Three Words: A Novella Collection (31 page)

Everyone sat.
Womble began to give out the gifts and we laughed at the outrageous
choices people had made for each other. It seemed that though we’d
known each other for years, even seen each other naked on the odd
occasion, we actually knew bugger all about our friends when it
came to gift giving. Because no one in their right mind would give
a girl a can of paint and an atlas as a gift — not even if Sasha
was repainting her kitchen and planning an overseas holiday. When
it came time for Johnny to unwrap his gift, I held my breath. My
teeth nibbled at the corner of my lip as he pulled the ribbon away
ever so slowly and tore at a corner of the wrapping, trying to
guess what it was.

“
It’s one of those pics of a naked chick and a rugby ball,”
Womble offered. “I’ve got one in my loo.”

Of course.

“
I have one already,” Johnny replied.

“
Maybe it’s a print for your new lounge room?” Millie
said.

By this time
the wrapping was almost off. Johnny stared at the framed jersey on
his lap not saying a word. The boys were silent too, in awe of the
absolutely perfect gift I’d chosen.

“
Oh come on!” Kirby cried. “That’s like totally over our
budget. Who broke the rules?”

And everyone
turned to me. How the hell had they known it was me?

“
Thanks,” Johnny mouthed.

I smiled back.
He hadn’t said it, but I knew he loved it.

With the gift
giving almost over, Womble moved to the last and biggest of the
gifts. The speculation over drinks had ranged from a washing
machine to a new set of luggage — that’s how big the box was. Of
course, the only person who knew what was in that box was Simmo and
he was smirking like the cat who’d got the cream, obviously
extremely proud of the gift he’d chosen for his mate.

“
I bet it’s one of those climate controlled beer fridges,” Sam
said, as we watched Womble ripping the paper from the box. “I
wouldn’t mind one of those.”

Millie shook
her head in resignation. “I’m not buying you a beer fridge, Sam.
We’d have nowhere to put it. Besides, I already have your
gift.”

“
Maybe it’s an Ab Cruncher Pro?” Johnny concluded. “Womble
could do with one. His gut’s doubled in size since the season
finished.”

“
Hey!” Womble called from his spot near the tree. “I heard
that.”

Johnny held up
his hands. “Only stating the facts, mate. You could give the real
Santa a run for his money at the moment.”

Ignoring him,
Womble ripped the last piece of tape and lifted the lid.

“
SURPRISE!”

Well. That was
something of an understatement.

Kirby began to
gulp at her drink. Rambo coughed into his hand and looked at the
floor. None of us quite knew what to say because there in front of
us was none other than that slut Courtney, her arms flung to the
ceiling in greeting and her boobs spilling out of her top and
bouncing as she leapt from the box. Dressed in her trademark
emerald green — which for once was appropriate given the season —
she looked like the slutty Santa’s Helper star of a Christmas porn
movie.

“
Like, what the hell?” Kirby, the first to find her voice, had
taken the words right out of my mouth.

“
What. Is. She. Doing?” Sasha hissed, the answer being
self-explanatory as that slut Courtney was now writhing on Womble’s
lap while Mariah Carey warbled ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’
over the sound system. Courtney’s green satin boy shorts had crept
into the crack of her bottom and we were all getting a good view of
the butterfly tattoo on her left bum cheek as she attempted to put
Womble’s hand on it and make him squeeze.

“
Jesus,” Sam mumbled, shaking his head. “Way to ruin a guy’s
appetite.”

“
I think I’m going to be sick,” Millie answered, and dashed
from the room.

“
Who’s she?” Tony’s eyes had lit up like it was Christmas —
which it was.

“
That’s Courtney,” Simmo said. It was plain as day that he had
no idea the effect Courtney’s performance was having. He was only
proud that he’d thought of the ultimate gift for the bloke who had
everything but a World Cup.

“
You mean she’s the one you cheated on Sasha with? I’ve got to
hand it to you, mate. You’ve got more balls than me, bringing a
chick dressed like that to a party when you know your wife’s going
to be here.”

“
Ex. Wife.” Sasha glared at Simmo. “Please enlighten us as to
why you’ve invited her and why she’s grinding against your friend
like she’s recently been let go from a bad strip show.”

“
She, like, always grinds,” Kirby pointed out. “It’s the only
dance move she has.”

“
I know that,” Sasha went on, “But does she have to do it
here? What the hell were you thinking, Simmo?”

Which was what
I was beginning to wonder. Courtney’s dance was becoming more
sexual by the second and a rather uncomfortable vibe had descended
over the room. Even the recipient of the gift seemed ill at ease
with it. He’d gone quite pale.

Simmo sighed.
“I couldn’t think of anything to buy Womble for his Secret Santa so
I paid Courtney to give him a lap dance. I thought it’d be a
laugh.”

Honestly,
sometimes I wondered at the intellectual capacity of my
friends.

“
Maybe if we were in a strip club, but not in Mel’s lounge
room,” Millie said. “It’s disgusting.”

Kirby rolled
her eyes. “And they said
I
was dumb.”

“
Make her stop,” Sasha said. “Get her out of here. She’s
ruining our evening.”

“
It’s not ruining mine,” Tony chimed in.

“
Or mine,” said Rambo. “I think it’s quite
artistic.”

“
OH. MY. GOD. When she leaves, you can totally go with her!”
Kirby’s withering look could have peeled the paint from my freshly
painted walls.

Johnny and I
sat on the window seat watching the scene play out before us. As
usual, Courtney’s arrival had turned the entire group tits up.
Millie had burst into tears because everyone should be happy at
Christmas and Sam was trying to console her. Sasha had stuck her
head out the window and was sucking back stress related nicotine
and Kirby was seething at Rambo for being even more of a prick than
he was when they were a couple. Still, Courtney danced on,
oblivious to the entire situation. Until Womble put a stop to
everything, that is. And that’s when the evening really did take an
unexpected turn.

“
Stop!” he yelled. “Get off me now, Court. And put some
clothes on, for Christ’s bloody sake. People are starting to
believe you really are the slag you keep pretending to be. And we
both know it’s not true.”

I blinked in
disbelief. Womble was incapable of stringing more than two
sentences together unless they involved rugby. I was unsure how he
coped in the workplace — he was an accountant — but I assumed he
could converse when it was number related.

Courtney
stopped. Her full lips were pouting and was that a glint of a tear
in her eye? “Didn’t you like my dance, Wombie?”

Had she just
invented a nickname for his nickname? Was that even possible?

“
No, actually. I didn’t. I thought it was degrading to you as
a woman and I can’t believe you would be so desperate to be a part
of this group of knobheads that you’d even consider doing it.
You’re a smart girl, Courtney. You’ve got a degree and a career.
You don’t need to be the ‘ho’ of the group to get us to like
you.”

“
A degree in man stealing with honours in acting like a skank
doesn’t count,” Sasha mumbled.

“
No, I think she’s like totally got some marketing degree or
something. She, like, has a company with real clients and
everything. She was, like, in the newspaper.” Kirby whispered
back.

I wasn’t game
to ask how Kirby knew this when she read nothing in the paper other
than the lifestyle sections. There were things that girl knew about
what went on in Perth that could probably make me cringe.

“
You didn’t think it was sexy?” Courtney asked him. She seemed
genuinely upset that Womble hadn’t enjoyed his gift. “I’ve been
practising all week.”

“
It
was
sexy. But not entirely my thing, if you must
know.” Womble stood up and wrapped his Santa jacket around
Courtney’s shoulders to cover her nakedness. Facing the group, he
swallowed, his big Adam’s apple moving nervously in his throat.
“Now’s as good a time as any to tell you all—”

“—
You’re not, like, having an affair with Courtney or
something? Oh God, that would be, like, the living end.”

“
Hardly.” He turned to Courtney. “No offence, Court. You’re a
gorgeous looking chick but I’m gay.”

Cue dropping
of bombshell and silence great enough to fill the Simpson
Desert.

“
You mean, like, you don’t like girls, gay? Just, like, to
clarify?” Kirby asked. Clearly, she was having trouble processing
the information. She wasn’t the only one. Womble was six foot
three. He had to be well over a hundred kilos. He loved cage
fighting and cricket. He drank like a fish and tried to hook up
with anything in a skirt — not that we’d ever seen him succeed. He
was the most unlikely looking candidate for a gay man in the
world.

Womble stood a
little taller. “As in I don’t like girls. I like boys.”

I was
speechless. I think we all were.

Until Millie
screamed from the depths of my kitchen, “Oh my God… the turkey! The
turkey!”

Seemed as
though I should have organised that caterer.

*****

An hour later,
disaster averted, we sat around the makeshift Christmas table. My
own dining table had the seating capacity of two, so Kirby had
ordered two trestles and stuck them in an L shape so we could see
each other. The tables were covered with festive cloths and
decorated with tiny trees and huge candelabra dripping with
baubles. Sitting there with everyone I loved in the world I was
feeling, well, a little melancholy. The room looked beautiful, the
pizzas — hastily ordered by Sam to replace the turkey that Millie
had burnt to a crisp (in her defence we were
slightly
distracted) — tasted delicious and the company was the best. Even
Courtney seemed to be fitting in. And that’s something I thought
I’d never say. Who’d have thought that a girl who went round
shagging everything that walked and getting her boobs out in public
at the drop of a hat would morph into a high-powered business woman
during the week? Not me, that’s for sure. But then, if it was good
for the boys why couldn’t it be good for us? There didn’t need to
be double standards. I’d been trying to get them to see that for
years but maybe, in some bizarre backhanded way, Courtney had done
it for me.

As I relaxed
back in my chair, Johnny, who had found a seat beside me, leant in,
his voice soft in my ear. “You seem pensive.”

“
Mmm
. Maybe.”

“
Something wrong?”

I looked
around the table. Sam and Millie had their heads together like they
so often did. He was holding her hand. Kirby and Sasha were
interrogating Womble as to which cast member of
Vampire
Diaries
he thought was hottest and Rambo, Simmo, Tony and
Courtney were laughing and playing some form of drinking game that
could only lead to trouble. Everyone had someone. Everyone but me.
It was almost as if, in this place, in this time, I didn’t exist. I
was nothing to them.

“
I… I just feel so alone.”

Beneath the
tablecloth, I felt Johnny’s hand reach for mine. He squeezed it
gently and I felt a lump begin to form in my throat. Oh shit. I
couldn’t cry. Not now. It was bloody Christmas.

“
You don’t have to be alone,” he said.

“
This isn’t an invitation, if that’s what you’re
thinking.”

“
I know. I was just saying you don’t need to be
alone.”

I frowned. I
couldn’t understand who this person was. Why was Johnny being so
nice to me and why, why was he looking at me like that? He had to
know the effect it was having. Beneath the table, my legs had begun
to quiver. I never quivered. Okay, well, only when I saw those
hairy moths with the wings that looked like eyes and then the
quivering wasn’t with excitement, like now. I had a real phobia
about moths.

“
I don’t just mean tonight, Johnny. I mean forever. I’m tired
of always being the strong one, the organiser. I’m tired of being
the ice queen and of everyone having someone. I want someone
too.”

There I’d said
it. I’d said what he’d been begging me to say for ages. I’d owned
the fact that I was lonely, that no matter how I presented myself
to the rest of those imbeciles I was not beyond feelings.

Johnny smiled.
It was the kind of smile that could make a girl weak at the knees
if she let it. Maybe I should? Then, his face moved close to mine
and I felt his breath hot against my neck. “I’m lonely too,” he
whispered. His voice was so quiet I had to double take to make sure
I’d heard right.

“
Chasing chicks is fairly exhausting, Mel.”

“
I can imagine.”

“
I’m tired of chasing when the only girl I want is right next
to me. Look,” he continued. “You’re lonely. I’m lonely. We like
each other. Why don’t we see where this takes us? I’m not asking
for anything. I’m just saying I like you. I have for ages. If you
hate my guts again tomorrow, that’s fine. I’ll deal with it. I want
to be with you tonight. ”