Versace Sisters (20 page)

The words tumbled over each other as they spilled out
in a rush from Sera's lips. 'But it's not your fault, Bella, it's
not. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said that it was.'

'I know you didn't mean it. And I know now that it's
not my fault.' Bella sat down on the floor next to her sister.
'I finally know.'

They stared at the dust-free skirting board opposite
them as they tried on the truth and found it fitted them
both better than any designer label ever had.

Sera signed the bill and relieved the waiter of the room
service tray. Before she closed the door she watched as the
young man turned to leave.

'Hmm, nice bum,' she commented as she brought the
tray back to the coffee table.

'Oh, you dirty old woman. You're old enough to be his
mother,' Bella laughed.

'Now, what's for dinner? Time to tell me what your big
secret order was.'

'Guess,' Sera said with her two hands over the silver
food covers.

'I don't know, pâté de foie gras?'

'Nope. I'll give you a clue, it's your favourite.'

'My favourite . . . Hmm, that means what
you
think
is my favourite . . . you probably think it's caviar.
Is it?'

'Nope.'

'Okay, lobster bisque and a dozen oysters?'

'Nope.'

'Oh, it's not a boring old Caesar salad is it?'

'No. It's your absolute, secret favourite, that no one in
the world knows about.'

Bella stared at her little sister, her eyes widened in hope.
'It's not . . . ?'

'It is!'

'It's not really?'

'It really is!'

The girls both screamed in delight as Sera pulled off the
silver lids. They screeched in unison, 'Double cheeseburger
with hot chips!'

'And bacon!' Sera added in excitement.

'Bacon, gurghalargh!' Bella let her tongue roll out and
drool in a very useless, yet most amusing, out-of-character
impersonation of Homer Simpson.

'Do I dare ask what's in those little silver dishes?' Bella
said.

'Guess.'

Bella was well and truly ahead of the game now, 'Chocolate
ice-cream!'

'With . . .' Sera prompted.

'Chocolate chips?!' Bella squealed.

'And . . .' Sera smiled.

'CHOCOLATE TOPPING!'

'YAY!' The two women leapt onto the feast, shoving
chips and burger into their mouths as fast as they could.

'Hey, do this,' Bella said, and dipped her chips into the
ice-cream.

'That's disgusting, a bit of decorum, please,' Sera said
with her nose scrunched in distaste.

''Snot 'sgusting, 'sbewdiful,' Bella said, her mouth full.

'They've forgotten the sauce!' Sera said.

'Oh, what?!' Bella moaned, 'See, that's the problem
with a five-star joint like this, too good for dead horse! Any
money they've got
aioli
.' She dragged the last word out and
fluttered her fingers.

'At least we get to check out the waiter again,' Sera said
from the phone as she rang room service.

Bella watched her sister across the room as she dialled.
She took in the bare feet, the track pants, the face
washed of tears-induced make-up smudges, the simple
pony tail.

'You know, Sera, you look absolutely beautiful.'

Sera turned around with a scoff perched on her face ready
to launch. Before it could, Bella hurried on. 'You really do.
You should do the "less is more" thing more often. It suits
you. You have great skin under all that bronzer, and simple
pants and a tee really shows off that amazing figure of yours.
You should embrace that look more.'

Rather than poo-pooing the sentiment, Sera looked
amazed. 'Really?' she asked, actually taking the compliment
on board for the first time in her life.

'Really,' Bella said, 'au naturel, you're a knock-out.'

*

After every last carbohydrate and lipid had been
devoured by the girls, and the tray had been dispatched
to the hallway for someone else to clean up, they sat
back in the lounges with their champagne flutes freshly
bubbling.

Sera looked around at the state of what had been only a
few hours ago a pristine suite and which now resembled
a sorority dorm room.

'This room is a pigsty,' she said.

Bella giggled. 'Care factor? Zero.'

'What's happened there?' They both knew she was delicately
asking about her OCD.

'Well, little sis, as you know I've been in and out of
therapy for years. And I've decided I'm done.'

'What?! You've always been a real advocate for therapy.'

'Yeah, I still am. I've just done enough for now. I've
had a breakthrough.' Bella smiled eagerly and sat forward
to face Sera.

'It happened on the day Curtis got married. I went
and day-spa'ed myself silly, came back to my hotel room,
dropped my clothes on the floor, cried all night, and in the
morning stared at my pile of clothes and didn't have the
urge to put them away.'

'You crazy fool,' Sera joked.

'Then I kicked them. And they flew around the room.
My scarf flicked across the bed, my stockings landed in the
ice-bucket, my knickers draped from the chandelier. Then
I emptied my entire suitcase and kicked that all around the
room, too.'

'You didn't! How strange . . . for you, I mean.'

'Yes, strange, but very liberating. Then I emptied my
toiletries bag all over the bathroom. And even squished
toothpaste into the sink. And then I actually pulled the
towels off the hook. And you know how much I like a
neat towel rail.'

'I do indeed,' Sera said.

'And I laughed the whole time. It wasn't destructive,
and I wasn't hysterical or anything; it was just more of an
experiment. To see if I could do it and to see if I cared. And
I didn't care at all. It so didn't matter. The sky didn't fall in
or anything. Of course, I had to leave the maid a good tip,
but apart from that, no impact.'

'Good on you! I'm very impressed.'

'Then – you won't believe it – I couldn't be bothered
tidying it all up. I just sat on the couch and vegged out,
and when it was time to go I shoved everything into my
suitcase. Well, semi-folded. But it certainly wasn't outfit-ordered
as per usual.'

'Go girl!' Sera chuckled, thinking of Bella with a disordered
suitcase. 'Will wonders never cease?'

They sat and stared into space, reflecting on how far
their relationship had travelled in such a short time. Finally,
Sera spoke.

'You were always too good for him, you know,' she
said, quietly.

'Yeah, I know,' Bella replied, and they clinked their
glasses in cheers.

Today the Stitch 'n' Bitch group was going to help Mallory
prepare for her home-coming tomorrow after her week
in hospital. Jacqueline, Sam and Chantrea were already
waiting in the hospital foyer when Sera arrived. They gave
her happy hugs, all delighted that Mallory's journey to
recovery was taking a big step forward.

Together they walked into Mallory's room, following
their usual practice of softening their voices and offering
a calm, sympathetic front to their emotionally exhausted
friend.

But they were greeted by a pleasantly surprising sight.
Mallory was sitting up in her wheelchair. She'd changed
into a funky, hot pink zip-up hoodie, her face was made-up
and her hair was shiny and brushed.

'Mallory! Look at you! You look absolutely amazing.'
Sera got to her first and leant down to embrace the slight
body. The others took turns to proffer their gifts and peck
her on the cheek while exclaiming over the physical transformation.

Mallory grinned at her friends. 'He's come back to me,'
she said proudly, as if she'd won a marathon. 'He wants
me!' Their faces dropped as one. 'Don't you understand,
guys? He's chosen me over that little scrag!'

'Mallory,' Sera said as gently as she could, 'are you sure
this is the right thing for you?' She had sat through night after
night of sobbing, watching the hurt and anguish of betrayal
wreak its devastation on Mallory's fragile soul. She couldn't
believe that in such a short space of time Mallory could make
such a massive U-turn and go back to him.

'Yes, of course it is. He says he's really sorry, that Tilly
and I are the ones for him and he's not going to leave us,
that he's going to break up with her. He's going to pick me
up tomorrow and take me home.'

Nobody quite knew what to say.

'Are you insane?!' Chantrea voiced everyone's
thoughts.

'But Chantrea . . . guys?' Mallory replied, quite confused
they weren't sharing her excitement. 'Don't you get
it? I won! He's finished the affair. It's over; we're all going
back to normal.'

Sam had to speak up; he couldn't stop himself. Mallory
was such a lovely person, and Vince was clearly a creep. 'I
don't think you should do this. At least think about it,' he
implored.

'Sam, I've sat here hour after hour thinking. What else
can I do, for God's sake?' she said, waving her hand at her
crushed leg. 'It's not like I can go out dancing or go for a
nice walk.' She swallowed the bitterness that was rising in
her chest, determined to hold on to her happy mood.

'Look, of course I've thought about it, over and over,
and I know you're all worried about me, and want the best
for me, but this
is
for the best. I can't be on my own, don't
you see? I wouldn't have a clue how to live by myself. I
need Vince. And,' she said proudly, 'he needs me.'

Jacqueline, ever the pragmatist, knew from experience
there was little anyone could do to convince a woman in
love of anything sensible. 'Well,' she said, 'congratulations,
darling. I hope you're both very happy.' She leant in to
give her friend a hug.

Chantrea couldn't keep it together any longer. She
grabbed Jacqueline by the arm and dragged her into
the corridor as the others offered Mallory their hollow
congratulations.

'What in the hell are you doing? Why are you congratulating
her? That's like congratulating someone who's been
diagnosed with dengue fever, for chrissakes. How can you
do that?' Chantrea was livid.

A few months ago Jacqueline would have bitten back
at Chantrea's anger, but now she could see that her attack
wasn't personal. 'Chantrea, I know how you feel, it's very
frustrating.'

'Fucking oath, it's frustrating.' Chantrea looked around
as if to find something to punch.

'Settle down, this isn't going to help anyone. Take some
deep breaths.'

Chantrea looked at Jacqueline in surprise. She was
expecting – maybe even hoping for – a fight, somewhere
to direct her anger. Instead, she followed Jacqueline's
advice and felt less volatile as she flooded her lungs with
oxygen.

'The only thing we can do is to be here for Mallory
when it falls apart again. That's all. We can't stop the
inevitable from happening; we'll just stay close to catch her
when she falls.'

'But it's so unnecessary, Jacqueline,' Chantrea said. 'She
doesn't need to fall, doesn't she see?'

'I think it's fairly obvious that she doesn't see what we
can all see so clearly. But we can't tell her what to do, or
how to feel, we just have to be here to help pick up the
pieces when she comes to her senses.'

'Yeah, I understand,' Chantrea sighed deeply. 'Sorry for
going off like that.'

'That's okay. Let's go back to the blushing bride.'

'. . . and guess where he's taking me in a few weeks to
celebrate?' they heard Mallory bubbling to the others.

'Where?' asked Sera, trying to dredge up enthusiasm.

'Skiing! He loves skiing.'

Chantrea looked at Mallory's toe-to-hip plaster cast.
'How thoughtful of him,' she replied, darting a quick look
at Jacqueline.

The thumping tones of Destiny's Child blared at full
volume from the electric-blue 300ZX convertible. Sharee
swerved into the car space and killed the engine, cutting
the doof-doof off mid-beat, much to the relief of two older
women waiting at the nearby bus-stop.

Legs as spindly as the stilettos which carried them
appeared from the driver's side as Sharee swung herself,
her hair and her bag out of the car, slammed the door and
stormed into the pub. She was in a filthy mood. When
Vince had called an hour earlier with the ominous 'We've
got to talk', she knew what was going down. She knew
the dutiful husband buried deep inside her dirty little meal
ticket was threatening to emerge.

Now that wifey was laid up in hospital, she was sure
Vince would try and wriggle out of the arrangement.
They'd had it all planned. Vince was meant to leave that
twitty little Mallory and set Sharee up in a fantastic Darling
Harbour apartment, complete with her own masseuse,
plasma screen TV and Vanuatu holidays.

Sharee Burns had been successfully upgrading sugar
daddies since she'd turned eighteen. The first bloke had just
been a general manager of an insurance company, but on a
good wage. But by the time she'd broken up his marriage
his wife had worked it all out and had put all the family
assets in her own name, then sued the stupid bugger for
the rest of the dosh, which had left him so strapped with
alimony and emotional baggage he was good for absolutely
nothing. Sharee had dumped him quick smart.

She plonked herself at the bar and sat sucking noisily on
a raspberry vodka while she sized up the patrons. No harm
in a bit of window-shopping.

Her second conquest had been more promising: a
wealthy younger guy running a huge corporation. It was
his family's business, so he had all sorts of delicious playthings:
a magnificent property in Port Douglas, a yacht, and
a massive inheritance in the pipeline. But when she'd pissed
off his Alice-band-wearing fiancée, she'd also managed
to piss off his family, and the crusty old matriarch had
whipped away his money and toys faster than you could say
'trust fund'. She'd learnt valuable lessons in love along the
way though, namely: don't fuck with the family and find
out whose name the assets are in.

She reckoned Vince was it, her last-ditch attempt to
land a big fish before she got hit with the ugly stick that
came with reaching thirty. Vince meant pay dirt and no
wife with broken legs was going to screw up her plan.

Of course the writing had been on the wall since Vince
realised that Mallory had seen them doing the wild thing
in the spa. He'd turned grey when he caught sight of the
picnic basket and the stupid bitch's shoes in the carpark.
She'd tried to buck him up with a spontaneous hand job,
but he'd simply pushed her aside.

Ever since the stupid cow went and got herself
smashed up by that truck, whenever they'd got together
it had only been a quickie. Sharee knew her days were
numbered. Thank God she'd invested in a timely little
insurance package several months ago, when she'd
stopped using her diaphragm. She'd known she was up
the duff for ages but had waited to spill the beans when
it would give her maximum benefit. And that time had
come. Now she was armed and ready for action. Just let
him try and dump her, she thought. She was ready to give
him the biggest friggin' shock of his life.

Vince came in gabbing into his Blue Tooth as usual.
His wraparound sunnies were in their permanent position
on the top of his head, and his purple shirt co-coordinated
perfectly with the complementary tie. He was a hot dresser,
she had to admit. His hair was gelled into fashionable
random peaks.

'G'day, darl,' he said, and pecked her on the cheek. 'Jim
Beam and Coke, thanks, mate,' he said to the bartender.
'So how's tricks, kitten?' He addressed Sharee's cleavage.

'Great, darl. You?' she smiled charmingly and was
pleased she'd remembered to undo her top two buttons to
ensure the new La Perla lacy push-up bra was attracting his
attention.

'Busy, love, so busy. I've got a huge client from Hong
Kong nibbling at the bait at the moment. A massive deal.
He wants the brand new Boadicea. This deal could put me
in retirement.'

'A Boadicea? We haven't got one,' she said.

'Of course we haven't! They're fifty mil US! Not to
mention seventy feet long. It wouldn't fit on the whole
block, let alone in the showroom.'

'Well, how come the punter is talking to you, if you
haven't got one?'

'Well,
he
doesn't know that, does he?' Vince replied. 'I
have to let him think I have one until I can actually get my
hands on one.'

'So why don't you just direct him to a dealer who does
have one?' Sharee asked.

'Because that doesn't put a clear three mil in commission
in my back pocket, now does it? Jeez Louise, you don't
know much about business, do you, babe?' He glanced at
her then indicated to the barman that he and the little lady
needed a refill.

'Now, babe, we have to talk. Given the situation with
Mallory, it's not such a great time –'

Sharee cut him short. 'I'm so glad you wanted to see me
today, darling, I've got some wicked news. You're going to
be so rapt, I just know it.'

Thrown off guard by her exuberance, Vince allowed
himself to be distracted for a minute. 'What is it?'

'I'm pregnant.'

The peanut he'd just tossed in the air fell downwards
and landed squarely in his airway. He choked and gagged,
taking a gulp of his drink to wash it back into his mouth
before croaking, 'What?'

'I'm pregnant! Almost four months'! Isn't it exciting?'

'But you can't be. I've had a vasectomy.' He shook his
head in confusion.

Oh, she'd really fucked up now. Sharee's thoughts were
in chaos. She plastered a smile on her face as she tried to
grab hold of a solution to this unexpected information. Oh
shit, oh shit, oh shit.

'Well, my, my,' she said finally. 'Nothing can hold back
your feisty little swimmers, can it?' She grinned at him as
she kneaded his bicep. She kept going – if there was ever a
time to lay it on thick, it was now. 'What an amazing bloke
you are. I've heard of this kind of stuff, of course, in fact
they reckon it's pretty common in exceptionally masculine
men.'

'Really?' he asked incredulously.

'Yeah! For sure! How is a couple of little snips going to
stop your kind of strength?' She went on before he could
think too much. 'Don't you see? This is meant to be,
we're meant to be together, this is a miracle baby. Oh, you
master, you hero.' She clasped her hands over her uterus
and squealed in joy before uttering her
coup de grace
– the
line she knew was going to be the money shot. 'And I just
know that it's a boy.'

It worked. He was all over her. They sat at the bar for
another hour, planning, talking and giggling; trying to feel
the fetus move; talking about prams and schools, obstetricians
and water births.

By the time Vince left the mother of his unborn child,
his head was spinning in amazement. It was true, it was a
miracle. It was time to move on. He owed it to this woman
and to his little son. Mallory would be fine. Tilly was nearly
grown-up anyway. It was time for a fresh start. He'd break
it off with his old family clean and simple. Rip it off like a
Band-aid. It would be a shock at first for them, but they'd
be fine. After all, what really mattered was to be happy. For
him
to be happy.