Allie’s stomach churned. This was her biggest mistake yet. Of course she’d heard of One Union, but, of course, she’d never had any first-hand knowledge of what they were like. Sophie may have mentioned them, but she tended to laugh off the haters.
She hadn’t known, and while she considered herself an ally to the rainbow family, she couldn’t know what it was like. Not completely. Seeing Kirra wild-eyed and shaking. Seeing Tarryn so cold, like an unsheathed knife, brought it home. While she was part of their community as an ally, she wasn’t enmeshed in it as Kirra and Tarryn were. As Sophie was. She didn’t know how it felt to be on the receiving end of such hate—not for being who she was.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice. “Of course we’ll refuse them. Do you want me to do it?”
“No.” Kirra’s shoulders drooped. “I’ll do it. Maybe even politely. But I’ll be firm and say there is no place for them here.”
“Have you not come up against them, Sophie?” Tarryn asked. There was still a wrinkle between her eyes.
“No, not directly. Maybe it’s because I live in Sydney. Maybe it’s because I”—she swallowed—“often pass as straight. Maybe it’s because there are so many safe spaces for us in the city. It’s not as…intense as it is here.” She put a hand on Kirra’s arm. “Are you okay?”
Kirra covered it with her other hand. “I will be. Thanks.”
“And you, Tarryn?”
“I’m fine. I just don’t give people like them any headspace. Although it’s hard to keep them out sometimes, and not safe to ignore their existence completely.”
Allie bit her lip. An uncomfortable feeling wound its way up her chest to sit in her throat.Fraud.She was a fraud, and however well-meaning her and Sophie’s deception was, it was still wrong.
But what could she do now? When the festival was only days away? When Sophie was depending on her?
Nothing.
She had to see this through.
* * *
Later that evening, Allie sat on the couch flicking through the brochures of the wedding hire shops that had offered to dress the fake wedding couple. White, lace, more white, sweetheart necklines, and swooping low backs. While she’d always thought she’d wear a white dress if she got married, she wasn’t comfortable wearing one for the fake wedding. And what if she dropped something on it? Or someone spilled red wine? They would be mingling with the crowd at the afterparty—wearing white would be a disaster. Surely the shop would want their dress back in a wearable state.
She shuffled the definite no-go brochures to one side and picked up the remaining four. Maybe this one. The front showed two brides, one in a dazzling white tux, the other in a leaf-green dress and a crown of jasmine on her head. Both brides wore matching red hi-top sneakers. That might work, if Tarryn could be persuaded. They were meeting tomorrow with Phyll and Jason to go over the final arrangements for the parade and ceremony. She’d suggest it then.
Her mobile rang, and she glanced at the screen then answered.
“Hey, Leila, how’s things in the evil corporate?”
“Evil,” Leila said with a sigh. “My great new assistant left—she’s got a job with a start-up—and hasn’t been replaced. I haven’t set foot outside the office at lunchtime since you and I had lunch, and I’m working sixty-hour weeks. Life’s just peachy, let me tell you.”
“Poor you. Maybe it’s time to look for another job? One where you’re appreciated.”
“And where I can see Hammie for longer than five minutes before he has to go to bed.”
“That too. So Hammie isn’t going by Muhammad yet?”
“He’s trying. Old habits die hard. Lewis is better at it than me. After all, he’s the one feeding Hammie and getting him ready for bed these days. But I didn’t call you to whinge. I called to see how you are, and also to let you know something interesting happened today.”
“I’m fine, Leila, thank you for asking. I’m helping Sophie with her business. It’s…interesting. Maybe I’ll have a new career at the end of this.”
“Maybe. It’s got to be better than the last one. Now, the news. We’ve just lost another major client. There are a lot of closed-door meetings and worried looking people in corner offices. Nothing official’s been said—we’re not supposed to know, of course—but the rumour is someone screwed up the client’s Business Activity Statements. Sound familiar?”
“It does.” Allie’s heart picked up speed. Maybe they’d find out who did it, maybe they’d clear her name.Right. More likely…“Which client? Are they going to pin that on me as well?”
“I shouldn’t tell you as you’re not an employee anymore, but it’s Richard Martin. His waste disposal business is under investigation by the Australian Tax Office, and he came storming into the office to see your old boss.”
“I never worked on that file,” Allie said slowly. “Craig kept that one close.”
“Interesting,” Leila said. Her voice hummed with satisfaction. “So who’s going to get the blame for this?”
“They’ll still blame me.” Acid burned Allie’s gut. “I’m the perfect scapegoat. They won’t let a partner take the blame—Craig will get off. He’ll tell the client it was a junior accountant who has already left the firm. Then he’ll take Richard out for a boozy lunch, and they’ll pat each other on the back and say how hard it is to get decent staff these days.”
