9.

‘You’re so tanned — like beach-babe tanned not trash-bag tanned,’ Sia said. ‘Is that a French mani? Unbelievable! I go away for one day and you’ve turned into California Barbie.’

‘I don’t look that different,’ I said, rolling my eyes. But even I didn’t believe what was coming out of my mouth. Anyone could see I was Josie Browning 2.0 — the version that came with better hair, skin and grooming. Steph had even screamed when I’d got home the previous night because she thought we had a ‘super-hot intruder’ — her words, not mine.

‘Sweetie, your nails usually look like you’ve painted them wearing a blindfold, no offence,’ Sia said.

‘Has Harrison been texting you bitchy stuff to say to me or something?’ I asked. ‘You’re a bit snarky this morning.’

‘No, I’m not,’ she snapped. She perched on the edge of my desk, crossed her arms over her chest and huffed once, twice, three times.

‘Whatever you say.’ I shrugged. Liani had warned me that Sia’s pregnancy hormones were here to stay.

‘Four months,’ she said. ‘I’m four months pregnant already.’

Before I had a chance to reply, Liani had hurried over and swept Sia into a hug. ‘Oh darling,’ she said.

‘I’ll have a baby in about five months … a real-life baby,’ Sia cried. ‘I’ve spent longer deciding whether to try a new haircut! The doc was so happy for me too, suggesting prams and cribs … it made me sick. Well, even more sick. What am I supposed to do? I’ve taken this job and … I’m sorry I’m letting you down, Liani. I have no idea what happens next — where’s the parenting book titled I’m Completely Unprepared for Having a Baby Because I Didn’t Realise I was Pregnant, I Just Thought I was Fat, Tired and Stressed, huh? Someone should write that book. I’d buy it.’

I held my breath as she spoke, petrified I’d let out a nervous cough or hiccup.

‘You’re not letting me down,’ Liani said, stroking Sia’s hair. ‘Put that out of your head right now. We’re going to work this out together, okay? In fact, you know what, let’s do it. You and me: kitchen.’

Sia looked petrified. ‘Now?’

Liani held out her hand to help Sia stand up. ‘You’re four months, honey. Let’s not wait any longer.’ She turned to me. ‘Josie, can you follow up on those save-the-date emails from last week? Mya and I are dying to hear if we’ve got a nibble from Maxxy. Might be good to make some calls?’

‘On it,’ I said. ‘Whatever you need.’

As they walked towards the kitchen, I heard Liani telling Sia, ‘I’ll get you a lolly, sweetie, and we’ll talk it out. Research shows that eating lollies brightens your day, and also increases your chances of becoming rich and highly successful. That last bit may or may not be true.’

Based on Liani’s theory, I was destined for great things — I’d been powering through the lolly jar on a daily basis.

Back at my desk, I found I’d received quite a few RSVPs for the launch from a mixture of B- and C-grade stars. Now I just needed to convince the A-listers that our launch would be the hottest one around. You can do this, I reminded myself. You’re no longer an intern; you’re inviting them to an incredible red-carpet event. If anything, they should be calling you begging for their names to be put on the door.

Hours — and about a litre of soft drink — later, I’d made serious progress. I’d managed to get forty-nine excited ‘Yes’ responses; twenty-four counts of ‘Maybe, send over the details again’; and six flat-out ‘No’ replies (one agent told me her client — a star on a much-loved soapie — didn’t ‘rough it’). I’d also left countless voicemails (each one excruciating); got two wrong numbers and accidentally extended an invite to a 64-year-old florist called Nancy.

To make sure I had my pitch down, I’d saved Darlene Wright, Maxxy’s manager, for last. I punched in her number, trying not to be intimidated by her photo on Maxxy’s website — she had huge red hair, a huge blue power jacket and huge diamond earrings. Something told me she’d have a huge attitude too. But I didn’t get a chance to find out: the phone rang three times, then went to voicemail. Caught off guard, I left a longwinded message about the launch.

I was rereading the spreadsheet when my phone blasted to life, showing an unknown number.

‘Er, hello, indi, Josie speaking,’ I said.

‘Darlene here,’ said the woman on the other end of the line, before clearing her throat with the grace of a kitchen garbage disposal. ‘I had a missed call and voicemail from this number?’

‘Hello, Darlene, ah, yes, that was me, Josie Browning,’ I said. ‘So you heard my voicemail?’

‘No.’

‘Oh.’ I paused, waiting for her to say more. She didn’t. ‘So … I was calling to tell you about a fantastic opportunity for Max that —’

‘It’s Maxxy.’

‘Yes, sorry,’ I blabbered. ‘So, I’m calling from indi magazine — well, we’re technically a website — and I wanted to follow up on a save-the-date email I sent through. We’re having a launch soon and we’d love Maxxy to perform if she’s available.’

‘Bindi?’ Darlene said. ‘Never heard of it.’

‘Ah, no, it’s indi … as in “i” for island, “n” for neck, “d” for dagwood dog —’

She cut me off. ‘Still never heard of it. I must have lost the email.’

Another eardrum-rattling cough echoed down the line.

‘Look, I’m in a rush,’ she continued. ‘Who else will be there? And, in addition to Maxxy’s usual rate, is there also an appearance fee on offer?’

‘Um, a lot of fantastic people will be there,’ I replied, knowing full well I wasn’t answering the question. ‘And I’ll have to get back to you about the fees —’

‘Will hair, make-up and transport be provided too?’ Darlene fired back.

‘Um …’

‘You do know she’s based up north now? When is this, anyway?’

That was a question I did know the answer to. ‘It’s not this Saturday, but the next one.’

‘So this is a last-minute invite?’ Darlene snarled. ‘Was Maxxy your second or third choice?’

‘No, no, she’s top of the list, I can assure you,’ I said. ‘Let me get all those answers for you and I’ll call you straight back.’

‘Email’s better,’ she said, and told me a different address to the one on Maxxy’s website.

I lunged for a pen and scribbled it down. ‘Well, thanks for your time. I’ll be in touch about Max — I mean Maxxy,’ I said, but Darlene had already hung up.

Bloody hell. I was completely at a loss how to answer Darlene’s questions.

My mobile rang with another unknown number and a little tingle of excitement ran through me. Maybe it was Darlene calling to say Maxxy would be delighted to come after all.

Of course, it wasn’t her.

‘Josie!’ a man’s voice boomed. ‘It’s Professor Fillsmore.’

‘Filly, hi! Is everything okay?’ Uni hadn’t gone back yet, so I wasn’t sure why he’d be calling.

‘You betcha it is — and what about you? Still loving being a real-life reporter?’

I winced. ‘You bet. Living the dream.’

‘Great — couldn’t be happier for you,’ he said. ‘I bet you’re wondering why I’m calling, hey? Well, your journo class from last year is heading up to the city tomorrow to meet and greet with a few media outlets and we’d love for you to come along.’

Ever the nerdbot, I knew the first-year curriculum from left to right and top to bottom, and was a hundred per cent sure that hadn’t been a part of it.

‘That’s a little last-minute … and we’re technically still on holidays.’

‘Yeah, it’s a bit of a late addition, to be honest … and we sort of forgot to tell you about it,’ Filly admitted. ‘Sorry! I’ll level with you. We got word late last semester that we need to put even more of a focus on prac and networking. The industry’s changing and it’s the only way to keep up.’

‘It sounds good,’ I said, ‘but with my fulltime job at indi I probably have all the practical skills I need for now. If it’s okay with you I’ll give it a miss and —’

‘Sorry, I didn’t phrase that properly,’ he said. ‘Josie, you have to come along, it’s a compulsory part of the course.’

‘Filly, I understand, but my workload’s huge and —’

‘I get it,’ Filly said, softening his tone. ‘Your marks are stellar, you’ve got a busy job — you’re kicking goals. But what’s compulsory for the others has to be compulsory for you too. It’s got to be completed before semester kicks off. We’ve already stretched the rules for you about as far as we can.’

‘I know,’ I said, wishing he wasn’t right. ‘I guess I’ll be there.’

‘We’re meeting outside the big post office in the city — you know the one?’

‘Yeah, I do.’ I’d once walked past that post office with my dress tucked into my undies, but Filly didn’t need to know that. ‘Who are the meet-and-greets with?’

‘Still finalising the itinerary, but it’s shaping up to be a cracker … Hang on, do you want to show us around your new workplace? Maybe arrange a writing workshop with your editor?’

I visualised a group of students stampeding into the office as Liani suffered through one of Mya’s long-winded phone calls, and Sia had a pregnancy meltdown at her desk. ‘You know what … we’re on deadline, so it’s all a bit … you know … frantic. Maybe one day.’ Or never.

‘Alrighty. Well, dress to impress and I’ll see you at 9 am outside the post office.’

‘Bye, Filly.’ I hung up, realising I now had to ask Liani for a day off when she needed me most, and scrape together a respectable outfit.

An hour later, Liani and Sia emerged from the kitchen — both tear-stained, both exhausted. I mouthed, ‘Here if you need anything,’ to Sia, and she nodded and returned to her seat.

‘Any luck with Maxxy?’ Liani asked me.

‘I spoke with her manager. How do you feel about paying for hair, make-up and transport?’

‘All three? That pushy, self-entitled —’

‘She also has gig rates … and an appearance fee,’ I added.

Liani released a string of expletives, which sounded odd coming from her usually polite mouth. ‘She’s Maxxy, not the queen of England. She’s barely been on the scene for five seconds! Besides, if we offer every guest those perks we’ll be out of business before we’ve officially launched the new site. Try to talk some sense into her people.’ She swore again, and I wondered if she was crunching numbers in her head. ‘Pass me that pad, could you, hon?’

She huffed and scribbled, then huffed and scribbled some more.

‘Introducing the new launch rules for everyone,’ she said, passing me the pad.

I scanned the list. ‘Okay, so no appearance fees …’

‘Unless it’s the only way to get Maxxy across the line,’ Liani added, ‘but don’t tell her manager that.’

I nodded and kept reading. ‘Don’t offer hair and make-up — but if they ask, then tackle on a case-by-case basis as it’ll depend on how much we want them there. Don’t mention transport — but if they ask for transfers or cab charges, say yes. That all sounds easy enough,’ I finished. ‘I’ll email Darlene the details before I leave.’

‘Thanks, Jose.’

‘Oh, and Liani … I hate to do this — like, really hate to do this — but I might need a favour tomorrow …’

Luckily, Liani scored eleven out of ten on the Niceness Scale when I told her about the excursion, although she requested I check my work emails on my phone during the day so the launch-planning tasks didn’t get bottle-necked. I knew that I’d be making up the lost hours in my own time; there was too much to do.

It wasn’t until I was packing up for the day that Sia popped over for a chat. ‘So, um, I’m sorry about before, hon. I’m a walking stress hormone at the moment.’

‘It’s fine. Take it easy, yeah?’

She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Can you imagine if I was still working for Rae? She’d have me swing past an event on the way to the maternity ward … Hey, Jose?’

‘Yeah?’ I yawned, exhausted after another huge day.

‘Any idea why Edwina couriered me this?’ Sia pulled out a basket from beneath her desk. Inside was a fluffy plush puppy and three of the smallest pastel onesies I had ever seen.

‘Um … funny story actually,’ I said.

‘I bet.’

‘I am so sorry. Edwina bailed me up at the wellness event yesterday and basically had me pinned in the corner, asking me questions.’

Sia shook her head. ‘You’re going to have to strengthen your defences against those girls. They sniff out stories like Scotland Yard police dogs.’

‘I feel terrible —’ I started.

‘Oh, it’s all good,’ Sia said. ‘I’ll be the size of a fridge in a couple of months! Everyone might as well know now.’

I snorted with laughter and she pulled me in for a hug, squeezing me like a rag doll.

‘This is a seriously maternal hug,’ I teased her. ‘You’re going to make a great mum, you know that?’

‘Tread carefully, Browning.’

‘It’s true,’ I said, pleased to see Sia blushing at my compliment.

I waved goodbye to the team, reminding Liani that I’d only be a call away tomorrow. But first, I had some well-earned Josie-and-James time to catch up on that evening (did I mention I have a boyfriend?) and a wheel of brie cheese to demolish.

Or maybe not.

My eyes widened as Steph sliced off another hunk of brie the size of her fist.

‘Dad threw a fit and begged me to move home this afternoon,’ she said, shaking her head.

I could feel a rant brewing.

‘He reckons he can’t handle me working as a waitress, living here in this dump — his words — and then going back overseas to see Tim … He thinks I’m better than all this. You should see the emails I’m getting from him and Mum. They’re soaked in guilt and self-loathing. These are the same people who openly cheat on each other, and I’m expected to listen to them? I’ll show you the rubbish they’re saying …’

James and I exchanged looks as Steph hurried off to her room to collect her phone.

‘Didn’t she have a shift tonight?’ he muttered so Steph couldn’t hear.

‘It fell through, but they’ll buzz if they get busy,’ I whispered.

‘Right … Hey, you look kinda different. Have you been relaxing on the beach in Hawaii without me?’

I smirked. ‘Okay, you know that scene in The Wizard of Oz when they primp and preen Dorothy? That was me at work yesterday — there was even a wicked witch!’

‘I’ll say it again: you get paid to do this stuff?’ James laughed. ‘Tough life for some, J-Bird!’

‘Shuddup!’

‘Alright, alright.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Hey, do Steph’s parents really have affairs?’

‘Have I never told you?’ I whispered, remembering the first time Steph had explained her fascinating family dynamic to me. Last I’d heard, her dad had been seeing Rae Swanson, of all people, and her mum was hooking up with the landscape architect. Now that her folks were getting a new en suite installed, Steph was betting money on the plumber joining in on the fun too.

It was strange seeing Steph so fired up. Usually she loved pissing off her dad with her outlandish adventures, but maybe nineteen years of defending her right to be a troublemaker had taken their toll. Or maybe she just really missed Tim. In the past week he’d moved from India to Cambodia to help out in an orphanage for a month and was begging Steph to join him. Only her serious lack of funds — and her frozen credit card — were holding her back. The way she saw it, Tim was looking after beautiful little kids, while she was selling out by serving suits their daily coffee.

‘Just because my father sold his soul doesn’t mean I should,’ Steph said, storming back into the room and waving her phone. ‘Here, look at this: Your mother and I love you … blah blah blah … but that doesn’t stop us feeling disappointed about what you’re doing with your life. Move home now and we can prepare a plan for your future.’ She threw her phone on the couch. ‘I had a plan with Tim. I had it worked out. I was going to pay back every cent from the trip. Besides, I’m nineteen, not fifty! Dad’s like a walking superannuation ad with all his preparing and planning.’

‘Maybe he just wants to help set you up?’ I suggested.

‘Please. That’s alright for you to say, Little Miss I Have My Life Together and Probably Always Will,’ she snapped. ‘What would you know?’

Silence hung in the air.

‘Steph,’ James said, almost as a warning, as I sucked in a breath. Steph had never so much as raised her voice at me before; and while she’d always teased me about being ‘wise beyond my years’, I could hear a new hardness in her voice.

‘I think you’ve had enough brie,’ was all I managed, as I collected the cheese and carried it to the kitchen.

My tear ducts burned from Steph’s cutting words. Everything wasn’t exactly rosy in the Browning household, but in a sick way she was right. What would I know about an interfering father? Mine cared so little he’d run away. As for having my life together: a few months earlier, Mum had been in hospital and we were struggling to pay the bills. Things were improving, but I was still scraping to afford rent and food.

Even though I hadn’t told Steph the whole story about my dad, she knew enough to know she’d crossed a line.

‘Josie, I’m sorry,’ she said, following me to the kitchen. ‘I’m an awful friend. I’m selfish, I’m not worthy of being in your presence, I’m a loser —’

‘You’re worse than Kat when she’s sucking up,’ I said. ‘You’re forgiven! Just … don’t forget who cares about you — and I’m not just talking about me.’

Steph squeezed my hand. ‘I’m sorry, babe … I am. I love you like a little sis, you know that, right?’

‘Yeah. And you’re like my older sis. Don’t worry, not too much older,’ I added before she jumped in.

‘Anyway, so how is Tim, Steph?’ James asked, not-so-subtly changing the subject.

‘He’s loving the orphanage,’ she said. ‘Says it’s the best thing he’s ever done. That he’s found what he wants to do with his life.’

‘What, go on holidays forever?’ I asked.

‘No,’ Steph said, laughing for the first time all evening. ‘Work with little kids. Be a primary school teacher.’

‘No way!’ I said.

She nodded. ‘I wasn’t so sure either, but then I saw some photos of him … He had this look in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. Maybe he’ll never come home.’

‘He will,’ I said, knowing that he would have no choice eventually. He wasn’t made of money.

‘Makes you think, huh?’ said James. ‘Maybe there’s a whole bunch of jobs out there that we don’t know we’re meant to be doing.’

‘Maybe I’m supposed to be a tightrope walker, or a kazoo cleaner, or a heart surgeon — I just haven’t worked it out yet … or got over my crazy fear of blood and guts,’ Steph said. ‘All I know is I’m a waitress ’til I get over to Cambodia. What about you, Jose? Think there’s another life out there you’re supposed to be living, and you just haven’t discovered it yet?’

‘Um … maybe,’ I said, trying to fit in.

James pulled me onto his lap. ‘Yeah, right, JB. You and your computer are a match made in heaven. Trust me, let’s all regroup in thirty years and compare — I betcha Josie will be a world-famous editor.’

I grinned. ‘And you?’

‘Three-time Grammy award-winner, of course. What about you, Steph?’

‘Happy sounds good, for a start,’ Steph said. ‘Anyway it doesn’t look like I’m getting the call-up from work so I could make us a stir-fry for dinner?’

I paused. James had reservations for us at a restaurant around the corner. ‘Um, it’s just that James —’

‘Is allergic to ginger,’ he interrupted, lying his dimples off. ‘But otherwise a stir-fry sounds great. Thanks.’

Steph cheered and hurried into the kitchen.

‘What about the restaurant?’ I asked James.

He shrugged. ‘She needs you. We’ll try to catch up just us later this week, plus don’t forget we’re seeing your family on the weekend. You’ll be sick of me by Sunday.’

I wasn’t much of a gambler, but I would have bet my pitiful pay cheque he was wrong.

‘You’re the best,’ I said. The words ‘I love you’ screamed inside my head, but I didn’t want to say them with Steph clattering away at the kitchen counter.

He grinned. ‘I know, it’s exhausting.’

I tossed a pillow at his head. He caught it like a footy player, then threw himself onto the couch. Steph’s phone starting ringing beneath him.

‘Hey, that’s mine,’ she called. ‘Can you see who —’

But he’d already answered it. ‘Mate!’ he cheered. ‘Guys, Tim’s on Skype!’

The three of us crowded around the tiny screen, pulling faces at my cousin. Tim’s hair had grown longer since I’d last seen him, and he was sporting a huge smile and a half-arsed attempt at a beard, although it was more skin than hair in most places.

‘Ma people!’ he yelled, and it was as though he was sitting with us on the couch, like old times.

We all jostled to tell stories, interrupted each other, and met the two tiny Cambodian boys Tim had hooked up on his hip and tugging on the back of his shorts. Then we hatched a crazy plan to smuggle Steph over in some luggage (okay, so it needed finessing). Suddenly I realised how much I’d missed our ragtag little group. We’d been so busy following our own paths the past few months that the magic had slipped a little, and it was amazing to reconnect.

My heart panged as I wondered what Angel was up to, but the sound of Tim singing a Cambodian lullaby — much to the delight of the little boys, who yelled and clapped along, apparently immune to its sleep-inducing properties — snapped me out of it. I had another busy day ahead of me tomorrow, but until then I wanted to soak up every minute with my friends. Maybe sneak the almost-destroyed wheel of brie out of the fridge when Steph wasn’t looking too.

Maybe … if ‘maybe’ meant ‘definitely going to happen’.