Love, Lies and Louboutins (Heartbreak Book 2)

by S. M Phillips

  I won’t lie to you, she really went to town on me that night. It was like some horrific kind of counselling session and it isn’t one that I want to repeat ever again if I can help it. I think there will only ever be Rachel who can burn me down so hard that I’m left with no choice but to be completely open and honest with her. She made me completely expose my soul, it was weird. I had no choice in it whatsoever. To this day I’m still convinced she used some kind of witchery on me.

  From that night, Rachel has done everything possible to make my dream a reality. Not only has she provided me with a spacious place to consult in her shop, she’s also been taking time out of her working days and free nights to boost my social media presence. Well, we all know she’s a super whizz at all these apps and things. I mean, hello, thanks to Rachel I’ve even got my own Facebook page and a business Insta account. Check me out. But after all that that’s not even the best bit.

  Oh no, the best bit is that she’s only gone and bagged me my first bloody client, hasn’t she? The very same one whose arrival I not so patiently await.

  However, there’s still plenty of time in the day for me to balls it all up.

  After everything that’s happened so far this morning, I am now totally crapping myself as I await the arrival of said client, and in fact, I already want today to be over with. I don’t even think I was this scared when I lost my virginity and that speaks volumes. Oh my God was I a state back then. I was like some kind of messed up mix between both Bambi and Thumper. No matter what I tried to do, my Lambrini intoxicated body wouldn’t listen to my demands. My poor legs were shook that much, I’m almost certain they added extra vibrations which in turn caused him to blow before he’d even tried to stick it in. Massive fail.

  Oh, those were the days, hey?

  Now I’ve got way bigger fish to fry. Now I’ve got real life problems and I don’t mean JAY-Z style ones either. I mean what if she takes one look at me and doesn’t like me? What if she doesn’t think I’m the right person for the job? Bloody hell, she could ruin me and Elegant Weddings with Emily before it’s even started, before it’s even had a chance to shine and show its potential.

  Why, oh why, did I allow Rachel to talk me into this ridiculousness? It’s all going to go tits up, I just know it.

  “Stop fretting,” Rachel soothes as she runs her hand down my back in calm strokes. “you’ll give yourself high blood pressure.”

  “Who’s fretting?” I ask, trying my best to display my composed face, but I know that I’m failing miserably. It’s funny how I’m trying to dismiss her concern, with this new-found bravado, because I know that she isn’t buying it. Nothing skips past her watchful eyes. Sometimes it’s both a blessing and a curse at the same time.

  I grab my now empty mug and stare into it as if it holds all the answers to my unspoken questions.

  As if sensing what I’m doing, Rachel pipes up with her two cents, “You won’t get any answers from that,” she says and I look up at her blankly. “Maybe if it was tea, treacle. Coffee doesn’t hold the same power.”

  “Maybe it’s all too soon?” I confess, sighing after a few more seconds of silence.

  “Give over,” she exclaims rather dramatically. “I knew this was going to happen. Bloody knew it. I could see it building over that past couple of days.”

  “You could?” Why the hell didn’t she said anything to me then? Why keep something like that from me when it could have, I don’t know, set me up for it a bit more or something?

  “Why do you think I told you to host it here?”

  Slowly I begin to process what she’s saying. Yes, she could see me panicking more and more and instead of mentioning it to me in case it made me worse, once again she was keeping my best interests at heart. If I worked from here, then she would be able to oversee everything from a distance. “Because you’re awesome and I really don’t know what I would do without you.”

  “Well, yeah,” she laughs, “I guess there’s that too, but the main reason is so you can give me a shout if you need me. Coffee back-up, time out, you name it and it’s yours.” I smile back at my best friend and I’m totally lost for words. “You know I’ll always be your wing-woman no matter what. However, personally, I don’t think you’re gonna need me at all. You’ll be fabulous — just like you always are.”

  I pout my lips in disbelief and breathe in sharply before giving my head a right good wobble. She’s right. What’s the worst that can happen? I can do this and I will do this. I have to, there’s no other choice. God, I’ve been building up to this for the past three months and there’s no way that I’m going to let a stupid bunch of good for nothing nerves stand in my way. No freaking way.

  “Let’s do this…” I chant, more to myself and swipe my hand out all too suddenly as if I’m some crazed warrior about to invade, and the tiny remnants of coffee splash my new dress as the mug tumbles to the floor and shatters at my feet.

  Fuck my life.

  Maybe I need to practice channelling my inner Viking because that kind of shit could get me killed out on the field.

  “Let’s,” Rachel agrees while laughing at my new-found enthusiasm, “but we don’t want to get too excited. How about we save the drink throwing for Wednesday night?”

  Now that’s my girl. “That sounds like one hell of a plan, so you better stick to it.” I warn her playfully. I know she’d never back out, anyway. Wednesday nights have always been our thing and to be fair, we’ll still be rocking them when we’ve got our rollers in, all set for a night with only our commodes for company. Plus, I don’t think I know anyone who loves to have a drink or three just as much as me.

  After spending a good thirty minutes thinking that my client was going to be a no show, I check my diary and low and behold she’s due to arrive at ten-thirty, not nine-thirty. All that flapping and rushing around for nothing. This morning would have gone a lot more smoothly if I’d have thought to check it sooner.

  After another quick glance at the clock, I realise I’ve got a moment to nip to the ladies to try to sort my appearance somehow. Yes, I should have done that sooner, but Rachel took me way off track. If today’s a fail, I’m totally blaming Matt and Rachel for everything. Hey, what’s the worst they can do to me, really?

  The toilets are empty which fills me with relief. There’s nothing worse than trying to sort yourself out when you’ve got an audience, let me tell you. On closer inspection, I notice that Rachel ought to have a back-up pair of GHD’s in this place. Bloody hell, have I not proved to her enough that disasters can strike at any time?

  I finally come across some hair grips after rifling through the bottomless pit that is my bag after searching for what feels like an absolute age. They’re not the best, but, oh well, I guess they’ll just have to do. Us beggars can’t be choosers in situations like these. Trying my best to control the frizz I just about manage to secure a passable messy braid on the right-hand side of my head and leave the rest to rock it out. Yes, today I’m going to channel my inner Khaleesi.

  To be fair, it doesn’t look all that bad. I wouldn’t be able to get it to look half as good if I had time on my hands to spare, so I guess that’s saying something. Not that I’d start YouTubing it or anything and it’s totally not Insta-ready, but for me it’s pretty bloody good.

  I quickly top up my nude lip and check myself over in the mirror again. “Well, this is the best it’s going to get Parker, so wrap it up and weep.” I mutter to my reflection. To be honest, I could cry, but I’m not going to. I don’t believe in wasting make-up, ever. So, I pull up my big girl panties and fan my eyes while slowly breathing in and out. Chancing a quick look at my phone I reckon I’ve got just enough time to grab another drink before she finally arrives.

  And boy does she arrive…

  After Rachel’s little pep talk earlier I felt happy, excited and dare I say it, somewhat confident about my new adventure. But that was then, and this is now.

  Now I’m right back at bloody square one as the Claudi
a Schiffer replica heads straight for me.

  Is this some sort of sick and twisted joke? Why oh why did I leave the house in this dress? I bet I look like I’ve robbed a few tyres from the Michelin man and applied them to my body.

  I knew I shouldn’t have picked it, but I wanted to be bold, to show that I was totally owning my life — like a boss. Because that’s what I am now. I’m a boss; a freaking CEO, baby.

  What was Matt thinking by not saying anything to me? I bet it was bloody payback for the socks. Either way I’m going to be having some colourful words with him when I get home, that’s for sure.

  What do I even need to dress up for? Like I’ve just stated, I’m my own boss these days and if I feel like rocking up to work in my most comfortable and flab-defying yet camel-toe inducing yoga pants then that’s what I should do.

  I make a quick mental note to do that next time. Anyway, I’ll be sat down so no one will be subject to the sight of any camel-toe flashings. I don’t think it would be all that professional if I were to up and leave right now just to change my clothes, would it?

  “Emily?” She asks sweetly and her smile is ridiculously perfect, complete with a straight set of pearly whites. I wonder if they’re real. God, I haven’t even said a word yet and I’m already conscious that there might be some left-over teacake mushed up in my teeth. I just knew today was going to be a complete write-off.

  “Hi,” I smile back at her, but not too wide, you know, just in case. “You must be Lyndsey?”

  “Yes.” This time she holds out her hand in greeting but I can’t bring myself to take it as mine’s clammy as anything.

  “Take a seat.” I say instead while silently praying that she doesn’t think I’m being rude. If she does then she’s doing well not to show it. I watch her, totally mesmerised as she takes a seat before me, her long flowing blonde hair swishing around down her back, and can you believe there’s not a single split end in sight?

  My hand automatically reaches up and falls on my shaggy bob. I sure hope she doesn’t notice the state of mine. “Would you like a drink, or anything?” I look over to Rachel, hoping that she’s true to her word and that she’s keeping a close eye on us and sure enough, she gives me a discreet little wave.

  “No, thank you,” Lyndsey replies as she places her beautiful Michael Korrs bag down on the floor beside her. Thank God for Rachel’s OCD, because if we’d been anywhere else that would be sacrilege. I might have even been tempted to confiscate such a prized possession from her until she could learn how to look after such beautiful craftmanship. “I’ve got Pilates straight after here and I don’t fancy a full bladder. Once I go, I can’t stop if you know what I mean?”

  Halle-fucking-lujjah.

  Could this perfect princess actually have hidden flaws? Yes, they may be hidden, but they’re still flaws all the same. Well, I guess it proves she’s human after all.

  “Oh, I know that feeling all too well.” I laugh, half wishing that I hadn’t disclosed that little tid-bit of personal info.

  “I have been so excited for today,” she gushes, which in turn puts me at ease a little. Surely, we’re past the minute mark by now? This has to be a good start because I haven’t scared her off – yet. “It took me ages to convince Neil to stay at home. Neil’s my other half in case you were wondering.” Well, I kind of guessed that, but I didn’t want to say as I could have been wrong. “Weeks it’s taken me, but I finally made him see that I didn’t think he’d enjoy our first get together all that much.”

  “Oh…” I don’t know whether I should be offended or not, yet being the professional that I am, I stay silent and allow her excited little self to carry on.

  “Oh no,” she gasps, a look of total shock etched onto her beautifully contoured face. “It’s nothing personal, I promise. It’s just that, well he’s male isn’t he, and I don’t think he’d really enjoy listening to the both of us harping on about details and over the top ideas. Plus, who knows what we’d end up giving away. I don’t fancy scaring him off, especially after holding on to him for this long.”

  Well, this chick can definitely talk, that’s for sure. Maybe if I let her do all the talking then this might just be a bloody walk in the park for me. Honestly, what am I even worrying about?

  “This is going to be so much fun.” She gushes again and claps her hands together in excitement.

  “Yes, it definitely is.” I smile back and I also clap my hands together and mimic her happiness. You know, this could actually work after all. I’ll certainly need more coffee, or maybe something a little stronger every now and again to deal with our next appointments, but it’s most definitely doable.

  Lyndsey is keen and excited and that’s what I like. I need someone who knows exactly what they want and who isn’t afraid to tell me. Underneath all of her intimidating beauty, Lyndsey seems to be a right little firecracker.

  It’s important to me that my clients are open and honest, because if they don’t feel comfortable enough to tell me what they want, then how the hell would I know if I was making everything perfect for the most important days of their lives?

  “I do have one question though, and it’s probably the most important one of them all.”

  I watch her closely as she patiently waits for me to acknowledge her but I’m completely and utterly mesmerised by her winged liner. How on earth is it even possible to get it so straight? I bet she’s bloody got one of those dip and press things that are constantly popping up on my Facebook feed, or maybe she’s had them tattooed on? Regardless of the method, they’re beautiful.

  No way is it possible to achieve a result like that by doing it freehand and if it is then she needs to teach me her magical skills before we do anything else. I do wonder though if it’s too soon in our professional relationship to even consider asking such a personal question. Maybe I’d be best to ask after a few more appointments, you know, once we get to know each other a little better. After all, it could all turn out to be a fluke for all I know. She could have got lucky and the next time we meet she could resemble a wild panda.

  Here’s to bloody hoping!

  “What would that be?” I finally ask as soon as my mouth decides to function again. I’ll tell you what though, she doesn’t mess about this one. I’d bet a pound to a penny that she wants to know when we can hunt down the dress.

  “The Hen-do. How about we start with that one first?”

  “What the bloody hell did you say to her?” I snarl at Rachel.

  I’d waited a good five minutes to make sure that the coast was clear before stomping my little size fives over to her. Christ, I’m bloody livid and I think she knows it too. What has she even set me up for here? This is supposed to be Elegant Weddings with Emily, not a free for all fucking cock-fest.

  Not only do I feel like an overly large fucking peach — yes James ain’t got shit on my roundness, let me tell you, but I feel completely inadequate to do the job that I’ve always dreamed of. Little Miss prissy-pants certainly made sure of that.

  “Well…” Rachel steps slowly towards me, her whole body full of confusion, “how’d it go?”

  “Do you really need to ask?” I hiss back at her, fully aware that I’m making much more of a scene than is necessary, but in this moment, I don’t bloody care. This is her doing and I want to know what she said. “That was two whole hours of torture. I’ll never get that time back now and I’ve not felt that way since you made me watch that cheap and tacky porno at your mum’s.” Rachel’s eyes grow wide and a few of her customers who are in ear shot look over to the two of us. Again, right now I don’t care. Bitchy Emily is out to play and there’s no stopping her. “Sure, she’s probably a lovely girl at heart, but jeez Louise, I don’t even know what that was. Someone out there clearly loves her enough to put a ring on it, but sweet baby Jesus, I bet the divorce papers will be out within the year.”

  “Oh, come on. Why all the drama? It looked like it was going brilliantly every time I looked over.”

  �
��That’s because my poker face is on point. Trust me, Lady Gaga hasn’t got shit on me.” I moan back at her. I know she won’t take me seriously if I don’t put the bitch back in the box, so I continue with a softer voice. “So, what exactly did you tell her about me?”

  “Nothing, why?” She replies.

  “Okay, I don’t mean personally about me. What was it you told her about the services I provide?” Uh, great. Now, I sound all seedy like I should be running a brothel not a high-end wedding planner business. I wait for her response but all she does is shrug back at me, looking somewhat confused. “Rachel, please.” No one ever said I wasn’t too proud to beg. “I’ve just spent the past couple of hours listening to her chew my bloody ears off about all kinds of crazy things. I’m supposed to be her wedding planner, not her flaming life coach or counsellor.”

  Surprisingly Rachel doesn’t look at me straight away like I expected her to. Where I thought she’d look a little shocked by this news, instead she occupies her hands by hastily wiping down the already gleaming counter tops.

  I knew it. I just bloody knew it. “Alright, don’t get mad at me, okay? I may have oversold you a little, but I honestly thought I was doing the right thing,” she confesses. Brilliant, once again I’m the one who’s left to feel like a right cow-bag as Rachel’s sad puppy dog eyes burn into mine.

  “Oh…” I say and I know that she would have had my best intentions at heart. “Fine. I’m sorry. Maybe I just let the nerves get the better of me and I wasn’t prepared for everything she threw at me. Plus, more importantly, where the hell am I supposed to find a ton of hot buff guys to strip on demand?”

  Rachel bursts out laughing and right now I’m struggling to see the funny side. “Stop it,” I warn her, “this isn’t funny Rach. My job is to arrange table plans, set the scene and make the place look the bomb. I’m supposed to make her happy, that kind of thing. Now I’m basically left to do everything but shag her husband to be.” What have I done?