Some Like it Hot

by Amanda Brobyn

  “I’ve had a bikini wax,” Roni blurted out, scarlet with humiliation. She hadn’t planned on discussing the removal of her pubic hair with anyone. It was very much a private affair between herself and what was left down below. “Happy now?”

  Sophie edged closer to Roni and the corners of her mouth turned up. Her eyes were filled with a fun wickedness and Roni immediately knew what was coming.

  “No!” said Roni.

  “What?” Sophie feigned innocence.

  “No, you can’t look, Sophie!”

  Jude shook her head at Sophie, suppressing the evident humour she found from the situation, but she was also warning Sophie because she knew that Sophie Kane didn’t know when to stop. Sophie pretended not to see Jude’s warning signs.

  “Am I that transparent?”

  “Yes!” The women shouted in unison.

  “Whatever,” said Sophie. “I just want to see what you got done, that’s all, Roni. I’m a hairdresser after all. It doesn’t matter to me where the hair is!”

  Jude, Kath and Helena could cope no longer. The air was filled with shrieks and guffaws and even Roni managed to see the funny side of Sophie’s outrageous behaviour for once.

  Kath wiped away the tears with the bell-sleeve of her cream top. She left a stain of make-up on it. Never mind, it should come off.

  “Are you sure we can’t have a little peek, Roni?” Sophie coaxed. “We’re all girls here.”

  If Roni could have ever swung for Sophie it was right then but she chose to ignore her childish antics.

  “Okay but at least tell us what it was then,” pressed Sophie. “Californian? Brazilian?”

  “Oh that Brazilian is a killer, isn’t it?” Kath spoke directly to Roni. “Just around the anus is where it hurt me the most – although it hurts less the more frequently you have it done. What about yourself, Roni? Which bit hurt the most for you?”

  Roni realised in horror that Kath was deadly serious about her waxing exploits and she wondered how any woman could speak with such candor about an area which was so very personal. Apart from Peter – and the midwives when she had the girls – nobody else had set eyes on her southern region and they never would as far as she was concerned.

  Roni’s subconscious recalled her last encounter with Peter. It spilled out a flood of images, reminding her of how she could almost feel Darren’s hands touching her. Perhaps in her imagination he had seen it because she had willed him to, but that was as far as it would ever get and what happened in her mind’s eye stayed in her mind’s eye. Roni knew there was no way out of this situation until she had done the very thing she, quite simply, hadn’t planned to. Tell the truth.

  “Okay, I did it myself,” she told them. “I bought a home waxing kit from the chemist, heated the stuff up and put it on.” Roni couldn’t look at anyone, not just yet. Not until the pain of exposing her faux pas had dissipated. “I didn’t realise the wax was so hot though and I, erm . . . I burnt myself,” she blurted out. “Really burnt myself.”

  Roni wanted to cry with embarrasment and she hated Sophie for bullying the truth out of her.

  “Satisfied now, are we, Sophie?”

  The earlier humour of the room died instantly and no-one knew whether to laugh at the ridiculousness of Veronica Smyth or be sorry for her.

  “Did you put some cream on it, Roni?” Jude’s tone was motherly and kind.

  Roni just shook her head.

  “Come with me, Veronica,” said Sophie.

  Sophie took Roni’s hand and she squeezed it with rare compassion for this strange individual. Sophie had never met anyone like her before. Similarly, Roni had met few people like Sophie Kane before. Then again, Roni had been a recluse before the Curry Club, meeting only those who managed to bypass her tight security and actually make it to her front door.

  She even shopped online to avoid mixing with people.

  Roni followed Sophie into the largest of the two bedrooms and watched as Sophie slid back the mirrored wardrobe doors and set about retrieving tubs of creams, gels and lotions.

  Sophie set them on the bed for Roni to make her choice.

  “These three are the best for waxing pain, Roni. I’ve used them myself when I’ve been red raw and they definitely work. Take your pick.”

  Sophie walked to the door, leaving Roni with privacy and what little dignity she had left, but she couldn’t resist one more question.

  “Why didn’t you just go into a salon to have it done, Roni? It would have been so much easier, you know . . . you could have saved yourself a hell of a lot of pain.”

  Roni sat at the end of Sophie’s bed, clutching at the plastic pots of cream. A sadness masked her expensively made-up face and her eyes glazed over with a thin, moist film.

  “I’m sorry, Roni. You don’t need to answer that. It’s none of my business.” The woman had been through enough for one day.

  Roni was remarkably touched at Sophie’s unusual sensitivity. In fact it was a side to Sophie that she had never seen nor heard before. She waited for the sting to come. Sophie was never nice to her.

  “It doesn’t feel right to me, that’s why. There are parts of the body which I feel are supposed to be private. You don’t go getting it out for anyone, you know, Sophie,” Roni said coolly.

  Sophie felt a blow as Roni delivered her last sentence. She knew it was aimed at her and her loose morals. A below-the-belt dig – literally. But Sophie didn’t fall for it. She was the one who was forever in control and she knew that Roni thought she was being clever, trying to outwit her – getting in a jibe before she herself could. Only Sophie hadn’t planned to hit out at Roni who had been through enough with her earlier humiliation.

  But she changed her mind in a flash.

  “You’re right, Veronica.” Sophie smiled sweetly at the rich woman who weighed down her bed courtesy of the world’s finest jewellers and a few stone of excess weight. “You certainly don’t go getting it out for anyone! There are names for people like that. Those are the type of girls who charge millionaire’s husbands for providing them with the sex they don’t usually get at home.”

  Sophie spoke to Roni as though they were discussing a third party, removing herself from the topic of discussion. She had cleverly chosen to agree with Veronica Smyth knowing full well Roni would have no recourse, no avenue to hit back at her.

  Sophie had felt sorry for her, momentarily, but the truth was that she was a desperately hard woman to like.

  “Here we go, ladies of the club . . . your curry is served!”

  Sophie set down two large stainless-steel balti dishes while Jude followed close behind her and placed a revolving relish-server in the centre of the table. She moved the glass candlestick to the right a little to make sure her dish was exactly centered – its silver candle wobbled slightly and a tear of wax rolled down its pearshaped body.

  Jude hated it when things weren’t perfect and most of what she had learned over the years was that presentation was everything. It was crucial.

  Sophie was the same and Jude knew that she wouldn’t mind her table being slightly rearranged.

  Helena clutched her knife and fork, ready to feast upon whatever it was that was making her mouth water. The aroma of the coriander, which was prettily scattered on top of each dish, floated in her direction. Its organic green colour screamed against the bloodshot shades of the thick red and brown curries. She couldn’t wait to get stuck in and by God these women would have to be quick tonight because Helena was determined to eat to put on weight.

  She smiled a secret smile to herself, knowing full well that Sophie’s portion would, principally, be made up of boiled rice with a single spoonful of sauce put to the side of her plate. Jude would eat until she felt the food hit her stomach and then she would stop, but she ate ten times what Sophie would eat, and Kath would concentrate on drinking more than eating – as was historic. There was a familiar pattern amongst the curry-club diners. It was only Roni she would be competing with tonight – Roni could c
ertainly do with losing a few pounds – although strangely enough Helena thought she suited the extra weight. She had never known her any other way.

  Mentally slapping herself for thinking mean thoughts about her friend, Helena admitted as she dished a double helping of food onto her plate that Roni did have a tendency to bring most of her unfortunate situations upon herself. She was her own worst enemy in addition to being the enemy of others.

  Sophie walked around the table dishing out the pilau rice – its pretty pink and yellow colours matched the small vase of pink peonies which sat at one end of the smoked-glass table.

  Sophie stayed to the right of her diners, making sure she followed the proper serving etiquette – the way she liked to be served herself. She hated it when her side dish was put to the right or when her food was served from the left. It was these fine dining details which in her opinion singled out a service, taking it from adequate to superior, and it was upon fine skills such as these that she had built herself a rock-solid, lucrative business which was about to be added to.

  “Oh my life . . . this food is amazing, Soph!” Helena spoke with her mouth full. “What are we eating by the way?”

  Jude giggled at Helena devouring her food, cramming forkfuls into her mouth with gusto, still clueless as to what she was actually eating.

  “The menu is in front of you, Hel,” said Sophie.

  “So it is.”

  Sophie picked up the typed menu which she had prepared earlier. It gave the order of the night with impressive formality. She handed it across to Helena who glanced down at it distractedly. She was too hungry to read.

  “It’s Lamb Madras,” Sophie declared proudly. “I’m afraid the other one is utterly unexciting by comparison.” She pointed to the red-coloured curry which was disappearing by the second. “Ladies, I give you the nation’s favourite dish!”

  “Fish, chips and mushy peas?” Kath teased, licking at a grain of rice which was stuck to her bottom lip.

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “Chicken Tikka Masala. Apparently it’s the nation’s favourite Indian dish. Besides, if I had made fish and chips I wouldn’t have had to bunk off so early this afternoon to slave away in the kitchen.” She was deep in thought for a moment. “Leaving my right-hand man to hold the fort.”

  “How is Karl keeping, Sophie?” Jude was genuinely interested in him, regardless of his sexual preference. Correction, regardless of how Sophie described his sexual preference. To her, he was a gentleman through and through and she could clearly see how he looked out for his employer. Sophie had always maintained he was gay, but she could never see it.

  “He’s an old woman lately, Jude, that’s what he is. He keeps giving out to me about my extra-curricular activities.”

  Roni’s eyes flickered in Sophie’s direction and Sophie was sure she saw the corners of her mouth curl.

  “In what sense?” Jude probed.

  Sophie picked up a forkful of boiled rice and chewed on it thoughtfully. “It’s like he’s getting jealous or something like that . . . I can’t put my finger on it to be honest but sometimes he behaves really weird . . . like he thinks he’s my mother . . . or my appointed keeper!” She swallowed the dry rice, helping herself to a little balti sauce, putting it on the side of her plate just as Helena had predicted. “I’m all for being looked out for . . . and I’d do it for him, for any of you. But the other day I woke up to see a load of texts and missed calls from him asking where I was. Psycho or what?” She frowned as she cast her mind back to her thumping head and aching loins which had greeted her that morning.

  “It’s called being a good friend,” Roni grunted as she loaded her plate with copious amounts of food.

  “What would you know about that?”

  Jude felt herself tense at the bitchiness between Sophie and Roni. She hated it when they didn’t get on.

  “Maybe he cares about you, Sophie, that’s all.” Jude tried to rescue them from the sudden change in atmosphere.

  “Maybe he does, Jude, and I also care about him, a lot, but I’m big and ugly enough to look after myself. Besides, I’ve left home, thank you – couldn’t get out of the place quick enough in fact so I don’t want to feel under the thumb ever again, thank you very much. Being answerable to someone is not for me, I’m afraid, guys.”

  Sophie shuddered as she recalled the strict Catholic upbringing her mother had put her through. No wonder she was so promiscuous – she was barely allowed to look at the opposite sex never mind sleep with them. Sophie felt sad that she and her mother had never made up before she passed away but there was little she could do about it now.

  “Where were you when you woke up, Soph?” Helena couldn’t resist getting a dig at her best friend. She struck while the iron was hot.

  “Ha ha, aren’t you funny?” Sophie flicked a grain of rice in Helena’s direction. “I was getting some actually, Hel, something you’d know nothing about!”

  It was Helena’s turn take it on the chin. “True.”

  Why was it that Sophie always had to have the last word?

  Roni washed a mouthful of madras back with a large sip of red wine. She had never been in Sophie’s salon and had never met this Karl athough she’d heard so much about him. Kane’n’Able was too cutting-edge for Veronica Smyth.

  “You know, Sophie, true friends like him are hard to come by. It sounds like every girl should have a Karl,” she preached blandly. “You’re a lucky girl.”

  Sophie stopped and took in Roni’s words and the truth rang in her ears. Deep down Sophie knew that she had a point.

  “Oh, did Jude tell you her news?” Sophie changed the subject swiftly. Anything to stop a vicious retort. She looked across at Jude whose head was down. She barely raised it as Sophie waited for her to announce her new position.

  “Come on, Jude.”

  Jude knew she had to say something, she just didn’t know what. Announcements were not her thing – she preferred to be in the background.

  “I’m working for Sophie now.” She spoke the words without conviction but her eyes twinkled the truth of how she really felt about her new position. “I’m the new interior designer for her next project on Alderley Avenue.”

  There was a scurry of movement and hand-clasping around the table.

  “Oh wow! Congratulations, Jude – you poor sod!” Kath chinked her glass against Jude’s. “You kept that one quiet but then again so would I if I was working for that tyrant.”

  Sophie gave Kath an upper-arm dig.

  Helena leapt from her seat and hugged Jude around the neck before kissing her on the cheek, leaving a stain of curry sauce which Jude wiped away tactfully when she knew Helena wasn’t looking.

  Helena was always one for positive news and soon it would be her turn, she had decided earlier shortly after her head was thrashed against the cab’s interior. There was definitely something good in the air tonight.

  The glasses were raised high above the ladies’ heads, then touched each other harmoniously, clinking and chiming as they each hit a different key depending on the gravity behind each contact and the measure of their liquid contents.

  “Speech, speech, speech!” the women cheered at Jude who had remained quiet and slightly abashed throughout. She wasn’t used to being the focus of such revelry. That was not how she saw herself.

  A watchful Sophie studied Jude’s reserved body language. It was tense and uptight and certainly not that of someone who had been handed their lifelong dream on a plate.

  She stood, picking up the empty square black plates, moving swiftly around the wooden floor, her stiletto heels clattering. She stacked the plates one on top of each other, noting through the balcony doors that rain had started again and the rainbow had long dispersed.

  Jude excused herself to help Sophie. She grabbed the relish dish, smiling at the women who were still in congratulatory mode. She didn’t know what to say to them. It was all very surreal.

  The kitchen was immaculate with its recently oiled wooden work benche
s and its sparkling ceramic hob. It was a mass of white Shaker units surrounded by everything stainless steel bar the blackness of the hob.

  Sophie turned to Jude. The gap in height was minimised by Sophie’s four-inch heels and she wasn’t too far away from coming face to face with her friend.

  “He said no, didn’t he, Jude!” The words were hurled from Sophie’s mouth with a bitter tone before she could stop herself. “I knew it. I bloody well knew it. How could he do that to you? He’s supposed to be your husband!” she whispered fiercely, keen that the others shouldn’t hear her outburst. She slammed a jar into the integrated fridge. “It’s alright for him with his new job, his big promotion – getting to do everything he wants to do in life without a thought for you –”

  Jude touched Sophie’s arm. “Stop. Please.”

  “I knew there was something up before, Jude! Your reaction definitely wasn’t one of jubilation. What is going on?”

  Sophie’s eyes welled up and she wanted nothing more than to protect her friend from that chauvenistic pig who it seemed had her right where he wanted her. No wonder she was single – although she knew that was not the real reason she was single. She shoved it to the back of her mind where the secret had lived for many years now.

  “He didn’t say no.” Jude was calm and controlled. “Sophie, I didn’t tell him.”

  “What? What do you mean . . . why?”

  “Because the timing wasn’t right and because he’d been made partner and I didn’t want to spoil his moment.” She paused. “And because he needs me behind him right now, not working against him. Behind every successful man there is a woman,” she mused.

  Sophie closed the door of the dishwasher. “What about your needs, Jude? You need this opportunity and you need your life back. You know, the one you barely got a chance to live?”