Geli Voyante's Hot or Not (24 page)

I am desperately trying to get out of this dress so I can throttle Tiggy for
them talking about me like I’m not here, but my arms are struggling with the weird hidden fasteners of the dress.

‘How strange,’ Ramone
declares. ‘Most people turn blonde to escape their dreary brunette ways. They reinvent, reinvent, reinvent, yet Geli turns brunette...’ he ponders. ‘Now, why’s that?’

‘A little help here people,’ I yell as the dress gets stuck over my head. ‘Unless you want your dress in shreds, Ramone,’ I add nastily.

There, that does it. They both rush to my attention and all ponderings from Ramone to why my hair colour was changed rush out of his pretty little head as they attempt to get me out of a dress I certainly won’t be wearing to Tiggy’s wedding. I’d happily lose my suitcase to prevent that one from happening, even if it meant losing everything else in it. It would be a happy price to pay.

In the end, after visiting many,
many
shops, we end up back at the first shop we visited, just like I knew would happen. But, I must say, the dress is simply gorgeous and will suit both me and Claire. I guess the end result of a decent bridesmaid dress was worth traipsing around the unnecessary shops to fulfil Tiggy’s desire to be fawned and fussed over and boost her already-inflated ego.

‘Ta-
da!’ I announce as I walk into the living room. Glinda is sat waiting for my dress showing. Miraculously mine fits perfectly though Claire’s might have to be taken in a bit. ‘What do you think?’

‘I’m amazed,’ she answers.

‘Oh?’

‘I thought for certain you’d be wearing a hideous sack and would storm home in a mood. I had a bet with Jeeves
,’ she explains. ‘He thought you’d be calling us from a cell to pay your bail after you murdered Tiggy.’

‘So
did I,’ I admit. ‘But don’t mistake my day from hell as shopping niceness. She made me try on enough hideous dresses for her evil amusement before she finally approved this one.’

‘It’s gorgeous, Geli.
You’ll definitely out-shine her...’ Glinda loyally tells me.

I sense a
“but”.

‘
...but it would suit you better blonde.’

I sigh. What is it with
people and my hair colour today? I like my hair this colour, thank you very much.

‘
You’ve never even see me blonde,’ I point out.

‘Tr
ue, but I’ve seen pictures.’

‘I’m not a blonde, Glinds,’ I
remind her. ‘Tiggy is.’

‘As is Claire
, and we both know you two are naturally that colour; Tiggy’s is chemical.’

‘As fake as her boobs,’ I agree.

‘And that’s the other thing,
you
don’t have to work at keeping yourself skinny and you didn’t need a ridiculous boob job. You’re all you. Haven’t you ever found it weird that Tiggy puts all this hard work into…’ She hesitates.

‘W
hat?’

‘Into
looking like you. There I’ve finally said it,’ Glinda answers, taking a gulp of her wine.

‘Please,’ I scoff. ‘Tiggy wants to be me?
Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Let’s see, Geli. She dyes her hair to your colour. She switches university in clearing to get in
to Leeds and then she manages to snag a job where you work. She could have picked
anything
to be when she paid her dues at the magazine, yet she chose a column like yours.’ Glinda ticks these point off on her fingers, her engagement ring catching in the light. She’s so lucky. It’s stunning.

‘She has an identical body size to your
s through hard work and surgery, she wears blue contacts and, oh, you also share the same taste in men! Hmm, let’s see... Yep! Tiggy Boodles wants to be you,’ she declares triumphantly.

Part of me wants to dismiss all this as crazy talk, but everything Glinda has pointed out is true. The only thing blatantly different about us at the moment is the hair colour – not that we look alike facially – but I can concede the other striking similarities now I
think about it.

‘Think about it, Geli,’ Glinda
continues as I mull over this. ‘You two fell out, yet have you ever got rid of her?
No
. She’s always around, always in watching distance. Heck, she even makes you a
bridesmaid
at her wedding. Hasn’t she got any friends of her own?’

She has a point. I know we are stepsisters, but
we only tolerate each other – so why am I her bridesmaid? If it were me getting married, I wouldn’t even invite her to the wedding.

‘
I have a stalker,’ I shriek. ‘Tiggy Boodles is my stalker!’

‘Yes!’

‘No,’ I sternly tell her, rolling my eyes. ‘Come on, Glinds. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. That’s all it is.’

‘But–
’

‘It is,’ I firmly say. ‘Now
tell me, how’s Jeeves? Any more of your wedding plans sorted?’

‘Oh Jeeves is great
…’ she starts gushing, as I knew she would.

I can’t even appear cynical because he has been nothing but absolutely lovely towards her since he proposed. He made the most gorgeous speech at their
engagement party the other week, which had most of the women in attendance, including yours truly, tearing up. Now
that
was a fun engagement party, unlike Tiggy’s with her banal showing-off. But, at least I have Tiggy’s party to thank for Theo’s shift back towards me and the removal of his sex ban. Hurrah! Obviously, I’m going to ignore the lust pull I felt towards her fiancé that night...

But, things are going wonderfully with Theo, and I’ve barely thought of Calvin – in fact, I should get
out of this dress to get ready for tonight’s big meeting with Theo and his pals. I’ve already rung Claire to ask her how David is and to tell her about the dress. She’s fine from this morning’s accident but David isn’t. There’s a likely chance she’ll only be flying out a few days before the wedding and flying back immediately to “look after him” as she stressed to me. Surely David is a big boy though and can spare Claire for seven nights? She’s already deserting me for that extra week I’m over there. Reducing her trip to four nights, a saving of three whole nights, won’t result in his death.

Can Claire not see she has already begun the process of turning into his mother? And yes, I can understand if he was dying of some terminal disease, but the man has
whiplash
. Who hasn’t had whiplash nowadays? He’ll survive. Heck, a little distance should only strengthen their relationship. Claire rushing home only suggests to me, as I’m sure it does to David, that she doesn’t trust him. Once you go down the path of distrust, it can be hard to find the path of trust again. I should know...

I don’t get what Glinda
is suggesting with her crazy Tiggy stalker theory either – sure it may seem a little weird this whole Tiggy-me thing, but she’s like the crazy relative you “forget” to invite for Christmas dinner who shows up anyway – she’s
still
my stepsister, whether I like it or not. I’d also rather keep my eye on her than constantly have to second-guess her movements. As for the physical similarities, well they’re just coincidences... right?

‘…
so Jeeves will be here at eight. What about Theo?’

‘Half seven,’ I reply. ‘We’re off out for a quick dinne
r, then off to meet his buddies. Speaking of which.’ I glance at my watch. ‘I’d better get ready.’

‘Wear your new Karl
Lagerfeld jeans,’ she suggests. ‘And team it with a black vest top.’

‘Jacket?’

‘Your purple leather Miu Miu jacket and your purple Gina heels,’ she adds anticipating the next question.

‘Fa
shionable, yet cute,’ I surmise. ‘I like it.’  

‘I’m going to pop in the bath.’

‘It’s all yours. Have fun tonight, Glinds.’

‘You too, Geli.’ S
he smiles at me, and it makes me want to hug her. She looks so sad. ‘These past few months have been mad,’ she wails at me.

‘I know, I know. We’ll schedule in lots o
f G and G time when I get back, I promise.’

I do reach over and
hug her.

‘I miss you
!’ she sniffles, and I know the tears will follow any moment.

‘Hey! Careful of the dress,’ I joke,
trying to make her smile. ‘I miss you, too! But stop being a silly moo and get ready,’ I order her, and she nods, standing up. ‘We’ll be fine, Glinds,’ I tell her.

As I’m taking off my dress
, I hear her singing in the bathroom. Despite what I said, it’s starting to feel like the end of an era – like things will never be the same again. I am excited for the future, but it’s sad it’s tinged with the inevitable parting of ways. I’m not saying once Glinda marries Jeeves I’ll never see her again, but everyone seems to be growing up and moving on… Worryingly, I’m still not sure about anything.

As I hang up the dress
– a black floating maxi dress with white swirls and a flattering neckline – I can’t help but feel nervous at the thought of the wedding. How I’ll have to face up to my dad who I haven’t seen since
his
wedding, which is why I switched from blonde to brunette. At his wedding to Ursula, which I was forced to attend as a bridesmaid alongside Tiggy and Claire, he remarked we were his three blonde angels.

Two days later,
I went brunette. I’ve been this colour since. But, maybe it’s time to go back to my roots… After all, I’m sure I didn’t have this many confusing thoughts back when I was a blonde.

‘Here he is, T-Bone! What took you so long?’

‘Zee lobster is only cooked when zee lobster is cooked.’

Theo answers in the most ridiculous accent I’ve ever heard him use, but it’s one that sends his friends into peals of laughter. Actually, peals is too nice – it’s more like dirty great big honks infused with some seriously worrying
blocked-nose sounds. I, for one, am not impressed.

Neither
am I impressed with the location of this “gathering” of Theo’s nearest and dearest. I don’t mean to sound like a snob, but the sawdust on the floor seems only to scream it is hiding dried blood. The ambience is far from relaxed and informal – it’s edged with testosterone and a hint of bar stool brawls. I gather that’s why the bar stools have been nailed down to prevent them being hurled into another man’s face; I stress
man,
because apart from the woman behind the bar, I appear to be the only woman in here. Probably for a very good reason.

Theo really did mean it when he informed me a trip to
Cobra’s was strictly a guys-only kind of night. Should I feel flattered that I am an exception to this rule and I am allowed a glimpse into their inner sanctuary of masculinity, or should I be worried? Quite frankly, I could have lived without the saw-dusted floors, spittoons and a gyrating woman working a pole on the plasma screens. Toto, I’m not in Notting Hill anymore.

‘
So.’ A husky voice interrupts the laughter, which goes on long enough for me to wonder how quickly I can get Theo to leave this dive. ‘This must be Geli then?’

‘Yep,’ Theo
smugly
answers.
Thanks
.

W
ho knew places like this existed in London? I do wonder how it hasn’t been closed down by a Health Inspector. If it wasn’t for the anthropological rush I’m experiencing trying to take in my surroundings, I would probably be contemplating the “T-Bone” nickname, Theo’s choice of hang-out, and his choice of friends a little bit more given his excellent taste and obvious intelligence demonstrated back at the Gherkin. Maybe someone should conduct a study on that building since the behaviour of its employees inside its walls does not correlate with their behaviour outside them. Theo, it seems, is a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde.

I know I should be more worried, but I’m too in awe of my alien surroundings
and there are far more pressing things on my mind – on my bladder to be precise. Does this place even have a women’s restroom? And, if so, what state will it be in? I am desperate, but not desperate enough quite yet to risk finding out.

‘Hi,’ I weakly offer out to the
expectant group.

There are
six of them, ranging from the unidentifiable – he looks like your average bloke on the street – to the outstandingly attractive (and probably outstandingly arrogant). None of them look, on closer inspection, like they’d really frequent a bar like Cobra’s
,
other than for “cool” points.

Theo introduces me
. There’s Gripper, Chug-Chug, Snowdome, Plough, Hammer and Ruler – known more formally as Carl, Mark, Graham, Alan, John and Sid. All quite boring names, so I can almost see the need for nicknames – boys will be boys – that is until Ruler expands to inform me that their names relate to… what else? A sexual nature. They all burst into giggles at that one. Give me strength, I’m too old for this.

‘So, don’t you want to know why we have these names?’ Ruler asks me as I perch tentatively on the bar
stool, immediately regretting it as beer – I really hope it’s beer – soaks into my brand-new Karl Lagerfeld jeans. Lovely.

I smile weakly.

‘Well, I’m as big as a…’ Ruler starts, but at this point I zone out in pure shock that Theo’s friends are like this. His
best
friends. Part of me wonders whether this is an initiation, but I don’t think for one minute I’m that fortunate.

I interrupt Ruler’s
rude explanation of Hammer, who I’ve noticed has a hole in the crotch of his jeans and a milky-looking stain next to it. Gross. ‘Sorry, where’s the loo?’ I ask, flashing girly doe-eyes in apology.

They all laugh at this.

‘There isn’t one.’

Theo smiles apologetically, lean
ing his body into the bar stool and placing his hands on my back. He looks so cool, like he thinks he’s a bloody legend. His hair is spiked up so he has this quiff and he’s eyeing the room like he’s its main attraction. Definitely the alpha male of this sorry pack.

I just look at him. Fan-
tastic.

‘Hey Ca
rla,’ Chug-Chug (I think) yells. ‘Can Geli use the bog?’

I shudder
. Chug-Chug is supposed to be the respectable one of the group, the
human rights lawyer
.

‘Sure, hon.’ S
he flicks me an evil smile. ‘T-Bone knows his way. He can show you.’

Gratefully, I scoot off the stool and follow Theo into the back, much to the delight of the rest of
Cobra’s clientele who must imagine we’re going to… what a brilliant establishment this is.

This is
a shocking contrast to dinner. We went to some hidden Thai gem of Theo’s near Cobra’s
,
where there wasn’t even lobster on the menu. I’m clueless as to Theo’s opening gambit to the boys when we first arrived here. I’m clueless to Theo Bones, full stop. And by here I mean a place my untrained eye had depicted as an abandoned warehouse from the outside. It suddenly occurs to me maybe there’s been no Health Inspector visit to shut it down because this
is
some sort of illegal den. Either way, once I’ve used the loo, I will be using whatever excuse I can to get out of here and back to the safety of my side of London.

‘It’s just here, Geli.
’ Theo gestures to a... door?

‘Thanks,’ I wearily answer
. I am trying to remain upbeat seeing as I wanted to meet his friends, but I really am struggling.

‘You
OK?’ he asks me gently.

‘My tummy hurts,’ I quickly fabricate.

‘Maybe it was the prawns?’ Theo helpfully supplies.  

‘Maybe,’ I frown, counting quickly in my head when my period is due and wondering if this is
that
delight kicking in early.

‘You’re not enjoying yourself, are you?’

‘No, but it’s been an exhausting day,’ I point out, knowing how men get about their friends. ‘You’d feel the same if you had to traipse around London with Tiggy. And now with my tummy...’ I sigh.

He seems to consider this seriously. ‘We’ll split soon, I promise. Coming back to mine?’

Maybe I am starting to believe my tummy lie from the “dodgy” prawns, or maybe it’s just my desperate need for the loo that’s making my tummy really hurt, but I hesitate. Something does not add up with Theo.

‘You can have your Valentine’s Day present early, if you like?’

What tummy pain? What oddness?

‘I’ll see you back out there.’

He smiles, then kisses me on the forehead, but he doesn’t head back the way we came. He heads somewhere further back in this weird vice den called Cobra’s. Not that it is an issue now – using the charming “toilet” is. No wonder Carla shot me an evil smile; it looks medieval and makes French loos look deluxe. I assume Carla isn’t on minimum wage to put up with these conditions.

I’m
really
regretting my jeans choice by the time I head back towards the dull throb of chatter, mingled with the loud moans now being emitted from the TV screen. When I reach the harsh lights of the bar area – bar is too generous as on closer inspection I see it for what it really is, some scraps of wood nailed together – Theo isn’t here, and Carla isn’t behind the bar either...

The boys are a
ll huddled together, talking in not-so-low voices. I don’t particularly want to go over without Theo, so I hover by this “bar”, portions of the conversation drifting over to me.

‘Prefer her to that other one he’s seeing.’

‘Better ass.’

‘Stella, was it?’

‘… having a child… trapped… wedding.’

‘Africa, wasn’t it?’

My heart stops as the pieces begin to slot together.

‘Hi guys,’ I breeze
at them, storming over. Not one of them jumps up guiltily or looks fazed at my appearance. ‘What are you talking about?’ I lightly ask.

‘The merits of Stella
…’ A-ha! ‘… over Carlsberg,’ Chug-Chug helpfully supplies.

What?

‘And whether it’s acceptable to serve it at a wedding,’ Hammer continues. ‘What are weddings like in Africa, Geli?’

Oh,
so maybe I’m a little paranoid and not a great eavesdropper, but it sounded like… No, no. They must have been talking about beer, or cider, or whatever it is. Stupid Tiggy planting seeds of Stella in my head this morning. I bet she was lying and wanted to cause paranoia to kick in.

‘I’ll let you know,’ Theo says coming up behind me, wrapping his arms around me
with a grin. I notice Carla has returned, too.

‘Theo prefers Stella to
Newcy Brown Ale,’ Snowdome pipes up.

‘But not as mu
ch as Carlsberg,’ Theo responds and, is it me, or does his grip tighten around me as he says that?

Predictabl
y, they all burst into laughter and shoot “man” looks at each other – looks that suggest Theo is a hero to them. It’s all very strange. Maybe I am coming down with something to be thinking weird thoughts, or maybe I’m out of my element and it’s affecting my judgement. It’s hard to concentrate when your ears are filled with pornographic screams. The pole dancing on the screen was clearly the prelude to something much
heavier
. Why couldn’t Theo have membership at the Groucho Club?

‘Anyway
,’ Theo says breaking off their laughter, ‘we’re going.’

Thank goodness.

After what seems to be much hand slapping and cajoling – no one finds it strange that I’ve barely said two words in the short time we’ve been here – we finally manage to leave the delight of Cobra’s to head back to Theo’s. I can safely say, I will
not
be pestering Theo to take me back there anytime ever and, to be honest, I can’t see us hanging out with his friends... never a good sign.

‘So, what did you think?’ Theo asks as we sit down on his bed, twenty minutes later. Thank goodness he found us a cab.

‘They seem
… nice?’ I offer. I don’t even want to recollect Cobra’s to comment upon Theo’s favoured hotspot. Irgh.

‘They loved you too.’

I didn’t seem to get that impression but, then again, I’ve really not been feeling well since leaving the restaurant. I seem to be imagining and hearing things given the misunderstood bar talk. Suddenly I do not care if Theo promised me my Valentine’s present early, I just want to go to bed. To sleep.

‘Theo, I don’t feel well,’ I tell him in a small voice.

‘You do look a little pale.’ He looks carefully at me and feels my forehead. ‘You’re burning up, Geli. Let me get you some...’

I don’t hear what comes next
though because, in the next moment, I’m curling up on top of his bed, still in my beer-drenched clothes, and I’m asleep within seconds.