both answers and love.

"Just asked her the same thing." Dad said.

Looking at the tablecloth, I answered them both. "I need your opinions."

"Christ, you coming to your old man for advice can't be a good sign. What's happened, Bellsy?"

Nan pulled out one of the chairs resting the basket of clothes on top as she plucked a garment from the pile and began folding.

"The answer is yes, you should move back in. I'm sick of having to deal with this fool on my own." I laughed at Nan's attempt to cheer me up and Dad rolled his eyes. I saw myself in his expression and had been told many times my facials were loud, and my thoughts were clearly written all over my face. Dad was the same and his exasperation at Queeny made me smile. While I mourned the idea of my mum, and there were times when Dad was so lost in his own thoughts, I knew he could only be somewhere with her, I never went without the love and affection she would have provided. Dad and Queeny were everything I could have asked for and despite wishing he would meet someone and find his own happiness, what they had worked. Even if they fought like only a parent and child could.

"I'm not moving back home, Queeny. I couldn't stand living with either of you." I joked and Nan threw a pair of Dad's clean undies at me.

"Gross." I laughed, throwing them back on the basket she was folding. "So, as you know I had dinner with Andy Gloss the other night for the feature." I started.

"Ooooh, yes. That hunk of man meat. Do you think you could bring him home so I can give his biceps a little squeeze?" Nan waggled her eyebrows at me and Dad mumbled something under his breath which definitely included profanity. I bit my lip to stifle my laugh, not wanting to encourage her further.

"Anyway," I emphasised. "What you probably don't know yet is that there were some photographers who snapped photos of us and they are plastered online. I'm sure they will also be in this Sunday's paper." I said, with a quick glance towards Dad.

"My princess and Andy Gloss in a photo together, hey? Thelma and Nancy won't believe it." Queeny gushed like she had won the gossip lottery and in the grand scheme of things, I guess she had.

"So, what do you need our opinion on?" Dad asked, lifting a coaster from the table and spinning it between his fingers.

"The photos look a little, argh, like, ummmm, it looks as though we are on a date," I said speedily. "And now my boss is questioning my journalistic integrity, for fuck's sake."

"Watch your mouth, Arna." Queeny reprimanded. Not even a potentially juicy story could get in the way of her view on good manners. I flashed my palm, acknowledging my mishap before continuing.

"And I need to finish the write-up. I mean, it's the biggest opportunity I've ever been given at work, but Andy hasn't contacted me since. He hates the media, it seems, but he also said he won't do the interview unless it's with me, so I'm confused." I flicked my hand in the air as if that was a story for another night and continued. "But maybe Darren is right. Maybe I'm not the best person for the piece because the photos are quite convincing. Those photographers and their stupid angles." I took a breath and looked down at my nails feeling embarrassed by the vulnerability I was displaying.

"Well, seems pretty straightforward to me, Bellsy." Dad began. "You want the article, you do the article." His matter-of-fact simplicity crystallised the situation in a way which made things seem easier than they felt. Until now, it hadn't felt like a choice was even afforded but regardless of the accompanying bullshit, I did want to do the piece. Dad always was good at helping me to see reason and I nodded at him contemplatively.

"When you put it like that…" I conceded.

"And if that doesn't work out, maybe I can conduct an interview with him." Nan winked at me at the same time Dad pushed his chair back.

"I need a bloody beer." He huffed, grumbling as he walked out to the fridge in the garage. When he left, the laugh I had been holding erupted out of me.

"Queeny, are you trying to send him to an early grave?" I asked, still giggling.

She shrugged, as if what she said was nothing short of ordinary.

"If you want my two cents, and you obviously do because you're here, and honestly, who wouldn't? You say he doesn't like the media, but he is meeting with you for the column, yes?" I nodded as she placed a tea towel on the table along with the others she had just folded. "It sounds like he feels comfortable enough to me, and maybe the photos – which I will be cutting out of the paper and taking with me to coffee with the girls by the way – scared him a little. Maybe he just needs a push. Most men do."

"Have you even dated since Pop?" I questioned, sarcasm clear in my words.

"Well, there was a gentleman at the club who bought me a bottle of Port. Think he hoped it would lead to more, but I'm not interested in some old codger. I want someone young and fit. Preferably someone who plays football and is maybe even friends with the captain of a team." Her mischievous grin split her face and I rolled my eyes, unable to stop myself from smiling. Pop had been gone for nearly forty years after a sudden heart attack, and from what Dad said, Queeny never found it in her to move on. Made sense given how horny she always seemed.

No wonder he also slipped into the life of a widow so easily.

"You are unbelievable, Queeny." I said, chuckling.

"But in all seriousness, princess, you are good at your job. Instead of wondering if you are the best person for this piece, show them why this walking sex dream won't allow anyone but you to conduct the interview."

"NAN!" I barked. The woman was relentless. "You might be right." I agreed solemnly, as the epiphany hit, and I knew exactly what I needed to do. I clasped my hands together on the table as I smiled at Queeny. Her familiar absurdity only reaffirming my decision to come here today.

"Hear that, Pete? Arns said I was right." She called out to Dad who was likely still hiding in the garage, hopefully with earplugs in too.

"He won't answer but he knows." She mumbled. "Now Missy, either help me put these clothes away or put the kettle on because I need a cuppa while I tell you about this book I've been reading." Leaning in close she whispered, "It's erotic fiction – have you heard of Mills and Boon?"

"Oh my god, Queeny. Has anyone ever explained the term over-sharing to you?" I exclaimed, covering my face with my hands and wishing the ground would swallow me whole.