Heat Wave (12 page)

***

There was nowhere to go but back to my room. In the tiny cabin, I wept for hours, until my sinuses were blocked and my tear ducts ran dry. In the hidden recess of my mind, a lovesick part of my psyche still insisted that Tanner would come. But he didn't.

After the tears dissipated, I lay on my bunk, staring at the ceiling and brimming with pent-up frustration. Despair turned to ire as I began to list all the ways I'd been wronged, by Tanner, Maxine, and life in general.

In the late afternoon, Greg returned. ‘What the hell, Maddie? I've been working solo all day, because Marc says you've been pulled from the production team.'

‘Oh, haven't you heard? I've been promoted!' I rolled onto my stomach and stared down at my bearded roomie from my perch on the top bunk.

‘What?' Slowly, he absorbed my tear-stained face.

‘Yeah. Maxine says that I have to join the cast as a contestant. Aren't I just the luckiest little ducky?'

Greg's face wrinkled in confusion under his beard, then set in a determined expression. ‘Come on. Let's go.'

‘Go where?'

‘Somewhere you can get a better outlook on things …'

A few minutes later, we entered the Port Hole. The crew bar was surprisingly busy for just after three pm.

‘Is everyone on board an alcoholic?' I asked, looking around the small space.

Greg steered us over to a booth next to an actual porthole facing the brilliant blue sea. ‘Yeah, pretty much. Mind you, people work weird hours, so they just drink when they finish up. But some days there's not much else to do besides get hammered, and all the grog is tax-free, so Coronas are only a buck each.'

‘I'll take six,' I said.

Greg wandered over to the bartender, and dug his wallet from his cargo shorts. He returned a few minutes later with a tray full of a dozen Mexican beers. ‘Right-o: you, young lady, are going to drink and tell me everything. Then, we'll figure out what to do next.'

‘On one condition.' I took a quick swig from the closest bottle, barely tasting the beer, just wanting it inside me. ‘You have to come clean too.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Greg, I'm not an idiot. I know there's something going on with you and your family.'

‘I don't know what you're talking about.' He shifted uneasily, his gaze darting around.

‘Fine. Answer me this then: how many kids do you have?'

‘Three.'

‘How old are they?'

‘Um … eight, three and …'

‘Aha!'

‘Twelve!'

‘Alright, where did you meet your wife?'

‘We … through friends.'

‘What's her birthday?'

‘May.'

‘May what?'

‘Sixteenth.'

‘And how many kids do you have?'

‘Two. Three! Jesus, Maddie …' He rubbed his ear, his face flushed.

‘Give it up,' I crowed in delight. ‘You are a total faker!'

His shoulders slumped. ‘Fine. You got me.'

‘Spill.' I finished my beer and started the next, the buzz kicking in. While I was focused on Greg's mysterious family issues, I didn't have the brain space to feel anything about myself.

‘Just keep your voice down. So, yeah. I don't have kids. And I'm not married.'

‘Oh my God! Why the hell would you invent a family? And how long have you been lying for?'

He chugged from his own bottle, matching my fierce pace. ‘It started about ten years ago. I'd been working in production for a while, and I thought I was hot shit. A reasonably good looking young guy can get a lot of attention from the ladies on set without really trying, and I was trying—boy, I was trying.'

I grinned, imagining a much younger Greg shamelessly schmoozing anything in a skirt. ‘You hussy, you.'

‘I was working on
Matrix Reloaded
in Sydney, and I swear to God, I'd slept with every chick on set bar Carrie-Anne Moss.'

‘She turned you down? Smart lady …'

‘Shuddup. Anyway, things got a bit dicey when one girl missed her period and thought I'd knocked her up, and another seemed to think we were on our way to getting engaged, and the preggo went after the second girl and they had a massive catfight in the middle of the lunchroom, and then we all had to sit down with the HR lady, which might have been helpful, except I'd slept with her too …'

I giggled. ‘That's amazing.'

‘It got sorted; the first girl wasn't pregnant, and I kept my job on the third
Matrix
movie under the proviso that I didn't have sex with anyone attached to the film.'

‘How did you go with that?'

‘It was actually awesome!' He swirled the lime slice around inside his Corona. ‘Without all the lady dramas, I knuckled down, worked hard, got promoted, and got my next three jobs lined up. Life was so much easier.

‘So when I started on the next film set, I promised myself that I'd keep it in my pants. But the weirdest thing happened …'

‘Syphilis?'

‘Ha bloody ha. No, the second I took myself off the menu, I became irresistible! There are only so many times a man can say no. So, I told everyone that I had a girlfriend. It worked, but in this industry, sometimes you keep coming across the same people over and over again.'

‘You really do.'

‘And when we went to the next set, people were still asking me about my fake girlfriend, so I had to keep the lie going. We got serious, then engaged, then married, then a kid, then two … Cut to a decade later, and I'm a family man.'

‘I'm not sure if you're a genius or a dumbass. I think it's a bit of both.' I stared at my silly friend. ‘So do you actually have relationships anymore?'

‘I used to, but now I'm bouncing from job to job continuously and I just don't have time or much interest.'

‘You seemed pretty interested in Sumara.'

Greg immediately coloured, an adorable red crawling under his beard. ‘She's a nice girl, that's all.'

‘Gregory, are you in love?' I drew a heart in the moisture rings left by the cold beers on our table. ‘
Greg likes Sumara …'

‘Drink your beer, Hobo.' He ignored my silly sing-song. ‘Besides the fact that she thinks I'm married and I don't even know if she's interested in me, she's only here because she's trying to hook up with a hot cowboy. See, this is exactly why I don't get involved with people at work; shit gets weird.'

‘Oh, who cares? Life is short, and you're not the horny pre-pubescent you were ten years ago. If you're interested in someone, you should try to make it happen.' I tapped my bottle against my temple. ‘Besides, she likes you. I can tell.'

‘Thanks, I think. Anyway, enough about me. What's your story?'

I sighed as the spotlight shifted back to me, shining a light into the deepest alcoves of my pain. ‘Are you sure you want to hear all about it?'

Greg tilted his beer, draining the last of the bottle before handing each of us a fresh one. ‘We're in for the duration. Let's do it.'

It took almost two hours and another four beers each to relate the entire sorry tale—our high school romance, the unexpected hook up, my sneak out, Maxine's threats. I made it through without crying, but came pretty close a few times.

‘… and then, he jus' let me go!' I slurred. ‘Jus' like
that!
' I swung my arm wide and it crashed into the collection of empty bottles on our table. They smashed to the hard surface, rolling and clacking loudly. Three of them dropped to the floor, shattering one after the other, while I watched, helpless.

Some comic genius at another table yelled, ‘Taxi!' while the massively overweight bartender looked over, pissed.

‘Hey! You two! You're cut off. Get out of here!'

‘Aw, come on, Tiny,' Greg wheedled.

‘No! You know the rules. If I get busted with drunk crew in here, I'm the one who gets in trouble.'

‘Fine, we'll go. Sell us a bottle of vodka for the road?'

Greg could con the panties off a nun. We left the bar, giggling, with a giant bottle of Absolut stuffed under Greg's shirt. He led us down another unmarked door on the Newell, which wound through an engineering section of the ship, and out onto an outdoor deck.

The night was cool, and the ship was steaming ahead, causing the wind to whip around us. ‘Where are we?' I asked.

‘Shh …' Greg pulled me forward, over piles of ropes and cables. ‘Don't you want to be king of the world?'

‘What do you …
Oh!'
We reached the railing, and I could see the bend of the very forward bow of the ship; the exact spot on the Titanic where Jack and Rose had pretended to fly.

Tentatively, I closed my fingers over the cool metal of the rails and leaned forward into the night, letting the strong gusts blow over me. ‘Wow. Just wow.'

We hunkered down in a pile of surprisingly comfy rope, sharing the vodka bottle and spinning shit to the darkened sky.

‘So, what are you gonna do?' asked Greg when the other topics had worn out.

I ran my fingers over the rough surface of the rope, loving how being drunk seemed to give me a super sense of touch. ‘I don't know. Maxine has made it so hard for me to say no, but there are so many reasons I want to.'

‘Like what?'

‘Like, I don't even
like
reality TV! I don't watch this stuff, and I think people who watch it are airheads, let alone the people who audition. And, I don't want my relationship with Tanner shared, sharing—' I hiccoughed, then tried again. ‘I don't want to share him, not with the world, and definitely not with all these other girls.'

‘But if you quit, Maxine is going to screw the both of you into the ground. I've seen her do it before. Plus, you might just be throwing away the love of your life.'

Greg pulled me up, and cupped his hands around my face like a loving older brother. ‘Stop letting your ego get in the way. Accept that good things can happen to you. Take the chance. Best-case scenario, you get the guy. Worst case, you miss out, and you go work with Fincher. Win, win.'

‘You're so smart, Greg. Who would have thought the guy with the imaginary family could be so smart?'

‘Watch it, you, or I'll make you babysit my imaginary toddler.'

‘Greg … what if he doesn't choose me?' My words were a whisper as I voiced my greatest fear.

‘He will. But if you don't give him the opportunity, how will you ever know?'

The alcohol swirled inside me, making it impossible to tell if I was feeling nauseous from inebriation or from the decision I was about to make. ‘Okay. Okay, I'll do it.'

He beamed at me proudly. ‘Atta girl. Go get your cowboy.' With his hands still keeping my head steady, Greg leaned forward and gave my forehead a brotherly kiss. It was a purely platonic gesture, one I welcomed, but I didn't realise how we must have looked standing at the bow of the ship in the darkness, embracing and sharing kisses.

That is, until Tanner's voice rang out from the deck above us. ‘Maddie. You always did move on quick, didn't you?'

Chapter 11

I'm running down the halls of my Texan high school, but the windows are all portholes, showing an ocean of amber beer sloshing outside. Tanner's riding a horse just around the next corner, but by the time I get there, he is gone.

I crash into a mirror, and the reflection isn't me
—
it's Callie. ‘Don't you worry,' she tells me. ‘I'm a way better you than you could ever hope to be.'

I'm about to scream at her, but I vomit instead …

‘Maddie? Maddie, come on, sunshine, you have to get up.'

I awoke, finding myself lying on the cramped floor of my tiny cabin. My mouth was cracked and sore, and as I spoke, my voice raked through a throat that had obviously experienced some comings and goings recently. ‘Ugh … Go ‘way, Greg.'

‘Not an option.' He hoisted me up by my armpits, playing bad cop. ‘You need to shower, because you stink of vomit, because you've been chundering all over the bathroom all night. Then, you have to go see Maxine.'

‘Fine! Stop yelling at me. You're not my real dad …'

I literally crawled into the shower on my hands and knees, unable to keep the memories from the previous night returning. After Tanner had busted us, I'd drunkenly stumbled from the bow, crashing into doorways and lurching down narrow corridors.

Greg had tracked after me, trying to help me find Tanner, but after I threw up in a pot plant and passed out on the carpet, he'd picked me up and transferred me back to the cabin.

I let the thin stream of water sluice over me, trying to swallow some, but changing my mind when it threatened to spurt straight back up again.

‘Come on, Hobo,' Greg yelled through the bathroom door. ‘Let's go!'

Another bag of Ricky-donations, a Berocca and some extra strong ibuprofen, and I was ready to face Maxine.
As long as I don't breathe on her, I'll be fine.

Greg walked me up to her office, steadying my arm on the long flights of stairs that seemed to shift under my feet. At the door, he squeezed my elbow. ‘Remember what you're fighting for, okay?'

‘Thanks, Greg. See you on the other side …'

Maxine sat impassively behind her desk as I wobbled in on my red-heeled sandals. ‘Maddie. You're looking reasonable for a girl who defiled an indoor palm only a few hours ago.'

I didn't bother asking how she knew; with the hidden system of cameras, I didn't doubt Maxine knew everything from my blood type to the colour of my underwear. ‘Good morning, Maxine.'

‘Have you made your decision?'

‘I have. I'll do it.'

‘Good girl,' she said, completely disinterested, as if my answer meant nothing. ‘There's an assistant outside the door waiting to take you to your new cabin. See yourself out.'