Page 53 of Power Moves
I’m up to Number 23 on the ‘50 Hot Moves to Seduce Your Guy’ list and he still hasn’t glanced at me. I’m pushing out my cleavage, I’m doing the Angelina-Jolie-at-the-Oscars leg move, I am trying to purr sexily, in case he can register the rumble over the airwaves like a dog whistle, but it’s useless. I should have told him I was going commando.
Archie’s so intently focused on the debate that it seems like he actually cares about what they’re saying, but that’s impossible. This is the most boring, drivel-filled excuse for a debate I’ve ever witnessed. If I had to plant a tree every time one of them used the phrases ‘the next generation’, ‘job-ready skills’,or ‘educating the whole child’, I’d be the leader of the Greens party by now. There’s been no discussion of policy, of how they’ll get started on their plans or how they’ll measure their success—all they’re talking about is how much they’ll spend, how crap the opposition is and how we should never trust them because yadda, yadda, yah.
Boss is being soboring. Why is he talking like this? He needs to explain the practical steps he’s taking to improve things. I’ve drilled him on all the policies. They’re great: the rationales are solid, the investments are worthwhile. We can make a difference. A good education system is the ultimate equaliser. It’s what allows people like me to work in places like this. It gives kids who grow up at the end of the trainline a chance against the Chappos of the world. Why isn’t he saying this? I’ve spent hours—days—possibly the entire lifespan of a small marsupial—prepping these responses for him. Why isn’t he trying harder?
Still, even though this debate is dragging on like a trip to the dentist, Archie’s dark eyes remain sharp and observant, darting from politician to politician and back to his notes. When a camera zooms in or slides past, he doesn’t blink. He’s a natural out there.
Frustrated, I open my phone to check my emails, and find the ‘50 Hot Moves’ article staring back at me. I chuckle and slide my phone into my pocket. By this point in the debate I thought I’d be making Archie drool, making Boss look like a well-groomed Einstein in comparison. Instead, Archie’s doing so well that he’ll probably be offered a record-salary anchor role afterwards. The debate will be over in threeminutes and I’ll have approximately zilch to show for all my seduction efforts. Hence, my brain arrives at the logical conclusion. There’s no harm in trying move Number 50:Bust out a sexy dance.
I’m invisible back here in the shadows alongside the cameras. I raise my hands to my chest and start a gentle krumping motion, pouting faux-sexily. I’m a D-List celeb onDancing with the Stars. My hips thrust with the imaginary beat. I mouth the words to my favourite dancefloor anthems. Whitney. Britney. Flo Rida. Grinning at my own foolishness, I air-punch the sky in a particularly energetic flourish, and my hand accidentally flies in front of the camera light.
Shit!
A shadow slides over Archie’s face in the exact shape of my fist, and then it’s gone, like the tiniest blip on a radar. I look around frantically for the person who’s about to tell me off, but it appears that no one else noticed.
A few seconds later, while Boss is droning on about Aussie battlers, Archie glances my way, and, if I’m not mistaken, the left side of his lip inches higher.
Did he …? Did he see me?
I decide to start my moves in earnest. I’m dropping it like its hot when I notice his eyes skim over here again. He’s waiting until the cameras are off him before he looks over, but he can definitely see me. The muscles in his cheeks are working in overdrive as he tries not to laugh.
So this wasn’t the original plan, but a laughing Archie may be as useful as a drooling Archie. I add some flamenco and cha-cha-cha swivel actions. I push my chest out and pitchforward to shimmy my cleavage. If he won’t be distracted by my sexiness, I will overpower him with myunsexiness. I start with some extravagant lip-licking.
Archie’s eyes dart towards me again and I see the flare in his jaw as he tries to swallow a laugh. He shifts his feet to disguise the shake of his shoulders. He’s trying to take deep breaths and he’s purposefully avoiding looking over here now. I need one more move to crack him. I’ve only got half a minute left. He’ll be on camera any minute now. We’re down to the final seconds.
Boss looks like he’s about to stop talking. He pauses and I wonder,Is this it? Is this where Archie closes the debate?But no, Boss is talking again. Something about a jobs revolution—good god, as if he hasn’t bored everyone enough already. And yes, now the camera is focusing on Boss before it reverts to Archie for the wrap-up, so here’s my chance. I see the muscles tense in Archie’s neck; he’s about to look, I know it, and I need to make my last move the best. What on earth can I do?
Archie’s eyes meet mine and I shove my finger deep into my mouth.
I’m ridiculous, a madwoman, a Saint Bernard with a dribbly oral fixation.
Archie’s eyes widen. I’m about to gag.
I see his shock, the twitch of his lips, and I know—I’ve got him!I’ve bloody got him!
Archie coughs into his hand but it’s too late. The smile has cracked through. It’s creasing his lips, he has those cute lineson his temples and his cheeks are glowing. Boss notices and nervously smiles back. The Shadow Minister does the same. Neither of them has any idea what’s going on. The red LED clock on the studio wall is ticking down. Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen seconds to go … The camera zooms in to focus on Archie, who is positively radiant.
‘And that concludes our debate,’ declares Archie. His face is spread wide in a grin. ‘We wish both candidates all the best for the upcoming election. Remember, if you’d like to join the conversation and tell us who you thought won the debate, you can find us on social media. Details are at the bottom of your screen. Until next time, goodnight.’
From stage right, someone yells ‘Cut!’ and I see Archie visibly exhale. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes as he tries to stop himself shuddering with laughter. Then he stands up and flaps his arms against his body as though, just like the Wiggles, he’s trying to shake his sillies out.
A black-turtlenecked showrunner beckons the three of them offstage, while—still in the shadows—I scroll desperately through my social feeds until I see what I’ve been waiting for:@ArchieCJourno literally bursting with joy that this debate is over.Underneath is a homemade gif of Archie’s face almost cracking with laughter before he says, ‘And that concludes our debate.’
The post already has one hundred and twenty-four likes, and the number is increasing by the second. I smile, tucking my phone back in my pocket. If the take-home message for the general public is that there was nothing more to thisdebate than Archie’s gaffe, then mission accomplished. If no one’s talking about how shallow Boss’s comments were, then there’ll be no bad headlines. Once again I’ve proven I ammadefor this job.
CHAPTER 24
After the debate, I’m strolling into the train on my way home when who should I see at the opposite end of the carriage? None other than Laughing Man himself.
‘Archibald!’ My voice is gleeful as I saunter over. I hold out my fist to him. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’
Archie bumps his fist against mine and shakes his head, smiling. ‘They were dirty tactics, Millsy.’
‘I like to play dirty,’ I purr, before bursting into peals of laughter. ‘Sorry!’ I gasp, grabbing his forearm to steady myself as the train lurches forward. ‘It’s just—I’ve never done anything so ridiculous in my life.’
Archie rolls his eyes. ‘Was it worth the effort?’
‘Oh totally! Have you seen Twitter-not-Twitter?’ I hold out my phone and he grabs it. There are at least four variations of his gif now doing the rounds, showing him laughing with relief that the most boring forty minutes of live TV in history has finally ended. This is Archie’s Karl-Stefanovic-after-the-Logiesmoment. By tomorrow morning he’ll be Australia’s favourite son and I’m not even mad about it. I’m just happy no one’s calling Boss a boring, pretentious tosser.
