The Boys' Club (25 page)

Rosie sat stunned, yet to her surprise, an involuntary smile turned
up the corners of her lips. She grinned even wider as a result of
this awareness. She had reached a turning point, she saw that now.
Suddenly, there was light and clarity. Salvation even.

'Oh, and get rid of the cigarettes, will you,' Lisa said. 'I'm not
giving you mouth-to-mouth next time if you smell like an ashtray.'

Jason Jarvis looked quite happy with himself. Rosie braced for
the cologne assault that usually followed his entrance, and wasn't
disappointed.
The man must actually bathe in the stuff
, she thought.

'Well, have you seen him?' he asked Rosie, peering at a photo of
Leon on her bookshelf before moving to the one of Lou, Stephen and
her at the Blues Festival in Byron Bay.

Rosie stood up to block his unwelcome perusal and gestured to
him to sit down. No one was going to infringe on her personal space
ever again.

'No, Jason, I haven't seen him. But before I ask you why I wasn't
informed about any intended change to a major star's appearance, I
need to know if Simon Nash has seen him.'

'Well no, not yet.'

'You are aware that we're seeing the network promo this afternoon,
aren't you?'

'Yes, of course I am. Keith's coming in.'

'That's right. Keith is coming in.'

Rosie wondered how the executives were going to deal with Keith's
appearance. She knew he had been on the phone to most of them
recently but, as far as she knew, she was the only one to have actually
seen him. That was weeks ago now and he'd looked then like a man
who could confidently start counting down his last days.

'Well, do you think Keith is going to be happy that the biggest star
in this network's talent pool, Peter Ingles, no longer resembles the
man in the promo, Australia's favourite friend?'

'Well, you were the one who said Ingles' image needed freshening.
What was I supposed to think?' Jason looked worried.

'I didn't mean turning him into a freakshow!'

Rosie realised she was yelling when Lisa appeared at her door,
scowling at her angrily through the glass. It was a look that reminded
her she was becoming one of them and it scared Rosie to death. That
wasn't going to happen. She willed herself inner peace and found it
came easily.

'I'm sorry, Jason,' she said, now composed. She was not going to
fall into the stress trap again. She need not absorb all this pain. Not
now there was light again.

'Well, you hardly turned out to be a support,' Jason sniffed back.
'You know, I always stood up for you when all the others were putting
you down, and you repay me by yelling!'

'Look, Jason, I really am sorry. I'd like to tell you that a hundred
times and beat myself with a cat-o'-nine-tails in a darkened closet in
penance, but the fact is I've beaten myself up enough over the past
few months, believe me.'

Jason looked at her cautiously for a moment, then relaxed his
shoulders and reclined once more in the chair.

'So, how bad is it?' Rosie asked.

'Look, it's probably a little too tight for a man of his age and they've
gone a little heavy on the eye areas . . .'

'Will the public recognise him?' Rosie asked.

'They might get a bit of a shock to begin with but people settle in
to new faces.'

'New faces? Remind me again, what was wrong with his old
face?'

'Rose, this will get us press. Isn't that what you wanted? You know
I've been lobbying for a younger host for the show for a while now.
My Dean is a fantastic gardener. Personally I think Peter is tired in
the role.'
'
Your Dean
? You mean your boyfriend, currently employed as
Caspar the Cat?'

'Well yes, I do. But that can all be discussed at another time.'

'Yeah, another time,' Rosie replied. She had to laugh. The alternative
was no longer an option.

'I guess I'd better call him up then and have a look myself. Is he
in the studio?'

'You could try Green Room 2.'

Rosie called out to Lisa to come into her office. 'Lovely, would
you do Jason here and me a favour? Can you please run down to the
green room and fetch Peter Ingles for us?'

Lisa's face contorted with alarm. 'Er . . . Peter Ingles who was in
here before?' she queried, her voice raised several notches.

'Yep, the same,' Rosie replied sympathetically. 'But here's the trick.
Can you get him in here without anyone seeing? We need to keep
him out of sight for a while, until we have a chat with Keith and
Simon.'

Lisa sneered in disbelief, and Rosie wasn't sure there was any mirth
in it at all.

'All right,' Lisa replied. 'It's not going to be easy, though.'

'You'll think of something, I know. Maybe drop by wardrobe and
grab something to drape over him. Maybe a cape?'

'Sure you don't want me to sing him "Music of the Night" too?'

Rosie laughed. She could never resist a dig at Andrew Lloyd Webber.
He needed to pay for that night she had suffered a performance of
Starlight Express
at Vera's urging.

'I don't think you need to sing the entire score of
Phantom of the
Opera
, no, but maybe a few hummed bars would help,' Rosie joked.

Lisa gave her a look that said Rosie would owe her one for this and
turned to leave.

'Wow, I wouldn't let my PA speak to me like that,' Jason Jarvis
exclaimed when she'd gone. 'You know that PA from sales is back
from maternity leave. She seems competent. I could have a word and
see if she can be transferred to publicity . . .'

'No thanks, Jason, I'll stick with Lisa.'

'It's your choice, Rose, but surely if anyone needs a good PA it's
you. I mean, that girl actually gave you lip! Doesn't she know who's
running things around here?'

'I can assure you she does, Jason,' Rosie replied, pondering just
how lost she would be without her faithful PA. As she did, she looked
up to see Lisa's concerned face at her door once again.

'What's up now?' she asked.

'Rosie, it's Karen Day. She's here, and she needs to talk to you.'
When Lisa was sure Jason couldn't see her, she made rubbing motions
under her eyes to indicate tears.

'Jason, I think I might need five minutes to take care of something
urgent. Would you mind?'

Jason looked slightly miffed as he got out of his chair. 'I'll be
waiting outside,' he sniffed, 'but don't forget we have the promo
reveal at four-thirty.'

'Oh, I won't forget, Jason, don't worry about that.'

As soon as he was out the door, Lisa led in Karen Day, who was a
distraught wreck.

'They got to her,' Lisa said angrily. 'They're a bunch of bastards.
Anyway, I have to flee to the green room before nightfall to find
Quasimodo.'

Rosie took Karen from Lisa's arms and led her to the sofa, clearing
a stack of unread magazines to make room.

'Sweetie, what's happened?' Rosie asked. 'What's made you this
upset?'

'I've been fired,' Karen wailed, tears spilling from her swollen eyes.
'And you want to know why?' she asked, her voice near hysterical.
'It's because I'm too fat! I'm too big to be a fucking weathergirl on
morning TV! Can you believe that? I got honours at university. I'm
a fucking journalist, not a fashion model!'

Rosie flashed back to the canteen chatter she'd overheard and
realised this had been planned for a while. Simon Nash wasn't going
to return Karen to news after 'livening up the weather' for a few
months as he had promised Rosie. And Allan Bales did not 'admire
her journalistic skills and impeccable track record' as he had made
Rosie write in the press release announcing Karen's appointment to
news when she first joined the network. Those bastards had moved
her to mornings for her big tits appeal then sacked her when they
deemed them too big!

They should not be allowed to get away with this.

'You're under contract, aren't you? There must be a mistake,' Rosie
said, now in assertive mode. 'Surely you have some rights? This can't
happen in this day and age. Can I talk to the head of human relations
for you? She seems a great woman. Very professional.'

'Nah, Rosie, but thanks. Basically I'm stuffed. I was only on a
year's trial and all they're doing is not extending my contract for
another term, which legally they can do.'

Rosie wracked her brain for something she could do or say. 'Have
you spoken to Bettina Arthur? She's got direct access to head office.
She's a hard one to crack but at least she's a woman. I mean, she was
enraged by the treatment Alicia Charles received.'

Karen looked at Rosie with pity. 'You don't know, do you?'

'About what? I've been in Adelaide until this afternoon.'

'Bettina Arthur was moved to the Singapore office. That other guy,
her big boss – what's his name?'

'Adam Short?'

'Yeah, well now he's running the show.'

'And Bettina?'

'Seems the boys didn't like her. They convinced head office and
Keith she wasn't up to the job, apparently.'

'Holy hell. I don't know what to say any more.'

'Yeah, I can see,' Karen said fondly, rising to leave. 'Not such a
good situation considering you're the network's mouthpiece.'

'You're not wrong there,' Rosie replied, and hugged the reporter
as hard as she could. 'You'll survive this, Karen, believe me. You're a
great journo and a damn fine woman.'

'Yeah, well, you're not too bad yourself. See you around, Rosie,
and thanks for being a sister.'

'Oh, Karen, I'm so sorry.'

'Yeah, so am I. But, hey, before I go, will you make my day?'

'Anything!'

'Tell me the truth, did you really bonk the guy from the
Sentinel
in the lift?'

Rosie didn't get a chance to lodge a vehement denial. Lisa was
back. And beside her was the celebrated host of
Great Gardens
, Peter
Ingles, OBE. Only he looked like ET.

Rosie had never been happier to see the back of a head. Stepping into
the boardroom, it was all she could do to stop herself running and
cuddling Keith when she heard that unmistakable '
rrrrraaaaaaark
'
of his, followed by the predictable gurgle of the boys' club.

'Keith,' she yelled despite herself. 'God, it's good to see you
here!'

All heads turned, including Keith's, a look of delight flashing across
his face before quickly changing to obvious guilt. As she entered the
room, Rosie realised why. Half-empty coffee cups and plates of biscuit
crumbs were strewn on the table's surface. Each man had a manila
folder in front of him, some with the pages still open. This meeting,
she deduced, had been going for some time already.

Rosie turned back to Keith and looked at his frail face. He couldn't
make eye contact with her. 'Good to see you so well,' she said, hoping
he'd return her gaze.

'It's the drugs I'm taking,' Keith replied, addressing the room in
general. 'Steroids. Supposed to make your cock soft but done the
opposite for me. Can't roll over in bed at night!
Raark
.'

Guffaws too loud to be sincere followed from the boys' chorus.
Rosie realised this was not going to be a meeting with the Keith she
had visited at home. Big Keith Norman of legend was back and once
again running the room.

Looking towards the end of the table, Rosie noted Alicia Charles'
absence. In her usual place was a young man who also had a manila
folder and was interacting easily with the other men. Rosie could
sense this man was already inner circle, and wondered when and how
he'd become one of the anointed.

'So, Keith, mate, we should get to the promo tape.' It was Johnno
Johnston – speaking up out of turn, from the look on Simon Nash's
pink-flushed face.

'Just hang on to your fucking bra-strap, Johnno,' Keith replied
dismissively. 'Don't you want to know what really happened last
night?'

All faces turned to Rosie, who felt like she was shrinking in their
shadow.

'Mate, I already know,' Simon Nash interjected cockily, gleeful to
have some gossip to impart to Keith. 'It was actually nothing. Leach
passed out on her!'

Rosie was stunned. How did Simon know Greg had passed out? She
was the only person other than Greg to know that. Suddenly it hit her.
The Darkness was the
Sentinel
leak. He had to be! How else could he
have spoken to Greg this morning when even Rosie's calls to him went
unanswered? The very man who had convinced Keith to throw her out
of the programming meetings on the suspicion that
she
was the one
talking to the enemy! The same Simon Nash who knew the
Sentinel
was
all over the Klaus Heinrich story when Rosie didn't. Rosie took a deep
breath.
No use panicking
. She would have to wait for an appropriate time
to reveal this information. Instead, she should just disengage, stay calm
and try to enjoy the show, she told herself.
Let the light shine in.

'What a fucking girl!' Keith was bellowing. 'Fucking journos boast
how they can hold their booze. They know nothing about television!
Raaaaark
.'

Once again the boys laughed too early and too loudly, but Rosie
merely looked passively on.

Johnno Johnston spoke next: 'Look, as good as it is to see you, Keith,
Nathan here only has an hour and he's here to see the promo – as
well as meeting you, of course!'

'Yeah, all right then,' Keith grumbled, casting a glance at the young
man Rosie still hadn't been introduced to. She contemplated making
the first move and introducing herself, then decided it was too hard.
No good could come of putting her head out in kicking range. Just
stay with the light and enjoy the show.

Johnno gestured to Simon to stand, and he bounced up so readily
Rosie was sure he must have been on his toes in anticipation.

'Just a bit of background, if I may,' Simon said, actually bowing
towards Keith. 'As you know we've had to change the promo at the
last moment after that little hiccup we had with Alicia Charles.'

As everyone in the room nodded in acknowledgement of the
so-called hiccup, Rosie wondered just what version they'd have
heard now that Bettina Arthur was in Singapore and out of sight.
Something told her things had been turned around in editing, as
they so often are in the TV game.

'We're still casting
Hotel
– that's the new name for the drama, by
the way, although if everyone could refer to it as Project X in emails
for the time being it would be appreciated. Anyway, as casting is
still underway we had to think fast. Johnno agreed with me that
by focusing on any specific new shows we might just confuse the
audience, so we thought it best to use the tried and tested approach,
showcasing the network's star-power. Basically, we just stopped and
asked, "What would Keith do?" '

Rosie looked on in admiration. Nash was an operator and a half.
How could Keith go against his idea now, when he'd just been
told it was his own? And how could she, given that the proposed
title –
Hotel
– was the one she'd written on the notes she gave Nash
after the disastrous Alicia 'hiccup'? Keith was smiling broadly, though
his once full cheeks now sagged with dark creases.

'Anyway, summer is coming and everyone wants to head to the
beach . . .' Simon continued.

'Something tells me I'm going to see some tits!' Keith bellowed,
followed by a hearty
raark
. Again there were compulsory titters from
the others. Rosie pondered if Keith's cup really did contain coffee.
He was in full roar. Perhaps he was also in his cups?

'Well, actually, you just might,' Nash replied, chortling. 'Johnno
and I did have a bit of a say in the casting.'

'
Raaaaark!
I bet you fucking did!' Keith yelled. Rosie wondered if
he was going deaf or if he always spoke this loudly and she'd never
noticed before.

'I know you would have had an easy time with that, mate,' Keith
roared at Johnno, his obvious wink impossible to ignore.

Johnno beamed, his naughty boy charm turned up to ten. 'Now,
Keith, you know I'd never kiss and tell,' he replied, casting a glance
in Rosie's direction.

Rosie suddenly realised that Johnno Johnston not only remembered
last night's come-on but may well have embellished it in the telling.
She wouldn't put it past Johnno to have informed the men that
she'd
made a pass at
him
. He certainly wasn't acting like a man who had
been rejected. Oh well. There was nothing she could do without
getting upset. It was all water under the bridge now. Or soon would
be.

'Anyway,' Simon Nash cut in, turning the attention back to the
promo and, as such, himself. 'We filmed it over two days at Palm
Beach and came in under budget. We got that guy who won the last
Australian Idol
to write a theme song. Whatsisname? I don't know,
Kent something . . .' Simon looked to Johnno, who shrugged his
shoulders. 'Anyway, the shirt-lifter cost us a fortune, so you'd better
like it.'

'Just play the fucking thing, will you?' Keith yelled, throwing
a biscuit at Nash's head. It splintered, spraying crumbs on his
immaculate suit. Nash tried to act like it didn't matter but Rosie
knew it must hurt. The man spent a fortune on clothes.

'Okay, okay,' Nash begged, putting on a ham performance of Keith
beating him down.

He ran to the main light switch, turned the dimmer to low and
watched the large screen crackle with colour. After a ten-second
countdown, it was filled with a yoke yellow, panning out to reveal
an actual buttercup. The music started up, and Rosie took in the
lyrics:

'It's a shiny happy day . . .'

'You like the words?' Simon piped up over the noise. 'We basically
took that famous REM song – they're a popular music group,
Keith – and turned the lyrics around so we wouldn't have to pay
them a cent!' Simon looked so pleased with himself it was as if he was
about to burst into song at any moment too. So, Rosie realised, she
was about to endure her most despised REM song, the annoyingly
repetitive and inane 'Shiny Happy People', only in reverse. This
would be interesting.

The camera pulled away from the buttercup, moving so far up
that it was clearly an aerial shot. A green cliff top dotted with colour
revealed itself, expanding to include a stretch of sand and surf. And
zoom, the camera swept in again, this time right to the sandy edge,
where two wriggling dots turned into the hosts of
G'day Australia
,
building a sandcastle. One threw a handful of sand, which led to a
mock fight. The female presenter, Shirley Waby, stood up to escape
the blows, exposing a wobbling midriff. Then the two of them turned
to the overhead camera and jumped up and down like hyperactive
meerkats.

Shirley will die if that ever makes it to air
, Rosie thought to herself,
but she refused to care. There was no use. She knew that now.

The camera moved again, this time to green grass, and Crystelle
Callaghan lying on a colourful banana lounge. Rosie had to stop
herself from wolf-whistling and applauding her friend, but her pleasure
turned to horror as the shot closed in and Crystelle stood up to reveal
she was dressed in an undignified and too-short grass skirt. Rosie felt
the urge to protest but breathed hard instead.

She was feeling giddy by the next camera shot, which homed in
on
Little Kids School
hosts, the lovely twin sisters Annabel and Sarah.
Rosie was not surprised to see the girls had been decked out in denim
shorts and T-shirts, and were drenching each other with a garden
hose.

'Whoooaaar, I wouldn't mind them teaching me the AB fucking
C,' Keith growled, drowning out the happy and shiny song for a
merciful second.

Simon nudged Johnno in the ribs, as if to say 'fess up'.

'You lucky bastard,' Keith said proudly, knowing what must have
occurred. 'When did you sneak the twins in?'

'Well, you haven't been in for a while,' Johnno said confidently,
then looked slightly awkward when his eyes met Rosie's.

This time the entire table laughed – even Jason Jarvis, who had
probably missed the joke altogether, given that he'd just slunk in late,
Rosie noticed.

'Fuck me, you're good! What about her?' Keith asked, now
pointing at a pretty young gardener on screen kneeling forward to
feign digging a hole.

Everyone looked at Johnno, who burst into laughter. 'Let's just
say that's a view I remember well,' he said, nodding his head as the
woman's upturned rear filled the screen.

Rosie knew this was where she would normally stand up and
say something, getting herself all revved up for nothing other than
another round of abuse. Instead, she stayed where she was and smiled
peacefully. She would not waste energy on these men any more.
Instead, it was all going to go to her boy, the one man in her life who
deserved it – and Daniel. Wonderful darling Daniel. Justice would
come soon enough to these men. Mother Karma would take care of
them all in her own time.

The clip continued to the end, having run through every corny
beach set-up imaginable, from kicking at waves to skimming stones
and even strolling arm in arm with a parasol. Rosie thought it was
possibly the tritest piece of fourth-rate porn she'd ever seen, and the
network stars were its badly lit, scantily clad hos and pimps. She
imagined for a moment the press's reaction, but refused to give it any
further thought.

Applause all round greeted the clip. Rosie even found herself
thoughtlessly clapping along. It wasn't her problem. There was
nothing she could do now anyway.

'Great work, boys,' Keith yelled as the lights came on. 'I love it. We
might need to cut to some of Alicia's cast from what was it . . .'

'
Hotel
,' Simon Nash responded.

'Yeah,
Hotel
, I like it. Anyway, we might need some sheilas from it
in there too. Get the two best sorts from the show?'

Rosie tried and failed to stop herself grinning at the thought of
the butch woman she had seen in the showreel, wearing hot pants,
holding a balloon and skipping along to 'Happy, Shiny Day'.

As Alicia was conspicuously absent, Nash took it upon himself
to answer. 'I'm working on casting right now, Keith. Don't worry, I
know what you want. I just need to tinker with some contract issues
Alicia has forced on us.'

Forced on us?
Rosie thought. Boy, have things changed around
here. When last she looked, it was Alicia had been wrongly done by.

Keith turned to Rosie and snapped: 'Who do you plan to have
work with you on
Hotel
publicity-wise, Rosie?'

Rosie was taken aback. Keith had almost barked at her.

'Well, Keith, I'm a little short-staffed at the moment . . .'

'What about that good sort you've got working with you. Name
like that poncy hairdresser's car. What is the—'

'You mean Portia?'

'Yeah, that's it. What's happened to her?'

Rosie was in a numb daze, searching her brain for an answer, when
she heard a male voice whisper from across the table, 'Had her.'

Rosie swung to face Johnno Johnston, as did the rest of the room.
There on his handsome dial was that shit-eating grin again. Rosie felt
everything click into place. Portia was about to be sacked because
she'd slept with Johnno. That's why Portia had been coming in
early for breakfast with the boys. She was travelling into work with
Johnno. Obviously, he'd ended things. They wanted Rosie to fire her
to save Johnno any uncomfortable moments while he homed in on
a new target.

Unbelievable! No, actually – so believable!

'Fuck me, mate!' Keith roared, tipping back in his chair slightly,
causing Rosie to flash back to that incident in his office where she
thought he was about to snuff it.