Geli Voyante's Hot or Not (12 page)

‘Geli?’ Theo
lifts my head up so he can look into my tearful eyes. I must look awful.

‘Yo
u and Tiggy are stepsisters?’ He asks more gently this time, but with a hint of something that suggests he will get this admittance out of me and then he’ll probably walk out on me. I’ll be alone,
again
.

I nod
, ashamed. Hardly anyone knows my terrible secret. Why would I ever want to admit to such a horrible thing, to something that tore my family apart?

Theo looks at me in amazement
but, to my surprise, he remains a true gentleman. ‘You poor baby,’ he soothes. ‘Come here.’

He
draws me back into his chest and hugs me so tightly I feel like all the bad Tiggy vibes and associated memories are being squeezed out of me. Thank goodness he’s willing to stick around knowing this because this has turned out to be quite
the
day. If he left, I don’t know how I’d cope.

We eventually move into my bedroom once I’m calmer. Given our hallway location, I was fearful of Glinda returning based on the lovely message left by Jeeves on the answering machine. Charming, isn’t he? Fortunately, Theo had been in the bathroom whilst I played the remaining messages.

T
he tone between us has undeniably shifted. The mind-blowing sex and my tears of pure ecstasy ruined the mood when they turned into tears of misery. Never good for anyone’s self-esteem, let alone to heighten a mood.

The mood
as we’re sat in my king-size bed – Theo behind me, his arms wrapped around me – is tense. The only noise is my Snoopy alarm clock ticking away merrily.

‘You have a Todd chair here
as well?’ Theo asks, finally breaking the silence.

The clock’s ticking fades
as his voice takes over the silence. ‘I do,’ I confirm. Both a pointless question and affirmation given we can both see said Todd chair. It doesn’t really go with the rest of the room. At the moment it just sits in a corner and I dump my dirty clothes on it.

He kisses my shoulder. ‘Can I have the one in your pod then?’ 

See, I knew he wanted it. The chair, that is. Not me.

‘Not if you’re going to dump me,’ I answer
before I even realise what I’m saying,
what I’m implying
. Shit. I cannot believe I’ve said that.
We’re not even going out
. I have just declared in that one sentence that I seem to think we are boyfriend and girlfriend when all we’ve actually done is hook up and have sex like thousands of people do every day without the end result being a relationship.
This
is why I am Trouble. This is why I need to think before I engage my mouth. Not that I ever do, but I really should. 

‘Hey!’ H
e tilts my head towards him so he can look me in my blood-shot eyes. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

My heart soars at this
but, foolishly, being the insecure girl I am, I cannot help but question this. Instead of feeling gratified, ecstatic that Theo seems to want me, I doubt him.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’ He kisses the tip of my nose. ‘Now, do you want to talk about your answering machine messages?’ he asks me more gently. ‘You feel all tense.’

‘You don’t want to hear my problems,’ I say.
He ignores this. ‘Tell me about your family first.’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Well, are they normal?’

H
e smiles apologetically. ‘I’m afraid so’

I we
igh this up for a moment. ‘Good.’

Theo understands
this in an instant; then again, he is the cleverest man I know. This man is
perfection
. I do not deserve him; I’m damaged goods.

‘Yours has enough drama for
both of us?’ he asks lightly, stroking my tummy now.

I feel
content. Firstly from his soothing strokes; secondly because of his words – “both” and “us” – like we are one and the same now, like we belong together, like no tales I tell of my horrible family history will… Oh, shut up, Geli! How have I morphed into smug “other half” girl already? How irritating do I sound? Puke. This is guaranteed to break us up by breakfast time. Why do I always become some stupid “half of a whole” person when a man comes on the scene? I’m me. Theo is Theo. We do not “complete” one another. Compliment, perhaps, like salt and pepper, but equally we’re perfectly adequate separately. Well, Theo is perfect, I’m just adequate.

‘Geli?’ Theo squeezes
my shoulder.

Ah yes, family.
Family is not a topic I thought we’d discuss tonight, preferably not at all. I’d rather switch to US politics – that says something – but it seems my dramatic family is going to be the topic instead.
Great
.

‘They do,’ I answer.

‘I still can’t believe Tiggy is your stepsister,’ he says. ‘You managed to keep that quiet.’

‘Do you blame me?’ I grimace
. ‘You’ve met her. She’s vile.’

‘True.’ H
is tone doesn’t quite meet his acknowledgment. I know he probably thinks I am being girly and bitchy because, of course, Tiggy has all the charms of a deadly but alluring python when it comes to men but it
is
true. I always thought Theo was also a staunch member of the We Hate Tiggy Boodles Fan Club. Strange.

‘You don’t understand what she’s like, Theo,’ I tell him.

‘Well, maybe you should tell me?’ He tips my chin up to kiss me lightly on the lips.

So I do, even though I’d be happier to continu
e these sweet kisses than have to recount this. I tell him how once upon a time the Boodles and the Voyantes were great friends, how we all lived happily in the Berea, over in South Africa.

Tiggy was th
e only child of John and Ursula; I was the youngest child of Isabelle and Rupert, my sister, Claire, having arrived three years earlier. As Tiggy and I were the same age, naturally we became best friends given how much time our parents spent together. We were inseparable.

That is u
ntil aged fifteen when I started seeing Eric Nevis, a boy who went to St Henry’s but lived in our neighbourhood. One night when we were all hanging around the North Beach on the Golden Mile, Eric snuck me away to tell me that he liked me.
That
changed everything.

Tiggy
pretended to be happy for me at first but as I began spending some of my time with Eric, our friendship became strained. She didn’t like these developments one bit,
hated
Eric she claimed, yet the weekend I went away to Johannesburg to visit Claire who was working there, I came home to find that Tiggy had changed her tone. Changed a lot of things actually.

Gone was
her long brown hair; in its place she had a bright blonde bob. She’d never worn make-up before then but suddenly had a full face of it subtly highlighting her cheek bones and making her eyes pop out. Oh, and gone was her virginity, too, taken by my too horny boyfriend who was unable to keep it in his pants. That weekend destroyed our life-long friendship; in a mirroring move, one year later, Ursula – Tiggy’s mum – stole my dad away.

My dad and Tiggy’s dad were also best friends. They’d met at Eton,
went on to Oxford to Jesus College where Dad studied Engineering and John read the combined Engineering, Economics and Management degree, and after graduation they both ended up working for RJB Mining in the UK where they moved up the ranks. Dad switched to diamond mining in the early seventies before any of the strikes, moving him and Mum to Johannesburg where De Beers has its headquarters. Mum was happy to flee the dismal, recession in the UK to move to bright South Africa with its glamorous diamonds, but she’d have moved anywhere to keep him happy – she was intoxicated by him from the very first night they met.

As for t
he Boodles, they remained in the UK and lost contact with my family. John left coal mining and switched to the luxury side of life, eventually becoming operating director of a prestigious jewellery house that happened to come into contact with De Beers. Dad, by then, was a director there. Claire and I lived in Durban with Mum whilst he spent most of his working week either travelling around the mines, or back at HQ. They’d had a year sabbatical back in the UK, which is when I was born, but South Africa had very much become our home.

Somewhere along the way
he crossed paths with his old pal John who had moved over with his wife and three-year-old daughter to liaise directly with his store’s source of diamonds. That’s what reunited the two families.

Tiggy and I both finished school
, after sitting the IEB – our A Levels – still not talking, yet Tiggy opted to go to Leeds where I was heading. Neither of us had inherited our respective fathers’ intellect, but we both shared their passion for surfing. Her dad was surfing with mine the day he died. Somehow a shark got through the nets designed to keep them out and Mr Boodles was very unlucky. Dad vowed he’d take care of Ursula and Tiggy. Eight months later he married Ursula, Tiggy replacing “Uncle Rupe” with Daddy...

‘Babe,’ Theo softly says, delicately rubbing my tear-sodden cheek with his thumb once I finish with a little sniffle. ‘I had no idea.’

‘Yes, well
,’ I sniffle again. ‘It was all Tiggy’s fault.’

‘Why’s that?’ H
e asks this gently, but I sense disbelief.

‘She kept phoning my dad. Over and over. Telling him
Ursula couldn’t cope. He spent hours, no,
weeks
, at their house, yet strangely Ursula never wanted Mum’s comfort. They were
best
friends, but she’d hang up if Mum answered. Then, she began to ignore her in public. Mum let it slide because she’d lost her husband, but then the next thing we knew Dad was filing for divorce. They married the month before Tiggy and I left for Leeds. It’s funny though,’ I bitterly spit out, ‘because I’m sure Uncle John would never have wanted him to look after Tiggy and Ursula at the expense of his family. I’ve not spoken to him since I was forced to attend their wedding,’ I admit. ‘And I don’t want to speak to him again.’

Theo
looks so concerned. I can’t tell you how glad I am that he’s with me right now.

‘That’
s why I hate Tiggy,’ I continue. ‘Ever since then, at any opportunity, she reminds me my dad chose
them
over us. Privately, she lords it over me, but publicly acts like it’s all just
sisterly
banter between us,’ I spit out. ‘The only reason she made Dad get her the job at the magazine is because she knew I was working there. I hate her, Theo,’ I say, staring up into his eyes. ‘I really
hate
her.’

‘Shush.’ H
e strokes my cheek. ‘Let me make it all better.’

I nod
. I feel so angry, I’m still shaking.

He
rolls me onto my side and starts kissing me so gently that I’m soon trembling for a different reason. How does he know exactly what and how I need it? His gentle touch, him treating me like I am the most precious thing on Earth, soothes me.

E
ach gentle thrust hits home to me that maybe my troubled years are over. After climaxing together, I blissfully fall asleep in his arms feeling safe and secure for the first time in six years.

A gentle kiss wakes me up and as I blink and open my eyes, I catch sight of the most gorgeous face in the world – Theo’s smiling face. But, it’s not just Theo’s smiling face, it’s Theo’s smiling face attached to his naked body. His very spectacular naked body. For someone so nerdy, he spends a lot of time working out.

‘Good morning,’ he says.

‘Morning,’ I manage to reply, trying desperately to keep my eyes open to take in this magnificent sight. 

It’s a struggle though because my internal body clo
ck knows something isn’t right since it’s pitch black. I manage to glance at Snoopy. It’s ten past six in the bloody morning. Why is Theo awake at ten past six on a Thursday morning? I know it’s staff meeting day so I have to get to the office on time, but waking up at this hour, I’d be on time if our office was in
Basingstoke
, possibly beyond. I’m still quite useless at UK geography.

‘Last night was amazing,’ he says.

I struggle to sit up. His words fill me with dread because I have heard them too many times before. They are usually followed by gloom like: “Last night was amazing, but I think we should just be friends” or “You’re not my type”. Then there’s: “I have a girlfriend” or “I can’t see us going anywhere”.

M
y whole body tenses for Theo’s heart-breaking “but” but, strangely, there isn’t one. Relieved, I exhale.

‘Geli?’

He looks nervous now. Oh no, maybe he thinks
I’m
going to be the one making an excuse. No! I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want anything to do with me considering the tale of Tiggy last night and the revelation of
all my baggage
– baggage that gives him
every
right to never want to see me again – but why would I want rid of him?
Perfection
is in my bed. I admit to some serious silliness in my lifetime, but I’m not stupid enough to throw away the winning lottery ticket.

‘Last nigh
t was amazing,’ I agree. ‘This morning could be even better?’ I purr. Well, if we’re awake, we might as well put the extra time to good use.

‘
Mmm?’

I answer
by kissing him, which we do for a few minutes despite our respective morning breath. He breaks away from me with a reluctant smile on his face.

‘What?’ I demand. It’s too early in the morning for games. I like my morning sex like my coffee: straight-up with no fuss.

‘I h
ave to meet my personal trainer.’ That explains the six-pack then.

‘You can have yo
ur workout here.’

I pout
sexily, delighted at my quick thinking. I’m not usually so pro-active with suggestions in the morning. It’s the
time
, you see. Far too early for me.

‘I’d love
to, Geli babe. Really, I would. But I’d better go.’

‘
Oh, OK.’ I smile but inside I am panicking. Maybe Theo is just being polite – maybe he wants to keep me sweet so he can race to the office and have me transferred to
Cupcake
.

‘I’ll see you at work.’ He kisses
me on the tip of my nose. ‘And maybe you can come to mine tonight?’ he asks quite shyly.

‘Maybe.
’

I smile but inside I a
m jumping for joy and screaming “yes, yes, yes”.

He’s smiling too. ‘Don’t be late
. Staff meeting.’

‘I know, I know.
’ I pout again because Thursday also means I need to get the first draft of my column done. I hate Thursdays.

‘I’ll see you soon.
’

After a quick
perve at his bare-naked ass as he leaves my room, I’m back asleep in seconds…

… and I wake up again at ten past eight. Oh bugger. Bugger, bugger, bugger. I try to rush out of bed, desperately aware I am running majorly late, but it hurts. It bloody hurts everywhere, inside and out, and I have a big purple throbbing bruise on my hip. I look like I’ve been in wars. Not just one war, but all of them. I have to say though, this agony should be worth every ache given how pleasantly it came about…

… but by the time I arrive at work – an hour late – I’m having doubts that any pleasure should have to result in this much pain. Theo will be making it up to me tonight in a gentler manner. Like a massage and spoon-feeding me – the agony I endured merely brushing my teeth… thank goodness last night was phenomenal. I’d feel so cheated right now if I was suffering from bad nooky.

I ignore that madman look and how uneasy he made me feel.

I don’t even bother heading to the staff meeting when I finally manage to lug my body into the office – I’m too late for it. Theo or Jerry will have to fill me in. Again. Anyway, it’s probably only about how the plants need renaming, or something equally as silly.

So,
I head straight to my pod where I’m met by a heart-stopping sight at the man sat in my Todd chair. Not heart-stopping in the “oh-my-look-at-Theo” ritual I’m accustomed to each morning upon feasting my eyes on the sex bomb that he is, but heart-stopping in the “oh-fuck-it’s-Uncle-Colin” way. This is not good. Any reason for Uncle Colin to descend from our top floor to see me can
never
be good.

Uncle Colin was also at Jesus with my dad and Tiggy’s late father. Uncle Colin is the reason we both have jobs here. Uncle Colin ne
ver interferes with the two of us in the capacity of our jobs here at
New News
. Uncle Colin is here at the request of my father.

‘Geli!
Only an hour late, old girl.’

Bugger.
‘Sorry, Uncle C,’ I mutter.

I need him to move out of m
y Todd chair; I need that chair because the effort of walking to my pod has almost killed me. If he doesn’t move, I will collapse and he will be calling an ambulance.

Luckily he does and he gestures for me to sit down whilst he perches himself on my desk.
Heaven
.

‘What’s up, Uncle C?’

I slink further down into the Todd chair’s heavenly contours. Todd is a genius. Yesterday he alleviated my bones, today my whole body. I feel I can take anything now, even if it’s… wait... Has Theo actually gone and reported me and I’m now getting transferred or, even worse, fired?

I study Uncle C
’s craggy face – the years, and Aunt Velma’s insistence on sunshine holidays, have left him with some impressive lines – but he is revealing nothing. I feel a cold lurch of dread. Why else would Uncle Colin be here… surely not… surely Theo didn’t sneak out of bed this morning to get me fired? Was I that bad? Maybe it was the best sex for me but not for Theo? Or, maybe it was the Tiggy revelation? I know I feel disgusted that she’s my stepsister, but surely Theo wouldn’t judge me on
her
slutty behaviour? Saying that, I was kind of slutty last night, wasn’t I?
Oh shit.

Please let it
be a Tiggy or dad thing. Why isn’t Uncle C talking? Oh God! I’m moving to
Yummy Mummy
, aren’t I? Maybe they would even send me to
Wacky Women,
the extreme sport magazine for the over fifties woman of the thrill-seeking persuasion. And yes, I know I was disillusioned yesterday with the fickleness of my column but I will take fickleness over geriatric grannies sky-diving in the buff any day. They don’t even airbrush the pictures. Irgh, there goes my appetite. Well the bastard definitely is not having my Todd chair if they move me there. Seeing his personal trainer this morning… yeah right, the lying c– 

‘It’s about your dad,’ Uncle Colin
finally says, after clearing his throat.

See, I knew
that Theo was genuine about me and he did see his personal trainer this morning rather than the ludicrous idea that he headed here to get me transferred. I trust my boyfriend fully.
My boyfriend!

‘And Tiggy,’ he adds
when I don’t answer, too relieved to speak without shrieking.

‘Go on.
’ I close my eyes in preparation.

‘Geli,’ Uncle Colin says
sternly. I sigh and open my eyes. ‘You are going to the wedding.

‘I never said I wasn’t,’ I snap.

And, let’s face it, I knew from the very moment I saw the Boodles/Murphy-Lee engagement announcement that I would be attending her vile celebration. Going by family history, I was bribed into attending the
joyous
occasion of the Voyantes merging with the Boodles. I knew I wouldn’t be able to escape this.

He ignores my snap. ‘As a gesture from
New News
,’ he firmly continues, ‘we will be allowing you the two-week holiday allowance to attend your stepsister’s wedding in South Africa.’

I gasp. At
New News
you don’t have to take your honeymoon as your holiday time because, as a wedding present, you get two extra weeks to use as you wish – most people do use it for their honeymoon. Why on earth am I entitled to this perk? I’m not the one getting married… unless HR figured I will never get married so I might as well have it now. Bitches.

A
nyway, that’s not the real issue, the real issue is how on earth has this been arranged so quickly? Tiggy only got engaged
yesterday
– surely she hasn’t sorted out a South African wedding already?

‘Don’t question it, j
ust accept it,’ Uncle Colin announces, disturbing my thoughts that Tiggy must be a witch to have sorted out a wedding in record time – a time-altering witch. Maybe that time thing Hermione has in
Harry Potter
isn’t so fictional?

I’m
too stunned to reply. Evidently Tiggy – read Ursula, my wicked stepmother – has called in some favour with my dad, who has called in one with Uncle Colin. I know Aunt Velma – Uncle Colin’s wife – will be the one benefiting from this. No doubt a diamond will be on its way. I should be appalled, but I grew up with this – dodgy diamond corrupt deals and favours were commonplace in the Voyante household. Still are on the South African side it seems.

‘And should Mr Bones care to join you as your escort to the wedding, please inform him we’ll allocate him an additio
nal week’s holiday to use,’ Uncle Colin continues.

I splutter at this one.
Firstly, how on earth does Uncle Colin know about Theo? Does the whole paper know? The whole
New News
company? Is there an advertisement in today’s paper? Can I have no secrets here? Secondly, forget witch. Tiggy Boodles is the devil to get this sort of deal approved.

‘One last thing, Geli,’ Uncle Colin says ignoring my
furtive looks in the fake plastic plant as it must be bugged for the whole world to know my affairs. ‘You have a meeting with Tiggy today at half past eleven on the thirtieth floor. The Bellows Room. Be nice,’ he adds.

I nod as he stands up. I am in shock. This is the worst thing about having everyone know your business when you work in a place
rife with spies – you end up being bribed into attending stupid weddings.

‘Look, Geli,’ Uncle Colin says. ‘I’m not happy about this either. You know perfectly well how I feel about what your father did to your mum, but we both know that it’s sometimes necessary to rise above things we don’t want to do.’ He is speaking to me like he’s addressing a three
-year-old. ‘I know you’re better than Antigone.’