Page 16 of Power Moves
‘It’s not all lace,’ I huff. ‘It’s plain cotton with little bits of … oh, whatever. Is it working or not?’
Archie chuckles. ‘I can confirm lots of things are working right now, but if you’re referring to the zipper, yes, it’s coming apart.’
I flush. ‘Just get it over with.’
Having seen Archie do vox pops in Pitt Street Mall, I know he has the uncanny knack of being able to make the most mundane comments sound like pick-up lines. Strangely, the over-eighties go wild for it.
He gradually prises the costume open and I feel the relief of cool air touching my skin. I scrunch my eyes to ignore the real or imagined pause in his motion when the zipper reaches the hook of my bra, and start recitingOne pink elephant, two pink elephantsin my head. He just needs to keep pulling, and then I will be free, and we will never talk of this again.
‘Done,’ says Archie finally, letting go of the costume.
I clasp it to my chest so it doesn’t fall off, and turn around, whipping him in the legs again with my tail.
‘Thank you, Archibald. You can go file your story now. I hope the execs don’t blacklist you for it.’
‘They won’t,’ says Archie, his tone irritatingly smug.
‘Shame.’
‘Want a lift back east? I saw how your boss ditched you.’
‘Not required, Archibald,’ I reply tartly. ‘I enjoy public transport.’ It’s a giant lie. I’ll have to take a bus and two trainsbut it’s infinitely preferable to being in a confined space with Archie Cohen for forty minutes.
‘Millsy, I know for a fact that you hate public transport. But whatever. I’ll see you later.’ He opens the shed door and strides out.
‘Not true,’ I call after him. ‘I find the people-watching on the Eastern Suburbs line positively scintillating.’
Archie ignores me and by the time I emerge from the PE shed dressed in human garb, he’s back at the tiny kids’ bench with his laptop. He doesn’t look up as I close the door behind me, so I don’t bother saying goodbye.
I’m on the first train when the headline whooshes into my inbox.
CIVILWAR: DANIELHARCOURT ANDNANCYMILLERNOTSPEAKING TOEACHOTHER.Divide threatens to split party. Archie Cohen reports.
I almost choke on my own saliva.
I’m going to kill him.
CHAPTER 8
‘What the fuck, Archie?!’ I whisper-scream, hardly bothering to lower my voice despite there being an elderly couple across the carriage. My thoughts feel like a stack of A4 pages tipped off a skyscraper, wildly corkscrewing through the air.
‘I warned you I had to file something good.’
‘Archie, you’re one of the best journos in the country! You can’t write shit that’s untrue!’
‘Millsy, for a clever woman, you can be so short-sighted sometimes.’
I let out a strangled banshee screech and quickly switch my phone to speaker mode as I scroll down to read the article.
After a fraught press conference where Daniel Harcourt refused to answer questions about his parliamentary colleague Nancy Miller, several well-placed sources have confirmed that Miller and Harcourt are no longer on speaking terms, with some reportsof them refusing to be seated in the same room. This comes after the recent polls which showed …
‘This can’t be true,’ I mutter to myself.
Archie groans in response. ‘Itistrue, and there’s a bigger story here, Millsy. I just need to work out what’s going on.’
I slam my phone back against my ear. ‘The only story here is that Nancy is a tool! That’s why Boss hates her!’
‘I don’t know why you keep defending Harcourt. The guy’s a tosser. He makes you work every weekend and then can’t be bothered to give you a lift to the station. And you just cop it!’
