CHAPTER 9
‘Chill, Boss. Woah,’ I say, as though the State Minister for Education is a skittish stallion that needs calming.
Boss has never been properly angry with me.
I’ve seen him lose it at almost everyone else—the Premier, the Sex Discrimination Commissioner, taxi drivers, cleaners, the random old lady at the CWA bake sale who said his head looked like a rock cake—but never at me.
‘I know this is not ideal,’ I say, ‘but honestly, this is like eight out of ten bad. We’ve survived worse. ’
‘What was worse?’ splutters Boss.
‘Your white-trash headline was definitely worse than this,’ I reply, hoping this translates as soothing pragmatism.
‘There’s no need to stress. We’ll set up a casual photo with Nancy.
You guys grabbing coffee or whatever. Say a couple of nice, noninflammatory things and it’ll blow over.
I know you hate her, but you’re still on speaking terms, right? ’
As much as media is about spin, honesty is still the best policy. It’s easy to spin a version of the truth but lies are lies and they always catch up with you.
‘Well, I think so,’ mumbles Boss. ‘She hasn’t told me we’re not speaking … but would she do that, if she’s not speaking to me?’
‘If you’re still speaking to her, then Archie’s headline is technically untrue.
That’s all I need for a rebuttal. Now please excuse me as I write a damning comeback statement in time for the six p.m. news.
I should be able to finish it on the train, so I’ll send it through in about half an hour. Okay?’
‘Will it be enough to kill this story? Are you sure you shouldn’t reach out to Archie?’
‘Leave the media strategy to me. I’ll email you the draft statement.’
‘Just promise me you’ll give him a call.’
My molars grind against themselves.
‘Remember,’ says Boss, ‘we keep our friends close and our enemies closer.’
My phone feels like a bomb in my hands. I want to drop it but I can’t. Out the window, I can see brown bricks and brown roofs hurtling past in a blur of indistinguishable sameness. I have no idea where I am; I only know that it will be ages before I get home.
‘Mill?’
‘Fine,’ I grunt.
If I keep Archie close, it’ll be easier to ruin his life.