Page 28 of Power Moves
The temperature has dropped a few degrees by the time I reach the street we’re staying on. I hug my arms to my chest as I cross the road. Our hotel is a brutalist box of grey and orange squares—the kind that generally features fake lilies and an overpowering scent of all-purpose cleaner in the lobby.
As I reach the driveway, Archie emerges from behind a box hedge. ‘Finally,’ he says. ‘I’ve been waiting for ages.’
I squint at his silhouette, which is stark against the setting sun. His tie is loosened but he’s still in his suit. ‘If you’ve been waiting for a chance to kill me, I’d advise against it,’ I say. ‘I’m very well connected.’
Archie smiles. ‘I don’t think it’s possible to kill a vampire.’
‘If that’s an allusion to my late-night work habits, I’ll take it as a compliment.’
‘As you should. It’s definitely not an allusion to your bloodthirst.’
Up ahead, I can see a swarm of figures in shapeless jackets beelining for the pub. ‘Are the journos all staying there?’ I tilt my head towards the sun-bleached motor lodge on the next block. The bright yellow media bus is parked out the front.
Archie nods. ‘The embroidery net curtains are proving handy for the catching of moths. Less handy for the maintaining of privacy.’
‘I’m sure you’ve got nothing to hide.’
‘And I’ll takethatas a compliment.’
My capillaries suddenly feel red-hot. ‘That was a reference to yourlaptop, Archibald. Because we’re not going to screw each other over during this election campaign, are we now? We’ve had a teensy hiccup and now we’re both committed to honesty and transparency.’ I nod and smile for emphasis.
Archie grins. ‘In the interests of maintaining the détente, I was wondering if you’d be interested in a tour of the media bus.’
The inconvenient thing about my having known Archie since uni is that he knows how much I wanted to be a political journalist. I’m not bitter about where I’ve ended up—there are only about six political journo roles in Sydney that pay enough for rent, and I’ve actually ended up in a pretty good position considering the lack of practical skills I gained during my overpriced degree, but I still have a soft spot for the glamour of journalism. (The National Press Club, media buses, hidden cameras in pens.)
‘Archibald,’ I say, with exaggerated surprise. ‘Sometimes you can be so thoughtful.’
‘And sometimes you can be so sarcastic.’ He offers me his arm, as if we’re going to promenade there together. ‘Shall we?’
I raise my eyebrows. ‘Tempting, but if I wasn’t a vampire, I’d rather die.’
Archie chuckles and pretends to elbow me.
‘Hey now, Archie!’ calls a man across the road. ‘That’s no way to be treating Mill. She’s not bad for a spin doctor.’ I look up to see Larry, the Channel 5 news cameraman, making his way over.
I laugh as Larry crosses the median strip. ‘Thanks for looking out for me, Lazza.’
Larry shoots me a pair of finger guns as he joins us. ‘At your service, Mill.’
‘Lazza?’ echoes Archie, looking between us. ‘Is that legit, Larry? Can I call you Lazza?’
‘No,’ says Larry seriously. ‘That would be weird. It’s a special pet name that only Mill can bestow.’
I nod.
‘Like Archibald?’ Archie asks.
I shake my head quickly. ‘No. That’s not a pet name. Well, maybe if one of those mutant raptors in Jurassic Park was a pet …’
‘See you guys at the pub?’ Larry asks.
‘Can’t. I’ve got some deadlines,’ Archie says.
‘And I’ll be out with the boss,’ I add.
‘Boring,’ drones Larry. ‘But I’ll get you out for a beer with us one day, Mill.’
‘You will,’ I agree, and we wave him off down the road.
