To Murder Matt (2 page)

She frowned as she moved the hangers in her wardrobe from left to right, she couldn’t find the right outfit. She wanted something to suit her mood, and yet it was important to make the right statement. Several dresses had already been discarded on the floor, and others, lay in a crumpled heap on the bed.

The party would be packed with top people of every related industry, and it would be really beneficial for her to mix with them, making it even more vital that she create the right impression. Careers would be made, or broken, tonight.

Eventually, she chose an aquamarine silk dress with small crystals that cascaded from the shoulders. It was a simple, but stunning design, and dependent upon her mood, she could either blend unobtrusively into the background, or she could sparkle and shine.  She was not what she considered a raving beauty, one only had to look at the svelte figures of the models on the catwalk to know that, but there was a vibrancy that easily radiated to those around her. Her easy laughter relaxed any atmosphere, and her inner happiness was infectious. For men, she was a dazzling irresistible light, and they were the doomed moths that endlessly circled, and flocked, around her.

Turning slowly in front of the mirror Ellen looked at herself objectively. She imagined what she would think of herself, if she were meeting herself, for the first time.  She scrutinized herself for possible faults.

Her chestnut hair fell in shiny curls just below her shoulders. She had tried to do a chignon, but felt it too formal.  Besides, her hair wasn’t behaving properly, and so she brushed it loose, and let it form a tousled frame around her face.  Her makeup was flawless, and she smiled with pleasure at her overall look.  Picking up her handbag, she checked for money, her credit cards, her lipstick, and her car keys. Now she was ready. She took a deep calming breath, and left for the party that would change her life.

Mingling with the crowd, Ellen moved through the group of animated and well-dressed partygoers.  Everyone held tall glasses of champagne and the whole atmosphere sparkled.  A woman’s laughter rose above the hubbub. Ellen looked across to see a woman with her head thrown back, and those around her being treated to a line of even white teeth, and expensive Harley Street dentistry.

Ellen was seeking a conversation she thought she could join, one with interesting subjects to talk about. The last thing she wanted, was to be stuck with a group and having to make polite noises to a bore all evening.  Her glass was almost empty of champagne when she heard her name called. She turned around to find herself facing a heavily breasted hostess. This woman made Joan Rivers look naturally young. The amount of surgical procedures she had had, meant you wondered what of the true her was left. Her trout mouth widened in what could be construed as a smile, and the garish pink lipstick parted showing that she had probably visited the same dentist as the other lady at the party.  Her face had been stretched to the point where she had feline eyes, no wrinkles, of course, and the bleached white blonde hair had been stitched around her hairline, so that if you looked just a second too long, you could see slightly white, fine scar lines. A surgeon would have also spotted her brow lift, her chin lift, her nose job, her cheek and chin implants, her liposuction on her waist, tummy and thighs, her breast implants, her tummy tuck, her buttock implants and lift, her calf and upper arm implants.  This woman of mans surgical making, smiled maliciously at Ellen.

“Ellen,
darling
!”  She proffered her cheek for a kiss, and pouted her own thick, pink lips for a kiss, which she placed in the air above Ellen’s right ear.  As she moved closer, Ellen was treated to her overpowering and extremely expensive perfume.

“Amelia.” Ellen smiled politely, using her professional smile. The one she used only when she had to smile at people she didn’t like.

“Ellen, you look marvellous–very
unusual
colour you are wearing! Haven’t seen anyone wear that for years.”  She smiled slyly as she watched Ellen momentarily squirm under her gaze.

“You know me Amelia, never one to follow the herd, like many of the fashion sheep nowadays.”  Ellen watched in turn as Amelia’s eye flickered with anger.  “As I was saying to you the other day, how any one could have so much surgery and still look vaguely” She paused for effect... “human, is beyond me, but you do so well at it.”  Before Amelia could reply, she smiled sweetly, and turned on her heel, stomping away.

By the fireplace, Dean was addressing a small group, he was stood, and they were seated around him. Their faces upturned as he spoke.

“This year’s yacht is going to be faster than ever before. In order to do this, we have to totally redesign the hull. I have spent two years working on the latest designs, something that will...” Ellen hovered on the periphery of the group, and several turned to look at her, but continued to listen to Dean.

Dean was the proverbial tall, handsome, and wealthy type. He had startling blue eyes that didn’t just look at you; they went right through you, reading your mind and soul on the way. Also, he didn’t talk with you or to you, but spoke in a lecturing fashion that reminded you of being back at university in a lecture hall.  But, he had such passion that whatever he spoke about, had you riveted to his every word.

“It has to be much lighter, allowing more speed, slimmer so she can cut the waves, and glide effortlessly through the water–whatever the conditions.  And the positioning of the mast will be...”

A hand on her arm disturbed her thoughts.  A voice whispered seductively in her ear from behind.

“Hello, I’m Matt, is this boring you?” He paused, and then continued, “Do you realize that you are the most attractive woman here?”  She turned to face him.

As she turned, his eyes travelled her body appreciatively. Normally, Ellen would have bristled at such an introduction; however, there was something about him, something in his voice that excited her.  Whatever it was, it had a caressing quality about it and she was not offended. His dark eyes wrinkled as he smiled. She smiled in answer and looked quizzically at him. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she couldn’t quite think what.

“Don’t tell me that line was a hundred percent original?  Do you use it all the time?” She raised her eyebrow as she spoke.

“Not at all, but someone had to say it.” He smiled at her again and raised his glass in a mock salute. “Oh dear, your glass appears to be empty. Allow me. Are you staying with champagne?”  Ellen nodded as he disappeared into the throng in search of a waiter.

On his return, she watched his progress through the room. He was stopped numerous times by people as he tried to pass. Women were flirting; men were patting him on the back, and chatting, before letting him carry on back towards her.  He was a devastatingly attractive man, with a worn ruggedness about him and a certain sportiness. She imagined him in a cream crew neck jumper walking along the Cornish coast with a dog bounding by his side, the wind ruffling his dark hair.  He had an aura of belonging, in any surrounding, a charisma that meant he would easily fit into any scenario, and still, his smouldering dark looks seemed familiar somehow.  He came back, handed her a glass, and she looked into his dark eyes once more. They were as black as a moonless night, and she was momentarily reminded of the eyes of a shark...expressionless, unless he wanted to convey a feeling...and even then, an instant later, they looked at her with a predatory spark of sexual interest that made her involuntarily shiver.

***

T
he next morning, sunlight streamed in to her room, blinding her as she opened her eyes. Her head pounded from the night before, and she groaned, and turned over, to hug her pillow.  She didn’t think she had overindulged. She had only had two glasses of champagne, or was it three? She couldn’t remember.  She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and padded on the soft carpet to her bathroom.  In the mirror, a sleepy, smudged with makeup face, looked back at her.  Her tousled hair stuck out at right angles, giving her the look of a mad woman. Alice Cooper, the rock star, was hotter than she was.  She groaned again and splashed cold water in the general direction of her face.

The day at the office passed uneventfully. They had more deadlines. The following month’s magazine had been put to bed, and all they had to do was last minute finishing touches before they published it.  Things were always bustling though, as they often worked on several magazines at a time, always working months ahead.  The biggest task was Photo Shopping all the models into taller, leaner, more attractive super beings with flawless hair and makeup.  If the fashion suddenly changed with a fad, stock photos in their library could be digitally altered to become the latest trend; with a computer and modern software, anything was possible.  They no longer even sent the models to exotic locations as it could all be achieved in-house with the graphics department.

Sarah walked into Ellen’s office holding a pile of papers. She had been working with Ellen since they were both office juniors, but whilst Sarah had no ambition to speak of, Ellen had progressed through the ranks and Sarah had followed along behind her, on her rise. Now, she was her assistant and was very happy with that role.

“Ellie, I’m going out for a drink later, want to come?”  Her bright smile was directed at her. 

“Errrm, not sure really. Thanks Sarah. After last night, I was actually looking forward to going home and putting my feet up.”

Sarah looked aghast.

“What? I don’t believe it. You sound fifty.” She paused. “Oh come on granny, one drink won’t kill you. It won’t ruin your exciting feet up and knitting plans at all.”

Ellen smiled. Maybe she had a point, and one wouldn’t hurt at all.

In the wine bar, Ellen sighed with frustration. She was beginning to regret coming out for a drink. After the day she had had, to now be squashed in a busy bar, surrounded by noise and people, it was the last thing she was in the mood for. She just wanted peace and quiet after a busy day of being surrounded by people she didn’t really want to be with.  Sarah was in her element. She had already spotted a group of hunky men that she liked the look of.  Her eyes had signalled to Ellen to look across at them. One of them had a ripped stomach that showed his muscles through his tight T-shirt.  He had just come from the gym, and was using the opportunity to flex his muscles at every woman that passed.  Others in the bar were in suits, most likely working in advertising.  She tried to catch Sarah’s eye again, but was blocked by a guy leaning towards her, his beer breath mixing with the smells of old smoke which clung to his jacket, as well as his overpowering body odour which he had tried, at some point that day, to unsuccessfully mask with a cheap deodorant.  Ellen wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Oh...playing hard to get, are we?” he slurred, his hand resting on the wall behind her.

Ellen bristled.

“Wrong, I am not playing at all,” she replied curtly. She manoeuvred past him and started towards Sarah, who at this point, appeared to have forgotten all about their drinks and was busy talking, very closely to a guy. Their faces and lips were close enough for kissing, and unwilling to disturb Sarah in her never ending quest for love, Ellen turned to the left, towards the front of the bar and the door leading to the outside. Her drink, an orange juice, could be had at home.  Outside, the winter air hit her, causing her to gasp. A fine drizzle made her squint as she walked towards her parked car.

The next day, Sarah was in raptures about the new man in her life. This man, the one from last night, was going to be the be-all-and-end-all of her life. He was in advertising, thirty, single and the list continued. Ellen zoned out at that point.  Ellen could have told her all this about him, just from the way he dressed, and chances are, she could tell her a few other things about him too, but Sarah was naïve. She believed in love and marriage, children, and a happy ever after. Each time she met a man, no matter who he was, he was always
the
man for her. The relationship inevitably ended, and so it continued.

Ellen had to admire her though, for the way she still believed in love, and she had more courage than Ellen did. She actually took the plunge, whereas Ellen stayed on the sidelines and watched her friends marry and soar, then watched as, one by one, their relationships plunged into a downward spiral of despair and divorce, as had her own parents’ relationship, many years ago.

Memories flooded her mind as Sarah still talked. Since she was little, the large mansion that was her familial home had been filled with rows, acrimony and sounds of breaking glass, and of ornaments flying through the air. Ornaments, that were priceless and unique would be scattered across the silk rugs in the morning.  The nights were filled with bitter accusations as her parents argued and fought. On a couple of occasions, she had been wrenched from her bed as she was sleeping by her mother, who carried her, bewildered, through the sprawling house and down to the car, as she threatened to take her and leave.  On other occasions, Ellen would crouch and hide in her dressing room, tears rolling down her face as raised voices and smashing glass, once again, filled the air.  Sometimes it would all go quiet, and the front door would slam as her father left, leaving behind the sound of her mother’s sobbing.  Once, she had crept through to her parents’ bedroom when all the arguing had stopped, to find her mother pinned down on the bed by her father.  Her mother was moaning, and her father’s hair fell forward, as he thrust in to her mother violently.  Her mother’s long red nails were raking down his back, as her voice raised to a scream. Ellen had turned, terrified, and scuttled back to her room in horror.  No, she vowed to herself then, if that was what marriage was about, she would have none of it.  The next day, she had scrutinized their faces for signs of the night before, something that would tell her how they had ended their row, but everything appeared normal, her mother teasing him, and his mood genial and cheerful, leaving her more confused than ever.

The phone rang and interrupted Sarah’s continuing saga concerning the man from the wine bar.  Ellen was relieved by the call, as her assistant’s conversation was awfully boring.  Sarah left the office as she began to talk.