by Lee, Corri
“Absolutely not. I’ve got her on a tight deadline, that’s all.” I appreciated the solidarity. If I went to hell for my sins, I would have a friend on each arm. They were both as bad as me, after all.
Bethany had all but thwarted my attempts to work my shift as usual. Every time I’d snuck behind the bar to serve, either Adam or Nathaniel forcibly carried me back to my stool and bribed me to stay put with rum based cocktails. Everyone knew better than to interfere with my alcoholism- my one escape from reality- though it baffled me that nobody knew better than to push me into relaxation. I’d have thought they’d have all been aware of the consequences of my restlessness by that point. Eventually, my behaviour earned me my marching orders. Shona was called in to cover my shift and Nathaniel bundled me into the Chrysler and drove me home.
I sat on my couch wrapped up in a blanket while Nathaniel and Lobke cleared the tattered remains of the savaged bouquet from my lounge floor. “I had an asthma attack, I’m not dying. I can do that myself.”
Nathaniel crouched down in front of me and rested his hands on my knees. “This is the least I can do for causing you so much trouble. I never imagined that I’d end up carrying your limp body into my doctor’s office as a result of kissing you in Cornelia’s pool.” I craned my neck to look Lobke, surprised that she didn’t react to the news of our aquatic nonsense. Nobody ever seemed surprised to learn of our misdeeds.
I turned back to Nathaniel and knotted my fingers in my lap. “Cole is threatening to kill you.” His eyebrow rose incredulously. “I’m not joking, that card you send with the flowers pushed him over the edge.”
“It was meant to.”
I shoved his hands off my legs and pulled the blanket up over my head. “You’re trying to ruin my life. I meant that text message- our arrangement is terminated.”
“No it’s not.” Nathaniel winked as Lobke put my laptop down on the couch next to me. “You will write about gluttony, vent your emotion into your words, and show me exactly what you’ve achieved on Monday.”
“But you’re going away on Monday.”
“Bloody hell, Cecelia.” He raised a fist to my head and knocked on my skull as though it was hollow. “I thought you of all people would recognise a euphemism when you heard it. I’ll be in my office from eight in the morning until six in the evening, the same as any other day.”
I stared at him blankly, wondering if he’d cancelled his plans. And then I dared to wonder if he’d cancelled them for me. That was dangerous territory. “I thought you were going to get your girl.”
He snorted with laughter and rose to his feet, patting my head as though I was a child. “Stop drinking so much, you’re killing your brain cells.”
“Not likely.” I pulled the blanket tighter around my head and pursed my lips. The mention of alcohol reminded me that there was none in the house. I was destitute of my support system. “No more flowers, Nathaniel. Bethany and I are twenty-four- we’re not exactly into pot pourri.” He nodded in response and sighed with a contemplative murmur. I narrowed my eyes and shuffled back on the couch. “You looked at me like that last night. I don’t have a pool.”
“Hmm. That’s a damned shame. Go to bed, Cecelia, you look exhausted.” For once, I willingly complied. My novel could wait until the morning, but my sanity couldn’t. My body was still weak after being temporarily starved of oxygen and was working on autopilot. There was no single piece of me willing to drown in my self-pity and heartache in the absence of wine. I was eager to see the end to this day and I hoped that he wouldn’t follow me into my dreams.
I was more than grateful to discover a packet of diazepam left over from a brief friendship with a newly qualified pharmacologist with a pilfered prescription pad shortly before I learnt how powerful a substitute writing could be for anti-depressants and illegal hallucinogenics. The guilt that stabbed at me for lying to Bethany for so long over my prolonged drug use was just another article to pile on top of the precariously balanced tower of my conscience.
With enough alcohol still in my body to paralyze a small elephant, I knew that one tablet would have me practically vegetative and numb to thought for at least a day. I had an addictive nature that I usually exercised with caution, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Pulling my quilt over my head, I swallowed the pill and slowly recited the lyrics to White Rabbit as slumber caressed me like a loving surrogate mother.
Through my largely dreamless sleep were agonising flashbacks of the moment realisation had hit me and I’d been thrust into a world of disappointment and complication. If I’d played that moment over and over enough times, maybe I could have changed history or slipped into some kind of paradoxical universe where a romance with Nathaniel wasn’t such an absurd concept. Maybe I could just sleep until my feelings passed. I might of, but something wouldn’t let me.
“Cecelia! Jesus, if she doesn’t wake up in a minute I’m going to let some mad scientist examine this crazy breathing cadaver. Get a bucket of water.”
My eyes shot open and struggled to focus. “Don’t you dare.” I sat up and coughed gruffly into my quilt. “Cornelia? Have you never heard of the Sabbath?”
She grinned as she sat down on the bed next to me and stretched her legs out. Even in faded black skinny jeans and an oversized off the shoulder cowl-knecked angora jumper- the kind of outfit that had been eradicated from my wardrobe- she was svelte and sylphlike. Lotus flower tattoos stuck out beyond the line of her pumps and spread up to her ankles. “Are you religious?”
My eyes snapped up to hers. “I’d consider it for a Sunday off. Last week I got two domestics and a pocket watch. You’d best have two Chippendales and a pony hiding in your pocket.”
Cornelia dug her hands into tight pockets of her jeans and sucked on her teeth helplessly. “Not on me but I could certainly arrange it if it would get you out of bed.” Leaning across me, she swept the packet of diazepam up from my bedside table and raised an eyebrow. “Well that explains why you slept like a corpse. These are addictive, you know.”
I crossed arms moodily and swung my legs out of bed, staggering to my feet like a drunk. The ground felt slightly too soft under foot- I seemed to be walking on sponge. “I was aware, that’s why I have them.” I shook my head at her expression of alarm. “Not anymore. I had a bad day yesterday and there’s no alcohol in the house.”
“Whatever it is that’s driving you into escapism-…” She stood and put her hands on my shoulders, “… and I know what it is, it’s not as bad as you think. So much can change in a day.”
“That’s for damn sure.” My life had gone from simple to soap opera in one afternoon, and then soap opera to mortifying love triangle in an evening. Who could blame me for seeking a diversionary reverie? “So, what has dragged you to my crapshack when you could be could be smoking a nice fat joint in your countryside paradise?”
“Fun, actually. And you and your housemate are coming with me.” Cornelia rose to her feet and padded out of my room onto the landing. “You have five minutes to meet us in the car before I call Nate to turf you out.”
I needed no further encouragement.
Bethany looked to be on the brink of climax when I climbed into the Chrysler. It had been a shock to find Lobke outside the house again- I had presumed that Cornelia would have her own driver, but at least it confirmed that Nathaniel wouldn’t be an obstacle I had to face head on that day.
The rear seats had somehow been adjusted so they all faced each other and a small table carrying an assortment of coffee and fruit tea sachets sat in the middle. “Is this the same car?”
Lobke laughed and slid the door closed next to me. “Definitely the same car. Nate said something about making some changes in his life. Cryptic, right?” I mumbled an incoherent response and sat down opposite Bethany. Her eyes darted over to Cornelia standing outside the car on the pavement and rolled back in her head like she was about to expire.
“Are you alright?”
“It’s
Cornelia Alexander, Cici.” She whispered as though she was uttering a curse.
I laughed and helped myself to much needed coffee. “I am aware.”
“The current face of Chanel. Pick up a copy of Elle once in a while!” I gave her a satiric smile and looked at my phone for the first time since my plunge into depression.
I was not surprised to find an amplitude of apologetic text messages from Cole, however I was surprised when not a single one was abusive. The most recent was the most tender.
I hope you’re alright. I don’t care if you hate me, I’m going to look after you.
I whimpered slightly at the sentiment and ran my finger across my lips as I composed my reply.
Being dragged on a mystery journey with a supermodel. If I come back alive, I’ll see you at seven.
Bethany snatched my phone from my hand and glared at me with burning fury. “You are joking?”
“He’s still my boyfriend, Bethy. Once I hand in my final draft on Friday I’ll be in the right frame of mind to put my full effort into- I dunno, love, marriage, kids. Whatever it is he wants from me.” Her jaw dropped in disgust and her eyes flared momentarily with something close to hatred. “Don’t look at me like that. Sometimes fairy-tales just don’t work out. Better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all.” I slapped my hand to my forehead and ran it down my face. Talk about giving the bloody game away.
“I knew something had happened on Friday!”
“You should have seen it in person,” Cornelia climbed into the car next to me and passed Bethany a small digital camera. “He’s my little brother, but I have no qualms in saying it was fucking hot.” I stared in horror as Bethany scanned through a couple of dozen snapshots of Nathaniel and I in the pool caught in our lip lock. I’d been told that there were no photographs. “What about this boyfriend of yours though? Vital stats?”
I raised an eyebrow and tugged my phone back from Bethany’s hand to load one of Cole’s social networking accounts. “Twenty-five. Teacher. Six foot six. Italian. Adonis. Hung.” She peered at his profile picture and bit her lip, humming in approval.
“I can see why you’d hold on to that one. Mamma mia! I could make use of him if you want rid- every girl needs arm candy.” She made an interesting point. If my novel took me to fame, I certainly had a red carpet ready man. There was nothing rough around the edges about Cole- he certainly wasn’t the kind of man photographers would crop out of pictures.
“Isn’t that a little shallow though?” Cornelia blinked at Bethany for a moment before a grin spread across her face from ear to ear.
“Extremely. But in the absence of love, would you kick a handsome man out of bed?” There was a silent mutual agreement between the three of us that sometimes a little compromise didn’t hurt if it involved something tall, dark and handsome. We were three red-blooded females- the type you saw walking arm in arm through Manhattan in matching Manolo Blahnik’s quipping at the inadequacies of everyone who breathed our air- and nothing less than aesthetic perfection would do for us. Love would not suffice if it came attached to a toad. Better unfeeling beauty than affectionate shame.
The following half an hour involved a variety of girlish gossip and revealed trade secrets for rosy cheeks and concealed love bites. I could tell that Bethany was thrilled to be interacting so casually with a woman she idolised, even if she was still a little starry-eyed.
My drug fuelled daze began to wear off slightly, but I still moved slower than usual and my mind stalled if I sought to think too hard. My plan to eradicate my tendency to analyse everything was working, and it made living bearable.
Bethany’s eyes still burned with curiosity over the events that had unfolded on Friday. Every time she spoke, she was looking at me. Eventually she just narrowed her eyes and leaned towards me, elbows on her knees. “Fireworks.”
“What, is that your safe word? Is the talk of expensive shoes getting too much for you?” Her expression ridiculed me for being obtuse. “It’s a crush. I’ll get over it when I get under Cole.” She looked about as convinced as I was. I was falling into old reckless habits of masking my emotions through an assortment of vices, and it was clear from the look in her eyes that she was dreading picking up the pieces. Again.
I had put Bethany through so much in our friendship. If anyone had taken me at face value and thought that I was a clean cut girl who never committed a crime in her life, they couldn’t have been more wrong. I had woken up in more than my fair share of gutters and strangers beds in the three years after my parents’ deaths and Bethany had inexhaustibly pulled me through the other side of some harrowing psychotic episodes, and relocated me after I’d disappeared to various corners of the world on no less than four occasions. I’d been broken once before and only one thing had really fixed me. “Write another book, Cici.”
I nodded and smiled weakly. “I am, Bethy. I started yesterday morning.”
“Good, because I do-…”
“Stop. I’ll be fine.” My words lacked conviction, but Bethany had always been easily deterred by unenthused utterances. Talking at me got her nowhere- I had to be the one to talk. She would wait patiently until the dam that held my feelings burst open as she always did because she knew that one day, I would do the same for her. I owed her my loyalty and I owed her my faith, but more than anything, I owed her my life.
Cornelia and Lobke lead us through the reception area of what I presumed to be a converted church- the original stone-wall and wooden surface interior had been maintained but the main hall had been remodelled into a warmer Tudoresque appearance with a fireplace where an altar would have stood. Confessional booths still stood to one side and all but two rows of pews had been removed, leaving the majority of the space free to be littered with tall lights mounted on poles and a hanging white canvas.
“So Nate told me about your novel and I decided to hatch a plan.” Cornelia smirked and took a large bulky camera from the hand of a young girl with a nose ring and shocking pink hair pulled into pigtails. I glanced around the room warily, momentarily blinded when she lifted the camera to her eye and it flashed in my face. “Promotional images, Cecelia, and you’re going to be in them.”
“What?!” I stepped back and held my hands up. “Oh hell no, nobody wants to see my ugly mug on the side of a bus.”
“I wasn’t asking.” She jerked her head towards a small room to the side of the fireplace and waved a hand. “That camisole set Nate got you is back there- get changed.” I stumbled over my words as Lobke and Bethany virtually carried me across the room by my arms and pushed me into the room, turning their backs and standing guard in the doorway.
My mind switched back onto autopilot and I dressed without deliberation. The waist length hair extensions still firmly glued to my scalp tangled up behind me and matted into unsightly clumps. Cornelia peered between Lobke and Bethany’s heads and waved a brush at me, pushing through and setting to tame the wild mane. “Can’t you just remove them?”
She passed the brush to a stylist who joined us and unpacked the makeup case she had used to beautify me after I’d shamed myself on Friday, and scoffed. “Later. I have images in my head of how this is going to look, Cecelia, you’re going to love it. There are some amazing outfits outsi-…”
“Miss Alexander?” Cornelia glanced up at the stylist and raised an eyebrow. It was quite clear that she was high-profile enough to not tolerate interruptions. “Have you seen this?” I turned around in panic, wondering what horrible unknown disfigurement had been discovered.
Cornelia leaned over and ran a finger across the one and only tattoo I had on my body- the word of ‘Pride’ in Times New Roman on the base of my spine. She exhaled slowly, and pulled her phone from her pocket. “Stand up.” I did as I was ordered, confused by the way she tugged on her lip, deep in thought. “I have to make a call.” She scurried out and sent a substitute makeup artist in to continue her work. She was only gone two minutes before she strolled back in, and I instantly knew I was in t
rouble. “Change of plan. Strip. Stop thinking silk camisoles and kinky hosiery. Think Lady Godiva.”
“What?”
“You’re doing this nude.”
Chapter Twenty
I automatically crossed my arms and legs over my body and shook my head insistently. “No fucking way.”
Cornelia rolled her eyes at me and cocked her head, clearly determined to sway my decision. “Nate says you have a hot body, and I’m inclined to agree.” Bethany’s head snapped round, wide-eyed.
“He saw you naked?” I covered my face with my hand and groaned lowly. This day was not going well for me. All that talk of ‘What happens in Wonderland, stays in Wonderland’ had been balderdash. “Just do it, Cici! Shake that money maker!” I cringed at her lewdness and sat silently as the makeup artist coated my lips in a deep red gloss. What was it with this damn family trying to get me naked?
“If you hate the pictures, we’ll redo it in clothes, I promise.” Cornelia put her hands together and sank down to her knees, puppy-dog eyed and pleading. “Please, Cecelia. That tattoo on your back is perfect for this shoot. I have seven sets out there waiting for you to own them.”
“Six?”
“Of course, we’re going to do the seven deadly sins plus a couple of extras on the pews and in the confessionals.” I looked at her doubtfully and furrowed my brow. The concept would have sounded far more fun in clothes. She sighed wistfully and picked at her fingernails. “Well alright, if you don’t want to see the hot male model I got in for lust…”
“Male model?”
She shrugged and wrinkled her nose. “Ex-Calvin Klein underwear model, but you’re not interested.” She rose to her feet with a tut and a sigh, then a sly wink. Temptress! I was sold.
I growled and swiped at her arms like a kitten batting at yarn. Her frame was so delicate and slender that I feared the slightest force would snap her bones. “Damn you, Cornelia! I’ll do it.” Applause rippled through the building and left me somewhat red faced with disbelief. I would never have agreed to something so insane before Nathaniel had breezed into my life like an arctic gale- whether I liked it or not, he had been a positive influence on my self-esteem. He’s not leaving tomorrow, there’s still time for that blowjob. My blush deepened with that rogue notion and I hoped that the makeup artist hadn’t noticed.