Page 2 of Power Moves
I quickly send her back a thumbs-up emoji. (As a communications professional, I consider emojis to be the ultimate form of efficient communication.)
As I go to open my Channel 5 news app, I spot something better up ahead. It’s an electronics store with a giant wall ofTVs in the window, all showing the iconic orange news desk of Australia’s favourite breakfast TV host, Simon ‘Jacko’ Jackson.
I jog towards the screens, my face broadening into a smile. I can’t believe I didn’t think to pitch this myself! Recently, Boss has been struggling to connect with voters because they’re not falling for my attempts to frame him as a relatable dad. It’s because he’s too good looking—a bit of a sharp-suited silver fox. For weeks, I’ve been wondering how I can make him seem more accessible, but now the solution seems so obvious. We need an ally, and who better than Jacko?
Jacko’s bald as a spoon and he makes questionable comments aboutBachelorettecontestants. He’s the daggiest, most beloved dad on Australian TV. If Jacko makes a few positive comments about Boss, Boss’s popularity will skyrocket. (People often think ‘cool by association’ is a high-school term, but I’ve found it widely applicable in politics too.)
I jolt to a stop in front of the TVs. On every screen, Jacko is grinning, his co-host is chuckling and the weatherman is positively guffawing. My heart does a hoppity-skip like a Disney character gallivanting over a buttercup-filled meadow. This will be such great coverage for Boss!
At that moment, the presenters’ faces vanish and the camera cuts to a busy road outside one of Sydney’s most expensive private schools. It has sweeping elms and a cobblestone driveway, wrought-iron gates and rose-filled garden beds. The building itself looks like a castle. It has so many towers and turrets, you’d think someone had transplanted Hogwarts into the Eastern Suburbs and nuked the killer spiders on the way over. There’s even a giant man on screen—maybe a Hagrid impersonator?
Wait, what?
My eyes latch on to the figure in the foreground of the shot. My gut clenches. It’s not a Hagrid impersonator. This guy’s missing the beard and he has much better bone structure.
Dammit!
I blink three times in case it’s a trick of the eye, but there must be a hundred screens. They can’t all be lying. Archie Cohen—the most irritating and cocksure political journalist in New South Wales (possibly the world?)—has somehow made it onto breakfast TV.
‘Minister Harcourt is completely out of touch,’ Archie drawls in his fake-posh newsreader voice. ‘We thought he was going to announce a teacher payrise but instead he’s announcing funding for schools to clean their pools. I mean, how many schools even have pools? Can someone get this guy a reality check?’
Every word he says drips with scorn. The camera cuts back to the laughing panel and my heart sinks into a subterranean chamber in my abdomen.
They’re laughingwith Archie. They’re laughingat Boss.
Oh god.Every outlet is going to pick this up.The Daily Mailare going to have a field day. The headlines will write themselves.
FOOLS INPOOLS
FOOLS INPOOLS INSCHOOLS
FOOLS INPOOLS INSCHOOLS FROMTOOLS
It’ll be like Dr Seuss on acid, and Boss already has the bendy physique of the Cat in the Hat. It’ll be so easy for the internet to generate memes to match!
I ball my hands into fists and spin away from the screens, forcing myself to take a deep breath.I will not panic. Boss is relying on me, and I’m good at this stuff.
Having been raised by a hypercompetitive mum and a glass-half-full dad, I’m a fiend for meeting deadlines with a barrage of positive spin. When I first started this job, I’d never known the feeling of being particularly good at anything, but nowadays I spend my working hours feeling competent, even clever. It’s been revelatory. And addictive.
I draw another deep breath as I repeat my grounding mantra in my head.
I can do this.
Taylor Swift has Tree Paine, and Boss has me—Camilla Hatton—and I’m not letting our election campaign nosedive simply because Archie Cohen had a rant in his too-tight suit with his too-smug smile. I need to harness this adrenaline …
That’s when it hits me.YES!We’ll use this coverage as a springboard to announce something bigger. Something better. Something that drowns out theHe’s a rich white man talking about poolsstoryline.
I grab my phone, jab a few buttons and thrust it to my ear. It answers on the second ring.
CHAPTER 2
‘Gregory,’ I pant. I’m now jogging to the car park because in these fight-or-flight situations my body feels most effective when it’s operating at high speed.
‘Morning Camilla, what can I do for you?’ Gregory is the Department of Education’s head honcho so he’s used to fielding calls from me at inopportune hours.
‘Gregory’—more panting—‘how quickly can we pull together the Education Infrastructure Fund?’
‘How quickly can we pull it together for what?’
