Donna Joy Usher - Chanel 01 - Cocoa and Chanel (20 page)

Elaine – I’ve known for four years. We met taking a boxercise class at the local gym, which had consisted of a gay instructor jumping up and down in front of us shrieking, ‘And punch, punch, punch,’ as he flicked his limp wrists around. We had started laughing and then, catching each other’s eyes, had laughed so hard we had to leave the class. I came very close to wetting myself. We ditched the gym, found a café and later enrolled in kick boxing classes. We’ve been taking various classes together since.

Elaine works in marketing. Out of all of us she is the most sophisticated and glamorous. Five-eight without her heels, (but you never catch her without them on), she has gorgeous olive skin and green eyes, and has her blonde foils maintained by the Australian Hairdresser of the Year – Tristan – who happens to be her brother. She is also a self-proclaimed cougar, being thirty-seven years old and ‘
vowing never to date a guy over twenty-eight’.
She says the sex keeps her lean. Her favourite man though, is her pet Chihuahua, Benny, who was just a teeny, weeny puppy when we first met. He often comes to cafés with us in her handbag.

‘Tara, there’s something you need to see.’ Elaine started digging around in her handbag, moving Benny to one side.

Uh oh.
That sounded ominous. I wondered what it was. A photo of my ass in the skirt I had worn the night before?

She finally emerged triumphantly with the
Sydney Morning Herald
and handed it to me, open at the social pages.

I glanced down with trepidation. Yep, there they were, Jake, with my cousin Tash – she looked gorgeous as usual. Just once I’d like to see a photo of her that wasn’t great. Maybe one where they’d caught her at the wrong angle and she had big bags under her eyes or a huge zit on the end of her nose. I stared closer, noting how perfectly straight her nose was – remembering the day she fell off her horse and broke it – and wondering how much it cost to have it fixed. In my mind I superimposed myself into the photo, taking her place by Jake’s side.

The visual swap didn’t quite work. To start with, she is a size eight; I am a twelve, maybe a fourteen on a bad day – it really depends where I shop. (All right, all right, so on occasion I’ve had to buy size sixteen pants. I put it down to the fact that most clothes these days are made in China. Everybody knows Chinese women are tiny.) She wears all clothes like a catwalk model; I look best in long pants and tank tops. She has blonde hair; mine is dark. She is petite; I’m tall. She has perfect creamy skin; mine is olive, with a few annoying freckles on my nose. She is naturally skinny; if I don’t exercise I morph into a blimp.

Not once did Jake ever make it to the social pages when he was out with me, but Tash – who is the same age as me – has been making them since she was a little girl. While I was still an awkward, gangly, 15 year old, she was attending the races, the opera, gallery openings and even the occasional ball.

My Mum’s sister – Jackie – had done very well in the marriage stakes, snaffling up one of Sydney’s most desirable bachelors. I love my Uncle Edward. He’s a lovely and generous man. It didn’t change the fact that for our twelfth birthday’s I got a cabbage patch doll, while Natasha got a pony. For our 18th’s I got a silver locket, while Tash sported a diamond tennis bracelet. And for our 21st’s, I got a silver cutlery set while Tash got a BMW sports car. I tried not to be jealous, I really did. I mean it wasn’t like I even wanted a pony. (I wouldn’t have minded the BMW.)

When we were kids we had fun playing together. But once we hit puberty she became a real prima donna and a bit of a bitch, always putting me down and assuming airs over me. I guess we were just maintaining the friendship more for our mothers’ sake than our own. Shame. If I hadn’t bothered, maybe I’d still have my husband.

I looked up. The girls were watching me, obviously expecting some sort of outburst. The arrival of my coffee broke the tension. I relaxed as I took my first sip, feeling rather proud that the social pages no longer had the power to hurt me. When Jake first left me I had used it as a kind of obscure torture. On Sundays I would crawl under the doona with the paper and a box of tissues. It was a good week when he and Tash hadn’t made it. Then, I could find the strength to get up and do some housework. But if they were there, I would spend the rest of the day in bed going over the events leading up to him leaving, wondering how I could have prevented it.

Everybody was still watching me. It was, to be frank, a little unnerving.

‘It’s just a wine tasting,’ I finally said.

Elaine sighed. A look of sadness in her green eyes, she reached over and touched me on the arm. ‘Honey, have another look.’

I picked up the paper and studied the picture, gasping when I saw the huge, glittery rock on her left hand. I couldn’t believe I had missed it the first time.

‘There’s more,’ said Elaine, pointing at the caption.

More than an engagement? More than the two of them getting married? More than him never, ever being mine? Slowly I read the caption unable to make sense of the words that were jumbling around inside my head.

Jake Wellington and his fiancée, the fabulous Natasha Rawson, on the eve he announces his intent to run for Lord Mayor.

What? Surely they had got the captions wrong?

‘He’s running for Lord Mayor? I don’t understand,’ I muttered.

‘He’s decided to run for councillor, but as an independent attached to no parties, he can also run for Lord Mayor. There’s an article on page 14.’

I flipped to the page and read the short but succinct article. Jake was running for Lord Mayor and Uncle Edward was financing the campaign as part of the happy couple’s engagement present. It just made me want to put my fingers down my throat and puke.

I looked at the photo again, zeroing in so I could see just his face.

I remember when I first met Jake. I remember every single detail. I remember it was a soft, balmy November evening. Nat and I had just finished our degrees and I had gone to her graduation ball with her. The University had booked out a bar and restaurant overlooking Darling Harbour for the event and lawyers from different firms had been there, romancing the new graduates.

There was a soft breeze blowing off the water and I was standing on the balcony enjoying the feel of it ruffling my hair and moving my dress against my skin. That was when I first saw him. He was inside at the bar, staring past me to the reflection of the sunset on the clouds over the harbour. He was tall – much taller than me – and had olive skin and dark brown, almost black hair. I stared into his chocolate brown eyes and studied his ruggedly handsome face and felt something uncurling inside me. It made me catch my breath and I swear, when he moved his eyes from the sunset to my face, that my heart skipped a beat. He smiled slowly – a confident smile, before swivelling back to the bar. I remembered turning away deflated, surprised by his sudden appearance as he offered me a glass of champagne. I smiled shyly and sipped while we chatted, feeling gorgeous and special.

Later we danced; slow and heated, swaying to the music, our bodies moving in sync. The material of my dress snagging on his legs as we entwined ourselves on the dance floor. And later still, back on the balcony we kissed; the kiss developing slowly, painfully. Our faces moving closer and closer, until finally I could feel the heat of his breath on my mouth, and then the softest brush, the gentle tug of skin on skin as our lips met and our tongues touched for the briefest of moments. The movements so slow and sensual I could feel my blood heating and rushing around my body.

We stayed for hours whispering and hugging; kissing slowly and shyly. Finally I realised it was not the sunset we were witnessing but the sunrise, and that the rising sun was washing away the magic of the night. I was torn between wanting to stay and wanting to rush away before I appeared not sexy and glamorous, but smudged and tired.

We exchanged phone numbers and Nat (who had spent the evening dancing with one of Jake’s mates) and I left. I remember turning to look at him as we neared the exit, to make sure he was no dream, or phantom of my imagination. He was watching me, and when he saw me turn, lifted his first two fingers to his mouth and blew me a kiss.

‘Earth to Tara, Earth to Tara.’ I snapped my eyes back into focus. Dinah was waving her hand in front of my face.

‘I’ve always felt guilty about you hooking up with Jake,’ said Nat.

‘Why would you feel guilty?’

‘I just wish you had met someone nicer that night.’

I could feel the heat in my face. ‘What do you mean nicer?’

The girls shared a look before Nat bravely pushed on. ‘Well he wasn’t always that supportive of your career.’

‘I chose to work as his PA – he didn’t make me.’

‘Sometimes he didn’t treat you very well,’ she said.

Flashes of arguments we’d had flickered before my eyes like a slide show. I shut them tight and shook my head.

‘What about the pregnancy?’ she asked.

I looked at her in disbelief; tears threatening to overflow.

‘I’m just trying to highlight that he wasn’t very nice,’ she said, sounding guilty.

‘He was just scared,’ I said.

‘Will you please stop defending him,’ Nat said in exasperation.

Elaine clapped her hands, breaking up our argument, and Benny, who had his head stuck out of her bag, barked in response. ‘Enough of the self-pity,’ she said. ‘You’ve had a year to get over this and you haven’t managed.’ She pulled a tatty old magazine from her handbag. It had Dinah’s practice stamp on the front.

‘Hey,’ Dinah protested, reaching out a hand to grab it.

‘Oh come on. It’s two years old, like you even missed it.’ Elaine moved it out of her reach. ‘You know you really should update your magazine collection sometime,’ she said, flicking through the pages. ‘Give me something decent to read while I’m waiting for you to finish work. Ahh here it is.’ She handed me the magazine, tapping a perfectly manicured nail onto an article. ‘Go on, read it.’

I flipped back to the cover of the magazine. ‘
Cosmo
?’ I asked incredulously, looking between Dinah and Elaine.

‘It’s a reputable magazine,’ said Dinah defensively.

‘It’s not where it came from, it’s what you can get from it,’ said Elaine. ‘Now read it out aloud.’

‘Yes Mum,’ I grumbled.

CLOSURE IN SEVEN EASY STEPS.

Hey girlfriend had your heart broken? Having trouble moving on from the bad boy that broke it?

I looked at Elaine who made read-on-shushing-hand-motions at me. Rolling my eyes I continued.

Well, have I got a treat for you. Seven easy steps to closure – guaranteed to mend your broken heart and get you back out there where the wild animals roam.

‘Oh please. Elaine,’ I said in a whiny voice.

‘Just keep reading,’ she replied from between clenched teeth. Sometimes Elaine can be a little scary.

Follow these steps in order – we promise that by the end you will be so over him, you won’t even remember his name.

‘Well I doubt I’ll forget that – what with the election and everything.’

‘Tara. Just read the damn article,’ Elaine said, running her hands through her shoulder length hair in frustration.

‘Yeah,’ said Nat. ‘What are the seven steps?’

‘Seriously?’ I looked at her.

‘What have you got to lose? Last night you were sitting on the floor of a grungy public toilet crying your eyes out. How can this be any worse?’

‘Point taken, but surely there has to be a better way than this.’

‘If there is you’d think you might have tried it by now,’ said Dinah as she reached over and snatched the magazine out of my hands. She concentrated on the page taking up where I had finished.

Step number one – Get a new hairdo.

The girls looked at me, their eyes critical as they viewed my long, brown hair I had scraped back into a pony-tail.

‘She has had that haircut for a long time,’ said Dinah to Nat.

‘Hell, she’s had that haircut for as long as I’ve known her,’ said Elaine, flipping open her phone and hitting speed dial.

‘Hi Tristan darling it’s me. Have an emergency. You know my friend Tara? …………Yes that is her ex running for Lord Mayor.…………Yes he is rather dreamy…………. Anyway look, she needs a new do. Can you fit her in this week? ………… Yep, that would be perfect. You’re a love. Talk to you soon.’

Blowing some kisses down the phone, she hung up. ’12 o’clock next Saturday,’ she informed me.

‘I’m working Saturday,’ I said, attempting to extricate myself from this crazy ride I seemed to be on.

‘No you’re not.’

I stared at Dinah, unable to believe she had dobbed me in. Damn, it sucked when your boss was one of your best friends. I pulled a face at her and she had the nerve to look all innocent.

‘But you’re not working,’ she said, picking up the magazine to continue.

Step number two – Get a new wardrobe – clothes and shoes.

More scrutiny from my friends.

‘Hey,’ I protested, ‘I like my clothes.’

‘Yes,’ said Elaine, ‘but they’re not very feminine.’

‘Well that’s just me. Whoever I end up with is going to have to like me the way I am.’