Chapter 18
“World domination, probably,” Ellie told him from where she was reclining back and staring at the green leaves of the tree above her, gently waving against the blue sky.
His face popped up beside her, Genevieve the guinea pig clutched in his hands, her mouth contentedly full of fresh grass.
He started laughing and Ellie’s heart seized with love.
He was thirteen. How much longer would he laugh at her jokes and gaze back at her with equal delight?
Already he had sullen moments, lost inside his own world, dragging his feet to do what he was asked and huffing at Zara when she asked him about his day.
But mostly, he was still, utterly and completely, Arthur.
His jokes were getting better, his pencil sketches more expressive, his childish insights both goofier and more poignant.
The other night the evening news had been on in the background, the sound down low, both Ellie and Zara oblivious, until Arthur had dissolved into tears at a report on starving children, furious at them both for every answer they couldn’t give.
Why was the world letting this happen? What about our government?
What’s even the point of having them then?
Why aren’t we on a boat, bringing them food? Don’t we have way more than we need?
“Kid’s going to be an anarchist,” Zara said wearily after he’d gone to bed. “We’re going to be bailing him out of prison for chaining himself to trees and bridges.”
“You used to be like that,” Ellie suddenly realised. “Oh my god, he’s you.”
Zara rolled her eyes and denied any part of it.
Ellie understood, with a stab to the heart, that it was, of course, the Zara of before who’d tried to set up a garage sale of things she swore they didn’t need anymore, in order to raise money for saving orangutans, before their mother rushed in to rescue the family toaster from the sale table.
This Zara, the one who came after couldn’t bear to think of that, so she couldn’t face it in her child without sardonic dismissal.
Now, Arthur’s laughter rang up into the suburban air, the sharp green scent of cut grass and petrol from the neighbour’s mower hanging in the air. He turned Genevieve to face him, and she watched him contentedly as she munched.
“You’d do a much better job of running the world,” he told the guinea pig with conviction. Ellie pointed her finger at Genevieve and the boy who held her.
“You’ve got my vote,” she said.
Zara was up out of bed when the heat finally chased all three of them indoors, having worked late the night before. She looked pointedly at Ellie who was gathering her bag and slipping on her shoes.
“You off already?” she asked. “I told Arthur I’d take him to the movies this afternoon so we can catch some proper air conditioning. Want to come join?”
“Sorry,” Ellie said. “I’ve got plans.” She dropped a kiss on Arthur’s head as he sat at the dining table, drawing a campaign poster for Genevieve’s run for prime minister. “Have fun you two.”
“What plans?” Zara followed her down the hall to the front door. “You’re always so busy these days; I feel like we hardly see you.”
“I saw you every day this week but Wednesday,” Ellie reminded her. She adored her sister but sometimes she wished she’d just… get out more. Then, she felt bad for the thought. “Zazzy, I’ll be over for dinner tomorrow. I’ll bring Korean rice bowls and we’ll plan our Christmas menu.”
“I feel like you’re being intentionally mysterious,” Zara complained as Ellie opened the door. “I tell you literally everything and you just tell me ‘plans.’”
“Oh my god,” Ellie huffed. “Plans. I have a bunch of chores to do, then I’m hitting the gym, then I’m— I’m hanging out with a friend.”
“Aha.” Zara leaned one hand on the front porch bannister as Ellie stepped down on the path to the front gate. “A friend.”
“Not like that.” Ellie rolled her eyes. “Just a friend, jesus.”
“You never tell me about your love life anymore,” Zara said. She made puppy eyes. “I don’t know why you feel like you can’t tell me when you’re seeing someone.”
Ellie hesitated, stuck halfway between the porch and the street.
They both knew damn well why Ellie didn’t talk to her sister about dating.
Zara caught her look and her face went slightly blank in the way it always did when this came up.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Zara said tightly.
“But just because I don’t date doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about it when you meet a cute girl. Christ, Ellie!”
Zara looked so dejected that Ellie climbed back up the porch steps and hugged her sister tight.
“Zaz,” she said. “It’s not that. I’m not seeing someone. I’m literally just having drinks with Sophie,” she said, naming an acting friend she’d met on the set of Universe Below. “I’d tell you if I was going on a date. I would.”
“Okayyyy,” Zara relented. “Then have fun, on your not-date.”
Ellie waved at her sister and walked out the gate, hoping the guilt didn’t show on her face. It was definitely not a date. But it was also definitely not Sophie.
Four hours later, Ellie was yet again hiding out from the heat of the mid-afternoon sun with Estella Grant.
She was in the midst of a swanky inner-city suburb, on the rooftop of a building with a view out over the city skyline.
Melbourne loved a good rooftop bar, and Ellie had been to dozens of them, drinking a cold glass of white and watching the sunset roar to life beneath the soundtrack of a DJ floating out into the night air.
None of them, however, had also been crowned with their own rooftop pool.
She’d rolled her eyes in annoyance when Estella had sent through the latest meeting details, with a brisk, wear a swimsuit, tacked on the end.
Estella had already listened to Ellie complain about sun exposure and crowded beaches, so of course she’d find a way to make it even worse.
And yet, when she’d reached the rooftop in question, she’d waded through the rich and beautiful Melburnians crowding the exclusive bar, she’d glimpsed Estella occupying prime position — on a pool lounger next to an aquamarine plunge pool, overlooking the city — with an immense sun umbrella shading her. Ellie found she could only laugh.
“Hi,” she said, as she took a prim seat on the adjoining lounger.
A strange impulse hit her, to lean in and press a kiss to Estella’s cheek in greeting, like they were close friends catching up on a beautiful afternoon.
She caught herself with just enough time to feel awkward, like she didn’t quite know what to do with her limbs.
“Hi.” Estella smiled up at her. Ellie hoped against hope that Estella wasn’t picking up on her awkwardness, because then she might get the idea it had something to do with the very tiny bikini Estella was wearing, and it really wasn’t.
Ellie was gay, but she had absolutely no problem meeting Estella’s eyes while she was lazing dreamily on a pool lounger in nothing but shreds of red lycra, held together with flimsy bows.
Ellie had seen hundreds of women in swimsuits before, so having a whole afternoon — hopefully — of conversation with this sun-kissed, golden expanse of bare silky skin on view was definitely no big deal.
“I’m sorry?” Ellie realised, with a start, that Estella had been saying something, while Ellie’s brain had definitely not been stuttering. Estella just laughed.
“She’ll have the spicy margarita,” she said to someone just behind Ellie, who whipped her head around in time to see the waiter disappear.
“What if I don’t like spicy drinks?” she demanded, aggrieved. Estella shrugged a bare shoulder carelessly.
“Trust me, you’ll like it. Aren’t you pleased with all this shade I got for you, princess?”
“It’s not a cave,” Ellie said, trying not to show how rattled Estella made her. She looked out at the view of the city skyline under the bright blue sky and couldn’t help her smile. “But it’ll do.”
She kicked off her shoes and pushed her body to recline on the lounger next to Estella.
It was far more comfortable this way, looking out at the view instead of that bare skin.
Ellie had, as instructed, worn a swimsuit, but she was perfectly happy to leave it under her sea-green summer dress.
She’d looked at herself in the mirror for far too long before she’d left, appreciating how exactly the right green could bring together the chestnut in her hair, the dark of her eyes and the light rose in her complexion.
Why that mattered so much, sitting here next to a literal criminal, she couldn’t quite say.
Was it so bad to want to look hot, when you were out with someone hot? It wasn’t. It definitely wasn’t.
Her drink arrived and she sipped it, warily. Damnit, that was good. She felt Estella’s gaze on her, and gave her a solid side eye that made them both burst out a small surprised laugh.
“Fine, it’s good, if you need to hear me say it so badly.
” Ellie sipped again, keeping her eyes averted, feeling the full weight of the strangeness in the air right now.
This was, objectively, weird. It was the third time the two of them had deliberately met to spend time together, sharing secrets, telling tales, having top shelf drinks and sweet desserts, all in beautiful locations.
And now they were making each other laugh with eye contact alone and giggling over inside jokes they somehow shared.
She was studying this woman, and this woman was using her right back.
So why did it feel like they were… growing closer?
Estella Grant, she reminded herself. Head of the Grant family.
A mobster. Probably a murderer. A dangerous criminal!
But somehow, the words were slowly losing their meaning, along with the tinge of fear they’d once created.