4. Round 4

4

ROUND 4

Paige

“ W elcome back, Paige. How was your week?” my therapist asks as she grips her reading glasses between her fingers. I’m sitting in Marj’s consultation room for the third time. There’s a couch, but once again, I’m in the really comfortable armchair.

“Yeah, not bad,” I reply.

We talked about my childhood last week. At least that’s out of the way.

“Go on,” Marj encourages.

“Well, I joined a gym. They do a dance exercise class on Wednesdays after work, and I thought I might try either yoga or Pilates or something.”

“Good.” Marj nods her head, placing her glasses on her head and reading through some notes she’s taken previously. “Were you a gym goer back home?”

Home? I have no real concept of home.

“I was in New York. Brittany and I used to go after work when we could. She’s super fit.”

“Tell me about Brittany.” Marj sits the file on the arm of her chair and crosses her legs.

“She’s like the sister I never had.” Talking about Brittany always makes me smile, and I note Marj’s face is reflecting the brightness of mine. “We met at college when we both worked at the college newspaper. Then we moved to New York together and shared an apartment. She grew up in Boston, so she is used to city living, and she took me under her wing.”

I miss my friend so much. I’m just about to tell stories about how Brittany and I have helped each other out when Marj asks me another question. “Last week, we talked a lot about your dad and growing up on the farm. And we’ve touched on Sydney and what happened there. Why did you choose to come to Bayview Cove and not return to New York?”

“Pride.” I shrug my shoulders. “But it’s more than that. I don’t really have a home, and being here means I can forget about that because I’m just working. And I’m not going to jump into a relationship with anyone in the office, not that anyone has approached me or anything.”

I take a deep breath, conscious that I’m looking at my hands in my lap and not at Marj.

“Is that an office policy?” Marj asks, and I jerk my head up and backwards.

“I don’t think so,” I reply with furrowed brows. “I mean, I know there’s at least one couple there.”

“Tell me about your last relationship.”

The truth is, I’ve never really been in a relationship. I’ve had plenty of sex, but not a lot of repeats. It’s been transactional in that I’ve given, and they took. I think that’s why the thing with Lyle threw me. I mean, he seemed to want me. But he also wanted other people.

“I, um, I don’t really date,” I admit before drawing my lips between my teeth and dropping my head to study my hands again. After a pause, I add, “I mean, even before Lyle, I held little trust in guys. I’ve had guys sleep with me to win a bet. You know, their mate challenges them to bang a fat chick. I’ve had sex with men I wasn’t really attracted to because they showed me some attention.”

I don’t feel shame for having slept with these guys. Brittany and I have discussed sex a lot, and she says I should never be made to feel shame for enjoying my body, except I’m not sure I’ve ever really enjoyed sex. I’m not even sure my body knows how to bring me pleasure. I’ve always assumed it’s just how I am.

Marj spends the rest of our session talking about me and my self-worth. It’s nothing Brittany hasn’t told me before, but coming from someone else makes me actually believe Brittany’s counsel.

I have exercises to do, and I promised Marj that I would join in with our work drinks on Friday night. Last week, I faked a headache and spent the evening watching movies.

People at work have been friendly, but I still know I’m only here until the end of the year, and I’ll have to return to the States. I still wonder if they’re being nice because of the viral sensation I was thanks to Lyle and Melanie and the conversation that has been played repeatedly about how he wouldn’t be seen in public with me. I’ve become better at not checking, but last I looked, it had raked in over a million views on a celebrity blogger’s YouTube site. At least I’ve stopped reading the comments.

My appointment booked for the following week, I make my way back towards the SleekSpeak office. The weather is cooling, and there is a distinct chill in the air today. I see Marj on my lunch break. Jenny has told me not to rush back and to take time to decompress if I need to afterwards. I had to explain to her why I was a few minutes late back after my first session.

I had little in the fridge this morning, so I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch, which I promptly ate at about ten. There’s a café between Marj’s rooms and the office, and I stop in to see what’s in their cabinet. The barista no longer raises his eyebrows when I ask for three sugars in my coffee. I suggested once he get some flavourings to add, but he visibly shuddered. As soon as he sees me today, he spoons the sugar into the bottom of the cup. I’m used to it being added last, but I don’t question him. With coffee and a chicken wrap in hand, I walk back to the office, glad for the sliding doors, as my hands are full.

“There you are, Paige.” Lauren, one of our receptionists, stops me as I walk past her desk. “I’m so sorry, but I forgot to give you a message on Friday that Kim from the Monarchs was trying to get in touch with you.”

“Okay…” I can’t even think why someone from the football team called me. “Did they say what they want?”

“Nah. I’ll message you her number, though.” Lauren holds up her finger to pause our conversation as she answers a call, but I move on towards my desk.

I place my coffee and wrap down and tuck my purse into the bottom drawer. There are a few emails for me to go through, but nothing that can’t wait. My desk phone rings.

“Um, hello?” No one has ever called my desk phone before. We use our computers to call someone if it’s urgent or simply send a message. Most of our clients prefer to operate through email, and I have very little direct client contact, anyway.

“Paige. It’s Willo. Willo Lovemore.”

“Oh.” The tone of my reply sounds higher than usual, as I am surprised to hear his voice.

“I think Kim was trying to contact you last week,” he continues. His words are clipped, as if he doesn’t want to make this call.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I need to get back to her. Did I leave something behind?”

“What? No,” he blurts. “It’s… Well, Kim works in our PR department, and she saw your videos about the game, and she liked them.”

I don’t know what to say. “Okay? Like, did I break copyright or something?”

There’s probably some weird Australian law about talking about football.

“No.” Willo chuckles, and I can almost imagine the dimple appearing in his left cheek as he smiles. It’s something I’ve thought of a lot since the game. “We both liked the videos. I love that you don’t know a lot about Aussie Rules, but, shit. Sorry, I’m not used to talking on the phone. The thing is, we’d love it if you could think about, maybe, like, perhaps hosting a podcast with me each week.”

“You want me to come on your podcast?” I ask, wondering what the heck I’d have to say.

“No. I don’t have a podcast. Well, I mean, I don’t have one yet, but Kim thinks, and I agree, that it would be, like, good.”

“I don’t think…” I trail off.

“How about we meet up tomorrow at the ground?” Willo sounds eager, and I wonder if he does actually want to talk to me, but is genuinely nervous. I have no idea why. I mean, old Paige would think he had a thing for me, but there’s no way a top athlete like Willo Lovemore would go for a fat chick like me. Perhaps he agrees that I have a face for radio. At least a podcast is prerecorded, so there won’t be any live slipups.

“I’ll check with Jenny.” I blow out a breath.

“Great. Say, eleven?” He sounds keen to see me, but I know this is probably how he’s trained to interact with the public, being a sporting figure and all.

“Sure. Can I call you if I can’t make it?”

He gives me his personal cell number, and my hands shake as I enter it into my phone.

“Bye, Paige,” he says. “I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

I squeak out a farewell of my own before I almost throw the handset back onto its cradle. What the fuck just happened?

Thinking back to my conversation with Marj, which is still very fresh in my head, I remind myself to be on the lookout for ways Willo is out to use me. I know little about what he has planned for a podcast, but I will need to find out more when I see him.

I don’t think this is a ploy to get into my pants. This is Willo Lovemore we’re talking about. Since the game I attended, I’ve done some research into the Monarchs, and Willo in particular. I shouldn’t be surprised that he is often voted the hottest AFL player out there. It’s clear to see why.

Marj warned me about being isolated, seeing I don’t know anyone, really. Maybe we can record something one evening after work. I have no idea what work footy players do. Does he have a job apart from football? I mean, I presume he’s a professional athlete.

A podcast would open me up to more scrutiny though, especially if they found out I was the Pee from the Lyle and Pee show. I should never have agreed to use my initial like that, but then again, it took time for some people to discover who I really was.

Bayview Cove isn’t that big really, and it seems that most of the supporters are down this way, so it’s not like the podcast would be heard by people outside this area. It might give Brittany a laugh.

Whatever happens, I’ll keep my therapist’s advice in mind when making a decision whether this is a good idea or not. I’m going to recognise when people are there to exploit me and be on the lookout of being used.

My afternoon is filled with minor projects that help others out in the office. There is a difference between being useful and being used, Marj pointed out. At SleekSpeak, I feel useful. I may not know much about the clippers used for shearing, but I can help brainstorm some catchy phrases that will at least make people look at the promotional material one of our clients is trying to develop for an upcoming Field Day.

Yes, that is a real thing where farmers get together and have, well, a Field Day. Debbie, who runs a farm with her husband about half an hour from Bayview Cove and works part-time in our office, says the Field Day is an excuse for farmers to get together and gossip and look at shiny new tractors and other machinery. She’s even threatened to drag me along in a few weeks.

Debbie doesn’t mind that I have no idea about sheep. I didn’t tell her I grew up on a dairy farm, but I can use marketing principles with her campaign. Well, our campaign. Seeing she’s only part-time, she said I need to be on it with her to talk to the client if it’s her day off .

On my way home from work, I grab a pizza. It’s nothing like pizza from home, but I don’t feel like cooking. I undo the two locks on my granny flat’s door. It’s all I need, but it’s still small.

I flick on the television, only to find the channel I last watched is showing a talent show, and Lyle is one of the judges. After seeing him, I don’t feel like eating anything. He said revolting things about me on the radio and got away with it. Management tried to get me to stay and show that I thought it was a joke, but it wasn’t. Not to me, anyway. If it wasn’t for Jenny’s brother stepping in and getting me an in down here, I’d be back in New York.

They’re keeping my old job open for me in New York, they told me, but I didn’t feel I could rush back after just a few weeks with my tail between my legs.

This is a better option. It’s similar to what Brittany and I did when we first started out after college. SleekSpeak doesn’t have the same media arm that Storm Enterprises has, though. Still, it will only be nine months, and then I’ll be back home. Well, in New York. I’m not ready to go back yet. I need to practice this self-love and self-discovery Marj is helping me with. Then I’ll be able to go back a different person.

I switch to another channel and find a reality show with celebrities stuck in a jungle. I have little idea who most of the people are, but there’s Mellita Starr, an actor from a daytime soap opera who I worked with at Storm Enterprises. She’s a sweetheart, and it’s coming across on the show.

This show is funny. I’ve worked out that one contestant was an AFL footballer, and another played Rugby Union. Every time he says he played rugby, he has to say, “I mean Rugby Union, the game they play in heaven.” Turns out, he’s been set a task, and if the others don’t get suspicious of his phrase, they all get extra food or something.

An ad comes on the TV for a meal service, but it seems pointless seeing there’s only me. I’m an educated woman. I know what is healthy to eat and still, I eat burgers and pizza more often than I should. And I complain that I’m fat .

Marj recommended a book about being happy at any size, and I’ve flicked through it, but it’s hard to change my mindset.

My stomach grumbles, and I reach for a slice of pizza. The pepperoni has little flavour, and the grease from the cheese drips down my chin, despite it being room temperature. I know I need to change my habits, and it’s something I’ve talked about with Marj, but it’s easier said than done.

The show finished, I turn off the television and put the rest of the pizza in the fridge. At least breakfast is sorted.

It’s the evenings that are the worst. I don’t have a car. Driving on the other side of the road is scary. Sitting where I’m used to the driver sitting as a passenger is off-putting enough. I’ve been relying on busses and ride shares to get me places, and it’s worked so far, but I’m not keen on catching busses after dark. Plus, I don’t really know what’s on around town.

Debbie mentioned she goes to Stitch and Bitch last week, a crafting group at a local yarn store. Growing up, Mrs Williams used to knit. I’d sit and watch her wrapping wool around needles. For my tenth birthday, she knit me a purple hat, as purple was my favourite colour. I wore it for years. Maybe I’ll learn to knit or something. I don’t want Debbie to feel that I’m trying to copy her, though. Debbie is different to me. She loves farm life and has three sons. I don’t want to live on a farm, and I definitely don’t want to have kids.

I’ve caught a cab to the ground for my meeting with Willo. Jenny was fine about me coming, and when I mentioned a podcast, she even suggested I offer to have SleekSpeak sponsor it and record it in work time each week.

It was like a record-scratch moment. I’m not sure I want to do this, and here is my boss, all for it.

The driver drops me at the administration building. There are a couple of guys walking out with large duffel bags thrown over their shoulders, their shorts showing off their expertly defined legs. I wonder if they are players and if all players have legs like that. Does Willo have legs like that? I’ve only ever seen him in a suit, and he wore that extremely well.

Pushing the glass door that says pull, I hope no one is watching when I finally open it. I don’t feel like I belong here. I’m dressed in my usual black wide-legged pants and a black over shirt with large red flowers printed on it. Maybe I should have found something purple to wear.

I clear my throat, and the older woman at the reception desk looks up at me with a smile. “Hi. I’m Paige Larson, and I’m here to see Willo Lovemore.”

“Oh yes. You’re the lady from the videos everyone’s been talking about.” She leans back in her chair and weaves her fingers together. “We all had such a giggle over them.”

Oh dear. What did I say wrong? My eyes widen, and I seriously contemplate leaving straight away.

“Paige?” I hadn’t seen the woman appear from the door next to the reception desk. “Hi, I’m Kim, and I work in PR for the club. Come through.”

Kim is gorgeous. She’s taller than me—which isn’t hard—with long blonde hair that seems naturally straight, a figure to die for in her pencil skirt, tucked in white blouse, and flawless makeup. I’ve never really been one to wear makeup.

“Sorry, I told Willo I’d grab you. He’s just finishing up with the physiotherapist,” Kim continues as we walk down a long corridor before stopping at an elevator.

It opens, and a lanky man steps out. He sees Kim and holds the door for us, not bothering to exit the elevator.

“You’re the American, right?” he says as he holds out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Cooper Sterling, but most people call me Silver.” The elevator ascends two floors, and Silver follows us as we exit. “Are you here to see Lover Boy?”

“Cooper.” Kim sighs as we stop in front of another glass door that says it leads to Queenie’s Bistro. “Weren’t you leaving? ”

“I was gonna take my sangas outside to eat, but I want to see this.”

I have no idea what a ‘sanga’ is. I still want to run and don’t think I belong here. It’s more than a feeling now. I don’t even speak the same language as these people.

“There’s nothing to see.” Kim shoots him a look that would strike fear into anyone else, but he just ignores her.

“I could…” I point over my shoulder, having no idea where to or what I’m even suggesting.

As we open the door to enter the bistro, which looks nothing like a small Parisian café and more like a sports bar, I hear my name being called from behind us and turn to see Willo rushing towards us.

He’s wearing athletic shorts, which show off his legs that look like they’ve been carved from stone. If I was a medical person, I’d use them to illustrate textbooks that show each muscle group. Thank fuck he’s wearing a T-shirt and jacket. I can only imagine what the rest of him is like.

“Silver, you said you were eating outside.” He turns to the other man.

“Yeah, but then I saw your American girl.” Silver wiggles his eyebrows, causing Willo to press his fingers against his forehead and rub.

“She’s not a girl, she’s a woman. Show some respect,” he snaps.

“Come on, Kim.” Silver links his arm through the PR official’s and starts leading her away. “Let’s leave them to it.”

I hear Kim protest, telling Silver to get his hands off her, but the two of them leave, and it’s just me and Willo. He opens the door and ushers me through.

“Morning, Willo. Joining this side today?” A portly man stands and rubs a counter next to a coffee machine with a cloth.

“Hey, Ferdi. We’re just grabbing an early lunch and talking business.” Willo ushers me to a table for two against a wall. “Do you want a coffee?”

“Yes,” I blurt. “I mean, sure, please. Um, white.” I look over and see bottles of flavoured syrups. “Oh, and a shot of caramel, if that’s okay.”

The bistro is empty apart from us. Willo explains there’s a player’s canteen on the other side of the kitchen where his teammates usually eat after training.

“Sorry. I heard Silver talking about eating a sanga. What was he talking about?”

Willo laughs at my puzzled face. “A sandwich. There’s probably lots of cultural differences you’re confused about.”

“Well, yeah.” I’m eased by Willo’s casual laughter. “I mean, this isn’t like the sort of bistro I’m used to. It’s more like a sports bar.”

“Yeah?” Willo raises his eyebrows. “Queenie used to cook meals for the players until she retired about eight or nine years ago. She was here in my first few seasons with the club. Queenie’s a bit of a legend in these parts, and no one can make the same mushroom risotto. She’s never divulged her secrets, either. Now, let me get you some lunch.”

I study the menu in front of me. There are salads, pasta, sandwiches, burgers, and even steaks. I settle for a pasta primavera, and Willo goes to order. Two older people enter wearing what looks like club uniforms. Willo greets them and grabs one of them by the shoulder before bringing the other in for a hug. It’s clear he has a fondness for the people who work here.

It’s a family atmosphere of sorts. Maybe that’s what it’s like in all sporting teams. I’ve never really had a lot to do with sports, but I sense the people here are happy to be part of the club.

I wonder what it would be like for me to be part of it. I don’t think that a podcast would do that necessarily, but there may be other ways I can become involved. I’ve never felt part of a family. The only other places I’ve belonged have been because I was with Brittany. This could be something for just me, and that sends a shiver of excitement up my spine.

“Sorry about that.” Willo returns to the table and sits down. “They’re a couple of our trainers. It was confirmed with the team this morning that I’m good to play Friday night. I’m pretty happy about that, too.”

“You’ve been injured?” I ask as Ferdi places our coffees in front of us.

“Yeah. I ruptured my ACL almost twelve months ago. For six months, I could do very little. The rest has been building strength again, especially in my legs.”

I stir my coffee before taking a sip. It’s good. Probably the best coffee I’ve had in Bayview Cove. A small moan escapes my mouth, and I look up to apologise but see Willo looking at me with a face that I don’t think shows he’s disgusted with me. From his tone on the phone yesterday, I thought he was doing this reluctantly, but he doesn’t appear to want me to hurry and leave or anything

“It sounds painful,” I offer as I place my cup on the table. I need to savour this coffee.

“Yeah. More psychologically, I think. Not playing for almost twelve months has been bloody tough.” Willo takes a sip from his black coffee but doesn’t take his eyes off me. I could get lost in them. A gorgeous hazel with flecks of gold near the iris. And his lashes—what I wouldn’t give to have long lashes like that.

I realise we’ve been staring at each other and hurriedly look away. I’m trying to ignore the feelings rumbling inside me—the heat and electricity—and try to tell myself it’s no different to seeing a good-looking actor on the screen.

I drop my spoon on the saucer, which makes a clang. Grabbing the saucer to deaden the noise, some of my precious brew slurps over the edge of the cup. I’m such a klutz.

“So, the podcast idea. Was that yours?” My voice is unnaturally high, and it suddenly feels so hot in here.

“Well, Kim came up with it, but I’ve been trying to recognise people around the club that don’t get any accolades. You know, the people like Ferdi or Maz at reception. They keep the club going. I just go out there and kick a ball around, but without their support…” He lifts a shoulder towards his ear, as if he isn’t sure about his statement .

“I can imagine. But why me? Did I do a terrible job on the videos?”

“No.” He leans forward and reaches out a hand across the table, stopping before he touches me. “If anything, it showed me that there are people out there who are still new to the sport. Not everyone had footy-mad parents who took us to local games and let us sit up and watch games on telly. Not everyone understands the terminology. But I don’t know what people don’t know, if that makes sense.”

I like the sound of what he’s proposing, but I’m reluctant to put myself in the spotlight again. I take a deep breath and notice I’m fiddling with my fingers in my lap, not even realising I moved them there. “You know I’m the one they originally got to replace Mindy Montague on the Lyle and Mindy radio show in Sydney?”

“Isn’t she the cricketer’s wife?” Willo leans back in his chair, not even reacting to my words.

“Yeah. Lyle said some not nice things, and they went to air, and, well, I’m just lucky I ended up here.” I pick at a dry piece of skin on my pointer finger.

“I don’t watch a lot of news and only rarely read the sports pages. I think most people know that Lyle’s a bit of a prick.”

Did they though? Maybe down here they did, but not in Sydney. “I don’t want it to come back and bite you or the club.” It’s my turn to raise a shoulder.

“Look, Kim would have looked into things. She’s pedantic like that. How about we record something next week, and if it’s no good, we don’t have to publish it.”

As nervous as I am about putting myself out there again, the thought of spending dedicated time with a hot guy such as Willo is appealing. He’s right. We can see how we go next week, and if it’s stilted or not right, we don’t have to use it.

It may not be what Marj was getting at when she suggested I put myself out there and explore new experiences, but I’m willing to give it a go.