by Sarah Belle
‘So, like, how boring is this party?’ says one.
‘Urgh! I know, and that cheap, shitty champagne doesn’t help. It tastes like cat piss.’
‘The piss of a sick cat,’ says one.
‘A dead cat,’ replies the other, as they launch off into hysterics at their own wittiness.
‘How long do we have to stay? I am sooo bored. There’s not even any eye candy.’
‘Of course there is! It’s just you can’t touch him. He’s all mine. ‘
That’s obviously Geneva. A huge weight falls upon me. She loves him. She loves my Aiden.
‘This entire charade must be killing you.’
‘It is, believe me. Fucking old Grandpa and his demands,’ Geneva starts. ‘”You must settle down, Geneva. Life is not about partying. You’re shaming the family”,’ she says, doing an impersonation of a man. ‘”You’re out of the inheritance unless you marry and stop partying”. Fuck him.’
Hang on! What?
They flush their loos and I can hear them moving out toward the taps.
‘And on top of that,’ continues Geneva, ‘Last week Aiden says to me, ‘I think I might take a redundancy, return to Uni and become a teacher. What do you think?’’
A teacher! He’s taking his own life back! Pride swells within me.
‘Ha!’ the other one laughs. ‘And what did you say to that?’
‘What do you think I said to that? A fucking teacher? Even though it’s not a real marriage, I still have to look good in it.’
‘Of course you do! What a selfish bastard!’
‘I know! So anyway, I made it clear to him that he is to stay at his job, because Geneva West is not the wife of a fucking teacher! Of course, I phrased it differently for his benefit.’
‘Of course.’
‘I tell you, the stress is taking its toll on my skin. Just look at me!’ she says, and snorts more cocaine.
‘Aww, don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon, honey. Then you can get back to life.’
‘Hopefully Grandpa’s cancer kills him before Sunday, then I won’t have to marry Aiden. But it’s unlikely.’
‘How long does he have?’
‘Long enough to change his will after I marry; a couple of months. Once he’s dead, I can get a quickie divorce, inherit my squillions and get back to real life.’
Holy shit! She’s marrying him to get an inheritance.
There are another four sniffs, as I flush my loo and move out into the adjacent powder room. They are both rubbing their noses and continuing to sniff, but unlike any normal person suffering hayfever, they don’t blow their noses. I guess they wouldn’t want to waste all that cocaine by emptying their nasal passages into a tissue.
‘And his mother! Fuck me. Dried-up old hag. No wonder the dad took off with his PA. Cressida looks like she’d need a crowbar to open those legs of hers — after brushing away years of cobwebs,’ Geneva says.
‘Maybe it’s healed over?’ the clone laughs.
They both burst into hysterics again.
I try not to laugh, but can’t help a little smirk. So, Lewis has taken off? Not surprising.
My hands are trembling as we stand next to each other, our bags on the marbled vanity – mine a bargain from Strandbags, theirs probably not. They have both emptied the contents of their handbags onto the vanity, taking up all available room. There are more cosmetics here than in Myers and DJ’s combined. Chanel, Prada, all the expensive brands. The lipstick I scored for $5 refuses to come out of my handbag. It’s gone into hiding, probably for fear of making an embarrassment of itself. Even cosmetics have an ego, surely?
‘So, is everything, like, ready for Sunday?’ the clone asks.
‘Pfft,’ Geneva shrugs, ‘Who cares? My dress is divine, and I am going to be heading up all the social pages, both here and overseas. That’s the main thing.’
She is much taller than me, a good six inches at least, and would definitely have a BMI that is in the ‘dangerously skeletal’ range, if it weren’t for the enormous lips and breasts that in no way suit her scrawny physique. At least between the boobs and the lips, she’d never drown.
My stomach swirls as anxiety grips and tosses me around in a sea of nausea. All Dutch courage previously brought on by too much alcohol has deserted me. I am a tiny, old, decaying building, barely standing amongst brand new, shiny skyscrapers.
I make eye contact and swallow the acrid taste in my mouth at the thought of having to speak to this woman, but my curiosity just has to be satisfied. ‘I’ve been staring at your shoes all night. They are…like…fabulous. Where did you get them?’ I ask.
Geneva looks up from ruffling around in her bag, the one that looks remarkably like mine, but has tiny silver letters on the top that read Hermes.
Her eyes are glassy and struggle a little to locate me in the mirror. ‘They are gorgeous, aren’t they? I got them in New York yesterday,’ she says, attempting to eye me up and down but getting lost on the way back up and needing to clutch onto the vanity to regain her balance. ‘But of course, you’ll have to wait ages to get a pair. You’ll be on a waiting list for nine months to get these, if you’re lucky.’
‘Wow! Lucky you,’ I say, trying feign interest.
She flips her long hair, which is platinum blonde with beige highlights and so straight it could be used as a spirit level. It’s also much glossier than nature intended it to be. Her dilated eyes are surrounded by too much smoky eyeshadow, the amount often found on strippers, and her face is devoid of natural movement. All in all, up close, she’s a bit scary to those not well-versed in cosmetic enhancements. The clone is remarkably similar, but with a darker blond version of hair.
What is Aiden thinking?
‘So, can we go now?’ the clone whines.
Geneva adjusts the material barely covering her breasts and thighs in order to reveal more flesh. ‘Soon. I spotted a friend I need to catch up with. As soon as I saw him tonight, all I could think of was straddling him again and riding him like a bucking bull until the middle of next week.’
Holy fuck! This entire thing is just getting freakier and veering into Melrose Place territory.
‘He is hot,’ smiles the clone, as she smooths her hair. ‘He can polish my vajazzling anytime.’
Urgh! That’s a mental image that will be hard to get rid of.
Geneva abruptly stops applying the fiftieth layer of lipstick and looks at her friend in the mirror, scowling. ‘Well, you can’t have him. He’s mine, Imogene. Even after Sunday, he’s still mine. Got it?’
Imogene looks to be suitably put back in her place as she places her hands up into surrender position and her face flushes bright pink. ‘Of course he is! I was just saying, that, like, you know…you make a great couple. I’d never try to get him or anything.’
‘That’s good, because you’d make an absolute fool of yourself if you did. He’d never be interested in you,’ she snarls, eyeing her friend up and down.
They pack up their entire makeup collection, smooth their hair one last time and leave the ladies room together.
It’s only now that it occurs to me that I have been too nervous to breathe for the last ten minutes. Jesus! What a bitch. How can Aiden be marrying her? How can he not know about her motives? Does he actually love her? Is this a real marriage for him? And just who is she going to straddle?
Oh, wait a minute. Of course. It can only be one man. Hunter.
Chapter 10
My agonised feet click-clack after Geneva as fast as they can, but seeing as her legs are about three feet longer than mine, she’s at a distinct advantage. Short of bursting into a sprint, I’ve no hope of catching up. But it doesn’t matter, because the view is much better from back here.
With the stealth of a jaguar, I dart behind a well-placed, extremely large potted plant, one of many located between the ladies and the Chart Room door.
Hunter is standing outside the Chart Room and is firmly in my sights as Geneva approaches him. He looks to have
been waiting there for her.
His lips curl into a sexy as hell smile—in fact, sexier than hell. It’s the kind of smile that could dissolve all panties within a 10 metre radius. Poof! Gone.
Geneva says something to Imogene, who continues on into the function. She side-steps behind one of the other jungle-sized plants only three plants away from my current camouflaged position. Hunter joins her as they nestle into the foliage.
One advantage of being short, apart from getting all the bargains at sales, is that it lends itself very well to going unnoticed. My plant’s foliage is touching the wall so closely that a taller person would have no way of getting in between it and the wall. But for me — cinch! I flatten myself against the wall, a la Spiderman, and work my way over to the next potted plant where I repeat the exercise again. Within 30 seconds, I am only three metres away from Hunter and Geneva, who have locked their lips together like hormonally overdosed teenagers.
Geneva purrs as they smooch for what seems like an eternity. His breathing could rival that of Darth Vader. Finally, they stop.
‘Geneva. It’s been too long.’
‘Yes, it has. I’ve been waiting for those lips. What else do you have for me, Hunter Wincott?’ she drawls. ‘Ooh, there it is. Is that all for me?’
‘Every glorious inch, baby,’ he says. ‘They don’t call me Hunter Wincock for nothing.’
It’s hard not to laugh at their 70s porn dialogue, but the waves of sexual attraction between them are so strong I have trouble standing upright, or maybe that’s the cosmos.
‘Why haven’t you called? I haven’t heard from you in months,’ he says.
‘I’ve been busy,’ she says. ‘You know me, too many men, too little time.’
‘What on earth are you doing here with Aiden St. James?’
She throws her head back, strokes his crotch and says, ‘I’m marrying him, on Sunday.’
‘What?’ Hunter’s face is pure confusion. He shakes his head. ‘Why?’
‘Long story. It’s convenient, gets me out of a bind,’ she says, using her other taloned hand to stroke his lips. ‘Aww, are you jealous? I didn’t think you were the marrying kind.’
‘I’m not. I think you could have made a better choice, that’s all.’
‘Well, Hunter Wincock, why don’t we move up to your room. You are staying here, aren’t you?’
‘Mmm, I am,’ he groans as she strokes his crotch a little faster.
‘Good. I’ll meet you there. Give me five minutes to fob off Aiden.’
True enough, within five minutes, she’s gone. So too is Hunter.
* * *
It is so tempting to try to talk to Aiden that I decide to leave early for fear of launching upon him and revealing myself as the crazed woman who insisted that we were engaged. Upon arriving home, Mel wants to know everything. She is horrified at my recounting of events, and in all honesty, none of it sits well with me either, even if it may work to my advantage.
Clearly Aiden is about to make a huge mistake come Sunday, and seems to be ignorant of Geneva’s motivations and behaviour. My natural instinct is to tell him, but why would he believe me? My boss and supposed lover is his adversary. That places me in an awkward spot to strike up a conversation, let alone trust, and don’t even get me started on ‘don’t shoot the messenger’.
Hunter is already at his desk when I arrive the next morning. He looks worn out more than tired. Shagging all night will do that to a person. Let’s face it, he’s not 24 years old anymore.
‘I need a coffee. Double shot, skim latte,’ he says to me, without looking up from his computer screen. ‘And something to eat, something high in protein, low in fat.’
‘Jesus! Good morning Lou, how are you? Well thanks, Hunter, and you? I’m great. Shagged my brains out last night and now I’m in need of sustenance. Would you mind getting some for me, please? Sure, Hunter, no problems. It would be a pleasure, seeing as you asked so nicely!’
‘What?’ he says, looking up at me.
‘Um, nothing. I just…um…’
He throws his pen down on the desk and pushes his chair backwards.
‘You’re cut about last night, aren’t you?’ he says.
‘What?’
‘You were expecting to be on my arm at the function, come back to my suite and stay the night, and it didn’t happen. So now you’re cut. Gone all sulky.’
Not quite.
‘Look, it was convenient but now I’m moving on,’ he says.
‘Right. Okay.’ What am I meant to say? Is he expecting tears?
‘You can’t expect a man like me to be interested in a relationship with someone like you, Lou. I’m out of your league,’ he says, getting out of his chair and making his way over to me.
‘Uh huh?’
He places his hands on my arms, at arm’s length and says, ‘Just be grateful that it happened at all. Treasure your moments with me in your memories. I know it must be hard for you to accept it’s over.’ He takes his hands off me and starts to walk toward the mirror where he combs his hair with his fingers. ‘I can’t say you’ll find anyone as good as me in your future. Hell, you probably won’t even come close,’ he grins.
Now he’s licking his fingertips and grooming his eyebrows. My need to burst out laughing is almost impossible to suppress.
‘After all, my kind doesn’t marry your kind. You can’t polish a turd, Lou.’
I’m a turd? Again? If this wasn’t so comical, there’s every chance that last comment would be really insulting. Again.
‘No doubt you’ll meet a nice mechanic or perhaps plumber, settle down and raise kids.’ He tears himself away from his own reflection, walks over and puts his hands on me once more, before he finishes, ‘Good luck with that.’
I am stunned to the point of paralysis. What the hell is this guy on, a Viagra alternative that gives him a hard-on for himself?
‘Now, coffee. Off you go.’ He turns me and pushes me out the door.
* * *
The elevator doors open with a sharp ping as I re-enter the 17th floor after a quick visit to Legal Addictions, the cafe next door. It’s taken me 15 minutes to stop laughing after Hunter’s dumping of me. What an arrogant arse!
‘Here you go,’ I say, handing over a coffee to Ella.
Still immaculately groomed, despite a sizey hangover, she looks in need of a caffeine revival.
‘Ooh, you are the sweet angel of mercy, Lou. Thanks,’ Ella says. ‘I’d thought about taking a sickie today, but figured half the office would be doing the same thing.’
‘No one would blame you.’
‘Strange thing is that everyone is here today, in varying states of being. I think they’re all scared to miss a day in case it costs them their job. Speaking of which, you’d better get that coffee to Satan’s progeny before he casts you into the pits of Hell,’ she smiles.
The phone rings and Ella answers it while I trot off to Hunter’s office. He doesn’t look away from his work or thank me as I place his coffee and high protein, low fat ham and turkey egg white omelette in front of him. Instead, he grabs the coffee, lifts it to his mouth, takes a sip — which obviously meets with his approval based on his facial expression— puts it back down and shoos me out of the office with dismissing wave.
Arsehole. Hopefully he spills it on his groin and gives his penis third degree burns.
Three hours later, Hunter messages for me to come into his office. Upon entering the room I become aware of a lingering smell, a bit like a toilet that hasn’t been aired properly. It’s not oppressive, but it’s there.
‘I need you to create a presentation,’ Hunter says, apparently not bothered by the scent. ‘I’m emailing it to you now. My outbox needs to be emptied and these couriered to the address on the front. I need a reservation for two at Florentines for nine tonight and my dry cleaning should be ready for pick-up.’
Hunter winces and looks uncomfortable for a moment.
‘Are you alright?’ I ask, not caring mu
ch if he isn’t. If he were to fall over and needed to be replaced, then that would mean the company would send Amelia, and Aiden might have a shot at saving jobs.
‘Yes, I’m fine. I’ve also emailed you a list of names. You need to organise appointments for each of them starting Monday. Those are the ones who will be unemployed by the end of next week.’ He smiles. ‘There will be two rounds of appointments for each, starting next Tuesday. I thought I’d give each person a chance to plead their case.’
My spirits lift. ‘You’re going to save some of them?’
Hunter laughs. ‘No, of course not, but it makes me look better professionally if I act as though I care. You never know when any of these people may be in a position to hire me as a consultant in the future. Never close a door, Lou.’
Suddenly, he winces again and then levitates slightly out of his chair.
‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ I ask.
There is a new smell in the room. Similar to the old smell but…stronger, fresher.
‘I’m fine,’ he says as he stands and puts his jacket on. ‘I’m going out. I’ve got a…meeting,’ he smiles, ‘With an old friend. Don’t ring unless it’s urgent. I’ll be back after lunch.’
Anger flashes through me. Geneva. How dare he!
‘But what about all the work you have to do? People here are waiting to find out what’s going to happen, whether or not they have a job to pay their mortgages, and you’re going out shagging? That’s not very professional, is it?’
Hunter walks towards me and stands very, very close. So close that I have to take a step backwards to regain a little personal space.
‘Let’s get this clear, Lou. This is my restructure. Not yours or anyone else’s. This is my merger and I will release information when it suits me. I was sent here, from the other side of the planet because…’ He pauses, bends forward and furrows his brows.