Getting Real

27. Quick Sand



Sharon didn’t try to hide her laughter when she met the group at the hotel. Jake made eye contact with her and since he was the only one able to, she cracked up.

“For a bloke who’s terrified of flying you look good, Jake,” she said. “Maybe because everyone else looks so awful.” She counted heads and frowned. “No Rand?”

Jake took the room swipe card she held out. “No, that’s going to be interesting.”

They had three intense days ahead of them before the trucks arrived and Jake wondered how it was all going to play out. Rand was the glue that stuck this whole circus together, he was ring-master to Rielle’s star attraction and he was missing in action. Without him the lions might escape, the bearded lady start electrolysis and the big top catch fire.

“Do we know where he is, boss?”

Jake had a fair idea Rand wasn’t too far from Harry’s arms. “I’m guessing he’ll front up tomorrow,” he grimaced. “I hope.” He knew that left Rielle holding the bag with another media interview program which she hardly seemed well enough to do. She’d taken her room swipe and disappeared from the foyer while the others were still shuffling about.

Over coffee in the hotel cafe, Sharon gave him an update on the itinerary for Melbourne, including the interviews, a TV broadcast appearance and a video shoot, all before the trucks arrived and the set was rebuilt for the first of three shows. Today was the last rest day the band had until Sydney, so apart from dumping on Rielle again, Rand had chosen his moment to play hooky with Harry well.

Jake was about to take a bite out of a blueberry muffin when his phone rang. Rielle. He thought about sending the call to voicemail. He hit the receive button instead.

“Jake, I can’t talk any of these bastards into doing these interviews with me. Can you arrange a security guy to cover me?”

“Are you sure you’re cool to do the interviews?” He was surprised she wasn’t calling to cancel them.

“Self-inflicted wound. No excuse, I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated. He could have security and the tour publicist cover it easily, and it was obviously what Rielle expected but it didn’t feel right. He knew Rand would prefer him to accompany her like last time. “I’ll go with you.” Spending time alone with her wasn’t his idea of a good time. He kept seeing her face, freckled, fresh and natural, fringed with soft blonde hair, not the face she’d ever willingly shown him.

He read the silence that followed as a strong chance of getting off his self-imposed minder’s duty. He was thinking about the other things he needed to get done when she said, “That would be great. Thank you.”

Immediately after they’d agreed the on the meeting details and hung up, Rielle dialled back. Jake had a mouthful of muffin and Sharon picked up for him. “Hi Rielle, Jake has just walked away for a moment. Can I help?” That was smooth. Jake took another bite of muffin and Sharon hit speaker the handset so he could hear.

“I know Jake offered to take me to the radio interviews but I think he’s got enough to do without babysitting me.” He exchanged a look with Sharon. Too right he did. “Can you ramp up security instead?”

Jake nodded. This was a bonus. Sharon said, “No worries, Rie. Leave it with me.”

About half an hour and two coffees later, Sharon said, “Woman on a mission, look out.”

When he looked up, he scored a megawatt smile from a freshly showered and changed Ceedee. Wearing tiny shorts and an equally little top, Ceedee wanted to go shopping, and she wanted him to go with her.

“Please Jake, just for an hour,” Ceedee pleaded, putting her hands on the table and leaning in close to him. She smelled like mint and rainforests. “I know exactly where I want to go. One shop on Chapel Street. Just one little bitty shop, Jake. Please.”

He sat back and tried laughing it off. “Go rouse, Stu. He can play protector.”

Ceedee huffed. “He’s still drunk. I don’t want anything to do with him, and I don’t want some muscle man either. I want you, pleeease,” she wheedled, with much blinking of thick black false lashes.

Jake could see Sharon eating her lips to stop from laughing. If Ceedee had been flirting any harder she would’ve been across the table and in his lap. Shopping was above and beyond. There was just no way.

“We could have some lunch, honey. It’ll be real nice,” she said, with a hair toss.

Then nearly left her stilettos behind when she jumped as Rielle said, “Are you ready, Jake?”

“But Rie—”

“No but. He’s taking me to do the interviews. You know, the ones you were too sick to come to.” Turning to Jake she said, “Right?”

He wasn’t sure which of these hells would be better to avoid—time alone with the duplicitous, irritated Rielle or being a patsy for the flirtatiously manipulative Ceedee. He pushed his chair back and stood. “Right.” He looked at Ceedee, while he waved security over. “John will take you shopping for as long as you want.” Ceedee’s pout was quickly replaced by a big smile when she caught sight of John. One patsy was obviously as good as another.

He gathered his phone and papers and shoved them in his satchel, delaying even looking at Rielle. When he finally did, he was surprised by her expression—wistful, as though she’d lost something she treasured. Whatever her look said, it was a long way from the impatience or sass he expected.

In the car they were quiet until she said, “Sorry. She was going to use you to get back at Stu. We’ve got enough trouble without that.”

“I know. It was pretty obvious that’s what she was up to.”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me you didn’t need to be rescued.”

He laughed. “Oh, I needed to be rescued. Never could turn a pretty woman down.” He was aiming for cavalier, to give the impression he didn’t care if Ceedee used him, but judging by the way the hire car driver’s eyes caught his in the rear vision mirror, he figured he sounded like some lame-ass wannabe player instead.

They travelled the rest of the way to Minx FM in silence. Rielle sat stiffly beside him as if she was worried she might wrinkle. She wore a short, figure-hugging geometric print dress and 1960s style jewellery and makeup. She had on a pair of enormous Jackie O style sunglasses.

Jake watched the first interview through the glass studio window. Watched as Rielle came alive to joke with the presenters, back announce her favourite top forty songs and talk to concert ticket competition winners on the call-in line. Half an hour later, she was back in the corridor with him, the smile gone from her face, her eyes drooping and her shoulders slumped.

She said, “One down, three to go,” and he almost felt sorry for her. She hadn’t given an angry spray at Rand, hadn’t tried to duck out on the interviews, and hadn’t complained about not feeling well. Whatever else he thought about her, she was a professional.

By the time she’d done the last interview, Rielle was white faced and her hands were shaking.

“Did you eat at all?” he asked, and when she shook her head, it was like adding water to powdered annoyance. He was thoroughly irritated with her, any random trace of sympathy evaporated. “Great, you look about ready to faint. You’re going to eat right now.”

She didn’t protest when he had the car take them to the Stokehouse in St Kilda. It was late but they were still serving lunch. She ordered a chicken salad and ate hungrily in the near empty restaurant.

He sat opposite her, sipping a beer he didn’t want, watching the joggers, dog walkers and women pushing kids in strollers on the boardwalk. This wasn’t exactly pleasant but it was bearable.

Rielle knew it was probably an after effect of her hangover, or something to do with blood sugar, but watching Jake distance himself so thoroughly was making her teary. Teary for God’s sake! And she’d already cried way too many tears over Jake. If she sat here any longer, he might actually see them. “Can we walk?” she asked. The thought of fresh, salt air was like medicine.

He looked surprised, but went to settle their bill and escorted her out onto the boardwalk without discussion. Outside she breathed deeply, then knew what she needed was to put her feet in the sea. Shoes in hand, she made her way down to the shoreline.

He let her get ahead of him and then followed. She suspected there was no way he’d allow her to get too far from him in a public place like this. It wasn’t like Adelaide; this was a far more accessible location.

At the shore, she padded in and was surprised how cold the water was, backing up immediately to catch her breath, then standing in the drowned sand letting the small waves swirl around her ankles.

She couldn’t let this silence with Jake go on. It was clear he wasn’t going to say anything. He’d barely been able to look at her all day. He’d gone all strong, silent type, and that’s how he probably planned to play out the rest of the tour. It wasn’t only the hangover that was making her feel miserable—it was the weight of the lie that lay between them. Why couldn’t he yell at her and then they could fight it out? This sucking it up thing he was doing was hard to deal with.

This was even worse than fighting with Rand, because no matter how bad the fight, Rand would always forgive her. Together they were unconditional. When they fought, she’d yell and carry on, and he’d wait til the storm passed, then they’d calmly sort out whatever was wrong. That was their pattern from the time they were kids. Unless it was Rand who was angry and then all bets were off, but even then, whatever it was, they got through it together. Always.

The problem with Jake was that no matter what she tried, the result was so uncertain. He didn’t have to understand her, forgive her, agree with her, or when it came down to it, bother to argue with her. He didn’t even have to tell her what he thought. He could just walk away and, judging from the way he was treating her now, that’s what he’d decided to do. Well, she wasn’t going to let him do that without a fight, even if he turned his back on her—she was going to try.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself to trudge back up the beach to him. By the time she got back to the boardwalk she’d know exactly what to say. She pulled her feet out of the wet sand and turned to find him sitting not a dozen paces away.

Rielle stumbled and Jake looked up, catching her uncertainty, but not reading anything else through her big glasses. He caught himself wondering what she’d been thinking while she’d stared at the horizon, and then watching her trudge through the soft sand towards him thought—what does it matter?

Before she reached him she said, “You don’t understand, Jake.”

He sighed. This again. “What don’t I understand?” his voice hardened, “wait, it doesn’t matter whether I understand or not.”

“It does.”

“To you, maybe.”

He saw her anger flaring in the way her shoulders came up and body stiffened. “Right, because you can shut off and not give a flying f*ck just because things don’t go your way.”

He scrambled to his feet, and closed the distance between them, flicking sand up everywhere. “What the hell does that mean? Could you try and keep your voice down?” She’d managed to be anonymous til now, but if she kept shouting it’d be a whole different ball game.

“You have this notion about what I should be and I don’t live up to your expectations. Talk about me being a control freak.”

He was shocked, the truth of what she said slapping him in the face. He did want her to be different and he was disappointed she couldn’t show him her truth, her real self. He clenched and unclenched his fists, struggling to know how to react.

“I know, Jake. I know you found me out. You know my eyes are green, my hair is blonde, and that I don’t have such good teeth. But you don’t understand why I do it.”

He chose rage. “I don’t care why you do it,” he barked.

Hands thrust on her hips she said, “That’s a dirty lie.”

“Who are you—living a lie—to call me a liar?”

“I live a lie because it’s the job.”

“Ah.” Jake shook his head in disgust at her continued deceit. “This conversation is so over, we’re going back to the hotel.” He turned his back on her.

She shouted, “No, it’s not over. We’re not over.”

He wheeled around. People were looking their way. He kept his voice level. “We were never anything to be over.”

She took off her sunglasses, flashed those fake violet eyes. “I feel this—this thing for you.”

He snarled, “Well that’s your problem, darlin’.” And this time when he aimed for cavalier, he precision nailed it, and her flinch was his reward.

But she wasn’t done with him. She spoke low and hard, her voice rasping in anger. “I live a lie because I don’t like the person I am, and not being her all the time is the only way I can get by. I live a lie because I’m stronger this way. I’ve had to make up this life, Jake. There was only Rand to help me and he was making it up too—we were just kids. Can you possibly understand how hard that was—how hard it was for us to be here and not on welfare or in jail or dead?”

Jake was breathing hard, as if he’d run a soft sand marathon.

“No, I didn’t think you could.” She took a step towards him, thrust her chin up. “Being this Rielle Mainline is the best I can do. The other one is just regret, a pale imitation, and if you can’t accept that, then yeah, you bastard, you’re right, it is my problem.”

She tried to step past him, but the sand was loose and it was hard to move quickly. He caught her in two easy strides, snatching her arm. She pulled against his hold, without turning around. “Let me go.”

There were plenty of eyes on them now. He needed to get her out of here. “I’m sorry.”

“Too easy, Jake. I don’t do easy.” She broke away, but he stepped around her and blocked her path.

“I didn’t understand and it does matter. You’re right. I wanted you to be someone else. I wanted you to be real. I was angry when I figured out you were the girl in the gym, but I have no right to want to change you. None at all.”

She dropped her head, stared at the mini mountain ranges in the churned up sand at their feet. She looked suddenly spent, nothing left to fight him with, nothing left to make him care. “Do you hate me?”

He exhaled, pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. “I don’t hate you. I did this morning when I figured it out, but you’re hard to hate, Rielle. You’re confusing as all hell, but I don’t hate you.”

She pinned her eyes on his. “I could do with a friend, Jake. Just for the tour.”

It was odd how a little shouting could make you feel better. His rage burned out the moment she dropped her eyes to the sand. Now he felt depleted, off balance. He had thrilled to Rielle as the rock star and lusted after her as the mystery girl in the gym. That they were the same person made his head spin and he couldn’t sort out his feelings.

“I don’t know, Rie, but I can try.”