The Reluctant Wag by Mary Costello Read Free Book Online Page B

make sure there’s a ticket for you at the door. Try to circulate, and if any photographers approach you, just flash that lovely smile everyone’s talking about and you’ll be in the papers again tomorrow.’
    That prophecy proved to be painfully true.
    Merise worried all day about turning up at the tennis party alone, but forced herself to think of it as work. She would find someone to talk to, smile on demand and make her way out of there as soon as she could. It was the sort of thing she’d have to do as a journalist anyway, so she might as well get in some practice now.
    At nine that evening she entered the exclusive Oak Room at the casino. She was relieved to see that there was such a crowd, it was unlikely that anyone would even notice her. That was a huge relief, because she felt like a traffic light in the dress Bev had sent over. It was short, tight, low-cut and positively scarlet. Merise hated it, and had tried to focus on her hair, which she’d piled loosely on top of her head, so that long curls fell artfully about her face. Unsure what to do, she made her way to the bar, already thinking that maybe she could slip away early. She ordered a mineral water and decided to just keep moving around the room, squeezing through the crowd. That way she wouldn’t look lost or alone, and she’d have done her duty to Bev and to SMO.
    She spoke briefly to a few people but kept circulating. She noticed a number of tennis celebrities in the room, as well as actresses from TV soaps, singers, other sportspeople and plenty of models. She watched how the more experienced models positioned themselves near the top celebrities, posing for photos as the local paparazzi circled, looking for that one image that would capture the public imagination the following day.
    She was standing at the bar nibbling some peanuts – she was starving – when she felt someone press against her from behind. She turned around to see a face that was vaguely familiar – the face of a man she’d seen on TV and in the papers. But she couldn’t place him at first. She just knew that he was uncomfortably close to her.
    ‘Ssssorry, lovely lady,’ he slurred drunkenly. ‘Didn’t mean to push you.’
    She merely nodded and turned back to the bar. But the next minute he was pushing against her again, the smell of alcohol on his breath quite nauseating.
    ‘Excuse me,’ said Merise firmly as she attempted to get past him. It was time to go home.
    ‘Nah, c’mere, gorgeous. What’s the rush?’ he said. ‘What you wanna drink, lady in red? I’ll get it for you. They’ll serve me straight up. They know me here.’
    As he said that the penny dropped. He was the footballer, Jason Murdoch. She knew about him, not because of his footy, but because he was currently Melbourne’s most badly behaved sports star, and appeared regularly in the papers embroiled in one escapade or other. He was often drunk and he was always in trouble. It was definitely time to get out of there.
    She moved to slip past him, but he dodged to block her way. She moved in the other direction, and he blocked her again. She got angry.
    ‘Do you mind! I would like to leave now, please,’ she hissed.
    ‘Hold on!’ he suddenly exclaimed. ‘I know you. You’re the girl in the Wolves ad, aren’t you, darlin’? You’re bloody McCoy’s girl!’
    ‘I’m not anybody’s girl,’ she spat out furiously.
    ‘You should be. Wanna be mine, gorgeous?’ He lurched drunkenly towards her, grabbing her around the waist, trying to nuzzle against her neck with his wet lips. Merise was disgusted and tried to push him away. ‘Stop it! Get off me, you . . . moron!’
    She glanced desperately around to see if there was anyone whose eye she could catch, someone who could help. But the crowd was thicker than ever and the music almost deafening. No one was taking any notice of them.
    ‘Come on now, babe, loosen up a bit. Jus’ a little kiss . . .’
    She tried to slap his face, but he