Sharp Turn - Marianne Delacourt [35]
I called Wal and he answered quickly. ‘Yeah, boss?’
‘Your friend, Leonard, can you check him out? See if you can find out what he’s been doing since you last worked together.’
‘He’s cool, boss, I tell ya.’
‘Will you do it, Wal?’
He grunted his agreement and hung up.
Cass returned with a basket of folded clothes and two cookbooks. ‘Your mum says hello.’
‘Is that all?’ I asked suspiciously.
‘Ummm, she also said to remind you about Saturday night. Dinner with Phillip something?’
‘Uggh.’ Somehow I needed to find a way out of that one.
Cass curled up on the fold-out bed and began browsing the cookbooks. I knew she couldn’t read but there were plenty of glossy pictures. I went back to thinking about the things I had to do. Talking to Nick was number one. Kate and Louise at Madame Vine’s next. I included Crack on my list – he might know something useful now I had a better idea what questions to ask. Tomorrow I had to meet Smitty and Rampant Kindy Mum, and the next day I was babysitting Ed at his photo shoot. When that was finished, there was the nightclub gig for Mr Hara.
I couldn’t see much in the way of sleep over the next few days so made a mental note to get to bed early tonight. Not a bad thing to have in mind given I was having dinner with Tozzi.
I thought about ringing Smitty for clothes advice for my dinner date, but it was acid hour at her place. I settled for Bok instead, calling him from the garden so that Cass didn’t hear my tragic wardrobe dependency problem.
‘Darling,’ he said. ‘Thanks for sorting it with Ed.’
‘He wants me to come to the shoot with him. That okay with you?’
Silence.
‘Bok?’
‘Sure. That is . . . well . . .’
Bok never hedged with me. It was always straight to the point like a well-thrown dagger. ‘Wassup, man?’
‘You’re welcome to come. But you should know that he’s shooting with Jenny Munro.’
Jenny Munro!
‘Bok! OH MY GOD! How could you? The bitch from hell.’
‘Now, T, be nice. It’s an article on some of our elite sportspeople. Each one’s partnered with a model.’
‘But why Ed?’ I moaned.
‘Jenny’s pretty tall. I had to put her with one of the bigger guys.’
‘Bok. How could you do this to me?’
‘Stop being so dramatic,’ he snapped, much more like his regular self. ‘Come to the shoot. I’ll bring some Louis Roederer to cheer you up.’
Champagne could cure most of the world’s ills – but NOT, I was pretty sure, having your boyfriend rubbing up next to Jenny Munro. Last time I’d seen Munro, we’d competed against each other in the running section of a team triathlon. Jenny’s an Ironwoman and pro athlete. She should have taken out line honours, but I was being chased by two of Johnny Vogue’s hoods (one of them the now departed Sammy Barbaro) and beat her across the line. She went down in a screaming heap of recriminations but I was too busy running for safety to bother with it.
Besides, I owed her one. She broke my nose with a deliberate elbow in a basketball final when we were juniors. Not something you forget in hurry. Or ever. Evil bitch.
‘Alright,’ I said. ‘But if she baits me . . .’
‘If she baits you, you’ll behave like the perfect lady that you are and ignore her. This shoot is an excellent gig for your boyfriend, T. You wouldn’t want to spoil it, would you?’
Bok’s always been talented at working me. We’ve been friends ever since he hit me on the head with a ruler in primary school and I repaid the compliment by tipping him off his chair. We knew each other inside out and back to front, and he wasn’t above playing dirty to get me to do what he wanted. But he was also always there for me.
‘I’m having dinner with Nick Tozzi tonight. Strictly business,’ I added, quickly ‘What should I wear?’
‘Remember you have a boyfriend, Tara Sharp.’
Bok was gaining ground on Joanna as guilt-meister!