Page 74 of Power Moves
There is a slow process where it feels like the image before me is being moulded into plasticine then funnelled along my optic nerve at the speed of a slow-moving sushi train.
Archieis sitting in the green room.ARCHIE is the substitute presenter.
I pinch my arm in case this is a nightmare. ‘Ow!’ I yelp.
Archie’s head jerks up at the sound but I dart back from the doorway before he can spot me. As the skin on my arm flares red, there’s a roaring between my ears.DAMMIT!This is not a dream.
I don’t stop moving until I’ve power walked back to the corridor outside the studio, where I lean against the wall, panting.
What witchcraft has Archie spun to nab this gig? I mean, yes, he’s probably thirty per cent better than most of the desktop-trained young journos who think belligerence equates to acuity. Despite being the biggest jock on the beat, he’s never a bully. Archie is deadly, but only with his fact-finding and narrative sequencing. Hosting the ABC’s flagship political panel show, though? I thought there was some prerequisite that your hair had to be at least sixty per cent grey before youcould hostNews & Views. I wouldn’t have thought he’s old enough to have the wisdom to moderate these kinds of discussions, but he didn’t even look nervous. He looked … good.
The uneasy buzz in my ribcage returns as I tiptoe back into the studio, staying deep in the shadows. At every unexpected sound, I flinch, half-expecting the cameras to turn on me.
Camilla Hatton, did you REALLY sleep with that man?
Did you REALLY expect your boss not to find out?
Do you REALLY think that’s appropriate behaviour considering Minister Harcourt gifted you a job that’s changed your life?
I feel like I’m flying too close to the sun, and I’m about to get burned.
Archie was right: we really do need to talk.
CHAPTER 33
I have to wait until the camera guys are coiling up the extension cords and Boss and the panellists have left the studio. When Archie finally bids goodbye to the elderly couple from the live audience who he’s been chatting to since filming stopped, I decide this is my moment to surprise him. I will pretend it’s routine business. We are both professionals. This doesn’t have to be a big deal.
‘Archie,’ I say curtly, striding out from stage left. ‘Can I speak to you for a moment?’
‘Millsy.’ He blinks, startled, then looks around as if to check for Boss, but he’s long gone. ‘I thought Petria must have come with Harcourt. I didn’t know you were here.’
‘I need to talk to you,’ I say, eyeing the cameramen. This place would also have security cameras everywhere and I don’t want to accidentally gift the ABC a giant scoop by inadvertently revealing Boss’s secrets (i.e. the treasonous behaviour of his media director). ‘We should go somewhere private.’ I tapmy nose as if we are two people who communicate in code, when really, this is just a move I have seen in lots of Ryan Reynolds films.
Archie’s eyes light up. ‘I know a place,’ he says, mocking my CIA signals with some nose-tapping of his own.
If I was concerned there would be some level of lingering sexual tension, I needn’t have worried. He’s reverted to making fun of me and I’m not even angry about it. In fact, it’s quite calming.
‘How do you “know a place”?’ I ask.
‘I interned here.’
‘What? When?’
‘First-year uni.’
‘Why?’ Everyone at uni knew Archie already had a three-year holding contract with the Roosters and a bunch of agents clamouring to get him to France in the interim; that was why he didn’t need to get a part-time job like the rest of us. All he did was train, drink and pick up girls.
Archie shrugs. ‘I wanted to be a journalist.’
‘You never told me that!’
‘You never asked.’
Not for the first time, I’m filled with helpless rage at how inexplicable this guy can be. Is he trying to confuse me on purpose? During uni, Archie never hinted that he aspired to anything more than a well-earned Mad Monday. Trust him to drop this bomb after the festival to throw me further off-kilter.
‘Follow me,’ says Archie. My body flashes with heat at the memory of holding his hand at the festival, so I clenchmy fingers into fists. That was an extenuating circumstance, I remind myself. The campsite was very poorly lit.
If a photo got out of Archie and me holding hands, the press would have a field day. It would be cyanide for both our careers and more so for mine because I’m a) less high profile and b) female.
