Miss Wrong and Mr Right (29 page)

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Authors: Robert Bryndza

Tags: #Humour, #british comedy authors, #satire, #love sex and marriage, #romatic comedy, #British humour, #love stories

BOOK: Miss Wrong and Mr Right
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‘Is this really the best place for Ryan to be right now?’ I said. ‘He’s got rehearsals again tomorrow at nine. And after what happened today…’
 

‘Honey, this is his job,’ said Nicky. ‘And if he doesn’t want to be Ryan Harrison anymore, there are plenty of other young guys lining up to take his place.’

We didn’t walk the red carpet; the taxi dropped us off at a side entrance. The cavernous interior of the Albert Hall is ringed by a seemingly endless circular corridor, connecting floors via stairs and providing an entrance and exit to the hundreds of boxes on the second and third levels.
 

We got lost when we went in the side entrance, ending up on the second tier and emerging into a box. We stood for a moment and looked down at the tables. There were hundreds, and from above they looked like discs on a chequer board, all laid out with glasses and huge sprays of flowers. The lights were low, and cast a blue and pink glow across the white tablecloths.
 

My favourite part of the Albert Hall is the colossal ceiling with huge acoustic fibreglass discs suspended from the ceiling. They too reflected the red and blue lights.
 

At the front was a stage, with steps up to a glass podium where there was written FEMME FATALE AWARDS. People were already swarming into the hall, and finding where to sit.

‘I’ve never been here before,’ said Xander in awe.

‘You should come back and see something better than the
Femme Fatale
magazine awards,’ I said. ‘I saw Adele here, she was incredible.’

‘Ooh. There’s Tuppence Halfpenny,’ said Xander.

Tuppence was marching across the red carpeted floor wearing a black lace full-length gown, which somehow managed to completely cover her skin but also display everything she had on offer. A small television crew followed in her wake, the arc of a blinding white light enveloping her.
 

Jamie followed behind, deep in conversation with Brendan. They both had opted for a classic black tux.
 

‘What’s with the TV crew?’ Nicky asked.

We left the box and went downstairs. We were met by a lady in a big rustling ball gown who pointed us to our table. We had been placed at a table right by the stage, but sitting with our backs to it. I was sandwiched between Nicky and Xander.
 

Tuppence, Jamie and Brendan were standing by the table next to us. They were in conference with the crew, made up of a handsome Indian cameraman and a blonde young girl with a clipboard and headphones.

Tuppence kept looking around, feverishly scanning the hall. A small black fascinator clung to the side of her head, defying gravity, and an almost transparent veil of thin black lace was meshed tightly against her face.
 

‘She looks like she’s stuck tights on her head to rob a bank,’ murmured Nicky in my ear.
 

‘Let’s just go and break the ice,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to be glaring at them the whole ceremony.’

‘If there’s no ice to break, we’ll have to try something else,’ murmured Nicky. We got up and went over. Tuppence noticed us, and I’m pleased to say my necklace threw her off her stride for a moment.
 

‘Why are you all here?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t think tinpot theatre staff were desirable guests for the
Femme Fatale
awards…’

‘We’re here with Ryan Harrison,’ I said.

‘Where is he then? Has he shrunk?’ she laughed at her own joke.

‘He’s presenting an award for…’ I looked to Nicky for help.

‘Best Hair…’ said Nicky.

‘I’ve been nominated for Best Hair,’ said Tuppence proudly.

‘Is that for the hair on your head, or elsewhere?’ I said.

‘That’s speed, and rolling,’ said the cameraman pointing the lens at Tuppence. The light came on, and bathed in its glare she became paler. Brendan stepped in and adjusted her fascinator. Jamie stood back with a gaunt look on his face. I caught his eye briefly, and felt an overwhelming sadness coming from him.

‘What’s the camera for?’ asked Xander.

‘Tuppence has just signed a six-figure deal for her own reality show.
Totally Tuppence: Life of Burlesque Legend
,

said Brendan.

‘Legend!’ scoffed Nicky. ‘My client is seen in a show sold to thirty-five countries. Yours takes off her knickers in the West End.’

‘Your client has been fired from that show,’ glowered Brendan. ‘My client is about to break through!’

‘Here he is! Quick. Are you filming?’ squealed Tuppence. Ryan was weaving towards us between the tables with the woman in the big rustling dress. A band of photographers was following after him.

‘Camera speed,’ said the cameraman.

‘Are you filming?’ snapped Tuppence.

‘We told you, camera speed means the camera is recording footage,’ said the blonde girl.

‘Ryan darling!’ said Tuppence grabbing him as he reached our tables.

She pulled him against her and the photographers duly started clicking away. He was wearing a beautifully cut midnight-blue suit, and his hair had been artfully tousled. His faced was a little flushed.

‘How are you Ryan?’ cried Tuppence striking leg-kicking poses in full Moulin Rouge mode.

‘Yeah, cool thanks Tuppence,’ he said squinting into the terrible glare of the camera light.

‘Who do you think is going to win?’ she cried.

‘Win what?’ he asked.

‘Best Hair of course, I’m nominated!’ she cried.

‘Oh you’re all winners,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ she simpered. To her dismay Ryan moved away to where I was standing with Nicky and Xander. The camera lens started to follow but Tuppence reached out and pulled it back on her.

‘Ryan is a very good friend, I’ve met his dogs too, Bella and Eduardo…’ she said.

Ryan stopped beside our table and said hi to Nicky and Xander and muttered a hello to me. I went to say something, but the sound system blared out some jazzy music and a voice boomed,
‘Ladies and gentlemen please take your seats for the annual Femme Fatale Magazine Awards!’

Everyone in the room moved and took their seats. Ryan was placed opposite us on the table, but he was obscured by a huge centrepiece of flowers. The ceremony was long, and watching it with our backs to the stage was uncomfortable.
 

Tara Reid presented Woman of the Year to Cher – who, surprisingly, ‘
couldn’t be here tonight’
so Tara Reid accepted it on her behalf.
 

Then Jackie Stallone presented Best Dressed Woman to Gwyneth Paltrow who, surprisingly, ‘
couldn’t be here tonight’
so Jackie Stallone accepted it on her behalf. No wonder they had been so keen to get Ryan to attend.
 

Then a voice boomed

Please welcome to the stage Dean Gaffney!

‘Who is Dean Gaffney?’ asked Nicky.

‘He’s a soap star… Used to be in
EastEnders
… Had a pet dog called Wellard… Likes to date Page Three girls with enormous bosoms?’ I said. Nicky still shrugged.

‘We took my Nan to see him in panto in Gravesend,’ said Xander. ‘He played the prince.’

‘He played the prince?’ asked Nicky incredulously as Dean walked out onto the stage to present Best Cleavage to Kim Kardashian.

‘My Nan loved him… Although she has got cataracts,’ added Xander.
 

Kim Kardashian surprisingly ‘
couldn’t be here tonight
’, so Dean Gaffney accepted the award, and then went down the stairs to blag a photo with Ryan and Tuppence, which was filmed by her reality show crew.
 

About halfway through the ceremony, I stood up and looked over the giant flowers to see that Ryan’s seat was empty.
 

‘Where’s Ryan?’ I said to Nicky. On cue the announcer’s voice boomed ‘
Please welcome to the stage Ryan Harrison and Yitta Bonn!

We craned our necks back round to the stage and Ryan entered holding hands with an absolute blonde bombshell of a girl. They walked to the podium and stopped, still holding hands.

‘Who the hell is Yitta Bonn?’ I asked. Nicky shrugged. Xander leant over.

‘She once spoke to Prince Harry at a polo match…’ he said excitedly.

‘And?’ I said.


And
they were photographed,’ he added.

‘A woman’s crowning glory is the hair on her head,’ said Yitta leaning into the microphone. She had a slight Swedish accent and huge baby-blue eyes.

‘Do you know how many hairs a woman has on her head, Yitta?’ asked Ryan, leaning into the other side of the microphone.

‘I don’t Ryan. I’ve never counted,’ said Yitta seriously.

‘It’s millions Yitta, millions… All working together in unity to make a hairstyle,’ answered Ryan.

‘Jeez, someone should shoot the scriptwriter,’ murmured Nicky from the corner of her mouth.

‘Of all the millions of beautiful hairs on all the heads of all our nominees, I’m afraid only one can win though,’ said Yitta gravely. She paused then she went on. ‘The nominees are…
Jennifer Lawrence; Jennifer Aniston; Jennifer Love Hewitt; Jennifer Coolidge; Jennifer Lopez
and
Tuppence Halfpenny.

 

She leant against Ryan’s shoulder as he opened the envelope.

‘I wonder who will win?’ I asked Nicky, sarcastically.

‘My dog gets the same look in his eye when I’m about to give him a treat,’ said Nicky, indicating Tuppence, who was leaning forward in her chair with an excited look on her face.

‘And the award for Best Hair goes to
Tuppence Halfpenny
!’ said Ryan.

Jazzy music began to play and Tuppence rose to her feet, manufacturing as much shock as if she’d just won the Oscar for Best Actress. She walked up to the podium, stopping to wave back to her film crew. She thanked pretty much everyone she’s ever spoken to, “her rock” Brendan O’Connor and “her baby” Jamie Dawson. The reality TV crew spun their camera round to Jamie and he looked on with love light in his eyes.

‘When do you think we can leave?’ I hissed.

‘We have to stay and see if Ryan wins Best Hunk,’ said Nicky.
 

‘He is going to win, he’s the only nominee who’s turned up… I’ll get more wine,’ I said attracting the attention of a passing waiter.

After Tuppence’s long-winded speech she went back to her table hefting her huge glass award for Best Hair. I think she had been hoping for Ryan to follow her back to their table, but he appeared a few moments later hand in hand with Yitta Bonn. She slinked along beside him and joined our table, everyone having to shuffle up as a chair was found for her to sit on. She ignored the chair and instead draped herself over him, stroking his hair. I was furious. I knew Ryan’s marriage proposal was crazy, but it was barely five hours ago! Talk about moving on fast…

‘Shall we have a bathroom break?’ I said. Nicky nodded and we made our way out of the hall to the ladies loo. I didn’t look at Ryan and Yitta Bonn on our way past. Xander came with us too. I was feeling a bit tipsy, but instead of lifting my mood the alcohol had darkened it.

‘What do you think will happen with Ryan and that Yitta Bonn?’ I said putting my handbag on the sink and adjusting my hair.

‘What do you care?’ asked Nicky.
 

‘Whatever happens, she’ll make sure that it’s photographed,’ said Xander. ‘They’ve apparently paid her thirty thousand pounds to be here tonight…’

‘What?’ I said. ‘And the only thing she is famous for is talking to Prince Harry?’

Xander nodded.

‘Lord! That makes me want to give up. You know how hard we had to work to get that Arts Council grant of twenty grand? And that was so we could take plays into local schools. It’s depressing.’

‘Unfortunately that’s how the world works Nat,’ said Nicky leaning into the mirror and reapplying her lipstick. ‘Maybe we should bypass the Arts Council and go and find Prince Harry at a polo match!’

‘Why are we even here?’ I said. ‘We could be doing something more worthwhile than watching bloody Tuppence Halfpenny win Best Hair. She only got it because she was the only one who showed up. And how is that best hair? It’s all lacquered against her head like an old Brillo Pad!’

On cue, a toilet flushed and the cubicle behind us opened. Tuppence Halfpenny emerged with her film crew of two, swaying on her feet with her award under her arm.
 

‘Did you just film her having a pee?’ asked Nicky as the light from the camera glared in our eyes.

‘It’s called coverage,’ slurred Tuppence. ‘And my hair… is
great
…’
 

She slammed her award down next to the sink. It was a huge brick of glass with FEMME FATALE cut into the top. She attempted to open her lipstick but it slipped out of her hand and landed in the sink with a clink.
 

‘You need to be on an angle,’ said the blonde girl to the cameraman. ‘We don’t want to be seen in the reflection.’

We were all silent as the camera filmed. I straightened my hair and we went to leave.

‘Your hair,’ Tuppence laughed. ‘It’s like pubes isn’t it? Pubic frizz.’

She began to fish her lipstick out of the plug hole. Nicky’s eyebrows shot up.

‘What did you just say?’ I asked dangerously. I heard a little whirring sound as the camera lens watched us.

‘Look at you. So stuck up. You think you’re better than everyone.’

‘No, I don’t,’ I said.

‘Jamie confided something in me…’ she said with a nasty drunken snarl. ‘He said sleeping with you was like being with a dead cod. Apparently you’re shit in bed!’
 

Before I knew what had happened I had slapped her hard round the face.
 

She reeled back in shock and felt her lip. Then she charged at me. Xander shrieked and jumped out of the way, Nicky tried to stop her but she managed to push past and launch herself on me. We both went crashing down onto the tiled floor. Tuppence grabbed at my necklace and pulled. The clasp snapped and there was a skittering sound as the diamonds scattered under the row of sinks.
 

Enraged, I reached up and grabbed her fascinator and pulled. Hard. It wouldn’t budge. She screamed and started to rain down slaps on my head and face, but I held on fast and kept pulling.
 

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