Geli Voyante's Hot or Not (5 page)

Theo irritatingly decides to stay put in the kitchen meaning I can’t chat to Sara, but I do learn about her column because
Theo
asks about it. He’s actually
listening
to her right now, yet he never asks about
my
column. Not out of interest. He asks out of bored politeness, so he probably fancies Sara if he’s asking her this.

T
hey may be on an intellectual par and would produce Einstein-intelligent babies, but would those Einstein babies know how to style themselves
tastefully
to receive their Nobel Peace Prize?
No
. A child of the Theo-Geli school
would
. Perhaps
our
children wouldn’t be clever enough to win a Nobel Peace Prize, but they would still be gorgeous, tasteful and clever in a non-intimidating way
and
would dress tastefully to accept their Grammy. Not that I can sing or have any musical talent, but maybe Theo has some. Unfair if he does because that would make him
that
clever,
that
good-looking
and
talented.   

I decide to flee
halfway through Sara telling Theo that her topic is the imminent melt-down of Britney Spears. Sara is blaming the absence of Britney’s father for all her Trouble – how you always hear about Lynne Spears in the press but rarely about Daddy Spears. I had no desire to listen to her thoughts on absent fathers. I like neither Britney, nor the concepts of fathers. Besides, with Theo now safely out of ear shot, I can phone Glinda.

‘Candygurl PR.’

‘Hey G!’

I know it’s her because she’s the only one who hasn’t quite mastered the rolling of the “r” in “
gurl” properly, despite speaking French fluently – that and she’s my best friend so I obviously recognise her voice.

‘Geli, it’s ten to tw
elve. I’m seeing you in an hour!’

‘I’m seeing Theo at lunch,’ I rush out.

Silence.

‘He’s asked me
out for lunch,’ I clarify.

At this, s
he screams so loudly that Jerry looks over our shared pod wall with a pained look on his face. Serves him right for laughing at me earlier.

‘Glinda
, calm down. Breathe,’ I instruct.

I should be the one screaming down the phone and panicking
, but Glinda is very kindly doing that for me. That’s a good thing. If I were left to do that I would be in an ambulance right now. I’d end up missing lunch through my own giddiness, rendering it a pointless panic attack.

‘This is
fantastic
,’ she gushes.

I am so glad she is a true friend and not mad at me for cancelling on her
, especially considering we have the important topic of Tiggy Boodles’ wedding to trash. A wedding that I know without speaking to Tiggy will require my attendance and, if I am very unlucky, I have the horrible feeling she will force me to don a bridesmaid dress. Not only will that be awful because she will no doubt dress me in a non-flattering dress, but it will require the use of valuable holiday time as she’ll want to get married back in Durban, or at the very least the KwaZulu Natal area. Then, seeing as I’m back home, I will be required to catch-up with the various friends and family I tried to flee from when I was eighteen.

I’ve not
gone home since Mum and I left the Berea and moved to the UK when her divorce came through. Since I was heading to Leeds and my sister Claire was in Reading, she wanted a fresh start in the Cotswolds, where she’s originally from. I was actually born in London but we moved to Durban when I was nine months old. I suppose Durban is my home – I certainly adopted the twang – but London is home, too. I don’t even miss the weather much, apart from days like today when it’s bitterly freezing and trying to snow.

‘What are you going to wear?’ Glinda
asks.       

‘What
I’m wearing now. Honestly! I can hardly change, can I?’

I
guess I could lose my chunky knitwear and dig out my All Saints blazer which I’m pretty sure is in the office as I’ve not seen it in my wardrobe in forever.

‘Oh, yeah!
’

Glinda is far from stupid – she just gets a tad excited when it comes to love
. I know she’s probably not the best person to ask how to prevent Theo from catching Callum virus and I’ve heard all her advice before, but Sara has cruelly been stolen from me by the man in question. And to hear about Britney. Brilliant.

It’s unfair, but at least
Glinda is super clever and keeps up with current affairs. Perhaps she can help me out with this Hillary/Obama non-marathon issue seeing as I am clueless and this is why Theo asked me out to lunch, not because he fancies me. She has an interest in this sort of boring subject because of Jeeves, despite Jeeves paying no attention to Glinda’s interests. He magically thinks he and Glinda share the same interests. Honestly…

‘You could help me out
, Glinda.’ I interrupt her suggestions of how I can jazz up my wardrobe for my lunch date – basically by going to one of our fashion magazines and “borrowing” a new outfit. ‘Quickly though. Theo might be back any second.’

‘Go on.’

‘What causes are Hillary and Obama running for in their race?’

There is a death
ly silence on the phone.

‘Glinda?’

Oh God. I hope she’s not been caught out making personal phone calls again and is currently shivering in terror at her boss’s imminent rage.

‘Did you just ask me about
Hillary and Obama
?’

Look
, I too am surprised that I managed to blag it with Theo as well as I did, so I know why Glinda is asking this – I am out of my depth – but isn’t it better to try and fail then never attempt?

‘I
did,’ I confirm. ‘Please, Glinds. Help me! I may never get another chance with Theo.’

‘Geli, you don’t know th
e first thing about US politics.’

‘What h
as US politics… Oh, wait…’ I start to correct myself as I realise my marathon blunder again. I’m snookered, aren’t I? But, before she can reply, I see Theo approach. ‘Got to go, G,’ I hurriedly whisper. ‘Theo alert.’

As I
hang up, I can hear Jerry sniggering again from his pod – clearly he was eavesdropping, as per usual, but usually he giggles along nicely. His sniggers sound almost
mean
. What is it with him today? My gay bestie has turned into a
bitch
.

My phone ri
ngs back as Theo draws close. Surely Glinda realises I can’t talk to her if I have just issued a “Theo alert”?

‘Ar
en’t you going to answer that?’

‘
No,’ I say quickly, too quickly, causing Theo to look at me strangely. ‘It’s the Ad Department.’

I lean over to switch the ringer to silent
– a sackable offence – but having to talk to Glinda about Theo, in front of Theo... I’ll take my chances.

‘Bastards. It’s always about money and product placement with them,’ Theo growls.

He has a point, but it is their job. I used to be a real job-snob but Mum’s ex-husband once told me that it takes many people to make a world work so we can’t all aspire to the same jobs. Even though we might not like to do certain jobs ourselves, it’s good that others are willing to do them.

Whilst
I’m glad
I
don’t have to work in advertising, I’m glad
they
like their jobs. I’m also glad they are relatively good at it given that they are the people who generate the money that pays my wages.

That advice is probably the best advice to come out of
my mum’s ex-husband’s mouth – that and the fact he managed to snag me a job at
New News
because he was at Oxford with one of the directors here. Other than that though, he is a waste of space, especially considering how he also helped Tiggy get her job here as a favour to
her
mum… And yes, I know it’s not exactly fair how I landed the job here, but if you knew what sort of a horrid man Mum’s ex-husband is, you’d agree he owed me. I don’t see why he had to help Tiggy though… Oh, wait, I do. So she could piss me off even more. They both share the same Geli-torturing interest.

H
owever, I just smile at Theo instead of saying any of this to him. He has issues with that department as they like to run certain ads by his column. An ad for a carbon-neutral car means they require Theo’s column to be about related topics, like global warming and carbon footprints, so they can charge higher premiums. A newspaper is often more about business than truth. 

This is
fine when Theo believes in global warming but at the moment he’s viewing it as a complete sham. I am in two minds whether Theo should be made to support the ad team’s money-making view, but I can definitely sympathise with what Theo labels as the “fascism” he suffers from them, even if I wouldn’t term it
that
strongly. Then again, they don’t press me when I tell them no. I suspect Callum virus has
some
benefits. 

‘What do they want you to promote now?’
His tone of disgust is blatantly evident.

‘I think it was something to do with Jamie Oliver,’ I lie.

‘Not his new food crusade?’ Theo groans.

‘Possibly,
and speaking of food,’ I say desperately, trying to get away from the topic of Jamie Oliver because he is a speciality rant of Theo’s. ‘Where shall we go for lunch?’

‘Ah,
I’m afraid I’ll have to cancel.’

‘Oh?’

I say this calmly, but on the inside I am dying, even though he does look genuinely apologetic. I have been rejected by Theo before lunch can even take place. Maybe Sara told him the fates of Callum and Jake and he’s decided not to risk his career for lunch. She probably did it for my own good, but the rejection still stings because I
know
deep down that Theo Bones is too good for me.

I must accept this painful admission and spend the rest of my days miserably screaming on the inside in full-on
Emo-angst, but on the outside give an Oscar-winning performance – one of supreme glee equivalent to the Homecoming Queen being crowned the Prom Queen… on loop… each and every day… forever more. On the inside I will be suffering Tim Burton style in full-on Gothic splendour, but on the outside I shall be as colourful and merry as a Bollywood wedding.

I’m in the middle of imagining my
Bollywood spectacular when Theo does something completely unexpected that not only snaps me out of India, it astounds me as he is openly flaunting
New News’
family values. I am desperately trying to fight my jaw’s desire to drop down; I know this is not my imagination because even Jerry drops his tea in disbelief.
His favourite Little Britain mug
.            

This is because Theo
has come over to me and has cupped my chin upwards in his big strong hands so he can stare directly into my eyes, a surprise in itself because the closest contact Theo and I have ever had is me handing him a cup of tea and our fingers accidentally touching… once… on a Tuesday… last year… at approximately twenty past eleven… but I can’t be fully certain. All I can do right now is stand here and let my face be cupped.
This is magical.