Chapter Ten
KALLEN
Friday morning arrives and everyone’s in a fantastic mood, including myself.
I’ve got my barista coffee in hand. Freddie’s talking about how excited he is for this music festival he’s attending on the weekend.
Lisa’s got a date planned for tonight, Cherry’s having a relaxing weekend with her family.
Dan and Christian seem to be bros now, which I’m pretending is not happening.
And to top things off, Blake’s wearing the purple velvet dress she spoke about.
Christian has green retro flared pants on.
Safe to say it’s a full vibe in the office today.
‘At least you’ve got orange chinos,’ Blake tells me. ‘That’s, like, somewhat eighties.’
‘We can thank the op shop for this one.’ I glance down at my white T-shirt tucked in. ‘Actually, the top too.’
There’s not much of a morning meeting on Fridays, given that none of us – including Lisa – care about work by the end of the week. As long as there’s the bare minimum of content to schedule for the weekend, we’re fine.
As we deep-dive into another banter about Brisbane’s skyrocketing petrol prices, Lisa ‘ahems’ us brazenly.
‘Alright, so with Blake and Dan off to the food and wine f estival this morning, the rest of us have to hustle to get content done.’ She turns from Cherry to me.
‘I’ve got no sponsored content to write today so I can help out with writing a bit later in the morning.
Also…' She opens a box sitting on the desk, reaches her hand in, and pulls out two metal cups. ‘The food and wine festival has sent us a bunch of merch, including these recyclable branded wine thingies.’ She lifts the cups as though she’s going to throw them and knock two of us out.
‘One for you, new guy, and one for you, Blake.’
‘Damn, I wish it said new guy on here instead of my name.’ Dan winks.
My forehead furrows as I inspect Blake’s cup, the one with her name on it, made by our favourite event of the year – well, one of our favourites anyway – that we usually enjoy together.
‘This is so cool!’ Blake cries out. ‘I love it.’
Deep breaths, Kallen. It’s Friday, remember? And it’s just a personalised wine cup. It’s just a personalised fucking wine cup.
Blake and Dan soon leave the office with their personalised fucking wine cups, laughing. Meanwhile, the rest of us sit in the office to listen to the same early noughties playlist we listen to every Friday.
I try not to think about all the delicious food and wine Blake and Dan will be tasting today as I edit a video of the art installation from last night.
Considering I want my content to be performing well more than ever these days – with the looming job opening and all – I take my time putting the clips together and overlay the text as though it’s bait.
Good thing I can take a decent video, because before posting, I realise it looks much better than it did in-person, like most things on Instagram.
By lunch, the video has hit thirty thousand views, which I take in my stride.
*
Christian, Freddie, and the rest of the team (minus Blake and Dan) return from their long lunch around three.
With drunken Friday chatter filling the room like a flu, we realise the workday is done.
Every Friday, Lisa waits to see if Christian and the rest of the team have clocked off before giving us the nod that we can start the weekend.
My last article of the week, which is about a secret concert at a pick-your-own sunflower farm in Stanthorpe, is half-assed on the writing front but I know it’s gonna do well, so I don’t have to try too much to make it engaging.
1. Sunflowers speak for themselves, and
2. I’m too tipsy from my boozy Slurpee to care.
I’m confident it may even be the winning article of the week once it’s posted.
Before long, Cherry and I dive deep into conversation on the balcony. ‘So, with you identifying as a side, is that because you’ve had a bad experience with, you know?’ She points to her backside.
It’s been a while since anyone has asked about my sexual preference – that I don’t get pleasure out of penetrative sex.
‘Well yeah, but I guess sometimes you can’t know you don’t like something until you try it,’ I say, reverting my gaze to the view of the river. ‘A part of me wishes I did like it, though. Would make things a lot easier as a gay guy.’
Cherry’s face softens. ‘We can’t force ourselves to like something that we don’t.’
I feel like telling her about the years I spent trying to like it, albeit unsuccessfully.
But before I can over-share about the countless times I’ve been ghosted or questioned ill-intendedly because of my sexual preference, a screech of ‘bitches’ and ‘ what’s up’s erupt across the balcony.
Fresh from the office is Lisa, acting as if she’s been on an extended summer holiday to Europe without any communication.
When really, she’s just been at her desk while the rest of us are out here having knock-off drinks.
‘Just when you think it’s gonna be a chill Friday, the client decides they want last-minute revisions and content done,’ Lisa groans, lighting up a cigarette.
Freddie pushes a margarita her way. ‘This should help.’
Lisa shakes up the remnants of her alcoholic Slurpee, which I’ve seen her top up with more vodka and cola twice this afternoon. She half-smiles, half-glares at Freddie. ‘I’ve got my own but thank you kindly for the offer.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Freddie says, pulling it back. ‘More for me.’
I wonder where Blake is. She said she would be back from the festival by now. And as much as hanging out with Cherry is nice, I need my partner in crime. I think about what kind of fun Blake and Dan are getting up to at the food and wine festival .
So I text Blake, stop having fun, you’re missing out on all the free alcohol that got sent to the office from our client.
And the usual drunken flirting between Lisa and Freddie.
*
‘How was spending the day with Dan, drinking all the food and wine?’ I ask Blake at the supper club, two hours later.
She’s looking around blankly and takes a moment to respond.
‘It wasn’t that bad. He seems like a nice guy.
Also, it’s weird. He told me all about his move up to Brisbane but didn’t mention a baby or a girlfriend.
I didn’t want to pry, but maybe it’s like a family friend or a sibling who we saw?
The way he was speaking, it seems like he’s single. Like just him and his cat-single.’
I roll my eyes before saying, ‘Yeah, true. I haven’t exactly heard any babies crying in the apartment building lately. Just that fucking cat with the long meows.’
Blake guffaws, and then we don’t speak for a beat. We scan the area, which is filled with indistinct chatter.
I spot a drag queen from the other room, wearing a bright green wig, a tight sparkly silver dress, and high heels.
‘Random question,’ I say, tapping the rim of my glass. ‘Would you ever do drag again?’
Blake and Connor met when Blake was performing drag at Euphoria.
For a long time, she was known for her zodiac sign-inspired costumes.
And at each of her shows, the first in the crowd to guess which zodiac sign she was scored themselves free drinks.
On that night in particular, she scanned the crowd of raised hands, and it was Connor who stood out to her this time, someone whom she’d seen around the club before but never at one of her shows.
As the two locked eyes, she gestured to him, her glittery nail polish glistening in the lights above.
To her amazement, Connor guessed her correctly.
She was, in fact, a human feather, representing the Libras, bless her.
After the show, she and Connor ambled to the bar together to enjoy free drinks.
And since then, they’ve been inseparable.
‘I dunno,’ Blake answers. ‘I mean, I do miss it, but I think my time as a drag queen has passed.’
‘You could still be a mum and do drag shows on weekends while Connor looks after the child.’
She barks out a laugh. ‘Oh my God, can you imagine? This is Mommy’s nighttime face. No drag make-up until you’re ten.’
I join in with, ‘That, my dear, is mommy’s wig. Please take that off. It’s expensive.’
Blake goes on to tell me how she’s feeling better after the surrogacy setback earlier this week. She and Connor are now looking into alternative options abroad.
Soon after, we agree that we’re done with the supper club. Too many drunk people having Friday blow-outs.
‘Why don’t we go to the bathhouse before we go home?’ I suggest. ‘I’ve still got those free tickets we didn’t use for their nighttime sessions.’
‘Sold!’ Blake crows, stumbling a little as she stands.
‘I just need to find the bathroom first,’ I say, glancing around the courtyard. ‘All those canapes have gone right through me.’
Blake tells me she’s going to find an exit and try to escape without saying goodbye to our coworkers.
She’ll get stuck, she says, and I don’t blame her.
I slink through several crowds to find the surprisingly empty bathroom.
Taking the cubicle to the left, I sit, and just as I begin to do my business in peace, the whooshing sound of the door swings open.
A gust of bass and boisterous voices flies in. As the door closes, the bass diminishes, as do most of the voices, all bar two. And two familiar ones at that.
‘This place is pretty rad, hey?’ comes Christian’s deep boom, trailing to the urinal.
‘Yeah, it is,’ follows Dan. His new bestie, it seems.
By the sounds of it, Christian is pissing in the urinal and Dan is pissing in the cubicle next to me. Of course, my drunk curious mind goes there as one trickle hits metal and the other a toilet bowl.
Stop it, Kallen. No. Just wait for them to finish, you finish, then get out of there and find Blake. Not before Christian tells Dan, ‘So, I know I said it last night, but you’ve had a killer first week, man. I looked at the numbers today and there’s been a significant increase this week.’
Dan lets out an awkward laugh. ‘Well, you know, more writers and more output mean higher numbers, right?’
‘No shit, Sherlock. But it’s your numbers in particular. You’ve been killin’ it with the articles. And your video views are great. You really know how to hook in an audience. I think we’ll be getting you on sponsored content ASAP. Both on the writing and video front.’
As I swallow the lump in my throat, I think for a moment that what’s meant to come out of my arse is about to shoot up my oesophagus .
‘Oh, I’m flattered,’ Dan stutters, twisting on the tap. After he’s finishing washing his hands, he says, ‘Thank you.’
‘We’re gonna do great things together in this business, man,’ Christian tells him.
My stomach hardens. Jaw clenched. A dual release when the two walk out.
I think, then – with my head bowed toward my legs – maybe it’s time for me to give up and accept my current role, because I sure as hell don’t seem to be appreciated enough here to be promoted, even after giving my superiors (well, Lisa) all the hints, subtle and overt.
As much as I wish I didn’t, comparing myself to others comes naturally to me and I can’t see this ending well.