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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 pro
tector.”
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.
