“You know,” Lucy continued, “Rick and I aren’t going to be around forever. We need to see you settled and taken care of.”
“Lucy!”
She was making it sound like they were ready to pass through the pearly gates, when in actual fact they were saving hard for a house. I knew they had enough for a deposit because every time I asked Lucy about it, she averted her eyes and glibly changed the subject. They were wasting money on rent because they were worried about leaving me behind.
“I can take care of myself,” I pointed out.
“Not this old chestnut,” she said with a huff. “I might appear as dumb as a box of rocks, but I can track a calendar. I know David is out in six months. Have you forgotten what he did? I sure as shit haven’t. And last I saw, you haven’t magically evolved into Rocky.”
“I don’t need to take him on. I need to move, that’s all.” I sighed and tucked my legs up into the seat. “Just get me home before you kill us both in an accident.”
Lucy pursed her lips. “I’m a good driver. I could have been a race car driver I’m that good.”
“No,” I contradicted. “You are just that fast. You could have been a cab driver.”
My phone rang from inside my clutch. I emptied its contents into my lap and grabbed for it.
“Hello?”
“Quinn? Mac.”
“Mac?” Who the hell was Mac?
I heard an impatient huff, and I wasn’t sure if it was directed at me or someone else. “Mackenzie. Mackenzie Valentine.”
Lucy frowned at me and I indicated with frantic eyes for her to watch the road.
My interview as Mac’s assistant wasn’t for a few days. Was she ringing to tell me the position had been filled? The thought had my stomach lurching, although as the scenery passed by at the speed of light, Lucy’s driving was likely a contributing factor.
“H-how can I help you?” I stuttered.
“Actually, it’s how you can help me.”
“Oh?”
“Look. I’m swamped. I need an assistant ASAP. Can I move your interview forward?”
I exhaled silently, relieved the position was still open. “Of course,” I replied. “When?”
“Now,” she barked.
Oh shit.
I looked at Lucy in panic. She took her eyes off the road to glance at me, raising a brow in question.
“Sure. That’s no problem at all,” I lied, doing my best to sound bright and efficient instead of painfully hungover. “I’m just out and about at the moment, and I have a dog at the vet to collect this morning.” I also had a vet bill to pay that I knew would have my purse cringing in horror. “Would lunchtime suit?”
“No. We need to be on set to start shooting a music video. Is your dog okay? Can you just pick him up and bring him with you?”
“Bring my dog?” I repeated.
“Yeah. Your dog.”
“Um…I guess so.”
“Good. See you soon,” she barked and hung up.
Mackenzie Valentine sounded fierce. I shoved all the contents on my lap back into my clutch along with my phone, feeling rushed now and completely unprepared.
“Well?” Lucy took her eyes off the road again to glare at me, offended I was keeping her waiting.
“I’m screwed,” I muttered.
“Dammit, Suzi-Q. Not now,” I growled.
I kicked at her tyre in frustration, but she didn’t reply. Her silence was enough but if cars could smirk, I could swear she was doing it right now, and I wanted to scream. Mac had expected me long before now, and the five second shower I’d managed to take before collecting my dog was now wasted. I felt the sheen of sweat from my flustered panic. I had no time for makeup, and my hair, according to the panicked reflection staring back at me from my car window, was its customary fairy floss. Nothing clean to wear meant I was wearing my white cap-sleeved blouse that had a pen mark and my beige pants where the hem was coming loose. Quite frankly, if she hired me it would be a miracle because I wouldn’t hire what was staring back at me from that window.
Rufus, my lazy Rhodesian Ridgeback, sat in the passenger seat, his tongue lolling about as he took in his surroundings with fear. I didn’t blame him. He’d just survived an over nighter with the vet. Now he was likely wondering what the hell was next. I could feel his pain because I was wondering the same thing. His big brown eyes caught me looking at him, so he climbed gingerly over the handbrake, settled into the driver’s seat, and licked the inside window until it was a foggy, slobbered mess. Then his tongue lolled again as though happy with his efforts.
Rufus became mine not long after David’s attack. He was rather menacing in appearance, but that was all show because he was a big softie. Still, his presence was a small comfort.
Twenty minutes later an older man by the name of Stan arrived, proceeding to peer under the hood of my ancient and rusty yellow Mazda as though it held all the secrets of the universe. He tinkered under Suzi-Q’s hood while I glared at her. I’d had her for over two years now. When I’d driven her out of the second hand car yard, Devil Gate Drive by Suzi Quattro blared from the speakers, so the name had stuck. I’d like to say in all the time we’ve been together it’s been a mutually respectful and loving relationship, but my car hated me.
Stan finished quickly, taking off after divulging me of almost a hundred dollars. Suzi-Q, seemingly satisfied with her new battery, purred contentedly.
“Happy now?” I hissed at her, inching carefully back into traffic.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled up in front of a pretty, renovated duplex in the beachside Sydney suburb of Coogee. The driveway housed a big, blue Hilux and an empty space on the other side, but I chose to park on the street, fearing my car would leak oil.
I stepped out of the car and took in the quiet, leafy surroundings. It appeared peaceful and pretty and in no way the headquarters to an up and coming rock band. At the least there should have been long-haired tattooed types hanging off the front porch, cigarettes dangling out of their mouths, and empty beer cans strewn haphazardly across the lawn.
Hoping I had the right place, I wrestled Rufus onto his leash and we puffed our way up the drive. I rang the bell and despite my nerves, I peeked down at Rufus sitting beside me and giggled. He’d suffered an ear infection, and now at least ten layers of bandage wrapped around his head, covering his ears and winding underneath his muzzle. It wasn’t his best look.
“Mac! That’ll be your interview!” I heard called out from inside.
A whirlwind flung open the door, and I held tight to the leash to stop Rufus barging inside. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. The girl who stood before me radiated sex appeal in waves. Her caramel hair hung in curls to her waist and her skin was a rich, dusky olive. Instantly I recognised her as Evie Jamieson, lead singer of the band my assistant interview was for. Evie was easily recognisable, having been splashed in the papers recently after being involved in a shooting. Her dark chocolate eyes, warm and friendly, took us both in, and she said something I didn’t quite catch.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.” She smiled brightly. “Can I help you?”
“Is Mackenzie Valentine here?”
“Sure. Come in.” She stood back, opening the door wide for Rufus and me to wrestle our way through. She yelled up the stairway to her left for Mac before waving me towards the couch with an apologetic shrug.
“Excuse me. I have to go.”
She left in a whirlwind and from the front window I saw her leap into the blue Hilux, reverse out the driveway, and take off quickly down the street.
Feeling sweaty and nervous, I sat on the edge of the couch and fought to pull myself together. With no time to fuss on my hair, I’d tucked it under a knitted beret and brushed carefully at the smudge on my pants from Rufus pawing them. Finished, my gaze fell on the room. Soft, comfortable couches in deep navy filled the living room, and a thick, cream rug contrasted nicely with the timber flooring. The room was large and opened towards a dining area filled with a timber table that could seat eight people. Beyond that was the kitchen, done in glossy white cupboards, and caesarstone bench tops.
“Quinn?”
I turned from my perusal of the downstairs area to face the woman striding confidently towards me.
“I’m Mac.”
Mac was beautiful, almost angelic in appearance with her long blonde waves, luminous golden skin, and fresh, pale lemon pants.
I focused on her eyes, rich emerald in colour, and frowned. “Have we met before?”
“I don’t believe so.” She held out her hand, and I shook it carefully. She let go, her eyes falling on Rufus and widening. “That’s not a dog. That’s a bloody horse!”
I looked at Rufus who stood as high as my hip. His tail thumped as though taking Mac’s words as a compliment. “He is big, isn’t he? I’m used to it I guess.”
“Well let’s go sit outside then. Evie has a little daschund called Peter so Rufus can keep him company while we talk.”
Mac pulled two bottles of water from the fridge before leading me through the downstairs area to an outdoor deck made up of thick timber planks. A shade sail covered the barbecue and outdoor seating from the bright morning sun.
Letting Rufus off his leash, I answered Mac’s question about his injury and watched as the two dogs circled each other as we took a seat.
She uncapped the bottle of water, took a sip, and then picked up her pen, tapping it impatiently on the page in front of her. “So. Shall we start?”
Making sure my phone was switched to silent, I nodded.
“So I’ve been managing Jamieson since they formed back in our uni days in Melbourne. We moved to Sydney last year, and that’s when the band started to take off. Now I’m so snowed under with work I haven’t even got the time to find my way out of my own underpants. It’s stressful so I need someone on board with me to help lighten the load. You come highly recommended from Jettison Records, so I’m hoping you’re that someone,” she told me.
I hoped I was too.
Without waiting for a response, she ran through the finer details of the job. “Work days would be Tuesday to Friday and Friday and Saturday nights when we have shows. Shows are almost every weekend lately. Can you handle that?”
I nodded.
“Mostly the weekdays you’ll be manning the office. When we have to go interstate or overseas, we’ll need you with us. The office is just a couple of desks here in the duplex, but it’s easier for us because the band lives here. There’s a joint basement below where they rehearse, so having the office here makes sense for now. Anyway...” she paused to take a sip of water “...do you know anything about the band?”
“Of course. They’ve got a real alternative rock vibe that’s huge in the indie music market, but they’re signed now, right?” I answered.
Mac nodded.
“Your lead guitarist plays like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Not to mention he’s gorgeous,” I added without thinking, but I’d seen the band play on YouTube not long ago, and the guitarist had made an impression with his lean, muscular frame and piercing blue eyes.