One In A Billion

by Anne-Marie Hart

  The view from the window of her bedroom in her old house had been the 'George and Dragon' pub on the corner, and the neon lights of the kebab shop. Here she could see nothing but rolling fields and pollution free skies, and it made her happy. She could even see stars begin to twinkle as the sun fell away.

  She thought about her best friend Kaylee, the rest of the people that sat on her desk at school, Lydia included, her old teacher Mrs Carr, and the headmaster Mr Pincer, and then she thought about her new school, the one that she'd be starting on Monday, and how excited that made her feel. She was happy she already knew Toby, but she hoped that he'd wash his hands at least before turning up.

  While her parents spent a good part of the rest of the evening achieving very little else but moving the mess from the front two rooms to the back two rooms, Alice fell asleep, and dreamt about her brand new life.

  She was young enough to be happy starting again, and hadn't really spent enough time in Earlsfield anyway to build up enough of a life to miss it. She was also an adventurous girl, much more so than her older brother, and seemed happy to try new things, while he was almost the complete opposite. James already knew what he liked, and there was nothing else he needed in his life apart from those things. He was going to be a doctor like his father, and work as a surgeon in the same hospital when he was old enough to do so. He was going to play rugby at the weekends, and if he was good enough and trained hard enough, he was going to play for England.

  The only thing that Alice knew for certain, was that she was going to be a writer, and nothing else along the way mattered that much as long as she reached her goal. In fact, all the other things along the way would just make her better at what she did, because it would give her ideas for more stories. As long as she was writing things every day she knew she'd be happy, and the great thing was, that Alice knew writing was something she could do anywhere, and quite often did. She could do it tucked up in bed at night, she could do it on the bus to school in the morning, she could do it when she was daydreaming in class or while she was eating her dinner. She only needed a pencil and a piece of paper, and sometimes a rubber when she made mistakes. When she was old enough she was going to ask her parents for a typewriter, because that's what she knew would make her the best of all.

  Chapter 4

  'You have got to be kidding me', I said, looking at the two playboy bunny outfits that Sophia was holding up.

  'I know, right', she said excitedly, 'aren't they cute?'

  Some of the other waitresses were already dressed in them and looked ridiculous. Ok, they looked ridiculous to me, but I'm sure they looked exactly like the organiser of this event wanted them to look like to everyone else. Cute, sexy and erm, rabbit like?

  I worked during the day in a small Italian restaurant, but every once in a while got roped in on one of Sophia's evening functions. This was some kind of charity do/award ceremony/who knows what, and I would have walked straight out of the door again if the money wasn't so good.

  'It's never going to fit me', I complained to Sophia, while she merrily stripped off to her panties and bra without a care in the world. Sophia would have done the whole ceremony naked if they'd asked her too, and she probably would have preferred it.

  'Just put it on', Sophia said, 'it's only a bit of fun. You'll look good.'

  'It's demeaning', I said. 'Why do we have to be playboy bunnies? Why can't we be, I don't know, women superheroes, or famous women writers.'

  'Women writers aren't sexy', Sophia said. 'And besides which, we all have to look the same.'

  'What is this thing for anyway?' I said, reluctantly pulling off my clothes.

  'Rich people', Sophia said, 'So make sure you smile when you pour the champagne, you might get a tip.'

  'That'll be the day', I said.

  'Fifteen minutes', Janice called out. She was our boss, and looked like she was made entirely of wire bent around itself several times to make a frame, over which someone had hung some clothes. She was at least seventy, but could have been double that, had smoked all of her life and spent all of the years I'd known her, and god knows how many before that, eating her food through a straw so she didn't mess up her lipstick. She came over to check us both out.

  'Marvellous Sophie', she said to Sophia, never able to get her name right. Sophia didn't let it bother her. 'Who's your friend?'

  I had met this woman a handful of times, and every time we had the same conversation over and over again.

  'Alice', Sophia said, to save me the trouble.

  'She's older than most of the usual girls', Janice said, in a matter of fact way. It wasn't anything more than an observation, and she didn't mean to upset me by saying it. I refrained from telling her I'd been one of her most faithful staff members for several years now, because I knew there wasn't any point anyway. She'd only forget for the next time around.

  Janice buzzed off and I finished getting dressed. The outfit was too tight of course, and it was made of that horribly cheap material that gave you a rash if you wore it for too long. Sophia by contrast looked amazing. She was one of those girls that looked amazing in everything. She wasn't conventionally attractive, she just knew how to carry herself with a confidence that made men, sometimes the right men too, fall at her feet and fight each other to kiss them. I was pretty jealous of how she managed that.

  We were in the National Portrait Gallery, one of my favourite buildings in London, and somehow the organisers of the event had arranged to have access for their clients after hours. We were limited to a few of the rooms on the first floor, but it was pretty amazing to be here even if it meant wearing a playboy bunny outfit several sizes too small in order to do so, that made me mince around like a tightrope walker for fear of splitting the seams. There were about a dozen of us in all, some girls I'd worked with before and some new ones, all of whom looked much younger and much more suited to their costumes than I did. Sizes must have gone down, generation by generation, I reasoned. Either that or my outfit had shrunk in the wash.

  Janice rounded us up, adjusted the costumes of a few of the girls, and then gave us instructions on what our requirements were for the evening.

  'Smile and have a good time', she said, 'and don't let me catch you drinking or eating on the job.' She winked at me when she said that one. 'If you need to smoke, you can have a cigarette every hour, just make sure you don't come back in smelling of smoke.'

  Sophia smiled at me.

  'What?' I said, knowing exactly what that look meant.

  'He could be out there', Sophia said. 'You know, your one.'

  'Pass', I said. 'I've given up already.'

  'Didn't Marth text back?' she said his name as though he were a British Lord.

  'Yes', I said. 'He did. He texted, he emailed and he called six times. I had to block him.'

  'You obviously made an impression.' Sophia said.

  'To the wrong person.'

  Sophia and I collected up trays of champagne glasses. They had these special paddles that made it much easier to carry them without the risk of dropping them all over the floor, like I seemed to have the habit of doing from time to time. Sophia wasted no time in guzzling down a glass, which gave her paddle a missing spot.

  'Soph!' I said.

  'Don't tell anyone', she said and winked at me.

  We made our way to the door and the waiting guests. One round of champagne, one round of canapes. That was the cycle. We had to smile, make our way round the guests, pour champagne into empty glasses and collect others that had been left in random locations. It was a pretty easy job.

  'How do I look?' I said, just before we entered the lion's den.

  'Knockout', Sophia said with a smile, and we followed a chain of other girls out into the heart of the post event reception.

  It was a mixed bunch. Some people in suits, some people in casual clothes, men and women of different ages. I didn't see anyone famous, not that I would have recognised them anyway, and I looked for Tom Conti again, but he wasn't
there. I'm hopeless when it comes to films, and I'm not the typical girl who flicks through celebrity magazines and knows who the latest famous for five minutes foetuses are. I rely on Sophia for that, but even she was stumped that night.

  I found out during the course of the evening, that the event was a reception for a business charity fundraiser, some private city investment firm or hedge fund, or whatever they called themselves, and the guests, all well respected in their own fields, had nothing whatsoever to do with TV, film or the world of showbiz. No wonder Tom Conti wasn't there.

  Apparently we were dressed as playboy bunnies because that was what was requested. It had nothing to do with the type of event. Someone in their corporate department had obviously thought it was a great idea, perfect for a bunch of city traders, and no-one thought otherwise to tell him.

  They were alright. I'm not a big fan of city traders in general, but these lot seemed to be quite well behaved. I had my fluffy cotton-tail pulled once or twice, a few risqué comments about my outfit, and someone older than my dad trying to flirt with me, but that was about it.

  Sophia drunk more champagne, and when I'd felt like I'd earned myself a glass, I joined her. We both took a long cigarette break half way through the evening, even though I don't smoke, when everyone including Janice was well oiled up on booze, and wouldn't notice we'd gone. Sophia smuggled out a bag of canapes for us to snack on.

  'I've fallen in love', Sophia said.

  'What happened to Tad?' I said, pushing my finger into the part of Sophia's arm which still carried his mark.

  'Tad's more of a pet', Sophia said, batting my hand away. 'He's faithful, but you couldn't really take him out somewhere classy. They'd put him in a little kennel at the back.'

  'So who is it now?' I said, munching on the canapes. They were Thai food inspired, and I made a mental note to snatch a few more as soon as I got back in.

  'Gary', Sophia said.

  'Gary? That doesn't sound very exotic for you.'

  'He's incredible', Sophia said. 'He was in the SAS, and now he's a cage fighter. He's got arms like, this big-', she demonstrated for me, 'And a cock like-'

  Her eyes went all dreamy.

  'Sophia, you didn't?'

  It wouldn't be the first time.

  'I couldn't help it', Sophia said, smiling. She was such a mischievous girl.

  'How!?' I pried, desperate for the details. I didn't buy gossip mag's, but I loved to read them. Sophia's sexual adventures never failed to enthral me. She was the only person I knew who could happily meet someone at an event like this, take them into the bathroom to fuck them rigid, and not see anything at all wrong with it. I was a little jealous that these things seemed to always happen to her and never to me.

  Sophia turned around, pulled down her tights and showed me her cute little ass. 'As easy as that', she said.

  'Didn't anyone see you?' I said when she'd righted herself again.

  'I hope not', Sophia said. 'Janice had her eyes on him too.'

  We went back inside and back to work. I guzzled another glass of champagne that Sophia warned me I had to finish off quickly because Janice was on her way, which ended up tickling the back of my nose and making me cough so forcefully my eyes began to well up with tears.

  Sophia disappeared again, no doubt with Gary, perhaps with someone else as well, and to pass the time, while I was collecting up empty glasses, and serving more champagne to people who didn't really need it, I decided to rank every one I saw on a scale of one to ten. One being definitely not, even if the survival of the human race depended on it, and I was extremely horny, hadn't had sex for months and there was no other option, and ten was oh my god, take me now, I've been a bad girl and I need you inside me.

  Sadly there were many more low numbers than high numbers. I'd made it round about half of the gathered crowd before I got bored, and decided I might as well spent my time more usefully, by appreciating the artwork I never seemed to give myself time to look at during other times I'd visited. While I was lost in a landscape painting of an old English cottage nestled in rolling hills, trying to work out just how the fuck the painter had got the light rendered so well, I heard someone's voice form just behind me.

  'Nice outfit', he said.

  I quickly turned around, expecting to come face to face with another low number who had come over to either flirt with me, get some more champagne or tell me to stop daydreaming and get back to work. I nearly dropped my tray when I saw him. Dark hair, muscular build, well-dressed, natural facial hair, smouldering green eyes that looked like marbles made of space rock. When he smiled, and showed me a perfect set of natural teeth, I couldn't help but say it out loud.

  'Ten.'

  I instantly put my hand to my mouth, and nearly dropped the tray again. Ten helped me just in time before it fell to the floor, but in doing so I spilt champagne all over his suit.

  'Shit', I said. 'Shit, I'm so sorry.'

  'That's ok', Ten said, while I fussed over him. 'Really it's ok.'

  I left it and took a step back. He was holding my tray, and the champagne bottle at this point, and when he noticed, he handed them both back to me.

  'I'm sorry', I said. 'I can be clumsy at times. Do you want me to pour you some more champagne?'

  'No, that's ok', he said, and smiled at me. An awkward moment passed while he continued to stare.

  'Is everything ok?' I said finally, feeling a little self-conscious. I guess that would be perfectly reasonable considering the fact that I was dressed in a tight fitting playboy bunny outfit, complete with fake ears and tail, that was practically cutting off the circulation to my entire lower body.

  'I saw you looking at the art', he said. 'No-one else has paid as much attention to where we are tonight but you. I don't think most of this lot would be able to tell a Picasso from a Pollack. Are you an artist? You know, when you're not being a bunny.'

  'Sort of I guess', I said touching my ears self consciously. 'I'm a writer. Or I'm trying to be a writer at least.'

  'A writer, really?' Ten said. 'I could tell you did something creative. What kind of stuff do you write? Are you published?'

  'Self published', I was quick to say, seemingly unable to big myself up in the way that came naturally to mostly everyone else. 'And romance mostly, sort of human interest, you know, kitchen sink, socio-economic class divide, the grind, you know, the endless grind, that kind of thing.'

  I was losing him, and I knew it.

  'Boy meets girl, they fall in love and live happily ever after, that's basically it.' I added, just about rescuing myself.

  'Wow', Ten said. 'I'm impressed. I tried to write a book in my teens once, but it was so hard I had to give up. You should be proud of yourself, it's a hard thing to do, I know from my own experiences. I bet your family are proud.'

  'Yeah, well, not really', I said. 'It's hard when your brother's a successful children's author.'

  'Oh', Ten said, 'well, boyfriend then.'

  I smiled and shook my head.

  'Don't tell me a beautiful girl like you is single like me. What a coincidence!'

  'I'm afraid so', I said.

  'Well it isn't all that bad', Ten said. 'I've had my fair share of experience with it. No one to tell you what to do, no one to complain at you for not doing what they thought you should have done in the first place. No one stealing the duvet in the night.'

  'I guess that's true', I said.

  'Of course the other part of it is that you don't have anyone to share your life with. You have to eat alone, go to the cinema alone, go on holiday alone. It's a double sided coin.'

  At that moment, while I was lost in Ten's lips and eyes, Sophia breezed past.

  'Cover for me if you see Janice', she said, putting her hand on my arm momentarily.

  'Again?' I said.

  'Five minutes', Sophia said, and she was away again. It made me realise that I had to get back to work.

  'Shit', I said. 'I'll get bollocked if Janice catches me chatting. I've got
to get back to work.'

  'Don't worry about it', Ten said.

  'No really, I need the money', I said. 'I can't afford to lose the job.'

  'If Janice comes past, I'll talk to her', Ten said. 'This is my companies event, and I say what I want my bunnies to be doing.'

  'This is your event?' I said.

  'Yeah', he said. 'Sorry, I haven't introduced myself, I'm Devizes Carter.'

  'Alice', I said and took his hand. 'You're named after a village in Wiltshire?'

  'Am I?' Devizes laughed. 'I didn't know that.'

  Were we flirting with each other? Devizes, the owner - did he say owner? - of a company and me, a dirt poor writer in a playboy bunny outfit.

  'Sorry about the ridiculous costume, Alice', Devizes said, 'That was a decision that was made by someone else. I'll be having words with him on Monday morning.

  'It's ok', I said. 'I've had to wear worse. One time they dressed us up like sexy nurses for a hospital fundraiser. Actually at least that time the costume fit me I suppose. What does your company do?'

  'We take other people's money, invest it in projects all around the world, make a fortune and give them back some of it', Devizes said coldly. 'Sometimes they don't get anything back at all, but we always make sure we make money in each project we are involved in. It was my father's company, and I took it over when he retired.'

  'Right' I said, still confused to as what that all meant. 'Do you like it?'

  'I love making money', Devizes said, 'but I have other interests too. Art for one, books too. I have a stake in a small publishing company actually, you should send me your book.'

  'Really?' I said.

  'Sure', Devizes said. 'We have a number of romance authors on our books already. They do quite well for us.

  'That would be amazing', I said, not really quite believing what he was saying.

  'Here', Devizes said, and took out his business card. 'Here's my number. Perhaps instead of sending it over to me, we could meet for a drink and you could give it to me in person.'