The party is shaping up to be quite the social affair.
I wander around the crowded, dank basement floor with a questionable substitute for a Mojito in my hand. Make that one in each hand.
I'm wearing my favourite LBD; the one that makes my boobs look like a Victoria's Secret model, well, La Senza.. maybe.. at a push... anyway.. point is I look attractive to the opposite sex. Which, really is the exACT point of tonight. Yasmin made sure that we invited everyone and anyone, and by anyone I also mean we invited random male models from the Chic "BESTosterone Top 20" shoot, we invited the cute barista from our favourite coffee place, and we also invited all of our assholes-of-the-moment. But hold on, don't think for a second that I walked round and said
"Oh Hallo there Benny old buddy, I know I walked in on you with your peen in another vagine but why don't we let bygones be bygones and have a boogie for old times sake"
Get real.
I slipped a leaflet under his door with a rather vaguely advertised
"XMAS PARTY @ LENNY'S. DRESS CODE: HO HO HOs" - Anya had them made by a very nice guy called Byron at the Photocopy shop; I think he may have been swayed into doing it for free by her slutty Santa dress and / or lack of bra.
She bounds up to me now, tits bouncing, still no bra. All five of us have the same dress on but somehow I look like some uber creep squeezed into a toddlers dressup and she looks like Jessica Rabbit. As she rambles on about how much money I've made her tonight by getting the club so busy I can't help but notice how classy and beautiful she can look when she actually brushes her hair and dresses like a female.
"Gracie you're the absolute best- LOOK how busy this place is. Lenny's barely had seven people walk through the door last week and LOOOOOK AROUND, we're at capacity! I don't think that's ever happened!"
She hugs me hard and turns around and jumps on some hot blonde guy I don't recognise and drags him to the bar.
I walk up the stairs behind the small band stage so I can take a good look at the crowd of about 300 swaying Santas and Elves and a few Reindeers and one poor sod dressed as a Xmas Pudding is sweating profusely as he dances near a sexy elf... and then I think I spot Ben. I lean over the railings to get a closer look but the flashing lights and the blaring of The Proclaimers "500 Miles" disorientates me and as I get nearer I see that it's not Ben, and that I should probably get contact lenses as the man I mistook him for is in fact mixed race.
Yasmin glides through the crowd, easily spotting me as she's about 2 feet taller than anyone else here; looking as stylish and sleek as ever, even in a santa dress.
"So this is good turn out hmm?" she smiles and sips delicately on a glass of pink cava, "I see SO many potentials for your article"
This brings me to "the article", and a meeting with my boss that could and probably will drastically change the course of my life.
(O_O) cripes.
This morning I went into work with a lot less gusto than normal; a combination of a broken heart and a hangover. I tried Berocca. I tried painkillers. Nothing could fight off my aura of sadness. Michelle (a.k.a Boss from somewhere-worse-than-Hell) sniffed this out like a depression bloodhound and called me into her office before I'd even had time to sit down at my desk and mope.
It went a little something like this:
Michelle: What's wrong Grace? And don't lie to me I'm your boss
Me: Nothing (sweet smile)
Michelle: Don't be absurd, look at you. You hair is flatter than my bald father and you have mascara stains on the sleeve of a very questionable cardigan
Me: (discarding cardigan) No honestly Michelle, just a little problem with my personal life but I promise I'll just, put it to the back of my mind, or something... I'm a professional
(fake work smile)
Michelle: Now I'm glad you said that Grace. Because I have a new work assignment for you. You're off agony aunt.
Me: Wait, what?? Michelle please don't fire me. I can do so much better, I know I can be a bit sarcastic in tone but I'll totally work on that-
Michelle: Oh please. Stop being such a beg. I'm taking you off agony aunt, and you're getting your own column.
Me: omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg
Michelle: (cutting me off) You're going to be our Anonymous Dater
(my smile fading)
Michelle: You're going to be a sort of, girl hero, you're going to date men as if you were one.
Me: Um, Michelle I'm not sure I get it... You want me to hand out dating advice? I don't really think I'm the best around-
Michelle: Of course you're not, look at you, you're a pathetic romantic and my husband has been with more men then you
(pause to absorb this)
Michelle: But that's what our reader is. You are bringing hope to every sad shmuck out there who gets dumped after they put out, who gets overlooked for their hotter and more secure friend... need I go on? We.are.going.to.SHAKE.THINGS.UP
I could continue this recap of the conversation but it would only be me protesting repeatedly, being threatened with the sack and an eventual sell-out of my soul. What Michelle wants me to do is write a monthly article on a date (or several dates) with a different man; but it has to end with me blowing him off in humilating and ego-shattering ways. Think How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days but more R rated and with an enivitably terrible ending. The only bonus being that I get to remain anonymous.
Cue back to Yasmin fishing out guys for me happily; this job assignment couldn't have come at a better time to help encourage her slightly Nazi-like S.LU.T pact, but I gotta say, a small teeny part of me is quite excited about having a reason to throw myself back in the game. And this time I don't lose the game.
"Come on, Anya's always surrounded by men... She can surely spare you one", Yasmin takes my arm and sweeps through the crowds who part for her like the Red Sea for Moses, and we hover next to Anya and her throng of male gatherers. She doesn't seem particularly interested in any of the horny Reindeers ogling her; in fact, she still seems really enthralled by the hot blonde from earlier.
Shame she got there first... He's gorgeous.
We move a little closer to her and I can't take my eyes off her blonde boy, and he turns round as she laughs hysterically and meets my eyes, half smiling. Or at least I think he did. No, he totally did.
I whisper to Yasmin, "Jeez. Me and Any never fancy the same guys, wish I'd got in there first"
Yasmin turns to me with an expression of mild horror.
"Grace. That's her brother."
My jaw drops to my vagina.
"RORY?" I ask out loud, to myself I think.
He hears and turns round.
"I was wondering why you were being so rude doofy, don't you recognise him?" Anya asks nonchalantly; as if Rory Lusher, who I have known for 15 years, is this gorgeous tall, tanned, sparkly eyed ManGod in front of me.
"Grace," he smiles warmly, "Long, long time. No see" He goes to embrace me and I mutter some sort of greeting under my breath and can't help but feel how hard his back muscles have become, and I feel even more embarrassed and pull away sharply.
No way is this Rory. The last time I saw him admittedly was 4 years ago before he moved to Australia, but he used to be so lanky. Not that I'm a shallow bitch or anything, Rory's always been cute but we grew up together. He was the one I had to beg to go and buy me sani pads when I started my period round his house. He was Rory who used to be 1/3 of the rock band I formed with Anya at 13 (we split due to creative differences...)
And now... Wow.
But it didn't feel okay. We make silent eye contact for a moment longer than required whilst Yasmin and Anya yap on about the party, and I think back to the quiet, withdrawn Rory I was accustomed to from aged 15, after his dad killed himself. I didn't see him a lot over the years leading up to him leaving the country; he flunked school, he was on every drug under the sun and generally headed for the same fate as his father.
I felt all warm and fuzzy seeing him in front of me, more alive than I've ever seen him look.
I poke his cheek.
"You got facial hair. That's why I didn't recognise you"
He smiles again and pokes me in the chest (which was totally painful but I didn't let on), "Hey, you got tits."
We laugh and tease each other and laugh some more until Yasmin creeps up behind me and squeezes my waist.
"I've found the perfect guy for you to take home tonight... And, oh, you are welcome for me laying the ground the work already."
