Page 82 of Power Moves
I can see now what was going on before. I thought our relationship was based on hatred, but I was wrong. It was fake hate; it was happy hate. The hatred we’ve achieved now is stratospheric. The Hubble telescope could probably detect the hate beams radiating from my demon eyes. The fumes of anger steaming from my ears could probably power small vehicles. I assume this is how people have nervous breakdowns: they sit at unremarkable bus stops only to see the face of their arch enemy on a passing bus andboom! Their head explodes.
Sportsground Reveal 2.0 is happening in Wagga today. It’s the grand opening, and the Premier’s office ordered us to go via a 5 a.m. text—something about needing a spokesperson at the press conference for the education component. It’s possibly the most transparent lie I’ve ever heard, which is saying something because I’ve been in politics for six years now. They’re shit-scared Nancy’s going to lose her seat so we need to get the hell out of the city so she has the space to keep kissing babies on the Northern Beaches.
Boss is driving direct from Bowral and because my car is still at the cleaners, I’ve had to hire a Nissan Micra, which I’ll have to leave in Wagga before getting a lift back to Sydney with Boss. It feels like I’m hurtling down the Hume Highway in an over-engineered rice bubble, and the dulcet tones of the Radio National presenters are doing nothing to help my mood. Could they lighten up for a hot minute?
Outside, the green paddocks along the highway are dotted with sheep calmly chewing their grass. Oh, to be a brainless herbivore. Their days must be so relaxing.
When my phone rattles in its hands-free stand, I almost cry with relief when I see the name on my screen.
‘Jessica Elizabeth Hatton!’ I exclaim, feeling as though I’m a world-weary monk reconnecting with the human race. ‘Where have you been all my life?’
‘I’ve been here the whole time, you ninny! Where are you?’
‘I just drove past the Big Merino.’
‘Oh yay! Did you check out the giant scrotum?’
‘No.’
‘Liar.’
I exhale a shaky laugh. ‘Fine, but in my defence, that ballsack is a feat of engineering. Oh Jess, I’m so glad you called. I was terrified it was going to be the Premier’s office or Bryan or something.’
Jessie laughs. ‘Dude, you need to tell Bryan you’re not keen. He’s a good guy and you’re pretty much leading him on.’
‘But we said we’d be friends,’ I groan. ‘I can’t tell him not to contact me. That would be mean. And besides, imagine if I’m like, “Oh yeah, soz, I’m not interested,” and he’s like, “Duh, neither am I.” How embarrassing would that be? To be rejected byBryan, the man who thinksThe Big Bang Theoryis actuallyfunny!’
‘Hey!’ Jessie harrumphs. ‘I like that show.’ Thankfully she drops it. ‘Do you want a lift to Dad’s barbeque tomorrow night?’ she asks.
‘No, I won’t be able to come. I’ll be too busy. Didn’t you see Nancy Miller on60 Minutes?’
‘Oh, but …’ Jessie hesitates. ‘He really wants you there.’
‘I know,’ I sigh, slightly consoled by the fact that I’m always missing family barbeques so Dad should be used to it by now. ‘Sorry Jess, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. I have so much to do.’
‘Promise you’ll try.’
I won’t try. There’s no point. Boss will need me to be working, and I don’t want to waste the effort attempting to get there when I know it’s impossible. But I don’t say this. Instead I say, ‘Okay, sure.’
‘Great,’ says Jessie. Then: ‘How’s that journalist going? The tall one you like?’
‘What?!’ I exclaim, shocked. ‘Jessie,no! If you’re talking about Archie Cohen, I donotlike him. I hate him!’
‘Okayyyy,’ says Jessie, speaking in the kind of tone you’d use with a toddler who’s explaining they’ll be having ice cream for breakfast.
‘Jessie, I’m serious. He’s ruining my life. He’s my mortal enemy.’
‘Like how I was your mortal enemy growing up and now we’re besties?’
‘That’s different.’
‘True. Firstly, he’s not your blood relation and secondly, he’s pretty hot.’
‘Can you please not describe him that way? I hate that man from the pits of my bowels.’
‘Didn’t look like that at the festival. You spent the night with him, and even before that, you couldn’t stop looking at him when we were dancing.’
‘Only because he was dancing like such a fool!’
