Ore chuckled. ‘So you’re getting off at Sydney as well?’
Mel clambered out of the pool as Ore settled on the edge of a lounger. ‘Well we all are, the guests I mean. I think that the crew stay on for a few more days and then have to go moor it up the coast somewhere.’
Ore realised that she’d sort of imagined she might be safefrom Chuck if he was endlessly floating around the ocean. Silly really – you were never safe from a man like Chuck. Mel must have misread the expression on her face, but her conclusion was still accurate.
‘You’re going to miss the captain, aren’t you?’ Mel wrapped herself in a beach towel and sat down next to Ore.
‘I am,’ she admitted. ‘Very much.’
‘Well I’m sure you can still, like, see each other, like he can fly to New York and you can visit him when he’s got time off from work?’ The hope in Mel’s face was touching. Ore recognised herself, in her more naive moments.
‘Maybe,’ Ore said with a sad smile, ‘but that kind of travelling is pretty expensive.’
Mel hung her head. ‘Damn, yeah, sorry, that was like, super privileged of me to say.’
‘Nah don’t worry about it, you were only trying to help.’ Ore had grown to like Mel.
‘Like I did when I showed your article to dad, and told him what a great journalist you were, and then he basically invited you to be a glorified babysitter. Sorry about that …’ Mel looked genuinely contrite, but Ore was only just catching up with the first part of the confession.
‘Sorry, what article did you show him?’
‘The one you wrote in i-POP magazine about sustainable practices in the Casper Donran factories.’ Mel had begun wringing water from her hair.
Ore had written that piece whilst she was still at Columbia. It had earned a much-coveted ‘excellent work’ from Gail Fairweather, exposing the toxic dyes used in the factories that made CasperD clothing. The real sting had been that it wasmainly manufacturing their ‘environmentally conscious’ range. The hypocrisy.
‘I totally stopped buying anything from CasperD after that,’ Mel continued proudly. ‘I think Dad thought I’d be super thrilled that he invited you on board, but like, I was into that article like two years ago, no offence.’ Mel shrugged, rolling her eyes as if to say:you know useless dads.
‘None taken,’ Ore replied, on autopilot through their familiar exchange as what she had heard sank in.
Not only had her job offer been a set-up incentive for her to write the piece he wanted, but Chuck Regas had even hand-selected her. Ore guessed he hadn’t even bothered to read the article, just assumed that anything his teenage daughter read in a magazine was probably written by some second-rate, PR puff-piece kind of journalist who would write down anything she was told to. He had underestimated them both. She was sure that someone had also pointed out that it might be good optics to give an exclusive interview to a young black woman. How liberal and magnanimous he would seem. The boil of anger quickly solidified into something else: renewed determination. She would find a way to expose him for the hypocritical, narcissistic manipulator that he was. Somehow she would find a way.
‘Mel, if I trust you with a little secret, would you promise not to tell your dad, at least not for a few weeks …’ Ore was hatching a plan.
‘Sure.’ Mel’s eyes glinted with the excitement of conspiracy.
‘If I give you my number, would you give it to your mum and ask her to call me? I’d love to use you in an article I’m writing, but I need a parent’s permission and well …’
‘You can’t ask my dad, because it’s about him,’ Mel concluded.
She’s a bright one. ‘Exactly.’
‘Just promise me one thing in return?’ Mel put out her hand.
Ore was wary but agreed.
‘That you won’t let him get away with his lies, because he will totally deny everything, so you have to like stand up for the truth and not let him bully you into backing down,’
Ore shook Mel’s hand firmly. ‘I will try my best.’
‘That’s not quite a promise, but I’ll take it. Also Mom will definitely call you; she’s always going about how much he lies, but she’s not allowed to say anything, apparently.’
Patricia Regas, now that would be a get, although it sounded like she’d also signed a damn NDA.
‘Thanks so much Mel.’ Ore stood up, and to her surprise Mel did too, pulling her into a soggy hug. Ore’s hands swung awkwardly at her sides. Mel was a little taller than her and it felt perverse to encircle her bare waist.
‘You know I think I wanna be just like you when I’m older,’ Mel gushed into Ore’s shoulder. Ore was taken aback by the sincerity. ‘Like maybe a journalist, but like super nice and also hot.’
Ore couldn’t help but giggle. She was flattered. She pulled herself away. ‘Well if you ever need any advice …’ Ore wondered what on earth might make her qualified as an emotionally turbulent, unemployed twenty-five-year-old to give any advice to anybody, but Mel nodded enthusiastically and retrieved her phone from her bag and handed it to Ore to put her number in it. ‘I’ll totally hit you up,’ she chirped before picking up her towel and plodding back inside.
