by Becci Fox
Didn’t matter what I said, though, because I knew she’d kill it in those auditions. I mean, we were under no illusion that she’d become a main cast member, but they’d have to put someone like her in a few scenes. They’d be blind not to. She later admitted that when they asked about any dramas going on in her life, she told them about us two and Charlie. I mean, what if the producers called us all up to appear in the show and re-enact all our clashes? How embarrassing. I’m sorry, but I so wasn’t up for being exploited just so I could get my face on TV. I’m famous enough in West Essex as it is.
Once I’d knocked off work, I sped back home to get ready for our South Woodford night, but I was desperate to see Marilyn’s wedding outfit so I made a pit stop at Puppy Kit. As soon as I’d heard about this woman from Dior who designed couture doggy hats, I’d given the dog boutique my vision, and they’d totally delivered. Oh my days, he looked so fly! Picture this: a white top hat covered in Swarovski crystals with a white feather on the side, teamed up with a snazzy little white tux jacket. Essentially, he was the dog version of Fred Astaire. Marilyn would be pulling all the bitches in that get-up.
His cuteness totally distracted me from my own wardrobe agenda, so I had to give Gem a bell for inspiration. She reminded me that I hadn’t worn my fitted red French Connection dress, which would go perfectly with my red bio-gels. So obvious! Why hadn’t I thought of it? Throw into the mix my favourite black-and-white leopard print Miu Miu heels and my patent red Chloé clutch, and job done. Thanks to the glorious Puerto Banus sun, I hadn’t needed a spray since being back, but while I was getting my nails done in Belles I held my arm up to the beautician’s and I was forced to admit I was fading. Lauren had been right – it was grey and miserable here in August. But to be fair, Belles browned me up a treat.
My cab was running later than me for once, so I had time to stick my head into the house and find out what Jake’s plans were. I could not believe my eyes. He was stood there in these tight jeans, a V-neck black t-shirt and these ridiculous sheepskin slipper boots. I told him he looked like he’d robbed a granny, and he replied, ‘But they’re Paul Smith, everyone’s wearing Zowies.’ Honestly, I despair sometimes. I’ve tried telling him that women always judge a bloke by his shoes, but he just doesn’t listen.
‘If you don’t want to get chucked out of your own party, you seriously need to reassess your footwear, love,’ I said. I mean, what was Paul Smith on?
We weren’t going to go straight to Mojoe’s as it would be tragically early, but the plan was to warm up in a bar down George Lane. Brooke was harping on about Lizard Lounge, but me and Gem were in the mood for Switch Bar. It’s one of the bars they always film the TOWIE lot in having heart-to-hearts over a coffee. Like that’s how we spend our afternoons in West Essex. All heart-to-hearts happen when we’re lashed-up – we don’t make special appointments for them. We’re just like the rest of you, you know.
In the end me and Gem won, not that Brooke was that cut-up since she’d come straight from her audition and was on a massive high. She looked stunning considering she’d only had twenty-four hours to prepare. I kid you not, she was wearing this strapless leather dress which had a bodice built into it. Only she had the confidence to pull off a number like that. It was one hundred per cent dominatrix. She was giving us the lowdown on the audition when she was hit by a memory jolt.
‘Oh my God, guess who I saw there?’
‘I can’t guess. There’s a lot of people to go through. Cheryl and Sue?’
‘Incorrect. I saw the delightful Vicki P.’
‘Bloody Bucket! How would she ever get a part, anyway? It requires hanging out with girls,’ I said.
‘You should have seen her walking down the queue before her audition. She gave a death stare to any girl that was pretty and gave the eye to any fit blokes. And she actually came up to me and went, “That’s an interesting dress. Is that from Ann Summers?” so I just went, “Nah, it’s Givenchy, actually. Same one Victoria Beckham has,” and she did one of her smirks. She knew I was bullshitting. And I happened to be eating a McFlurry at the time and she goes, “You do know you might as well be eating a tub of fat,” and I just replied, “I’m really lucky, I never put on weight, so things like that never occur to me.”’
‘What a prize bitch. She was completely trying to psych you out,’ I said. ‘So funny – she never comes over to us when we’re together, but when we’re separated from the herd, she pounces.’
‘Screw her. Everyone else does,’ Gem suddenly piped up. She was clearly ending our bitchfest, but didn’t seem very talkative that night.
‘What’s going on with you, hun?’
‘I had some shitty news yesterday,’ said Gem. ‘The surgeon at Holly House has looked at my latest wrist X-ray and they want to operate again.’
‘Oh hun, that’s so awful. Did they leave something in your wrist? I’ve seen programmes about that.’
‘They said the plate had shifted so they’ll have to break it again and insert sturdy pins instead. And they’re doing it on Tuesday.’
‘Fuck, that’s cutting it a bit fine, isn’t it, Gem?’ I said. ‘That’s, what . . . four days before the wedding. What if they botch it up?’
‘It was either that or I get it done after the wedding, which would mean cancelling the honeymoon. I’m not missing out on that,’ she said. ‘Apparently, on a scale of one to eight, this break is an eight,’ she added.
‘I can’t believe this. We never should have let you dance on that sofa,’ said Brooke.
‘Don’t blame yourselves. If it makes you feel any better, it’s done wonders for my love life. I’ve had to be completely reliant on Grant, like, he’s had to wash my hair every morning, cook all the meals, do up my bra . . .’
‘That’ll be a first for Grant,’ Brooke said.
‘Shut up! I’m serious. Getting engaged is all well and good, but it’s taken this to make us proper close. I’ve properly fallen in love with him all over again and we’re at it all the time. Like when he first saw me all casted up, he was properly cut-up. You know Grant doesn’t do crying. But he was really going for it and went, “I don’t believe it, the two things I love the most, broken.” So I said, “What you talking about?” and he goes, “First my iPhone and now you,” and he just cried like a baby.’
‘Awww, that’s proper moving, hun. I’m so glad you guys have finally got there,’ gushed Brooke.
‘Oh my God, I haven’t even told you the best bit of all this,’ she said. Me and Brooke were all ears. ‘You know he was all shady about what he got up to with the boys before? Now he’s gone the other way and feels the need to confess everything to me.’
‘Oh my God, amazing! What sort of stuff has he blabbed about?’ Brooke asked.
‘Well, he’s only told me this because he’s scared Charlie’s going to mention it in the best man speech, but a lot of bad stuff happened on the stag. Like they hired a boat in Amsterdam to do a river cruise, but they picked up two strippers on the way. He said it was awful because they kept going under all these bridges and families would be looking over and see this full-on sex show go past. These girls were butt-naked, and as far as I can make out he was just topless but forced to lick whipped cream off their tats. I can’t even be mad at that because he was tied up at the time.’
‘It’s good to know the man I’m dating organized this entertainment,’ said Brooke sarcastically. ‘It restores my faith in men.’
‘Believe it or not, it does get worse, babe. They then dress him up in a tight lycra dress that shows every bulge and force him to wear heels and a black wig. So the first bar they go to that night, there’s nobody there but this dwarf. So Grant gets talking to him and suddenly the boys whip out a pair of handcuffs and chain Grant to the dwarf. They’ve only gone and hired the little guy for the night!’
‘That seems like a really shit job for the dwarf,’ I said.
‘Nah, wait for it, because there’s a happy ending for him. So anyway, everyone gets more a
nd more off their face. Grant’s struggling to walk much further in heels by this point. Then one of the stags, I’m not saying it was Charlie, goes, “We’ve bought you an hour with a prostitute.”’
‘Urghh, gross,’ I said. Sorry, but blokes are so wrong sometimes.
‘Let me finish. So they’re all cheering for him as he follows this prossie through a doorway, and obviously the dwarf is still handcuffed to him. So when they’re in the room and she’s taking off her clothes, Grant goes, “Listen, I’m sorry, I don’t want to do this. I really love my girlfriend and I can’t do this to her.” How sweet is that? So then the dwarf pipes up, “Well, since she’s paid for and you’re not going to do her, do you mind if I do?” Well what could Grant say? So he had to sit against the bed as the dwarf went for it.’
Brooke and Gemma were cackling away, but it was all a bit too Twin Peaks for my liking. I didn’t get how Gemma was reading this as the most romantic gesture ever when basically Grant had been with two strippers, a dwarf and a prostitute all in one day. And that’s just the bits Grant told her about!
As revealing a gossip fest as this was, we had to drink up and get ourselves to Mojoe’s. Even though it was only eight hundred metres away, we still got a cab. You might think that’s mental, but this is where so many London women get it wrong. The number of times I’ve seen a woman balancing in a piss-soaked doorway as she takes off her flat shoes, puts on heels and then totters into a bar like nothing ever happened. And it means they’ve got to carry around a massive bag for their shoes all night, which is just embarrassing. Do you think that’s how Elizabeth Taylor did it back in the day? Have some dignity. Nah, the trick is to leave the house in heels and then just cab it everywhere or you just suck it up. You’ve got to be true to yourself, and these part-timers are just lying to themselves that they’re a hundred per cent glam. It honestly makes me so mad.
If you’ve watched TOWIE, you’ll know Mojoe’s because it featured pretty prominently in the third series. It’s where Jess and her mum held their joint birthday (like that would ever happen), and where Mark and Arg clashed with Lucy, Mario and Lydia. When they film at Mojoe’s, it gets people raging around here and it’s all to do with postcodes. Let me explain: Funky Mojoe is in South Woodford, E18, a London postcode. So people say how can it star in TOWIE? But then one mile up the high road is Woodford Green which is IG8, an Essex postcode, and that’s where Lydia and Arg live. Just to complicate things, both places are in the same London Borough.
In my opinion, the definition of West Essex goes beyond postcodes. Both places are very much West Essex in their vibe as far as nightlife goes, but neither is a patch on the Golden Triangle lifestyle. Neither of the Woodfords has enough clothes shops and beauty salons for starters. And Woodford’s got more boozers than bars and South Woodford’s George Lane is a bit ordinary if you ask me. So yeah, they give the West Essex thing a go but things are a bit more upmarket in Buckhurst Hill, Chigwell and Loughton. I mean, you just wouldn’t get a place like Sheesh in South Woodford. I’m sorry if that upsets some people, but deal with it. Mojoe’s is next door to an old people’s home, so the facts really speak for themselves there.
Anyways, I told you about the shooting and stabbings that have happened there, right? People get glassed there too, and Danielle Lloyd got punched in the face once. But then this club keeps the punters coming by paying big bucks to celebs to make personal appearances. Apparently, Pamela Anderson was paid £12,000 just to show up, and people off The X Factor are always performing there, but the only time I was tempted was when Amy Winehouse played. She was good, even if she was out of it. A few idiots felt cheated because she only sang a couple of tunes, but it was never meant to be a gig, was it? No pleasing some people. Amy Winehouse’s Aunt Lily ran a legendary chippy in South Woodford called Woods – true story that. But she sold it and retired just after Amy died. Proper sad, but the chips are still amazing.
As usual, Mojoe’s was bumper-to-bumper with white limos out front. Jake had only got us on the guest list, so we had to queue. They didn’t go for Gem waving her cast about. Out-bloody-rageous. So I kept going up to the doorman and badgering him. I was eventually forced to say that Gem had broken her wrist in Mojoe’s, so the least they could do was let us in. Persistence and lies pay.
I saw Jake sat in front of a line of shots, downing them one after another. It was going to be one messy night, but I was relieved to see he had normal shoes on. I’d honestly been worrying for hours about that. Before I could even get to Jake’s reserved area, his mate Jamie put his arm around my shoulder. Bit keen. I can’t even remember what we were talking about because I can’t listen to people if I haven’t settled in somewhere with a drink. It’s like I haven’t properly entered the venue. But I do remember thinking, he’s made a proper effort with his look again. Tight black shirt, brown belt, dark blue trousers and brown shoes. He was looking so fine but it still felt a bit weird with him being Jake’s mate. Also, I was sober enough to remember how rude I was to him in Monaco. What can I say, he caught me at a highly emotional time and I was due on. I saw Brooke waving me over at the bar so I made my excuses.
Is there a barman in Essex Brooke hasn’t done, I ask you? Thanks to her, it was free rosé all round. Although I don’t think Brooke’s former fling was a member of Mensa because I heard her go, ‘Awww, you’re so sweet, we’ll have three glasses of wine, please.’ He asks, ‘Large or small?’ Brooke goes, ‘Aren’t you meant to ask me which wine I want?’ He just shrugs his shoulder and says, ‘I don’t know, do I?’ It was no Mayfair Hotel.
The first glass went down very nicely, and just as I was about to get another round in, I saw someone striding towards the bar but looking right at me. When Ben reached me I thought, I’m in for it now. Keep in mind this was the first time I’d seen him since I’d done damage to his car.
‘Alright?’ he goes.
‘Yeah, you?’
‘Not bad. Just got myself a Porsche, so all’s good in the world. Someone trashed my last car.’ He seemed weirdly happy, which was unnerving. Where was the slanging match?
‘Listen, can I talk to you?’ he continued.
‘Yeah, if you want, but you can do it right here. I’m not moving from the bar. What you doing here anyway? You hate this place as much as me.’
‘Saw on Facebook that you were here tonight, didn’t I?’ Epic error. I’m going to get myself killed one day if all my stalkers keep looking on that. ‘Babe, just hear me out. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you after everything that happened last month. I actually respect what you did. I totally deserved it. Until you came along, I was bored and just fucked birds for a laugh. But when we were together, we had a good time, didn’t we? And I think I treated you nice apart from that last bit. I was a fucking idiot and I get it was a horrible thing to do. But you and me are the same, Becs.We live life to the full, we’re over the top, and life isn’t boring with you around.’
‘Well, I dunno,’
‘And babe, I need to thank you. That American guy is paying for me to go out to California to try my hand at NASCAR. I got a pocketful of cash to celebrate and I want to spend it on you and your mates.’
‘Oh, so he wasn’t pissed that he got nothing in the trade-off? That’s decent of him. Look, I just want you to stay away from me, please. We did have a good time, but that’s over now.’
‘So you don’t want to hear what I’ve got to say? Becs, I’ve come here because I want you to come to America with me. I promise things will be a whole lot better, babe. We could kill it out there, just the two of us.’
‘Meh.’ I shrugged. ‘I’m fine in Essex, thanks. This conversation’s over, by the way,’ I said and turned back to the bar.
I was actually all sorts of confused, but I wasn’t going to let him know that. I couldn’t figure out if the player had turned or was still playing me. Amazingly, that Gino loser wasn’t out with him that night. Maybe he’d ditched him too? Maybe he led Ben astray the whole time? I mean, he was abou
t fifteen years older so he probably had some sort of hold over him. I just had to push it to the back of my mind. There’s a reason people break up and ours was better than most.
Since no one else was offering to buy, I got us another bottle of Mojoe’s finest rosé and brought it over to Jake’s table. I completely blocked out Ben even when the girls tried to discuss it with me. How silly – I was actually having to fight the urge to be with him after all he’d done. But you know what, he couldn’t click his fingers and I’d go back to him. Who’d he think he was, Mark Wright? And that would have made me Lauren or Lucy or whoever else. No thank you, not my style.
It wasn’t hard to distract myself. There were so many fit blokes in the room I could hardly see straight. Who knew Mojoe’s contained such hidden talent? Could have been the rosé glasses, though. There were a couple of groups who definitely had potential. You know all those fleeting glances women give blokes in Jane Austen films? That technique doesn’t work in Mojoe’s. Catch their eye by all means, but you got to follow that up. So this is how you work it. Debrief the girls on the blokes you’re approaching. When everyone knows the target, you’ll work better as a team. Then place yourselves within talking distance of the blokes. If they’re still not biting, it’s up to you. I personally always like to flatter them on their choice of shirt. It’s boring but effective. Once you’re talking, you’re flying. Now imagine you hadn’t done all this and had just carried on glancing at him across the room? Taxi for one.
I don’t think society has realized that it’s women who have to make all the moves these days. People like Cleo are still in denial, but the reality is, men don’t approach women. Hang on, let me rephrase that. The quality men don’t approach women. The complete tools have no problem. They’ve been dealt so many knockbacks that they’ve become immune to failure. I mean, Ben came up to me when we first met, didn’t he? And it was via Gino, just to make it ten times worse.