Monday, May 07, 2007
“D’ya reckon Trevor has been acting weird this week?” Ade asked Katy, an administrator at Geezer. “Only he’s been asking loads of questions about my work over the last couple of days.” He leaned in toward her and whispered, “You haven’t heard anything about job changes or promotions have you?”
“No Ade,” she smiled and shook her head, her neon hoop earrings shuddering and swinging long after her head and stopped shaking. Trevor was acting strangely and Ade was suspicious. He’d asked a shed load of questions this morning about Sophie Regan and was dying to know whether Ade had had any ‘success’ with her. “No,” Ade had replied to him, cutting him short, “and just leave it. Slowly slowly catchy monkey, eh?”
“Ha!” Trevor had guffawed whilst lifting a bacon sandwich to his mouth, “if all you’re after is a bleedin’ monkey, mate, you’d better come down Covent Garden with me then. One Friday night after work. Ugly bugs ball? You ain’t seen nothing like it!”
“Yeah,” Ade had replied, preoccupied and vacant. He had to write his piece about Ade Gets Laid and wasn’t sure what to say. After all, he didn’t want to come clean and admit that he was bored and tired of pretending to be the playboy and now wanted a slightly calmer and more balanced lifestyle. He’d read a great blog online recently, written by Australian journalist, Sam de Brito about chat up lines. He had quoted a joke claiming that the ‘best pick-up line in the world is three inches long, white and snorted in a toilet cubicle…” and it reminded him of Trevor’s style of pick up, although the author of the blog went on to reiterate that drugs and chat up lines were both rather cheesy. Trevor was usually quiet at work and didn’t bother Ade too much, but today was proving to be an exception. He needed to get away from Trevor, making his excuse to go and interview Summer Lawson – the latest hot babe who was willing to show what she had for breakfast for a few column inches in Geezer. Once again Ade thought about how his friends joked about his ‘great’ job, thinking that he was surrounded by babes in white bikinis that had the added bonus of getting paid to talk to them.
But it wasn’t ringing true – despite Adrian Ford’s wide smile and brave face.
Tamsin wished she didn’t love Pete. It would all be heaps easier if he wasn’t so important in her life. She tried to convince herself that it was just the two of them, but she knew there were others. She convinced herself on a daily basis that what the others didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, but she was kidding herself, and she knew it. She’d heard Sophie spit many times, how people played with hearts and lives so easily, so had never been able to tell her about Pete’s situation. Sometimes she really wanted to talk to Sophie though – she made numerous sacrifices for her man, and spent many lonely nights paying the consequences of them. It hurt, but when their lust had turned to emotion it was too late to walk away. He used to arrive at the hospital and drag her into an interview room or supplies cupboard and yank her nurses uniform up roughly, sliding his hand into her knickers and leaving her, minutes later, flushed and panting. It was awesome and exciting and they both became hooked on each other quickly. But as fun as their relationship was, it was lonely too. He worked extremely hard and had many commitments, which made it difficult to tell Sophie all about it. Tamsin spent many evenings alone, dressed up and ready for a great night out – only to find herself let down and watching Big Brother dressed in her sexiest underwear. Alone. She’d have to tell Sophie soon – but would wait for the right moment. And God only knew when that was going to be…
I’m getting ready to go to Wine Not? and I’m dreading it. I’ve already thought up my methods of detachment; in the event that I need to make a quick getaway. I’ve decided that, if I’m bored I’ll pretend my phone is on silent and is vibrating, so that I can make an excuse to walk away (and never come back), to go to the toilet and not return, or to burp really loudly after each mouthful of wine. I know it’s gross – but if I’m desperate anything will be acceptable!
It’s hard to know what to wear and I’ve been pondering over it since Monday. I went to the fashion department to see what I could pilfer and managed to convince Tracy to let me borrow the bright red tunic dress from H&M and the silver wedges. It’s times like this that I’m delighted that I went for a spray tan yesterday – my legs look great with the short(ish) red dress and heels. Tamsin was going to come with me but she now says that she’s expecting Pete to call in, so it looks as if I’m going alone. After spending hours on my hair and make-up, I step out of my front door and then something horrendous happens.
“Miss Regan? Miss Regan?”
I hear a man’s voice, light and friendly as I step out onto the London streets. It’s early evening and the heat is still intense, causing his voice to hang heavy.
I look around only to be blinded by a series of flashes going off in my face.
“Miss Regan? You’ve made a public promise to stay single for a year? Did that have anything to do with your relationship with Ben Scott?”
I’m mortified, and can’t even see their faces properly because of the bursts of white light in my face. How many of them are there?
“What? I..” It’s hopeless trying to talk to them, and more seem to arrive within seconds. I don’t know what to do know – I was hoping to walk to the station, but my car is sitting there empty, and it’d be madness not to just hop in and drive away.
“Miss Regan, you’ve mentioned a series of married men that have been pestering you – do you want to pass on any names? Are any of them friends or colleagues of Ben Scott?”
“Miss Regan – why did you decide to stay single?”
My mouth is opening and closing as if I’d just been immersed in cold water! This is insanity. My quiet promise to myself is mutating into this crazy circle – and all because they discovered that I dated Ben Scott. I suppose the Sky invitation hasn’t helped things. I get to my car and unlock it, fumbling with the keys and then relaxing as I see the few men tail off and begin to walk away. Taking a deep breath I open my car door and put my left foot into the foot well to climb in. As I squat and bend, twisting my body so that my bottom lowers into the seat whilst I crouch and duck my head so as not to bump it, a last camera flash comes from nowhere. Frozen to the spot as it flashes and the man runs off, I look down and realise that my two knees are rather far apart from each other.
“Shit!” I curse, “I’m sure my lacy knickers have just been papped. Damnit!!”