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Unravelled

Page 13

by Kirsten Lee


  “How many times did the pot roll over?” The people working in this company really have a gambling problem. Since day three they’ve been placing bets on me and it’s been getting progressively worse. Or better, depending on who you’re asking.

  “It’s been rolling over for almost two weeks. You’ve been so erratic – some days you were perfect and the next you would come in with so many fashion faux pas that we decided to just let it roll over.” He picks the money up again and waves it at me. “There’s enough here for a night out for two people.”

  “Good lord, that much?” Maybe I should also start placing bets. My self-esteem levels are high today, so I decide to bite the bullet. “So… what’s wrong today?”

  “Your earrings don’t match.” I have to stop myself from ripping my earrings out, so I slowly take them out and smile-groan. I silver ring and a dangling earring made of blue beads. Not even a close match. I sit with the two earrings in my hands and smile at Ray who looks at his lucky charms with a huge grin. “I must admit I was lucky.”

  “I thought you were my friend in this godforsaken company where everyone conspires against me and my sense of fashion. I feel betrayed, Ray.” I turn to my computer in mock disgust, but my acting is interrupted when the phone rings.

  “Alex Fields, hello?”

  “Alex, it’s...um...Jamie.” He sounds so nervous – poor thing. We haven’t spoken since the car incident.

  “Hi! How are you?”

  “Um...well. Is everything ok?”

  “Do you mean about the...”

  “Yes, about the...”

  “Everything is fine, nothing to worry about.” Except the guilt I suffer from for lying to Adam. And trying to have this conversation without saying anything incrimination in front of an obviously eavesdropping Ray, is no mean feat.

  “Oh, wow!” He sounds so relieved. “I was so scared that there would be a huge problem.”

  “There is no problem.” I decide to just speak frankly and deal with Ray later. “The insurance company agreed to pay for the damage and things have eased up considerably since.” When Adam came home last night, he was so friendly towards me that I was a little scared. He is no stranger to the art of negotiation, or in my language: manipulation, and got his insurance company to cover the damage to his car. I don’t know and I don’t want to know how he did that, but I’m glad for both our sakes and for Jamie’s bank account that things turned out like this.

  “Does that mean I won’t have to pay for anything?” He sounds even more relieved.

  “That is exactly what it means.”

  “Oh, wow!” he says again, much chirpier this time. “That is the best news I’ve heard all week.”

  “I’m also glad about it. We’ll talk again later.” I need to end this call because Ray looks as if he’s left ear has grown three inches from the strain of listening to my conversation, but can’t help myself from asking, “Did you do something on Saturday?”

  “Um...no. I couldn’t ask her. Not after what happened.”

  “We definitely have to talk again soon.” And I mean it. I don’t usually interfere, but they seemed like they would make such a good couple. I finish the call and ignore Ray’s expectant look for as long as I can, which isn’t very long. He’s unbelievably tenacious and I squirm under his scrutiny until I ask defensively and a tad to loudly, “What?”

  “What was that all about?”

  “Personal.”

  “Alex, you never take personal calls here and if you do, you end it as soon as you smell me.” He gives me the most suspicious look he can organise on his face at such short notice. “What was that about?”

  “Ray, mind your own business and go place a bet on me or something.”

  “I think I should. You’ve been a good luck charm for me, m’lady.” He considers for a few moments and then makes a decision. “Do you know that there is an accident pot?”

  I know I should not ask, but I can’t help my self. “What accident pot?”

  “The one that caused such severe damage to Mr Montgomery’s car. There is more speculation about that than the photocopy incident ever had.”

  “No!” Do these people have nothing else to talk about? I’m outraged.

  “Yes, my dear, and if you would be so kind as to tell me what happened, what really happened, I will make sure that you see you share of the winnings.”

  “Are you bribing me?” I know I sound as indignant as I feel. I can’t believe this! “What would all your gambling buddies do if they knew what you just suggested to me?”

  “Is it just me, or are you avoiding the car issue?” Ray’s been trying very hard to get me to talk about Adam’s car, but I’ve steadily refused. I don’t know why he insists so much to hear my side of the story. Is it because he is genuinely interested, or because he stands to make more money off me. This is one instance where no one will hear anything from me. At least that is one thing I am good at, keeping secrets.

  “It’s just you. Now get back to work. You’re distracting me.”

  “I plan to distract you quite a lot today. With these winnings.” He picks up the cash from his desk again and smiles at me in a I’m-a-spider-you’re-a-fly kind of way. “We are going to paint the town red. You might not approve of all this, but I’m glad I won the pot. It is perfect for what I’ve planned.” A little niggling feeling start making me feel very wary of what I’m about to hear. “It’s going to come in quite useful tonight.” No, not tonight! I wanted to wax my bikini line and that needed a few hours of self-pity and alcohol afterwards. I was looking forward to the hours afterwards.

  “Ray…”

  “Don’t you even dare say no!” He gets out of his chair and starts addressing me as if he was an evangelist and I needed converting. “You’ve been pining away since you came from the funeral a week ago.” He gets a bit gentler and sits on the corner of his immaculate desk as I marvel that it’s been a whole week since Pam’s funeral – it feels like yesterday. So much has happened since, including that bloody car incident. “I know what it is like to lose a loved one, but you need to get out again. You’ve been working like a … like… like Mr Montgomery!”

  “Ouch. That hurt, Ray. I have not worked that hard.”

  “Yes, you have. You’re always here before us, and I can’t remember when last I saw you leave with us. You seldom have tea with us and people are worried. Even Agatha has been talking about it.”

  “She has not!” That woman would be happy to see the back of me. I’m sure she sees me as a huge interruption in the smooth running of ‘her’ company.

  “You’re right, she hasn’t, but I’m sure she’s thinking about it.” He’s standing again. “I’m worried about you. You need to dolly yourself up and get out.” His evangelistic finger is in the air pointing everywhere and finally directed at me. “You missy, are going out tonight!”

  “Ray, no. I have plans. I was going to…”

  “Nothing you planned is as good as what I have in store for you. We’re leaving early this afternoon – I’ve cleared it with the boss, and we’re going to get you all tarted up for a night on the town.”

  “This town?” I ask sardonically.

  “But of course not! We’re taking you to Heaven.”

  “We? Wait. Back up a bit first, and then we’ll talk about the ‘we’.” Sometimes I’m a bit slow and only now something he said earlier is registering and raising alarm bells. “You cleared this with Mr Montgomery?” As the sentence comes out, I get progressively more exasperated until the last word comes out as a half-roar – a bit louder than it should have.

  “Yes, he did.” A voice says from the door. “Don’t be angry with Ray, Alex. I think it is a good idea that you get out.”

  Adam is leaning against the door frame in that infuriating casual way of his. How is it that he always arrives at the most inopportune times?

  “You think it’s a good idea? Who asked you?” Half roar.

  “Ray asked me and I suggested that
he takes you to Heaven. I think it will be a good break from all this work.”

  “How is it that all of a sudden everyone knows what’s best for me? Don’t you think that getting this project off the ground successfully might be good for me and everyone here?”

  “Of course it is. But no one wants to see you burnt out in the process. No one is trying to tell you what to do, Alex.” The corner of his mouth does something funny that I’ve not seen before and I get ready for something bad, really bad. “I could always borrow Erin’s cats to live with us. Blossom might like the company.” His innocent tone belies the menace behind the words. He’s threatening Blossom! He knows how scared Blossom is of cats. I did not know he would ever go that low.

  “Are you blackmailing me?” I ask slowly

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. What would be the most sterile way to kill someone? I take another breath and start counting: one, two, three, four, five, six…

  “What are you doing?” Ray looks concerned.

  “I’m counting to thirteen.”

  “Why?”

  “Counting to ten has never worked for me.”

  “Oh, come on Alex. We don’t want you to have a mammogram. It will be fun!” Ray’s voice has now taken on a cajoling tone and I know myself well enough to know that I’m going to give in. I was going to cave in after a playing hard to get for a bit, but Adam’s arrival complicated things. I feel confident in bestowing withering looks today and Adam is now on the receiving end of one. I turn it on full blast and allow my voice all the snootiness it ever desired.

  “Going to Heaven will be a far superior choice than staying home tonight with someone who reduces himself to threatening innocent animals.” It was an attempt to gain some ground in this argument and I’m sad to say that it did not work. Not by a long shot. The two men look at each other triumphantly and I let my head fall back against the back of my chair. Defeated.

  They talk about what time we’re to leave work and go to ‘Heaven’ while I listen with closed eyes. What is ‘Heaven’? It sounds like it could be a transvestite club, a hippie hang-out or a local church café. What have I let myself into?

  I decide to ignore the two men and focus my energies on the task at hand. As much as the idea of going out appeals to me, there’s still a lot of work to be done and the committee does not always help as they should. We had a committee meeting two days ago and it seems like everyone has their own ideas on how to makes themselves the star of the opening day. To be fair, the fight is actually between George and Zondra. They truly don’t like each other. And I still have the hardest time getting hold of Zondra. I truly wish there was a spell that I could cast to make this woman cooperate without this pulling-a-tooth effort and pain.

  My suggestion of starting the festival with one of our star artists as guest of honour was the only idea that was univocally agreed upon. I’ve cleared it with the artist’s agent and she’ll also perform a few songs with only her guitar on the little ball room stage which is being constructed as we speak. It will give the performance an intimate feeling which is exactly what I wanted. Then there were arguments about who was to give the opening speech, who was to be invited to the gala dinner that evening, who was to be the master of ceremonies and the list goes on.

  If I can’t reach an agreement with the other members of the committee on some of these issues soon, I will have to lay my proposal before Adam and ask for his veto right. He has the ultimate decision entitlement, but I sincerely hope that it would not come to that. I hope that my mediation skills will prove sufficient to prevent that.

  I open another spreadsheet on my computer and start planning yet another alternative programme for the opening day. I’ve received every committee member’s suggestion of who should be on the gala dinner guest list and have already compiled a completed list that I emailed to them for their final approval. I am sure they will agree on this one. I hope.

  And so my mind is totally occupied in what I do and I don’t even notice when Adam leaves. I love losing myself in my work like this. Maybe I’m a bit of a workaholic, but I know that I’m not as bad as Adam. The man works twelve hours in the office a day and then goes home to work some more. Most evenings I sit with a book after dinner while he is punching away on his laptop, muttering to himself, and that is when he is not in his office making phone calls to other workaholics like him.

  “…ans?” Is all I catch from a question that Ray asked me. His tone implies that it was not the first time he tried to speak to me.

  “Sorry, Ray. I got lost in this. What did you say?”

  “I asked what was so all important that you were going to do tonight.”

  “I was going to give myself a bikini wax with a glass of red wine in my hand.”

  “That was your big plan?” Ray laughs louder than I’ve ever heard him laugh and I pull a face at him.

  “Yes. Giving myself a bikini wax requires planning and alcohol. It usually takes me weeks just to build up the courage to schedule it in. If you’ve ever had your unmentionables waxed, you’ll know the meaning of bona fide pain and will understand the need to soothe the nerves.” I am not prone to drinking, but this is one occasion I always feel a need for something with a kick. That and telling Adam that I totalled his car, these are occasions that call for strong alcoholic help. I wonder if I would’ve handled it differently if I had had something to drink when I told Adam about his car.

  Ray is still snickering at me when my phone starts ringing. It’s a quick conversation with one of the contractors regarding the wiring of one of the stables. I hang up and turn to Ray with a question that’s been nagging at me for the last hour, but I haven’t had time to ask.

  “Ray darling, what and where is ‘Heaven’?” I still have a bad feeling about going to a place with such an ambiguous name. “And who are “we?”“

  Chapter 15

  “Darling!” I am being accosted by something that I can only identify as a drag queen on steroids. “Ray has told me so much about you.” He/she grabs me, plants two loud kisses on each cheek and then holds me at an arm’s length. “Just like he told me. A true beauty, don’t you agree Fiona?”

  “Angelica darling, let the poor girl go.” Fiona pulls Angelica-darling off me and gives me a kind smile. “You most definitely are much more than what Ray told us about you. And I just adore your outfit!”

  The greeting party at the door is growing and everyone is inspecting my “outfit”. Getting dressed for this party has been one of the most trying experiences of my entire life, which almost ended up in a cat fight with my trusty assistant.

  Ray refused to let me go home alone and get ready for tonight without him. He expressed his genuine fear at what I might decide to wear and with my track record I don’t really blame him, especially since it is my fashion faux pas that is affording us the night out. After a few insults, sharp retorts and killer looks, we decided that I will allow him – this once – to have his way. This compromise is costing him to take complete control of the seating arrangements for the opening ceremony, which is a societal minefield, but he deems it a worthy sacrifice. After a lengthy negotiation, I gave myself over to his ministrations. He was rather impressed with my wardrobe and gave me a piece of his mind when he saw the outfits that I never wear.

  I don’t wear those outfits because I think they are just too sexy for me. Plunging necklines and bottom hugging pants are for vixens and that I am not. Ray and I landed up having yet another heated disagreement about my self-effacing opinion and then concluded that we should focus on the present and pick an ensemble for me. His choice horrified me, but since he assured me that ‘Heaven’ is far out of town, I decided to humour the man and wear the blasted outfit. I got dressed only after I managed to get him to leave the room though.

  And now I’m here with the cast of a very popular drag show, concentrating on pulling my stomach in. Why is it that on a night like tonight, all of a sudden, out of the bl
ue my stomach decides to become bloated? Why can’t it be like on Saturdays when there is no one to look at me that my stomach is as flat as a washboard, but the moment I wear something other than tracksuit pants, air fills my belly? I never thought it would come to this, but at this moment I envy Blossom and his ability to get rid of unwanted air. It certainly would make me look two sizes smaller if I could fart on command. Discreetly of course.

  Ray chose a simple dress for me to wear. I must admit that I love this dress, but never had the courage to wear it. It is a Little Black Number with an uneven hem that shows off enough leg to make me anxious about the moment I will have to sit down. The body-hugging cut shows off my bloated stomach and J Lo butt, but even I have to admit that the cleverly cut neckline turns my bosom into a weapon of mass distraction. Ray, a man of many talents, grabbed a tub of hair gel and I now sport a very sleek wet look that is the topic of discussion now.

  “Ray, you old devil! If I knew that you were this good with hair, I would’ve called on you a long time ago.”

  “That is why I didn’t tell you, Venus.” Venus – who decided on these names? – fakes a stab in the heart and gives Ray the evil eye. Ray just smiles at her with the irony that only a friend can bestow on another friend. “Ladies, if you will excuse us, I have to take Ms Fields to her seat.”

  Ray gently cups my elbow and leads me through the crowd of drag queens. I feel like I’m swimming through an ocean of feathers, perfume and platform shoes. We come out on the other side unscathed and Ray leads me into the theatre. On the way here in the car he told me about his friends’ show at ‘Heaven’, which is a huge casino and entertainment development frequented by the who’s who whenever they pass through this part of the country.

  The entrance of the complex attests to it. When we arrived, so many different people greeted us – people parking the car, taking our coats, offering drinks and offering assistance – that I felt as if I stepped into a Disney fairytale movie. Ray immediately took me backstage to show me off to his ‘girls’. Being surrounded by twelve drag queens can be quite intimidating, as I just discovered, but I feel a million times sexier and more confident after all their ooh-ing and aah-ing. I even put a little swing into my walk and feel the soft material of my dress swishing against my derrière.

 

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