Grand Slam (33 page)

Right. No more Miss Nice Guy. Not that I'd been that nice, but anyway, I had a job to do. Emilio needed his amulet to win the bloody tennis, and until that happened, nothing else mattered. I stormed into my suite, waking Andrew, who'd been asleep on the rollaway bed.

‘Sorry.'

He looked at me.

‘I mean, sorry about everything.'

He rolled over and went back to sleep.

I shut the bedroom door and climbed into the giant bed, feeling extra guilty about Andrew in the skinny rollaway that wasn't even long enough for him. My bed could have comfortably fitted three Andrews. I lay there, staring at nothing, planning my raid on Mrs Booth's, until dawn glowed through the blinds of my very expensive hotel room. I hoped someone would reimburse me. I'd been thinking it might be Jack but, well, it appeared there was no more Jack.

I showered, dressed, and watched Andrew do three million push-ups and a few thousand sit-ups, then we ate breakfast. Rather, he ate and I served him.

‘More coffee?'

‘No, thanks.'

‘Corn flakes? Eggs? Toast? There's jam, Vegemite, peanut butter . . .' I'd ordered everything on the breakfast menu.

‘You don't have to do this.'

I sat, sipped my tea. ‘I feel really bad.'

‘I know.'

‘But I can't promise not to piss you off again before this is over.'

‘Try not to.'

‘You can have the big bed tonight.'

‘I don't want it.'

‘I insist.'

Andrew shrugged. ‘Jack messaged me.'

I stopped breathing. ‘Oh?'

‘He told me to forget the plan about taking you to his house until the tournament's over.'

‘Really. Well, I wouldn't have gone anyway.'

‘What's happening with you two?'

Tears pricked my eyes. Crap. I wiped them. ‘Nothing. As in, nothing further is happening between us. Ever.'

Andrew shook his head. The hotel phone rang and I answered it. It was Emilio, wanting me to come and entertain him. He was bored.

‘I have a certain mission to accomplish, remember?'

‘You will get it today?'

‘I'll try, but if not I know I can definitely get it tomorrow morning.'

He sighed, and huffed into the phone.

‘What are you doing today?'

‘I will rest. Watch the television. Try to take my mind off things.'

‘Sounds like a plan.'

We hung up.

I said to Andrew, who'd finished his scrambled eggs, fried eggs, fruit salad, four pieces of vegemite toast and was now eyeing off the tiny box of Coco Pops, ‘I'm going to be honest with you.'

‘About fucking time.' He looked up. ‘Sorry.'

‘I deserved that.'

He snorted a laugh. ‘Yeah, you did.'

I sat opposite him. ‘I found the real lucky charm. It's in a house behind my mother's.'

‘How the hell —'

‘Long story, but I need to get it back, so I'm going to do it some time between now and tomorrow afternoon.

He popped the last piece of crust in his mouth, sat back, tossed his napkin on the table. ‘I probably can't let you do that.'

‘I thought you might say that.'

‘Tell me where the thing is and I'll get it.'

I thought I might kiss him. How come Jack wouldn't offer to do that? Because he doesn't want Emilio to win the tournament? Because he's a meanie? ‘I should probably also say that I can't let you do that, but in reality I'd love you to do that for me.'

He nodded.

‘We could go to my mother's today, wait and see if there's an opportunity.'

‘Your mother knows about me?'

‘She thinks you're my chauffeur. She might ask you to drive her somewhere.'

‘As long as you're with me, I'll take her wherever she wants.' Andrew stood. ‘Thanks for breakfast. I'm going for a shower.'

‘Okay.'

‘Should I wear camouflage?'

‘You need camouflage for roses and camellias.'

‘Who lives there?'

‘An old lady and her daughter. We can't do it if they're home.'

‘I can't promise no damage.'

‘As long as the damage isn't to them, I don't care.'

While Andrew was in the shower, I went to visit Emilio.

As I approached his door, it opened and Sharon Stone stepped out.

‘What are you doing?'

She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Checking on my charge.'

‘I thought you were going to Bass Strait with Jack.'

‘We're leaving in the morning.'

Oh. Which meant Jack was available all day today to see me. But I knew I wouldn't hear from him. ‘Okay, well, fly safely.'

She nodded and walked away. And was that another bloody smirk?

I knocked on Emilio's door. He flung it open, wearing his undies, a big smile on his face.

‘Ah, it is Emily!'

‘Who were you expecting?'

‘What are you doing?'

‘Visiting you.'

‘But I thought —'

‘We're about to leave.'

Then Andrew was walking up the passageway, dressed neck to toe in black, hands held out, palms up. ‘What part of “with me twenty-four-seven” don't you get?'

‘Oops. Sorry.'

I said goodbye to Emilio and we left.

Back in Chadstone, I introduced Mum to Andrew the chauffeur.

‘Perhaps Andrew could run me to the pharmacy? Your father needs cream for his anal issues.'

‘Maybe later.'

‘I've made scones. Would you like one, Andrew?'

‘Um, Andrew wants to see Dad's vegie patch.'

‘You know where it is.' Mum waved her hand. ‘Your father's pruning.'

We headed for the back door and Mum called after us, ‘Why are you taking binoculars?'

‘Andrew studies insects in his spare time.'

We stepped through the vegie patch. ‘Hi, Dad.' I introduced him to Andrew.

Dad grunted, they shook hands, and we continued on to the fence.

Andrew whispered, ‘What will your parents think we're doing?'

‘They already think I'm weird. Don't worry.'

‘You are weird,' he muttered and I gave him a poke.

Andrew stood on the bottom rail of the fence and looked into Mrs Booth's, binoculars scanning the house.

‘It's in the bedroom, upstairs on the left.'

The binoculars flicked up. ‘Where in the bedroom?'

‘Hanging over the mirror on the dressing table. It's padlocked, but I reckon you'd be able to snap the chain.'

‘Window's open up there.' Binoculars flicked down. ‘Woman in the kitchen, around sixty. Someone watching TV. Can only see the back of a head.' He handed me the binocs. ‘I'm going in.'

‘What? You can't!'

Andrew sprang over the fence. I turned and gave Dad a smile and a shrug. Dad scratched his head and went inside. I wondered what he'd say to Mum. He'd probably distract her so she wouldn't know what we were up to. Good old Dad.

By the time I'd worked up the courage to peek, Andrew's feet were disappearing through Ruth's bedroom window. I had instant heart palpitations and felt faint. I sat on the ground, my back to the fence. Axle appeared and crawled onto my lap. ‘Bloody hell, Axle. What am I doing?'

He gave a meow, headbutted my boob, which I assumed meant he loved me, no matter how outrageous I was and how neglectful I'd been as a mother. Or it could have meant:
Goodbye, you idiot.
He jumped over the fence.

I stood again and trained the binoculars on the lower part of the house. I saw Mrs Booth leave her kitchen, walk through the living area and disappear to the front of the house. Where the stairs were. Oh crap, oh crap. I looked up at Ruth's bedroom window. Andrew appeared, quickly, and slid down the trellis. He stayed pressed against the wall of the house. I saw Mrs Booth in Ruth's window. I ducked down, and peeped through a hole in the fence. Mrs Booth turned her head, said something, then slammed the window shut. Andrew crept along the side fence, and then, silently, he was next to me.

‘How'd you go?'

‘Thing's gone.'

‘What? Did you look on the mirror? Behind the mirror? On the dressing table?'

‘As much as I could. The old woman came.'

I sat on the ground again. What to do? What to do?

We had scones with Mum. She chatted nonstop, but I didn't hear a word she said. It must be in there. It must! If not in there, then
on
one of them. Mrs Booth or Ruth. What to do?

‘What time's church tomorrow?'

‘Nine thirty, same as every other week.' She gave Andrew a look, a little shake of her head. ‘If she came with us more often, she'd know what time.'

We drove Mum to the pharmacy for Dad's anal cream, then Andrew and I headed back to the hotel.

On the way, I said, ‘Thanks for going in there.'

‘No worries.'

‘It was really nice of you.'

‘Sorry I didn't find it.' He gave me a stern Jack look. ‘But that's it. No more. You're not going back there.'

Oh yes, I am. But I nodded, let him see the resignation on my face. ‘And it's nice of you to drop everything to look after me for a few days.'

He shrugged. ‘It's my job.'

‘Have you . . .' I glanced at him. ‘Have you got someone waiting? At home?'

He hesitated, staring out the windscreen. ‘Yeah.'

‘Is she—'

‘He.'

‘Oh.'

We didn't say anything for a minute, and the car was so silent with no radio. Without looking at me, Andrew said, ‘You okay with that?'

‘Of course. In fact, considering out current arrangements —'

‘Better.'

‘Yeah.'

I watched out the window, and Andrew turned on the radio, keeping the volume low.

‘Does, um, does Jack know?'

‘Yep.' He chuckled. ‘Probably why I got this assignment.'

‘Yeah.' I laughed. And then, because we were getting all honest and cosy, ‘I know I don't deserve your respect, but . . . but why did you tell Jack about my conversation with Emilio in the restaurant? He knew what we'd been saying.'

‘Because Jack needs a kick up the arse.'

His candour shocked me, but also made me smile. ‘In what way?'

‘He wants to be with you, Erica. He just doesn't seem to know how to say it.'

I shook my head. ‘No, Jack doesn't do commitment.'

‘He
thinks
he doesn't. I've known Jack a long time. I see the way he is when he's with you . . .' Andrew took a breath and blew it out. ‘The guy needs a wake-up call. Or he'll lose you.'

I bowed my head, watched my hands wringing themselves in my lap. ‘Too late.'

Emilio wanted me to have dinner with him in his room, but I didn't trust either Emilio or me. He might want to cuddle on the sofa, wearing nothing but magnificently fitting, well-filled undies. After the way he'd looked at me with those smoking eyes the other day, and the way he'd
looked
full stop . . . With no-one watching, standing in front of the mirror in my bathroom, I was able to give myself a full face slap, followed by a lecture. ‘Erica. You love Jack.' It was true. I did love him. But I thought, with a great weighty sadness, that we were probably through. Not that we were really together anyway. We kind of were. No, we weren't. I thought about what Andrew had said, and decided he was wrong.

I asked Andrew if he'd have dinner with us in Emilio's room.

‘I'm happy to wait outside.'

‘No, I
really
want you in there with me.' I gave him a pleading look, and he nodded once.

I called Emilio to warn him that Andrew would be dining with us, in case he was planning on wearing only undies. He answered the door wearing only undies, waved us in, and Andrew gave me a look that said,
Really?

‘Are you getting dressed, Emilio?'

‘I am comfortable.' He waved at the sofa. ‘Please, I have ordered food. Let us relax.' He added, ‘Feel free to undress. I do not mind.'

I'd wondered why Emilio hadn't kicked up a fuss about Andrew being there with us, but during dinner on our laps I discovered why. There was an SBS special on Emilio Méndez. We watched the story, which included footage of Emilio's finest moments. Fortunately, Emilio could only be comfortable in an armchair, leaning forward, elbows on knees, fully focused on the screen. He admired his beauty and talent, looking to me for validation, and I was sure I heard Andrew utter, ‘Wanker.'

At the end of that show, I stood. ‘You have a big day tomorrow, Emilio.'

‘
Si.
It is a big day.'

I asked Andrew to give us a minute. He stepped through the door, letting it close.

With my hands on his shoulders, I kissed Emilio's cheek. ‘Goodnight, sweet, brave, number-one seed. This time tomorrow you'll be the best player in the world!'

He smiled. ‘Yes, I think it is true.'

‘With so much money!'

He smiled more broadly. ‘Yes, that is true also. I will be very happy, this time tomorrow.'

‘Good.'

‘Because I will have
mi amuleto
.'

‘Ah, yes. Yes, you will.'

‘And I will have the sexual activity.' He gave me a wink and a naughty smile and adjusted his undies. I backed away before something came over me and I forgot what I was supposed to do. Or what I wasn't supposed to do.

‘I'll see you tomorrow.' I blew him a kiss and rushed out the door.

Andrew was standing there. I fanned my face.

‘I get it,' he said.

‘Thank you.'

And together my new friend and I went home to bed. When Andrew opened the door, I ran across the room and dived onto the rollaway. ‘Mine.'

‘No.'

‘Yes.'

He planted his fists on his hips. I pretended to be asleep already, with loud, theatrical snoring.

‘Okay.' He disappeared into the bedroom.

I stayed on the rollaway bed until I was satisfied Andrew was tucked up in the big one. I didn't want any fights or arguments about who'd be in which bed because I planned on sneaking out in the morning well before he woke.