The hemsworth effect, p.17
The Hemsworth Effect, page 17
Aimee stood up and handed her the cup. ‘It might be cold, sorry.’ She brushed the grass off the seat of her jeans and they set off down the footpath. ‘What was happening up on the Gold Coast?’
‘Oh nothing.’ Freya scrunched her nose. ‘Brooke and Bree were just going shopping and they asked if I wanted to go. Brooke said you came to the farm yesterday.’
‘Yeah, it’s nice. Could use some peacocks, though.’
The joke went over Freya’s head as she adjusted the long gold chain hanging off her shoulder. It caught Aimee’s attention. Her eyes traced it down to Freya’s hip where a tiny black bag was bouncing. It was the same one Bree had at the Bang Bang dinner. Aimee could tell by the gold metal Gucci logo on the front.
‘Is it weird for you?’ Freya bopped a hip into her aunt’s side.
The question threw Aimee for a second.
‘We haven’t had a chance to really talk properly about… everything.’
‘Ahhh, yes. Everything.’ Aimee dragged out the word dramatically before taking a serious tone. ‘Look, I know that no one else is brave enough to say it, but I will: I think Leah on Home and Away is secretly an anti-vaxxer and I don’t know why the writers are ignoring it as a storyline.’
Freya groaned. ‘Sorry, I’ve never owned a TV so I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Way—’
‘Way harsh, Tai,’ Freya cut her off with a smile.
‘OK. You can’t say I’m old and then quote Clueless. I introduced you to that cinematic masterpiece.’
‘I didn’t say you’re old. I merely insinuated you’re old,’ Freya said with an exaggerated air of superiority before jumping back to her initial question. ‘Seriously though. Tim and Bree. Is it weird me hanging out with Bree for the show?’
‘Look,’ Aimee sighed. ‘No one saw this coming. Not even Meredith the roadside clairvoyant to the stars predicted it. And if we’re gonna blame someone, it may as well be Meredith.’
‘Sometimes, if we’re filming late, me and the other girls just sleep there and I kinda keep forgetting about the whole… Tim thing.’
Thoughts flooded Aimee’s mind. The Tim stuff didn’t even place at the top of the list. Freya was right – they hadn’t had a chance to talk about everything that happened at the Bang Bang dinner party because Freya was never at Aimee’s apartment, where she was supposed to be living for the summer. She’d say she was staying out late filming but Aimee would wake up during the night and find the guest room empty. Freya had told her she was crashing at Brooke’s some nights. It’s just easier after a few drinks, she reasoned. Aimee always trod carefully around this stuff. One thing she feared most was the day she’d have a fight with Freya after trying to behave like a mum.
Aimee wrapped an arm around her niece as they kept walking along. ‘I mean. Yes. It’s weird. There’s no way it wouldn’t be weird. But… that’s not your fault. That’s just the situation. As long as you feel comfortable…’
Their shoes scratched along the sand that covered the footpath and the sound of a guitar being played drifted down from the busker performing ahead.
‘Ugh, “Wonderwall”.’ Aimee cringed at the song.
‘She doesn’t say anything about you,’ Freya said. ‘Bree. And if she did, I’d tell her to stop. And I’d tell you.’
Aimee kissed the side of Freya’s face and then tugged the long gold chain hanging from her shoulder. ‘This is new.’
‘Yeah. I got in up—’ Freya pointed.
‘Surfers,’ Aimee finished the sentence. ‘Did Brooke buy it for you?’ She bristled at herself.
Freya rolled her eyes. ‘Stop it, Byron Karen.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Aimee tried to lighten the mood. ‘Something more important: What are we doing for your twenty-first? I thought we could do something at our place? Low-key. Or we can go out somewhere – the Palace Hotel? You, me and Rob and Charlie? Some of your friends or people from the show?’
Freya made an awkward face. ‘Actually… Brooke’s asked if she can throw a party at her place. She said it’ll be good for the show. Bigger space. More people.’
‘Oh,’ Aimee said, more stunned than she intended. She shook her head and adjusted to the news.
‘That’s OK, right?’ Freya said.
‘Um… yeah – no, cool… that’s fun.’ Aimee didn’t think it was cool or fun. She held her hair to stop the wind throwing it around. ‘It’s just… I thought we were gonna do something, just us… you know?’
‘Well, of course we’ll do something just us.’ Freya laughed to ease the weirdness.
‘OK.’ Aimee nodded. ‘But… Brooke’s party… only do it if that’s what you wanna do… don’t feel pressured to do it just for the show. Like… did Brooke suggest it to you on camera? Because that would’ve been a bit weird – of course you would’ve felt like you had to say yes.’
Freya shot her aunt a look. ‘She didn’t ask me on camera.’
‘Alright.’ Aimee pulled back from the topic. ‘Just… if you change your mind and you don’t wanna do it, let me know and I can have a quiet word with Heath.’
Freya chose not to reply and Aimee realised she might’ve overstepped the boundaries she’d been trying so hard not to cross. Still, that didn’t stop her from finding another one to jump over.
‘When I was at the farm, Brooke said she saw your photography portfolio. She said it was great. I didn’t know you were so serious about photography.’ Aimee forced an upbeat tone.
‘Well, you like to rant about how, these days, everyone thinks they can be a photographer…’
It was true. And the rants did tend to escalate during peak holiday periods. Ever since Brooke told her about Freya’s portfolio the previous day, Aimee had spent a lot of time combing her mind, trying to remember if she’d let loose with one of the rants around Freya since she’d arrived. Turns out she had.
‘I would never mean that about you,’ Aimee said. ‘I’d love to see your portfolio.’
Freya nodded. ‘Smile.’
‘I’m not cranky—’
‘No. Smile.’ Freya’s chest lifted slightly as she pulled her shoulders back and her walk turned into a refined stride.
Aimee squinted. Then she heard the rapid-fire snap snap snap of a camera. She looked ahead and saw a man in dark clothes crouched down with a long black lens the length of his forearm.
‘We’ve been getting papped the past few days since the show started getting written about in the tabloids.’ Freya picked up the pace and turned her head slightly to Aimee as she talked, making sure to flash a relaxed smile for the camera.
We’ve been getting papped?
In the tabloids?
It was the first time Aimee had ever heard someone in real life say something like that.
As Freya walked ahead, Aimee noticed the new expensive-looking black sandals her niece was wearing. It was all she could focus on for a moment.
Then Freya turned and laughed. ‘Why are you walking weird?’
Aimee snapped back to reality. ‘I’m just trying to walk normally but… now you’re making me think about it and I don’t know how to walk anymore.’ She tried to catch up. ‘Wait,’ she whisper-shouted, ‘am I moving my arms weird?’
TWENTY-THREE
‘You’re worried she’s trying to steal your niece?’ Rob popped a square of chocolate in her mouth and leant on the counter at The Dream Explosion.
‘No, that makes me sound crazy,’ Aimee said. ‘But, also… Yes, I think she’s trying to steal my niece.’
They were pillaging the chocolate from a cardboard Advent calendar that had a big picture of a cartoon Santa head on it. Christmas was just days away, but the calendar was brand new and they were making up for lost time.
‘How much do we know about her? You just can’t trust people these days. Remember when I got Dirty Johned?’
‘You didn’t get Dirty Johned. You just dated a guy who did F45.’
‘Which he kept secret. And then one morning he tricked me into going to breakfast but it was a trap and I ended up in a gym. You never really know someone until it’s too late.’ Rob held up her phone to show Aimee. ‘Are these the ones?’ A pair of weird-looking black sandals was on the screen. They looked like the new ones Freya was wearing at the beach the previous day.
Aimee squinted and leaned closer. Chanel. She saw the price. ‘Three thousand and seventy dollars? And they’re so—’
‘Ugly. I know. They look like chemist shoes. And I want them. Do you think Brooke can buy me a pair too? I’m joking but, also, not really.’
‘I don’t know for sure if Brooke bought them for her. Or the bag. How much did you say it was?’
Rob switched internet tabs on her phone and held it up to show a picture of the tiny black purse. ‘Gucci. Sixteen hundred.’
Aimee exhaled. ‘Freya’s not that kind of girl. She’s not into those designer brands. I mean… even if she was, she couldn’t afford it. She’s still young. And I know these other girls from the TV show are only twenty-four or twenty-five… but that’s a big difference in your twenties. Their lives are very different to Freya’s.’
‘Look, Freya’s just having fun. If anyone her age got offered money to be on a TV show over summer, they’d take it. She can handle herself, just let her be.’ Rob tried to calm Aimee down, unsuccessfully, then clicked her fingers as she remembered something. ‘Hey, how did the big beach interview go with the TV hotshot? Did you tell him everything? Bare your soul? Reveal your deep dark secret?’
Aimee rolled her eyes and laughed, tossing back another chocolate. ‘What’s my deep dark secret?’
‘That you want Toni Collette to re-form her band and release a second album.’ Rob’s eyes widened as she awaited the reaction she knew was coming.
‘Hey! Toni Collette & The Finish was a great band! That album isn’t talked about enough.’ Aimee held her hand to her chest.
‘I agree!’ Rob laughed, satisfied with the pay-off of her provocation. ‘You know I watch the YouTube video of them performing at the 2007 Live Earth concert on repeat. Toni really loved that xylophone, didn’t she?’ Gasp! She grabbed Aimee’s wrist. ‘We should get Toni Collette & The Finish to re-form and play at your wedding.’ Before she could even laugh at herself, she winced at the clumsy mention of the on-hold special day.
Aimee didn’t react – instead, she completely ignored the wedding reference and picked up her satchel to rifle through it with purpose. ‘Also… Brooke gave me… this.’ She pulled out the antique kugel. Her fingers pinched the brass ring attached to the top and it dangled in the air, the light flicking off the worn patina.
Rob cringed. ‘An antique butt plug?’
‘An antique kugel.’
‘What is with this family giving you stuff? First that crappy necklace – which I hope you haven’t been wearing… it’ll probably turn your skin green.’
‘That’s just one of the many reasons I’m not wearing it,’ Aimee muttered.
‘And now this?’ Rob tapped her thumbs over the phone screen. ‘Annn-tique kooo-gels,’ she dragged out the words as she said them aloud and googled. ‘$1,200 on eBay. Wanna sell it?’
Aimee ignored Rob’s enterprising spirit. ‘Freya’s been sleeping at the farm. And now the gifts. All that stuff’s annoying but… it’s the party that’s just… bugging me.’ She placed one of the small square chocolates between her front teeth and bit down, snapping it in half. ‘Why the hell is this woman throwing a twenty-first party for a girl she barely knows? And why didn’t she tell me about it when we were chatting at the farm? I literally told her Freya’s turning twenty-one next week.’
Rob winced. ‘Do you think she only decided to throw the party after you told her?’
Aimee put her head down on the counter. ‘I just want to sleep and wake up three months from now.’
Rob pressed her thumbs on the back of the calendar. The perforated edges around one of the slots busted open and a chocolate popped out. ‘She’s an asshole.’
‘That’s the thing, though. I don’t know if she is an asshole.’
‘The woman’s excavating her own lake. She’s an asshole.’ Rob picked up her phone and pulled up Brooke’s Instagram. The grid was filled with photos of Brooke wearing OTT designer outfits while standing amongst the rubble of her under-construction estate. Snaps of her French bulldog Chicken in equally inappropriate locations also featured heavily. ‘FYI.’ Rob held up the phone to show Aimee a Boomerang of Freya with Brooke and Bree at Gucci. Scroll, scroll, scroll. A picture of Brooke posing in front of the Byron Bay lighthouse. The caption: ‘Scouting locations!’
Aimee groaned. ‘I’ve got to go pose with them in front of that stupid lighthouse tomorrow. They’re doing a promo photoshoot for the show.’
Rob continued to trawl Brooke’s Instagram. She pointed out all the photos of her driving around Byron in her G-Wagon while sipping from her really big cardboard Starbucks cups. ‘There’s not even a Starbucks in Byron Bay. Where the hell is she getting these cups from?’
‘There are lots of questions about this lady. The mysterious Starbucks cups are just one.’
‘I can’t stand these people. Her husband’s bankrolling her ridiculous life and she gets to run around building lakes and buying expensive ugly shoes and stealing people’s nieces and pretending she’s a businesswoman. She’s an asshole.’
‘Well… maybe not quite an asshole,’ Aimee said. ‘What’s an insult that’s just one step below an asshole?’
‘Hmmm.’ Rob scrunched up her face as she tried to think of an appropriate jibe.. ‘She’s a… cooter-weasel.’
Aimee shook her head with a laugh. ‘I don’t even know what that is.’
‘I just made it up,’ Rob conceded.
‘Fine, Brooke’s a cooter-weasel.’
A cough came from out of sight – down near the entrance. Aimee looked up, Rob spun around. Brooke was standing in the doorway. Her troupe of sneaky ants crowded around her and blocked the outside sunlight from cracking through. The two cameras poking over her shoulder had a clean aim on their targets and the boom mike reaching through the door hovered high up to the ceiling, settling above the room. A frenzied explosion of colour burst around Brooke’s face – pink and purple and blue tulle shooting out in all different directions, spangled with sequins and stars and tiny plastic jewels.
‘Hi. Aimee… I just… I thought I’d drop by and show you some of my tutus.’ She closed her eyes and shook her head a little as she tried to decide what to say. In that moment, Brooke was no longer just the ridiculous caricature who drove a pink Moke and tore down heritage-listed buildings. ‘I thought I’d see if you’d want to stock some in the store.’
Aimee and Rob stared at her with wide eyes. Busted. So busted. The smell of Brooke’s expensive spicy floral perfume filled the store.
‘Maybe another time.’ Brooke and the crew disappeared as swiftly as they’d appeared – the bustling outside world sucking them back out like water through a sink-hole.
Rob turned back to face Aimee and let out a deflated sigh. ‘Shit the bed.’
Aimee raised her eyebrows. Her forehead crinkled in disappointment at herself. ‘I know. We’re the assholes.’
‘No.’ Rob held up the hollow, ravaged cardboard calendar. ‘We’re out of chocolate.’
Aimee exhaled. ‘Shit the bed.’
TWENTY-FOUR
The iconic white lighthouse on Cape Byron was both the most beautiful and most irritating place in the world. Aimee stood back and studied it while waiting for the photoshoot to begin. She wondered if, when resident keepers were manning the lighthouse at the turn of the nineteenth century, they ever stared out into the bleak darkness and imagined a time, just decades into the future, when hot young people would use the iconic structure as a prop while taking photos of themselves in activewear. Sunset at the lighthouse was peak hour for selfies. So, obviously, many people were perturbed when, on the afternoon of the TV show’s photoshoot, they were blocked from entering the area by metal barricade fencing around the perimeter. Aimee considered lying at the edge of the hill and letting gravity roll her body down into the ocean.
All the different producers were running around and talking into headsets while the rest of the crew tinkered with equipment. Aimee watched on as the brats were all being positioned around the base of the lighthouse in strappy white tops and floaty dresses. The cast was told to dress in white. Aimee looked at the girls. And then she looked down at her own outfit – a white linen shirt and linen pants. She felt like their grandmother.
A young producer walked up to her. ‘Turn around.’ She held a bulldog clip in the air.
When Aimee spun, the producer grabbed a fistful of the linen shirt and clipped it.
‘It’ll stop your outfit from looking so… billowy.’
Billowy. That’s how everyone wants to be told they look just moments before being photographed. Aimee had already been dreading the entire day. It’d be the first time seeing Brooke since the incident at the store. She’d been thinking about it ever since it happened and there were even one or two times when she went to text an apology but she wasn’t sure what to say – or even what Brooke had actually heard.
The photographer looked over at Aimee’s adjustment. ‘It’s still not great but it’s better than before.’
Nina weighed in. ‘Jesus Christ, Aimee!’ she chortled. ‘There’s so much excess fabric we could use it to make a condom to put over the lighthouse!’
Unnecessary, Aimee thought.
Freya was positioned alongside the other girls, down the end. She looked over at her aunt to make sure she was OK. Aimee smiled and tried to seem more relaxed than she was.
The bulldog clip chick grabbed Aimee by the wrist and positioned her on the end, next to Freya, who playfully grabbed her aunt’s hand. She lifted up her phone to take a photo of them together.
Aimee saw the screen had a big diagonal crack shattered across it. ‘Your poor phone!’
