Wes stopped by for a cuppa last night. Oh, and Dr Markus Abrahams is my new co-host
I fire off the text to Penny as I walk into the radio station.
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ROSIE
She starts calling me over and over.
It was cruel of me to text when I won’t have time to respond properly for a few hours, but I had to let her know what was going on.
I’d woken this morning unsure if I had dreamt my encounter with Wes, but then padded out to the living room to see Squash snuggled up beside the peace posie.
Wes had left behind more than the painting – he’d delivered a mix of emotions and plenty of unresolved feelings, too. I’d found myself agreeing to meet him on Saturday. I was tired and he’d caught me off guard. There’s always time to change my mind.
But today is the big on-air date with Markus and I need to be on my game, which means no more Wes thoughts. I take a deep breath as I round the corner to my desk, steeling myself for the morning ahead. I’m sure that even a nasty hangover won’t stop Markus from copious amounts of big-noting. I just hope that Cedric is on hand to help manage his ego. That’s if he bothers showing up.
Cedric breezes in five minutes after I’ve arrived at the station. He’s wearing black, oversized shades like Anna Wintour perusing a high-fashion catwalk.
‘You’re in deep shit, girlfriend,’ I call. I do a quick scan of the room to make sure there’s no Markus. ‘Are you sure we’re friends? Because it really seems like you’re actively trying to achieve frenemy status.’
‘I’m sorry, Rosie.’ His voice is thick and hoarse and he’s sniffing like he’s trying not to cry, or he’s just finished sobbing.
Aside from a brief moment of concern, I’d assumed that Cedric had suffered some type of wardrobe malfunction but had eventually made it to Lesters. It was even possible that he’d be mad at me for leaving the event early – although I’d texted him again to explain the Markus fiasco. It hadn’t occurred to me there could be something seriously wrong.
‘Ceddie! What’s the matter?’ I’ve seen him cry uncontrollably listening to Taylor’s rerecorded version of ‘Red’. But this emotion is different.
Cedric lifts his sunglasses. His eyes are puffy and bloodshot. I hurry over to him and place a hand on his shoulder. Tears well up in his eyes and start streaming down his face.
‘It’s Siiiiiiiiiiiiimon. He told me that if I keep putting on weight he doesn’t know if he’ll find me attractive anymooooooooore.’ He’s heaving and struggling to breathe.
I find a crumpled tissue in my pocket and hand it to him. I’m aware that Cedric often exaggerates. It’s likely that Simon – probably not very tactfully – suggested Ceddie sharpen up for the wedding, and he’s twisted Si’s words and run screaming for the hills.
‘I’m sure Simon didn’t mean it. I bet it was one of those “in the heat of the moment” things.’ I hate seeing Cedric this upset.
‘It waasssn’t, he saiid the weddinnng mighhhht be offfff.’
I rub his shoulders in a futile attempt to calm him. His sobs deepen so I pull him close for a hug. Eventually, his breathing returns to a steady peace. When I release him, Markus is standing silently in the corner.
Cedric doesn’t notice him. He’d be absolutely mortified knowing that his new celebrity talent has witnessed him in such a state. Markus catches my eye. ‘Coffee?’ he mouths.
I nod and he tiptoes off towards the kitchen.
‘Sorry, Rosie. I promise that as soon as Markus arrives, I’ll control the waterworks,’ Cedric pledges with another loud sniff.
‘Don’t be silly. That’s what friends are for. And we are friends.’ Given his current emotional state it’s important to emphasise that I’m no longer harbouring any hostility.
‘I think you should go home and patch things up with Simon. You’re not going to be of any use to us like this.’
‘But you need me. It’s the first day with Markus and I told you I’d handle it.’ Cedric is so sweet in his sincerity. It’s one of his many qualities that sparked our instant love affair.
‘Handle, schmandle.’ I wave his words away. ‘How about I just deal. Markus is a seasoned entertainer. I’m sure we’ll be fine.’ Entertainer, all right. I decide not to remind Cedric of Markus’s night of excess.
‘Espresso? Latte? I’ve frothed milk just in case.’ Markus reappears with a tray of coffees. I’m surprised that he knows his way around a Nespresso machine. He sets down the tray on my desk and selects a cup filled with dark liquid. ‘Boy, do I need this . . .’ He steals a quick look at me.
Yes, Markus, your secret is safe with me. I only texted Cedric the basics and it seems that, amid his own dramas, it’s been forgotten. Despite what Markus may think, I have no intention of discussing last night’s shenanigans. My night had taken its own Wes-shaped turn. But I know better than to bring my personal life to my workplace. Markus had better check his Eryka issues at the studio door. I just need him to remain professional and get on with it. Cedric isn’t exactly in the right frame of mind to deal with a radio disaster, and I’m still finding my on-air legs.
‘What five-star service, Markus!’ Cedric says with so much faux cheer I can practically see his back strain as he high-kicks. ‘We could get used to this, right, Rosie?’
‘Sure,’ I say. I turn to Markus. ‘I was just saying to Ceddie that he really should go home. He has a dreadful stomach-ache. I think he needs some rest.’
‘Yes, sorry, Markus. That’s why I didn’t make it last night. But I’m fine now.’ Cedric takes a long sip of his milky latte to demonstrate his ironclad stomach.
‘Really, mate?’ Markus jumps in. ‘You’re not looking the best. I agree with Rosie; go home and let us take it from here.’
So much more perceptive than I would have imagined. I wonder if it has anything to do with his own break-up. When things aren’t happy at home, it’s much easier to sniff out the relationship woes of others.
It seems Markus’s words are all the permission Cedric needs. He bids us farewell and is out the door before I’ve even taken a sip of coffee.
‘Break a leg, guys,’ he says and blows me a kiss.
‘Ditto, Ceddie,’ I whisper as he brushes past.
We do a quick run-through to sort timings, such as where Markus will take the lead and where I’ll be driving. I have most of the show covered except our joint introduction – and the animal advice. We hadn’t exactly been a Beethoven kind of household. Raising me on his own was enough for Dad without having the added responsibility of feeding a labradoodle. Squash is new territory. We’ve been cohabiting well, but like a new pair of jeans purchased in a hurry at the Boxing Day sales, the jury is still out on the fit.
‘Thirty seconds!’ Stacey announces.
My stomach churns. I think it’s good to get nervous. It helps boost the show’s energy.
‘Ready, Markus?’ I exclaim. My wild swirl of emotions has temporarily numbed my disdain for him.
I glance over at my co-host to see the colour draining from his face. He looks like he’s about to hurl. He pulls a bottle from his pocket, unscrews the cap and empties two white pills into his hand. He must be suffering from one of Pen’s famed ‘false dawn’ hangovers – fine one minute and horrid the next. Once Markus has swallowed the tablets, his head drops between his legs and he begins breathing deeply.
‘Markussssssssss,’ I hiss. Does he realise that it’s go time?
The on-air sign starts flashing.
I launch in, not missing a beat. ‘Playing the best mix of pop, rock and smooth jazz, you’re listening to Breakfast on Gold 86.7 FM with Rosie Royce, and my brand-new co-host, Dr Markus Abrahams. Welcome, Markus!’
I silently will Markus to right himself and lean into the mic. He doesn’t look up.
I continue. ‘We’re all about home-grown content and sharing stories with heart. We want to chat about the issues that matter to you, big and small. Because they matter to us, too.’
Still no movement from Markus’s side of the table. I keep my voice steady and focus on maintaining the liveliness. ‘From today, we’ll be opening up the lines so Markus can answer all of your animal questions. As the star of Channel 19’s hit show Markus & Pup, Markus is as experienced as they come about all things animals.’ My forced fanfare is like nails on a chalkboard. ‘He’s also recently opened up a vet practice at the beautiful Horizons Mudgee.’ Ugh. Why am I promo-ing his business while he’s comatose in his chair?
‘He can help you out with your horses, alpacas, sheep, cows, turkeys, dogs, cats, miniature donkeys and even – ah – sloths . . .’ I swing my legs wildly to try to make contact with Markus’s shin. I’m clearly struggling.
‘Tell us more about what brought you here, Markus. Our listeners have heard all about my tree change . . .’ Maybe a direct address will elicit a response.
Silence.
This is more than a bad hangover. This is sabotage.
It’s only been a couple of seconds of dead air, but it feels like twenty. Markus still won’t look up and even the quietest whisper will be audible to listeners so I can’t even hiss again – let alone drop the F-bomb.
I’d do anything to hear that stupid honeyed voice right now.
Markus coughs. ‘Well, um . . .’ he croaks.
Halle-bloody-lujah! I nod encouragingly.
‘Yes . . .?’ I continue to prompt.
‘Let’s see . . . well, ahh, the Mudgee region is spectacular.’
Not brilliant, but spoken words, nonetheless.
I have to nudge Markus a few more times before he begins to loosen up and our chitchat flows okay. Once the calls start, green-faced Markus is all but gone. He’s terrible at sticking to the five-minute time limit per caller, but his enthusiasm is obvious. When horse breeder Natalie phones in about her beloved thoroughbred, Fred, not shedding his coat last summer, Markus suggests getting him tested for Cushing’s disease. He delivers the prognosis perfectly. Not over-explaining or causing huge alarm, but still giving detail where necessary.
There’s the occasional stutter, but the energy is bang-on.
Next, Jack calls in again. I’d waited half an hour after he drove off with Markus slumped in the backseat before sending a thank you text and introducing my ‘Jack of All Yarns’ segment idea. He replied straightaway with a suggested time slot of 8.30 am Fridays. Today he tells us about some of the area’s sacred sites. Markus is curious yet respectful as we discuss the cultural significance of the local gullies, ridges and watering holes that were used for shelter and food. When Jack rings off, not only do I feel like I’ve learnt a heap, but I’m hopeful we’ve provided a productive discussion for listeners.
By the time the end-of-show jingle sounds, I’m fairly certain we’ve managed an entertaining couple of hours. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m impressed with Markus. I’ve even almost forgotten about our rocky start.
We receive a congratulatory group text from Cedric.
Amazeballs show! You guys killed it. Now go celebrate. Lunch on the station, I insist. Credit card is in top drawer of my desk
My phone beeps again with another message. Just to me this time.
P.S. Simon and I have checked in for a romantic night at Evanslea! Back on track x
I’ve never understood the ‘fight hard, love harder’ school of romance, but I’m happy he’s feeling better. Although, lunch with Markus? Cedric must be high on frankincense oils from a couple’s massage if he thinks that more time with Markus is any sort of reward.
Markus is standing by the studio door tapping quietly away on his phone. I hope he doesn’t think we’re actually going to lunch. We may have pulled off a decent show, but that doesn’t make us bosom buddies.
‘Markus?’
His head snaps up. ‘Oh, so we can talk now. I wasn’t sure if we were still on air, and I didn’t want to mess up again.’
At least he’s acknowledging he screwed up and isn’t hiding behind his hangover.
‘I was awful. I’m so sorry, Rosie – I choked. I don’t know what happened.’
Wow. I wasn’t expecting an apology.
‘Don’t be silly, Markus. It was your first show; you’ll get better. You were really firing by the end there.’ I can’t believe that I’m comforting him. ‘It can’t be much different from TV, can it?’
‘I thought it would be easier. Since I get to hide this mug.’ Markus gestures to his perfect face. ‘But I was wrong. There are no second takes. You’re a star, Rosie. Seriously. The way you can keep everything on track like that, but you’re also so entertaining . . .’
I lap up his compliments – I’m only human. I guess I could split nachos with this guy after all.
‘Did you see Cedric’s offer? Want to grab lunch?’ I’m proud of this mature Rosie, even if she’s partial to flattery . . . ‘Meet over at Lesters in an hour or so?’ I should at least have a quick shower and swap my sneakers for some boots.
‘I’d love that, I really would. But I have to get back to the practice.’
His response is like a kick in the guts. ‘Sure. Another time, then.’
I should feel relieved. I’ve done the ‘right’ thing and now I’m free to go home, eat nachos and swipe in peace.
‘But I’d like the chance to thank you for being a complete lifesaver last night – and now today,’ Markus says. ‘Can I interest you in dinner tonight at mine instead? Nothing fancy, just some takeaway or something.’
At Horizons?
‘Say 5 pm? For sunset,’ he continues.
‘Umm . . . sure. Okay.’
Skipping out on the opportunity to visit Horizons Mudgee is not worth Penny’s wrath. Plus, I’m intrigued to see inside the famed mansion for myself. I’m sure that I can suffer through one dinner with Markus for a serving of juicy content.