Page 13 of Power Moves
I turn around expecting to see Boss emerging from his Audi, but instead I see something better. Larry is parking the Channel 5 van. The ABC crew are wandering through the gates. The Sky team have arrived too. Dribs and drabs of Sydney’s media are drifting towards me, and in their midst is a strong-jawed man in a fancy suit who is realising that his exclusive story with the Education Minister has been sucked down the plughole.
Archie Cohen is positivelyglowering.
A wave of calm—of happiness, even—washes over me. The sense of relief is instant. I may have just been bested by a five-year-old punk named Rahul, but at least I’m always one step ahead of Archie.
CHAPTER 6
Archie’s expression is stony as I walk over. ‘I thought you said this was an exclusive,’ he says. ‘You wouldn’t screw anyone else over like this.’
It’s technically true—ordinarily, I would never willingly renege on a commitment to a journo from a major metro news outlet given how badly it could backfire. But Archie doesn’t count. Also, the opposition is having a rally today and we need to distract journos from that, so it was a no-brainer to turn our exclusive with Archie—which we were only doing to neutralise him after the Pools in Schools fiasco—into an all-in press conference.
‘Archibald, calm down. You always get exclusives.’
‘Never from you.’
Also true. But Archie doesn’t need me—he gets exclusives from everyone else. They all love him because he spent one NRL season playing with the Roosters. It’s embarrassing how much kudos society gives him for that. Even worse,it somehow allowed him to bypass all the unpaid internships the rest of us had to do to secure a job with our completely impractical media degrees, while he got to walk straight into a plum role as a political journalist.
Besides, it’s not my fault the opposition scheduled their rally for the exact same time as our exclusive. And it would be a shame to waste such a picture-perfect media opportunity by only having Archie here. Rahul and his buddies are delightfully gap-toothed.
Archie shakes his head as he scrunches his hands into his pockets. ‘Do you even realise how much I protect you guys?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Whatever, Archie.’ In the distance, I spot the
Channel 5 team parking in the emergency vehicle bay. I quickly hammer out a text:Don’t park there! You might get a ticket. Park behind the minister’s Audi and if anyone says it’s an issue, I’ll sort it
‘It’s true, Millsy. You don’t know the stories I hear. I could have had Harcourt kicked out of politics years ago.’
I glare at him. If Boss ever got kicked out of politics, I would lose my job. We’re a package deal and there’s no safety net in politics. It’s an open secret that parliamentary staff are expected to uncomplainingly work 24/7 for horrible hourly rates with minimal job security. But, as a reward, we get to pull the puppet strings on the most influential people in the country. Normally I’m fine with this. I don’t need a safety net because Boss is such a great employer—but that concept only holds up if Boss maintains his seat.
I grit my teeth. ‘If Boss loses his job, I lose mine.’
‘Why do you think I protect him?’ Archie snaps. He has the nerve to look just as pissed off as I feel.
My shoulders knot with irritation. I’m good at my job.That’swhy Boss does so well in politics. Not because some thick-necked ex–rugby player is killing stories about him in the newsroom. ‘Write your scary stories,’ I say, folding my arms. ‘See if I care.’
‘Don’t tempt me,’ warns Archie. ‘I told the exec producer this was an exclusive and I’m going to get smashed if I don’t file something good.’
‘Then file something good.’
I turn away with a huff to see Boss walking over from the car park.
My phone buzzes with a message from the assistant principal.Hiya Camilla. I’ve been held up in a parent meeting so won’t be able to make the photoshoot. Dragon costume is in the PE shed if anyone else is feeling fiery! It’s pretty big, so I suggest someone tall wears it.
I shove my phone back into my skirt pocket with a sinking heart.Damn.
‘Dragon costume is a no-go,’ I mutter, sidling up to Boss.
‘Really?’ says Boss, straightening his tie. ‘I thought the costume was the whole schtick. Didn’t you say that was going to guarantee us a double-page spread in theTelegraph?’
I frown, rereading the text. ‘The assistant principal has been held up, and there’s no one else here who can wear it. It needs someone tall.’ Miss Rose, who is still flitting around with the kids, could be best described as bird-sized—hummingbird category.
Boss looks me up and down. ‘You’re tall.’
‘No. Categorically,NO,’ I say, shaking my head. This morning has already been spiked with more crap than a vet’s thermometer.
‘Come on, Mill,’ he presses. ‘Aren’t you always telling me it’s all about the visuals? And our number-one priority is wholesomeTelecoverage?’
‘Well, yes and yes,’ I concede, ‘but this is different.’
