Chanel Sweethearts (21 page)

The display home was at the lower end of the range. Well, to be honest, it was at the bottom end. But that wasn't going to make a zack of difference, as it could potentially cost a further twenty per cent less: there were savings to be made everywhere. The garage could be shorter. The deck could be made of a recon timber instead of merbau. One coat of paint was more than enough to make a sale. And who needed all those power points anyway? Overkill. It did seem wasteful, too, to have insulation in the ceiling when no one would see whether it was there or not. There was a cheaper alternative to timber for the frame being manufactured in Taiwan. Costs could be cut everywhere. Suddenly the potential forty per cent profit on each residence just went up to fifty.

Jess stood back to assess her work. Mimsy had been thrilled with the idea of low-cost artworks with a high creative element that would extend her brand out into the Melbourne suburbs. The trouble was that Mimsy thought it was Jimmy, not Jess, who had come up with the concept.

Jess stabbed at the sculpture with her pliers. She was such an idiot for not speaking up, but she hadn't wanted to come across as whining and pathetic. Now, as she assembled another ‘Trois Boucles' – three anodised metal rings of varying sizes, connected with a pivot ring between each, hung from a metal chain – she wanted to shout with frustration.

It was a fabulous idea, and people from Prahran, Richmond and Glen Iris were rushing in to buy them at under a hundred bucks a pop from Mimsy Baxter's Still Life, and Jimmy was enjoying all the credit. He still assured her he had presented the plan as a ‘team idea' but Jess wasn't so sure. She really needed to break up with him, she thought for the twentieth time that day, as she selected three more metal rings for the next piece.

The trouble was he was quite lovely. Sometimes. And it wasn't as if there were men lining up to take her out to dinner; it was convenient to have him in her back pocket. At least he wasn't cheating on her in the bedroom, the way Nick had treated Imogen. She quickly shooed the unpleasant thoughts away.

Jessica arranged the rings in order and searched for a different type of chain to hang them on. She wanted to try a twist on the standard ‘Trois Boucles' to keep the range fresh and interesting. There was no way she'd be sharing this idea – or any others– with Jimmy, she thought. He might be great in bed, but she wouldn't be silly enough to engage in work-related pillow talk again.

She was twisting the chain in different directions, frustrated by its lack of cooperation, when Jimmy came up and slid his arm around her waist. ‘Let's get it on tonight, hey?' he whispered. ‘I've been thinking about you all day.'

Despite her best intentions, she smiled, but his words didn't set off their usual barrage of physical reactions in her. Instead she felt quite in control, and in the mood for a little game-playing of her own.

‘Sure,' she answered, slipping out of his grasp. ‘I'll see you then.'

That night Jessica sat staring out of the window of her flat into the darkness, her mind calm and decided. She stood as his knock echoed on the door.

‘Hello, my lovely angel,' Jimmy said as he came in. He placed one arm around the small of her back and the other around her head as he expertly dipped her and gave her a gentle nibble on the neck. He pulled her up again and went to the fridge, where he knew his favourite Asahi beer was waiting.

They sat on the couch together and she found herself feeling mischievously excited.

‘I've got exciting news,' he said, rubbing her upper thigh. ‘Mimsy's going with your Aboriginal art idea. She loves it. We're flying guest artists in to start creating next week. She's so impressed with you.'

‘That's funny, she hasn't said anything to me.'

‘Oh you know what she's like, she's so hopeless at compliments. But take it from me, she thinks you're a legend.' He took a long swig of his beer.

‘That's good,' she said, picking at a stray thread in her top.

‘Here, let me rub your neck, sweetheart. Turn around.' He massaged her neck for a minute, then stopped and tugged her shoulder so she would turn back to him. ‘So, anything exciting happening at work?'

‘Well,' she said, pretending to be thoughtful. ‘I've had a tremendous idea to elaborate on an existing piece, to give Still Life a fresh new face for the public.'

‘Really, angel? You are so clever, my darling.' He leaned in and gave her a light kiss on the lips. For once it didn't turn her on. Well, not very much, anyway. She got up and stuck her iPod in the dock on random selection. The upbeat sounds of ‘Beautiful Place' by Good Charlotte filled the room. She inwardly grinned: it made her think of Stumpy Gully. God she missed home.

‘Go on, go on, what is this brilliant idea of yours?' He reached forward to get his beer.

‘Okay, it's pretty out there, pretty wild, but it would be so amazing, a real artistic statement.' She widened her eyes and watched him sit up straighter with interest. ‘You know how the white chandelier in the foyer is the Still Life signature piece? It dominates the entire area above the shop floor.'

‘Yes, it's wonderful, it catches everyone's eye. It's Mimsy's favourite thing, next to her red sculpture, of course.'

Jess nodded. ‘Well, it's been there for fifteen years, so, although it's still beautiful, it's no longer fresh. And we can't get rid of it because it's the Still Life icon, but it needs a makeover: something to give it a lift, a new life.'

‘I'm listening,' he said, tapping his hands against his knees in anticipation.

‘I propose that we spray the entire piece with a commercial spray adhesive. The glue will make it heavy and weigh the foam down. Then we turn on a dozen small household fans and blow large petals of fluoro-coloured silk at the piece. The chandelier will double in volume and the silk will quiver in the breeze and look amazing; like some kind of eighties Cyndi Lauper disco. Most importantly, it will bring the look of the shop into this decade, which it desperately needs. The recession is over, the future is bright and so is the next colourway. Neutrals are finished.'

She sat back to see if he'd taken the bait. He was looking at her, mulling the idea over, nodding gently. The nodding increased, then a smile reached his lips. ‘Angel, you're an absolute genius. I love it.'

He picked up her hand and started nibbling her wrist, then her forearm, and then he moved up to her shoulder while gazing into her eyes. It did feel very nice, but she knew that this was his prelude to foreplay and ultimately sex and she had to stop now.

‘Jimmy...' she started.

‘Shh, you know I can't talk when I'm lovemaking,' he murmured as his nibbles reached her ear. She put her hand up to his mouth and forced him to sit back and look at her.

‘Jimmy, we need to talk.'

‘What about, darling?' He cocked his head on the side and assumed his patient listening face.

‘I don't think this is working out. I think we should stop seeing each other.' She watched him carefully.

‘Really?' he said, wrinkling his brow briefly. ‘That's a shame. Well, if that's what you want. As long as we're still friends at work, and can enjoy our little chats, then that's the most important thing. Right then.' He swallowed the last of his beer. ‘I guess I'll be off.' He chucked her on the chin and rose to retrieve his boots.

That was easy, Jess thought with surprise.

Just then the phone rang. She glanced in the bedroom. Jimmy was doing up the buckles on his boots and would be gone in a few seconds. She'd better answer.

‘Hello?' She glanced at the kitchen clock. Midnight. Who was calling at midnight?

‘Jess, it's me,' the voice said thickly.

‘Hello, you.' She smiled. Nick had obviously been at the Stumpy Gully Hotel.

‘I need to tell you something, Jess. It's really important. I need to talk to you.'

Jessica didn't want to have this kind of conversation while Jimmy was in her flat.

‘Can it wait, Nick? Just give me fifteen seconds and I can call you back.'

‘No, Jessica, it can't wait another second. It's already been too long. It's already eighteen years overdue. I'll be really quick.'

Before Jessica had a chance to put him off he started spilling his feelings down the phone line. ‘Jessica, I wasn't entirely honest with you the other day–'

‘Nick, wait–'

‘Can't wait, Jess. Just let me finish ... please ... it's important. You asked me to tell you the story, which I did, but I didn't tell you the entire story. You know those love letters I told you about? Well there were hundreds of them, all of them from me pouring my heart out about how I felt. About my love, my passion, my fantasies, Jess. But Jess, why did I still have them in my trunk? Did you think about that, Jess? Why did I still have them? Why hadn't I sent them?'

As Jimmy entered the living area, she urgently put her finger up to her lips. Jimmy smiled at her and made a big pantomime of tiptoeing to the front door.

Meanwhile, Nick's drunken ramblings were continuing on the other end of the phone. ‘You know why? Jess? Do you know why? Obviously because I never sent them, Jess? And why Jess? Why didn't I send them?'

Jessica held tight to the mouthpiece. ‘Why?' she whispered.

‘Because the person I was having the affair with, the person I was so in love with, never knew. She never got the letters so she never knew. I wasn't having a physical affair, Jess. I'd never betray my baby and my wife, but I had to talk to someone. And that was the someone I had always been in love with. You know who, don't you, Jess? It's you, Red. You're the one I wrote the letters to, you're the one I was having the affair with ... and you never even knew.'

At that moment Jimmy called out from the open front door in an intentionally loud voice. ‘Bye, Jessica! Thanks so much, darling, you were great!' He slammed the door behind him.

There was about twenty seconds silence. Jessica finally whimpered. ‘Nick?'

His icy voice returned. ‘Was that ... Jimmy?'

‘Please Nick, it's not what you think. It's not what it seems.'

The burr of the disconnected line was the only response.

Well, it was official: today was her worst city day ever, Jess decided as she watched a deep pool of soy sauce soak into the fabric of her brand-new shift dress.

It wasn't even that she liked the dress, she thought, throwing down her sushi lunch and rushing to mop up the stain in the office kitchen, but there were clients coming in that afternoon. She sighed and tied on her work apron to hide the disaster.

The whole day had been a mess. This was the second spill she'd had; this morning she'd sent her coffee cup flying at their team meeting, soaking her notes and earning her scowls of disdain from the designers.

And just to clearly illustrate the sort of day she was in for, the evil Sventana had stuck out one anorexic ankle as Jess had passed her desk earlier and tripped her up. Was the woman insane?

Then Mimsy had been brutal about her work. ‘It's completely unbalanced,' she'd drawled. ‘What are you thinking, Jessica?'

It annoyed Jess the way Mimsy, with her slightly Japanese accent, pronounced her name ‘Jess-eee-ca'. In fact, the more she worked with Mimsy the more her affectations got up her nose. It was one thing to be a successful businesswoman, but would it kill her to say hello in the morning?

It was all too much, and beyond her care anyway. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of Nick.

She was relieved when it was finally time to go home. She arrived at her new Prahran flat with her arms laden with goodies. Tori was coming to stay the night and she wanted to spoil them both with a fancy home-cooked dinner.

She whizzed around the room clearing magazines, picking up towels and making the place respectable. She'd fallen in love with the funky 1970s look of the building. Random glossy brightly coloured bricks dotted the exterior wall, a large screen of hollow cinder blocks flanked the front entrance and the letterboxes were in seventies turquoise with angular white lids.

She'd carried the look into the interior, using acid orange as her base and adding a modular couch, tie-dyed cushions and a chocolate-brown shag pile rug that brought the whole look together. She had enjoyed collecting the bits and pieces to furnish her flat, wandering happily down the backstreets of inner-city Melbourne, stumbling across eclectic vintage stores.

The doorbell rang, Jessica opened it and gave Tori a warm hug. ‘Come in and sit down, love,' she said.

Tori threw her Chanel bag onto the couch and sat down on the mission-brown cushions. Jess passed her a gin and tonic and placed a platter of club sandwiches on the tinted glass coffee table in front of them.

‘So, how's life?' Jess asked.

‘Oh, it's pretty bad, Jess. I've been going over and over things all the way here.'

Jess patted Tori's hand. ‘The divorce?' she asked.

‘Well, it's more than that, actually,' Tori admitted. ‘It's money too. I just want to buy more and more things all the time, and well ... I think it might be a bit of a problem.' Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I used to buy stuff when I felt flat or down – I mean we all do, don't we? Indulge in a little retail pick-me-up?' She twisted her hands together and turned her head away from Jess.

In a whisper, she said, ‘But I think it might be getting just a tad out of hand.' Her fingers flew to her throat. ‘Promise me you won't ever breathe a word of this to anyone,' she implored, her eyes dark with fear.

Jess moved to sit beside her friend on the couch. ‘It's okay, Tori, you know you can trust me.'

Tori nodded and closed her eyes as she continued. ‘I bought a two-thousand-dollar pair of shoes the day before Joseph and I split up. That's what finished us: a stupid pair of shoes.'

‘But why, Tori? Why do it when it's destroying your life?'

‘It's difficult to explain. I just don't feel any joy anymore. Christmas is hard work, my birthday is tedious and unwanted, going out is dreary, scenic walks are boring. And that's not like me. I used to have such passion for life, but ever since I became a parent, everything's become so grey, so dull, so lacking in joy. Where's the joy gone, Jess?' She looked sadly at her friend, twisting her scarf in her hands.

‘I think I know what you mean,' Jessica murmured. ‘Go on.'

‘But when I shop, it's just so fun, Jess. More than fun for me, though, it's like ... a drug, like a high. And it can be anything, really it's ridiculous. I could be at the doctor's office for a Pap smear and if they're selling something at the counter for charity – a red nose, a pink ribbon, a daffodil – I'll buy one of each. And love it. I love getting stuff.' Her voice was high and brittle.

Tori took a deep swallow of her drink and continued. ‘When the kids came along there were so many things to buy: I was on a high with cots and mobiles. And when they grew up it was so much fun to take them out for a day's spoiling and let them have whatever they wanted. I have given away so many six-month-old puppies.'

‘Oh, Tori,' Jessica said in shock.

‘I know, it's sick. But I just love it. Look.' She turned out the pocket of her blazer, revealing a mini tape measure. ‘What do I need this for? But the petrol station had them on special tonight and they looked so cute. I think I'm going insane, Jess.' She threw her head into her hands and started sobbing.

‘No you're not, you're not,' Jessica soothed her, rubbing her back. ‘You've done a really brave thing tonight and I'm so proud of you.'

‘What?' Tori looked up through wet lashes. ‘Buying the tape measure was a good thing?'

‘No, you goose,' Jess laughed, ‘but recognising that you have a problem is awesome, and you've done that tonight.'

‘I guess so,' Tori sniffed. ‘But what am I going to do?'

‘What about therapy. Could you try that?'

‘Maybe,' Tori said softly.

Jessica got up to make more drinks and grabbed a box of tissues, which she handed to Tori. ‘Let's think about some options,' she said, draping her arm around her friend.