Lisa Heidke by Lucy Springer Gets Even (mobi) Page A

giving me the once-over.
    I’m wearing a classic polka-dot dress, white on black, pulled together with a red leather belt at the waist, and knee-high black leather boots. I think I look good. I’m feeling comfortable and, as the style tips recommend, am dressed in colours that suit me, wearing a style that complements my body shape, and am not showing too much skin. Tick, tick and tick.
    ‘So, you going to a fancy dress party after this?’ he asks, totally unimpressed.
    ‘Only date five knew who I was,’ I tell Gloria later on the phone. Not that I care, mind you. ‘Date six, a short, greasy-haired round man, moaned that he’d been gypped and wanted “a real celebrity”.’
    ‘You’ll have better luck on Modern Life tomorrow,’ Gloria assures me. ‘I’ve got you the gig. You’ll love it.’
    ‘I can’t wait.’

Day 25
    ‘W hat the bloody hell’s going on?’ I confront Patch when he finally shows up. ‘I’m living in gyprock hell.’
    ‘Nice to see you too, Lucy.’
    ‘There are at least eight guys here but I can’t figure out what work’s being done, except that my hydrangea is dead from urea poisoning. You need to buy me a new plant.’
    ‘I think you’ll find that the hydrangea died from rootrot caused by too much water,’ he counters. ‘Also, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the high rainfall has caused the soil in the backyard to become so saturated that the inner walls of the newly constructed family room have buckled and need to be redone. To stop this happening again, extensive regrading of the backyard is required.’
    ‘Excellent. And what’s happening with the bathroom? Has the marble turned black, requiring replacement?’ I say sarcastically.
    ‘We’re waiting on the massage showerheads, tiles, basins . . . there’s a delay with the frameless glass shower screen -’
    ‘Okay, okay. And the kitchen?’
    There are several men standing in a circle staring at me, clearly thinking I’m insane - and they may be right.
    ‘About the bi-fold doors we ordered,’ says Patch, changing the subject. ‘French doors were dropped off instead. They were meant for number seven down the road.’
    ‘So my doors are at number seven?’
    ‘No. No one seems to know where your doors are.’
    It gets worse. Patch tells me that to save money he elected to use a local cabinet-maker, who seems to have absconded with the money he was paid, leaving me with half-finished wall units for the family room. Just what I need: a healthy dose of financial ruin.
    When I arrive at the Modern Life audition, my heart’s not in it. I know I should be grateful to get a look-in, but when I see who I’m up against - bald-headed Summer, giraffe woman and several skeletal twenty-somethings - I can’t get interested enough to try. And attempting to chat to my fellow actors doesn’t make it any better.
    ‘I have doorknobs at home with more personality than these guys,’ I tell the producer as I’m going through the motions.
    I don’t get the impression my honesty’s going to help win me the part.
    As I’m leaving, I run into Rock, the handsome man-boy presenter with the great bod from the Actors’ Studio party.
    ‘How’s things?’ he says, looking expectantly at me.
    ‘Not bad,’ I lie.
    ‘Coffee?’ he asks.
    He looks disappointed when I tell him I have to rush off to pick up the kids from school, but he smiles anyway, revealing his perfectly white, perfectly shaped teeth.
    Late that afternoon, Nadia pops in to ask how I’m getting along. I’m outside, bouncing an old tennis ball against a brick wall, and I have no idea how long I’ve been doing it. Minutes? Maybe an hour.
    ‘Still in shock,’ I tell her, bouncing away. ‘I’ve been to see Trish, but it still doesn’t seem real. How can I ever show my face again at school?’
    ‘You can and you will. It’s no one else’s business. And if someone wants to discuss it and you don’t, walk away.’
    ‘Is that what you did?’
    ‘Yeah, and