And set Willa on a path that she now deeply regretted.
‘To go back a whole bunch of steps—we were talking about you and Wayne and what caused the split,’ Amy said, pulling her back to their conversation. She refilled their glasses and lifted an eyebrow.
‘Oh … that.’
‘Yes, that.’
How strange it was that after so long she and Amy could just fall into conversation as if it was yesterday … how strange and how right.
In the natural order of things they shouldn’t have been friends … Amy was bright and flirty and outgoing, and Willa was quiet and naïve and a lot less boisterous than her friend. She couldn’t just spill all the beans about her less than happy marriage—not even with Amy, so successful, confident, sophisticated. With Amy those qualities went deeper than her looks and clothes right into her psyche. Unlike Willa, whose confidence and sophistication was just a fabric layer deep.
‘I wanted to be something other than his pretty arm decoration. He didn’t see why being that wasn’t enough for me.’
‘It got ugly. I called him a balding, ageing git and he called me a shallow bimbo. The words “separation” and “divorce” emerged and we were both very happy with the idea.’
Amy closed her eyes in sympathy. ‘Sorry, Wills.’
Willa shrugged. ‘Eight months ago he booted me out of our apartment and into a waterfront mansion in Vaucluse—’
Amy whistled at the mention of the very upmarket Sydney suburb. ‘Why didn’t he move into the waterfront property?’
Willa smiled. ‘He hates water and open spaces. Anyway, he moved Young and Dumb into the apartment the afternoon I moved out. Now the divorce just needs its court date and I’ll be free!’
‘What are you going to do then?’
Willa shrugged. ‘Still working that out … I have a degree, but no experience, and—worse—no contacts. Money is not a problem, but time is. I battle to fill my day, and rattling around on my own in that mausoleum doesn’t help.’
She glanced at the Rolex on her wrist, a twenty-first birthday present from Wayne. It was boring enough living her life, she didn’t need to dissect it as well, so she attempted to change the subject.
‘We’ve been in here for about twenty minutes. Do you think my date from hell has got the hint?’
‘I told Guido to tell him that you weren’t interested.’
Amy shrugged at Willa’s quick, questioning look.
‘Hey, you wanted to make his brain explode. I thought I’d save you a prison sentence.’
‘True,’ Willa admitted as she stood up. ‘Okay, well … it was great seeing you but I suppose I should get home.’
‘To do more rattling?’ Amy shook her head. ‘Oh, hell, no. If I ever saw someone in need of a party it’s you. I’ve just signed a huge PR deal—’
‘You’re in PR? You’re far too self-effacing, modest and shy for PR, Ames,’ Willa said, her voice deceptively gentle.
Amy just laughed, and instantly catapulted Willa back the best part of a decade. It was a killer laugh—dirty as mud.
‘There’s that sarcastic mouth I used to love. Anyway, I’ve just signed a huge deal to launch a new franchise of sports shops selling clothes and equipment—my client is also setting up some hardcore men-only gyms—and a couple of my workmates and I are going out to celebrate. We’re taking my new client clubbing. And you are going to join us!’
‘Uh, I don’t think so …’
‘I do! My client’s name is Rob, he’s gorgeous and gruff—but not my type, unfortunately.’ Amy led her out of the pretty function room and back towards the main dining area. ‘He might be yours.’
Willa scoffed. ‘If he’s like any of the men I’ve recently come into contact with he’ll need a hug … around the neck … with a rope.’
‘Am really loving this whole bloodthirsty serial killer vibe you’ve got going.’ Amy shot her a grin. ‘I sense sexual frustration.’
Willa grinned at her. ‘I sense that I am going to kick you soon.’
Amy tucked her arm into Willa’s as they walked towards the exit. ‘Oh, yeah … the girls are back in town. And it seems like I am going to have to teach you how to party … to cut loose.’
‘Again.’
Rob Hanson looked at the sharply dressed partygoers dutifully lining up outside Fox, waiting in anxious anticipation to get into the popular club, and shook his head. Pulling on a pair of Levi’s and a button-down white shirt with its sleeves rolled up was about as dressed up as he got … besides, it wasn’t what you looked like that got you into a club—unless you were female and had a great cleavage, blonde hair down to your waist and legs up to your neck—it was attitude …
And he had lots of it.
Rob caught the eye of a bouncer, jerked his head and received a quick nod to go in, bypassing the queue. He slipped a bill into the guy’s hand in a slick movement as the rope was lifted and cursed when his mobile vibrated in his pocket. Stepping back from the door, he shoved his finger in his ear and answered the call.
‘Rob, it’s Gail.’
‘Hey, Snail.’ At twenty-two, his sister was ten years younger than him and the best thing in his life. ‘What’s up?’
‘Not much—just checking in,’ Gail replied. ‘Whatcha doing?’
‘About to go into a club.’
‘Have you met anyone yet?’ Gail demanded.
‘I haven’t even been here two days!’ he protested.
‘My man-about-town bachelor brother is slacking,’ Gail teased and he rolled his eyes.
‘I won’t have the time in Sydney and I don’t have the inclination,’ Rob retorted.
Gail’s laugh tickled his ear. ‘Did the screaming match with Saskia put you off? Judging by the way she flounced out of here, she obviously didn’t take it well when you told her that she’d hit her expiry date?’
‘Jeez, Gail! Her expiry date?’
‘I call it like I see it. You never go over the three-month-fling mark and she was due.’
Not as obsessed with the time-frames of his dates as his sister, Rob counted back. Yeah, it was nearly dead on three months. He’d started getting twitchy as Saskia started making noises about ‘formalising’ their relationship, dropping comments about needing cupboard space in his bedroom. She had left a box of tampons in his bathroom cabinet and he’d realised that it was time to bail. She wasn’t someone he wanted around long-term …
He’d never met anyone he wanted around long-term.
‘One day you’re going to meet someone who blows your socks off,’ Gail warned him.
He doubted it. Remembering that the best way to get Gail off the subject of his love-life was to comment on hers, he said: ‘Are you still dating the tattoo artist? Does he make enough money to take you to the movies occasionally?’
Gail sighed. ‘Well-played. Deflect and distract.’
‘I try. Don’t do anything stupid with this one, okay, honey?’
After