*** Editor’s Pick ***
Sami’s Babies
Emma Hall
Canterbury, VIC
Sweat soaked through my light blue work shirt as I made my way up the long hill from the train station to my studio apartment. It was a hot October afternoon, the sun reminding me of the coming summer, tempting me with images of the beach and the surf and my standard two weeks off over Christmas. But, for now, I was stuck spending these pleasant spring days in an office, and only enjoying day light saving’s long warm evenings.
Tonight I planned to fully make the most of the good weather. I had booked tickets to the rooftop cinema in the city. I had even chosen an old film I knew my girlfriend Ricci would enjoy.
The apartment was blissfully cool.
‘I’m home,’ I called out.
‘Finally,’ Ricci’s voice answered from the bedroom. ‘Hurry up and get ready.’
‘We’ve got plenty of time,’ I replied, heading to the kitchen in search of a cold beer. ‘The movie doesn’t start until eight.’
‘We’re going out for drinks first,’ Ricci said.
I frowned as I uncapped my beer and walked to the bedroom. ‘I thought we were having a light meal here and then heading in?’
Ricci emerged, looking beautiful as always in a sleek dark blue dress. A professional model, she looked amazing in everything she put on.
‘Sami texted me this afternoon – he’s back in Melbourne, and desperate to catch up.’
My frown deepened. ‘Does it have to be tonight?’ I asked. ‘I mean, it could be awkward, if we’re leaving for the movie and he’s there by himself.’
‘Don’t be silly, he’ll have some of the babies with him,’ Ricci replied. ‘They’ve missed him like crazy.’
I turned away and headed for the shower. The cool water felt good on my hot skin and sore back. I washed my hair vigorously, inwardly cursing Sami and his damn ‘babies’. They were not really children of course; ‘the babies’ was Sami’s name for the endless cohort of girls that seemed to worship him. Ricci thought Sami was wonderful, ‘doing so much for those poor girls’. I thought it was sick, having all those girls at once, all of them knowing about each other. Like Hugh Hefner in the playboy mansion or something. And of course they were all young and attractive.
I remembered when Ricci had explained it to me, matter-of-fact, like it was totally normal. Sami had grown up in a housing estate in the inner suburbs. The housing estate was a world of its own – everyone knew everyone else, like a big family. Everyone mourned each other’s losses, celebrated success like it was their own. Sami was the golden child – the kid who came from nothing and ‘made something of himself’. He wasn’t really such a big deal, just another person in the TV industry who occasionally scored an invite to awards nights. He kept going back to the estate, picking up the poor girls with no futures and ‘helping them out’. I was convinced Sami’s ‘help’ involved the girls getting on their knees, but I’d never said as much to Ricci. She worshipped Sami almost as if she was a baby herself, and I couldn’t say a word against him.
I got out of the shower and put on a clean shirt and black jeans. Ricci was putting on her jewellery.
‘What’s the matter hun?’ she asked me.
‘Nothing,’ I lied, ferociously buckling my belt.
Ricci came behind me and rubbed her hands on my shoulders. ‘Don’t you want to meet up with Sami?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you like him?’
‘Sami’s great,’ I said. ‘We just don’t have much in common, that’s all. Including opinions on women.’
Ricci stopped massaging me and kissed my cheek.
‘Sami’s just a big kid, that’s all,’ she said. ‘Besides, he takes good care of those girls. They’re all really grateful to him.’
‘I bet they show it too,’ I muttered, but Ricci had gone to the bathroom to do her makeup.