Un-Comfortably Numb

This blog idea came to mind after the latest in London violence when two men viciously attacked another young man in broad daylight. I’m sure you all know the crime to which i'm referring as you've been bombarded with images, opinions, articles and reports since it happened. This attack was indeed a tragedy but what struck me, worse than the crime's savage nature, was my reaction. I suffered a complete lack of shock and subsequent guilt over this absent emotion. Immediately all these questions filled my mind, 

"Is there something wrong with me?" 

"Am I completely void of emotion?"

"Don’t I care???"

My god, I once cried when a bunch of kids (I don’t even know) won a reality talent show!

I was really beating myself up about this, until a week later when I opened the paper on the train. Instantly I noticed how hell-bent today’s media was on using the victim as a pawn to extract reactions from the public. It wasn't enough that this young man had to die, we had to know who he was, what he had achieved, hear from his family, his friends, his past school mates, past teachers, what his child’s name is and how bright his future could have been. 

Do we really need to know all this? 

I looked up and saw his face smiling back at me from a dozen other newspapers. Next to me a man wiped his croissant crumbs over pictures of the gruesome crime scene while tucking into his breakfast as if he were reading his star sign. Another commuter was using his mother's agony stricken face as a temporary make up table. 

That’s when I knew I wasn't alone. 

Are we becoming as familiar to violence as we are to train delays?

Have we become so desensitised towards it that reporters need to troll through the victims past in the hope something will strike a nerve with the public and result in a reaction? 

The victim’s body was only slightly blurred in one of the photographs, where once it would have been blacked out. The attacker still held the weapon which dripped with fresh blood yet a woman still continued to apply her mascara, heads still bopped to music and the man next to me finished his croissant. I remember a time when video tapes used alert us to "Menace and Peril", now you can watch Saddam's hanging on YouTube.

The media knows that real news doesn't affect us as much as celebrity turmoil and X-Factor results, which is why, I suppose, they print such images. They want us to know he was a Dad and a musician but above all they want us to know he was just a young man minding his own business. In other words, that it could have been any one of you. And if they cant strike pain from readers they might strike fear.  

My Mother likes to say “there was none of this in my day, people could leave their doors unlocked and walk home alone at night”. 

Is this true, or were dangers always present but not publicised because there was no Sky News report?

Its only now 70 and 80 year old men are being sentenced for attacks they carried out in their younger years. And let’s not mention the church! The public were just more protected from violence in her day and in a way i'm almost jealous. 

Maybe my Mother would have cried upon seeing these images at my age. 

While I no longer believe it is just me who “fails to feel”, I am worried we will become a world so emotionally vacant to violence that our own lines between right and wrong may blur. 

But I guess there is nothing we can do but to accept this fate and switch on Sky News for the next breaking news report.

What's a girl to do - Final Part

I was met at the airport by my father. He filled me in on all the village gossip he pretends not to listen to. Mom greeted me at the door with open arms covered in oven gloves. She quickly ran back to the kitchen to check on the feast she had prepared for my return. She repeated all of Dad’s news until I’m finally allowed to bail out and hit my old bed.

My room hadn’t changed a bit. I lay there looking up at the Boyzone poster wondering where it all went wrong. And why on earth Mom hadn’t taken it down yet! I kept my phone off, enjoying the silence and quickly drifted off to sleep.

The next morning I woke to the sound of family and friends gathering downstairs in preparation for the wedding. Samantha and David, like most couples from my village, have been together since school. So I’m prepared for a day of couples and pitiful glances.

“Ah here she is now, the lone ranger!” my Uncle Jack proclaims, before I descended the last step of stairs.

I rolled my eyes in secret and plastered on my best Joker smile.

“Hello all!!” I beam entering the spacious living room.

“Oh it’s Mrs London, how’s the Queen?” my Aunt sniggered.

I smile cringingly in response to the same joke heard on every visit.

“As always, she sends her regards Aunt Maeve!”

“Oh now Josephine, don’t I have the perfect man for you today!” she sings.

My body fights the burning shoulder slump and lets her carry on. In the past, it always took them a couple of days at least before “the set up” but clearly, I was getting on a bit and they weren’t wasting any more time.

She described my dream man, who she stated was a total catch after only two divorces and three kids by different mothers. Mum dished up breakfast and I was quickly invisible again. It wasn’t that my family didn’t like me exactly, but each of their offspring was either beautiful or talented at something.

I excelled at nothing according to them. I didn’t have a car, a house or a boyfriend! And little did they know now I didn’t have a job either!

“Right all, it’s time to get the glam rags on!” my mother announced.

They all scurried off grabbing coats and handbags discussing times and churches as I helped Mum clear up in the kitchen.

“Listen love, what’s going on?” Mum asked knowingly, abandoning her hungry dishwasher.

I could be false with a lot of people but she always saw right through me.

“I’m fine Mum, work has just been, am, difficult lately but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

She continued with the dishes and assured me everything will work out fine. I wished it were all that simple.

My dress was a little less formal this time allowing me to breath. Utilising the tips from the other night I decided to curl my hair but stick with more natural make-up. I wouldn’t want my Grandmother having a stroke at the sight of lady humps and rouge!

Sitting in the church between my parents I looked around at all the happy couples whose weddings I also attended and thought maybe some people are just meant to be alone. Maybe I should just give in and buy a snarly cat.

I lost count of how many sympathetic head tilts I received that day. By 5pm I desperately needed a drink to wash away the sense of being alone and unclean in people’s eyes. The reception took a while to get into party mode, and thanks to Aunt Maeve’s stalker programme, I had spent most of the evening in the bathroom hiding from Brian - the born again Christian. I was accompanied in the stall with a small bottle of Prosecco. Finishing the bottle, I scuttled out to the lobby and decided to turn on my phone.

>>Message<<

From Caz.

“You know we love you, please let me know how you are. And what happened?? Oh and don’t be mad!”

What the hell was she going on about? Whatever it was I wasn’t dealing with it now. I decided to text Jaden, the coat check guy. We got along really well, despite the circumstances, and a date with him might be better than settling for a cat.

Just as I sent the text message I spotted Brian handing a Jesus leaflet to the bemused receptionist. I crawled off the sofa and scampered back into the big hall. Rihanna was screeching about how she had found love in a hopeless place - which was being lip synced by my mother on dance floor. I spotted my sister’s table and sat down.

It was full of her smug female friends whose ring fingers shimmered with cushion cut diamonds while the men propped up the bar behind.

“Oh, hi Jo, where’s your date?” Leanne sniggered, as she pretended to look all around me. She even looked under the table. My sister shot her a warning glance but she was too pissed to notice.

“Now you know we’re only joking, I’m sure you’re having a great time over there in London! I mean, I was never really single for very long but I’m sure it’s eh, very exciting” she mumbled into her glass. Then she spotted someone much more interesting to talk to.  “Oh Aoife, come sit over here with us, how are the twins?” 

All the girls carried on discussing wedding cakes and baby showers while I downed another glass of table wine. I decided not to let these bitches get me down and could hear Will in my head

“These cows need to get laid sideways!”

The thought of which made me giggle to myself which caught the attention of Niamh - queen bee of my sister’s cult. She was seated next to me all along but was in deep conversation with one of her followers until now.

She looked me up and down before shooting me a sickly-sweet smile.

“Here alone Jo?” she asked aloud, causing everyone at the table to look in my direction.

I didn’t have an answer for her. I was mortified by now. I was tired of all this. I just wanted to go home.

“No she’s not.”

The answer came from above me.

The women’s smiles were quickly replaced with open jaws and I glanced around to see why.

There he was.

Standing behind me dressed in tailored black, brown eyes smouldering and hair perfectly obedient. He never looked so gorgeous – EVER! And I was never, ever so happy to see him.

“Blaze! What? How? Why?”

I couldn’t find any other words. My verbal diahorrea in his presence was back.

“Dance with me?”

He squinted his eyes a little as if pleading. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. No woman could. He gently picked up my hand sending a chill through me and led me out onto the dance floor among all my family.

What the hell is he doing here??? Have I hit my head and blacked out on the bathroom floor???

                                                                                                                                                     

The familiar notes of Michael Buble – Crazy Love, began to swim over our heads and I could feel everyone’s eyes boring into us.

He stared down into my eyes before pulling me close to him. My arm wrapped around his broad back and my head rested on his intoxicating chest. We started to sway. I wanted to ask him so many questions but nothing was worth breaking this moment. I didn’t want to even open my eyes in case I DID wake up on the bathroom floor. Mid-way through the song he pulled away from me a little and whispered in my ear.

“I’m so sorry about the other night, please forgive me?”

I looked up at him and smiled, just managing to shake my head because actual words would have been incomprehensible right now.  He stopped swaying and placed a finger under my chin, tilting my head up towards him. Time seemed to slow down and even Michael was now backing vocals to my heartbeat.

His lips touched mine for just a second before looking at me as if asking permission to continue, my eyes must have screamed “JESUS YES!” Because he simply smiled and launched in for a full attack, kissing me with passion, more passion than one should execute in front of an entire family, but I didn’t give a shit! Even Jackie Collins would have been so proud!

I had to grasp for breath when he pulled away but my Uncle brought us straight back to Irish reality

“Well done kid!” he nudged Blaze, while dancing past us with a stunned Aunt Maeve.

Blaze smiled widely down at me.

“Do you want to go somewhere and talk?”

“No!”

The response caught him off guard. Here we go again with my inability to explain myself in his company.

“What I mean is, I want to go somewhere and do more of this!” I responded seriously.

He laughed, took my hand and led me out to the lobby. But not before I had a chance to glance back at Leanne who was just staring at me while all the others huddled together pointing at us.

It turned out that Diane forced her way into his house the night of the Ball, and demanded he take her along. She didn’t stay for the meal but just wanted to have her photo taken with Blaze in the hope her 70 year old millionaire boyfriend would feel threatened enough to propose. Sure enough, once he saw their smiling faces in the society pages, it worked. She is now on a yacht somewhere in the Caribbean, I believe.

I still didn’t understand why he went along with it and why he didn’t warn me.

But he thought I would already be inside the great hall, which he would have entered without Diane. There he would have explained everything to me but he never got the chance. He searched for me everywhere, all night, and realised he was missing a digit from my phone number. Remembering he still had Caz’s number, from when she worked with him, he decided to call her and explain everything. All the while I was holed up in the coat check room with Jaden and Jack Daniels.

“But you still haven’t told me why you went along with it? This woman was a total bitch to you!”

He took my hand and looked away.

“I owed it to her. I know she cheated on me Jo but she isn’t completely to blame. I pushed her into it. What you said the other night was bang on. Part of me wanted to impress my parents and I thought by marring a socialite and disowning my feelings, everything else would fall into place. But it didn’t work. My Father told me that none of that mattered more than my own happiness.”

He looked back at me and squeezed my hand.

“Diane always knew I was in love with someone else. And, she knew she could never compete with you.”

“Shut the front door! She was jealous of me? You were in love with ME?”

“Yeah” he smiled

“You are the only one who makes me feel like myself. You humble me and make me laugh. I need you Jo, I love you.”

So, it may have been a long journey but I finally got to see the tattoo in full! And Christ was I happy I shaved my legs.

The End

What's a girl to do - Part 3

Full red lips. Blue cat eyes. Perky cleavage. Beautiful relaxed curls. I couldn’t stop staring at this girl.

BANG! BANG!

“Jo? Will you come out of the bathroom? It’s almost time!”

They deserved a medal. Finding my waist took almost an hour, but there it was! It was curved under a black corset - which sat neatly upon a shimmering floor-length skirt. The heels were going to be an issue though. I had plans to stuff my small Converse sneakers into the bottom of Caroline’s Alexander McQueen bag before Blaze arrived.

“JO!”

“You can do this!” I whispered reassuringly to myself and unlocked the door.

Three paused faces greeted me in the hallway.

“Well?” asked Amy.

She held the GHD for any last minute hair emergencies – ready to straighten at a moment’s notice.

A smile crept along my lips and they all took that as a sign to exhale.

Will handed me a glass of champagne and took position next to me at the kitchen table as Make-up Lifeguard. I wasn’t allowed to touch my face for the entire evening.

“I don’t care if a slice of beef flies across the air and lands on your cheek leave it there!” he warned. 

“Jesus Will, this isn’t one of YOUR parties! There will be no meat tossing tonight!” I giggled.

Amy and Caroline looked on like anxious parents waiting for my prom date to arrive. Blaze was due in five minutes and I tried to calm the butterflies in my tummy - whilst posing for Facebook pictures.

Bzzzz. The intercom hummed.

We all gasped and looked at each for a few seconds before running off in different directions. I headed to my room and secretly grabbed my battered runners while Caroline answered the intercom. I carefully put on my four inch heels as if they really were made of glass and threw on my mini jacket, bolero, thingy. I was ready.

I grabbed my keys off the hook and threw them in my bag.

“The driver said to go on down” Caroline squealed.

Amy and Will were hanging off the balcony trying to get a view of the car.

“Have a great time and remember! You’re way out of his league!”

I entered the elevator and checked myself one final time in the mirror. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen tonight and that’s what excited me most.

Walking along the corridor I spotted a suited figure leaning against the black town car. My heart skipped a beat until I realised it was only the driver. Blaze must be inside.

“Evening Miss” he greeted, while opening the door.

I nodded in return as all my energy was going into walking upright and not falling head first into the car. Once the door was opened I peeked inside, but he wasn’t there. I turned back to the driver longing for a positive explanation, maybe we were picking him up on the way.

“Mr Stone sends his regrets and will meet you at the venue Miss”

My shoulders visibly fell in disappointment.

“Oh right grand, em, thanks” I responded, swallowing my heart.

Sitting in the car alone I took out my phone to text Caz but hesitated. I was a little let down but didn’t want them to feel the same. And it was all so embarrassing, why did I think he would actually consider this an important moment? As soon as that thought entered my head I quickly pushed it out again. I was determined to stay positive! My hair was done, my nails were painted and although I was unable to expand my lungs, I have a waist!

Maybe there was a last minute crisis of some sort and he would be there waiting for me when we pull up.

The journey only took fifteen minutes. I could see the flashing bulbs of photographers up ahead which brought the butterflies swarming back. Once we stopped, I squinted through the black tinted glass in search of him. But he was nowhere to be seen and it was the driver’s hand that opened my door. I swung out, remembering the ‘Britney guide’ taught by Will, and smoothed my skirt pretending to act nonchalant.

I thanked the driver and looked up at the museum steps with absolute dread. Doing this with Blaze was terrifying but doing this without him was so much worse. These heels were not made for steps or walking. It made me wonder if celebrities have people that just pick them up and carry them once they reach the end of the red carpet. I finally reached the top step and ignoring the Rocky theme tune in my head, I released my skirt and entered through the enormous open doors.

The building was breath-taking. All the glistening chandeliers ignited the gold filigree hidden in the walls and reflected on the marble floor - resulting in a sea of stars beneath my feet.  I fought the need to strain my neck up to take it all in and continued to walk on. Blaze was nowhere to be seen. The photographers ignored me as did the snotty waitresses with complimentary flutes of champagne. Bitches. I strolled over to hand in my jacket.

“Nice, innit?”

The coat check boy obviously caught my scent and knew I belonged more on that side of the counter with him.

I shrugged and smiled, delighting in any attention

“It’s alright.”

What was he looking at? I kept turning around expecting to see some Amanda look-a-like behind me. He took my coat and sauntered back over to me with full boyish charm to lean in close over his counter.

“You’ve never looked more beautiful darlin'”

I stared back at him, a touch confused.

“Em, have we ever met?”

“No. But even so, I know you’ve never looked more beautiful, because it wouldn’t be possible!” 

He winked one blue eye at me.

I snorted at the cheesiness of it and also revelled in my first pick up line ever.

“If you get bored, I’ll be ‘ere all night. Yeah?”

I smiled a little more confident and took my ticket from his tight grip. I walked off in search of the bathroom hoping no one just saw the mini stumble I made.

“Fecking shoes” I mumbled.

I sat at one of the dressing tables and took out my phone. Three messages from Will – no doubt eager for an update. I scrolled down in search of something from Blaze. Nothing at all. No missed calls and no messages.  I sighed, checked my make-up and held on to that tiny spec of hope deep within, as I left the bathroom.

Then I heard it. That nauseating high pitched fake laugh radiated through me. I knew what I was going to see before I turned towards the entrance. There she was arm in arm with Blaze, playfully teasing the photographers and smiling up at him. His ex-wife - Diane.

I was so mortified I didn’t know what to do.

I turned to head back into the bathroom but a sudden queue had formed, so there was only one other option. I was bailing out. I made my way through the crowds quickly before he saw me.

“Christ that was quick, couldn’t stay away eh?”

Cheesy blue eyes greeted me in shock. I let out a sigh, burst past him at the counter and into the coat-room. I stood at the back behind some questionable furs and watched them from a distance. They looked the picture of happiness, the poster couple. She was kissing cheeks and he was shaking hands as if this was their home and they were the hosts. He seemed a little distracted looking around and at one point I thought he saw me. I jumped back to avoid his gaze and caught my hair in some hangers.

“I’m not gonna ask what the hell is going on, but at least let me free you?”

He approached like a lion tamer without his whip. He wrapped his arms around my neck to unhook my curls from the vicious hanger and I could smell his overpowering aftershave.

“I'm Jaden.”

He smirked at me, still a little too close for comfort.

“It’s Jo. And eh, thanks for that.”

I cleared my throat and stood up straight.

“DING”

The service bell startled us both and I stayed hidden amongst lines of expensive coats. Jaden attended to the customer at the counter.

I couldn’t believe I was hiding back here with the staff, all because he didn’t have the decency to cancel on me! How could he do this? That sealed it. I am just his P.A. and should start living in the real world.  Girls like me don’t end up with the gorgeous rich boys. We end up with coat check guys with cheap pickup lines.

“This may be a long shot but have you taken a coat from an Irish girl this evening? Young, brunette, brown eyes, very pretty?”

Oh my God! It was Blaze! He was looking for me? Like he gives a crap, he probably wants to tell me that my seat has been taken by Diane and to make my own way home. Bastard. Wait though! Did he just call me pretty??

“No sir. But if I do, would you like to be informed?” 

Jaden responded, in a new posh accent.

Then I heard the devil speak.

“Blaze darling, come along!” Diane ordered.

I could smell her stinking perfume even from the bowels of the coat-room. There was an announcement requesting guests to enter the dining hall and with that Jaden closed the shutters. I slid down the wall and just sat there - defeated.

My phone started to vibrate, I could see Caroline’s face smiling back at me and couldn’t face telling her that I was sitting on the floor in a dusty corner of the coat-room, fighting back a sob.  Let them think I’m dining with the big shots and clinking glasses with my dream man.

Suddenly an old friend appeared in front of me. Mr Jack Daniels.

“Can I tempt you?” Jaden asked, squatting in front of me.

I snatched the bottle from his hand and took a swig, smearing the top blood red, from my lipstick.

“Christ I love the Irish!” he sniggered getting comfy beside me.

We sat there for about an hour swapping dating stories and laughing at my miserable life. He threw a few compliments my way but they were wasted. Right now I felt so low a semi-naked Channing Tatum couldn’t even cheer me up. Not that I wouldn’t let him try of course! 

But tonight tasted even sourer with the thought of getting the flight home to my sleepy village tomorrow evening, for my cousin’s wedding. I was supposed to be returning home with a real story this time. The tale of Prince Charming taking me to the ball. Oh well, I guess I can conjure up some fabulous false life on the plane.

After a lot of whiskey I pulled on my Converse sneakers and launched myself up.

“Well Jaden, despite your desperate efforts to climb into my knickers, I think you are a true gent and I wish you luck with, em, what’s-her-face”

He got up to hand me my heels and fetched my tiny stupid jacket.

“Jo, it was a pleasure and I hope that pretty prat knows what he’s missing!”

We hugged goodbye and I snuck out through the lobby while the great hall was in full swing. The cold air made me tipsier so I sat down on the top step until I felt a little better. There was a refreshing breeze lifting my curls and dancing around my shoulders where the jacket had slipped down.

“Jo?”

I turned around to see an angelic figure standing above me. The lights behind him were so blinding I couldn’t see his face until he moved in front of me.

“Oh, it’s you!” I snapped, surprised at my own tone.

Blaze stood a few steps down from me, his face concerned and eyeing my tatty Converse.

“How long have you been here?”

“You know what Blaze?”

I began to speak, full of false confidence.

“I always thought you were different. When I first read about you I thought, pah, just another rich kid trying to prove a point to mummy and daddy! But then I met you and realised you had something noble about you. You were decent and kind and the more time I spent with you, the more I looked up to you.”

He stayed silent, slipping his hands into the pockets of his neatly pressed pants.

“But then you went and got married to that dumb money-grabbing eejit!”

He said nothing in response. He just stared at me like a chastised child. He glanced downward and brushed the soles of his shiny shoes off the hard concrete. At this point I remembered he was my boss and tried to shut up - but Mr Daniels thought otherwise.

“And then you saw her for what she really was, and you stood up for yourself! I was so proud of you!”

I pointed an index finger in his general direction. He smiled a little and dropped his head.

“But tonight!” 

I trailed off, looking out past him. I was getting a little over dramatic at this point.

“Tonight you proved that I AM the eejit!”

I pointed haphazardly back in my own direction.

“Because I believed you were different all this time. I actually thought this was a date!”

I threw my arms up in the air and laughed out loud at my own stupidity. He looked up at me with an unreadable expression. And I leaned in a little close

“And I think, deep down you knew that. Never mind what the reality is, I know I’m not your style. I know you’d never slum it with some chubby Irish girl or ever love me back! But you didn’t need to hurt me like this! I don’t deserve it and I’ve had enough shitheads in my life, believe me! But never has anyone made me feel as insignificant as you did, here, tonight!”

His mouth fell open in what I’d like to imagine was regret. But I had said so much, and at this point I didn’t even care. All I wanted to do was go home and cry into my pillow. Oh and maybe devour a kebab on the way.

I lifted myself up, took a second to balance and headed down the steps passed him.

“You’d better run back into her before she shags one of the waiters. Again! Oh and Blaze? I quit!”

He didn’t say anything as I yelled the last part.

The next morning I woke up on the couch with a silver kebab wrapper stuck to my dress. Amy stood in front of me with a glass of water and a box of Nurofen.

“Oh, my god! You look like you had the best night ever!!” she squealed.

I sat up trying to focus.

“So how was it?!” she pressed.

“Well I told my boss I loved him, called him a shithead and then I think I quit.”

She dropped the box and stared at me in horror.

“So I’m gonna have a shower, pack for home and go jump off the plane mid-flight.”

Amy sat there in shock.

With every bead of water that pelted down on my head another memory of last night emerged. But Blaze’s face was the most prominent. There were stages of shock, anger and confusion in his face. I suppose me quitting, saved him from having to fire me.

I wrapped myself up in my big fluffy white robe and started throwing some clothes in a bag. Amy had left for work and my phone battery was dead. So I had at least a couple of hours to myself with no reminders of last night - bar the thumping headache. After about two hours I was packed and ready to leave. Sitting on the edge of my bed I hesitated before turning on my phone, which was now fully charged and ready to scold.

I sat, waiting for the messages to pour in. The first one was from Will. As was the second and third. I had missed call from Caz and a voice message from Amy telling me she was leaving for work and to have a great time back home in Ireland. Just as I threw it in my bag, I felt another small vibration.

>>Message<<

From: Blaze Stone

Time: 00:41

“Jo, just let me know that you got home safe. Thanks, Blaze”

I ignored it and threw it back in my bag. The train ride was excruciating, every bump echoed behind my eyes. After heading through airport security I rang my mum and headed straight to the bar. I felt immediately better after a pint.  I finally decided to respond to Will and Caz.

I explained everything that happened and promised to talk about it in depth when I got back. But right now I was conveniently, boarding the plane. Just before I switched off the phone I got a reply from Caz.

>>Message<<

“What’s your flight number??”

I wanted to ask why but I was already being eyed by Julian the “colourful” flight attendant so I quickly replied with the number and turned off the phone. She probably wants to keep track of the flight, or make sure I don’t suddenly hop on a plane to Mexico instead - disowning everyone and every mistake.

During the flight I failed to think about anything else other than last night. 

Why did he have me picked up if he knew she was going? Why didn’t he warn me? 

I pulled on my headphones determined to forget about it until I returned next week. I’ll just try to enjoy the wedding.

What's a girl to do - Part 2

I spent the rest of the morning shopping online, I had NOTHING good enough to wear for this event and it was only three days away! The only formal thing I owned was an emerald bridesmaid dress - which would have been perfect had it not been torn from the hanger every St. Patrick's Day. 

My cousin Amy had drawn two big shamrocks on the boobs because it "didn't look Irish enough!’ That sounded like the best idea ever, after a bottle of wine. Right now I could strangle her. 

"So Cinderella's going to the ball?" 

Kate Vile stopped me in my tracks, as I passed her desk. 

"I wouldn't get too excited if I were you. It’s not like you are actually going with him. No - he'll spend the evening mingling and avoiding you once you're seated with the other servants. That's why I turned him down. Well that, and I’m not so readily available!” 

She smirked knowingly, before answering her phone and shooing me away with a flick of her hand.

That figures I thought, I was hardly his first choice. I should have known he'd ask Vile before me. I slumped back to my desk - just in time to see my reminder pop up on screen 

>> 12:25 - Lunch with Caroline <<

"Oh crap, Caz!" I grab my coat and run around to the park.

Caroline was Mr. Clarke's PA before Aman-droid Dawson took over. We were instant friends from my first day. After being formally introduced she cornered me in the kitchen, 

"Join me and Will for a G&T after work and we’ll debrief you on all these nut-jobs". 

She won’t believe it when I tell her about the LAB.

"Over here you numpty! Only 5 minutes late! Wow! Look at you Ms. Punctuality!” came the sarcastic greeting. 

Caroline was tall, blonde and had legs up to her ears. If I didn't love her so much I'd hate her. I slumped down on the bench which did nothing for my non-existent figure. 

"So what’s the story? Will gets happy feet and I get suicide Sally? Nice one! You certainly don't look like someone going to the LAB with the hottest bachelor in London!” 

She announced the last part like she was presenting an award.

"Jaysus! I only told him an hour ago and he's already texted you!?" 

She takes a very elegant bite into her celery stick and shields her mouth

"Ah yeah – this is Will we’re on about!?" 

My head droops back onto the hard wood and I glance over at Stones’ window. 

"Well Caz, it’s only to meet with O'Brien's PA. He probably couldn't score up a date on such short notice - seeing as it’s his first year without the ex. So alert the church elders, I won’t be going. I’ll make up some excuse.”

Caroline snorted in disgust.

"Yeah sure - whatever! Blaze Stone hard up for a date! I seriously doubt it and of course you ARE going! Isn't this like, your actual wet dream?”

I let out a sigh as she abandons her rabbit food to divert her full attention towards me. This can be a little intimidating sometimes. It reminds me why she was stolen from us by the best property firm in the country. She had immense powers of persuasion. 

"Jo, Blaze has NEVER invited a PA to ANYTHING before! And yes, okay, as much as I loathe Kate Vile - she is right. It’s not like you are going with him officially, so I wouldn't waste time thinking about all that nonsense. You probably won’t see him most of the night. But you should use this opportunity to further your career. It’s the perfect event for networking and making new connections. You're better than this job and you definitely deserve more.” 

She narrows her eyes and scans them over my body - making me squirm a little self-consciously. 

"You’re a size 14 - right? Pear shape and decent tits... ok leave the dress to me and you sort out the shoes.”

With that said, she stuffs the remainder of lunch into her Louis Vuitton and swans off. Benches of adorning men eating their lunch, gape with open mouths. 

"Great! Suddenly she's Gok Wan!" I direct towards a passing pigeon.

I wait another few minutes before I drag myself up and return to the office. That evening I call the folks back home. Dad answered, so we had our usual 34 second catch up while he walked the phone to Mum. She had just come back from Mass where she met my ex-boyfriends parents 

"Apparently he's doing quite well for himself over in Australia. He’s got work coming out his ears, so he does, and he's met a lovely Irish dancer! It’s a pity ye two couldn't make it work really!”

Maybe it’s because he was too busy with other dancers while I was at home organizing our visas for Australia!

"They asked how you were too. I told them about your big reception job over there in London.” 

I rolled my eyes, no matter how many times I correct her - she still gets it wrong.

“Personal Assistant, Mum!"

"Ah sure what’s the difference?"

Only about thirty grand! The faint wailing music of Coronation Street in the background meant it was her excuse to cut the conversation short. My cue to go too - and pour myself a rather large Baileys.

The next morning I follow the same routine and continue to ignore the indigenous forest now sprouting on my legs. I squeeze onto the train find a spot in the corner. It’s a cold sunny morning, my favourite. Whilst stooped under the armpit of a fellow commuter, I can’t help but let my mind drift off to the Ball tomorrow night.

I decided after talking with Caroline that I will use this night to better myself. To hell with Blaze Stone! And all his caramel goodness. I have no time to be wasting on dreams.

Caroline will find the perfect dress, that much I know. Amy is bringing her heated rollers and all I have to do is fight every natural instinct for 3 hours! With my friend's support and the sun on my back, I can’t help but feel a little excited. 

"Good morning Vin! Here's your latte my good Sir!” 

After updating me on his daughter's letters from Jamaica, he nudges me with a wink.

"Hey! Congratulations my girl! I hear you’re gonna be shaking it with the big timers!” 

I held my confused stare until it hit me

“What? How the hell do you know too?”

“Your colleague and fine piece of eye candy Annie, told me last night. In bed.” 

"Annie? You mean our Annie? Our receptionist? The wee one with the hip replacement?”

"There is nothing wrong with her flexibility I tell you girl!" he said through a large grin.

After controlling to urge to heave I said goodbye and tried to shake that awful image from my mind. 

My God, it really doesn't matter how big a city is, gossip finds a way. 

"Well, good morning Jo" 

He greeted through dark Raybans as he gracefully swung out of his car.

Blaze was wearing his blue suit pants with a white shirt unbuttoned at the top offering another tantalizing tip of that tattoo.

That bare glimpse is beginning to remind me of a flipping Catchphrase puzzle. I can literally hear Roy Walker asking me to choose a square every time I saw part of it! 

“Good morning!” Adonis.

He throws his jacket over one shoulder and ushers me in the door before him. 

"I was thinking about tomorrow night Jo.”

Oh, here it comes! He's going to tell me he has a real date now and doesn't need a lucky charm any more. 

"What time should I pick you up?”

I stumble over the step trying to register what he asked.

“Whoops! Watch yourself there!” he says, steadying me with cat-like reflexes.

“It seems like I’ll have to keep a tighter grip on you tomorrow night! There are some expensive items in the National History Museum.”

I laughed so nervously I don’t even smile. He takes my stunned silence as his cue to keep talking.

“So, shall we say eight o’clock? The photographers like us to be early” he rolled his eyes.   

Oh sweet mother of God! Now I have to open my gob. God help whatever comes out.

"Yeah grand, that sounds like a proper plan," I answer, hoping my words were audible. Why did I say proper?

He nodded with the briefest smile and walked to his office. I must have been standing there longer than necessary - as Will had to leave his desk and guide me to mine.

"W-Will, what just happened?" 

"Well my darling, Mr. Stone-Cold-Fox said good morning and now you need to change your pants" 

"No h-he's going to collect me, tomorrow night, and bring me with him".

He hesitated but I knew he was thinking of just throwing me against my desk with jealousy. Instead he took a breath.

"Oh Poppet, this shit just got real!"

He ran off into the kitchen to grab some coffee before we discussed every tiny detail.

So now - despite all my hard work focusing on my career, and not thinking about Blaze - he pulls the floor from under me. But no, I’m sticking with logic here. I will not let my libido get the better of me!

Just then my phone vibrated with a text message from Caroline:

“OMFG!!!!!!!!!!”

I slam the phone down onto the desk. “Jesus Christ Will! Is nothing sacred with you?”

He peeked out from the kitchen like a scolded child and shrugged.  But I had to admit both their reactions caused the tiniest smile to appear on my lips. Fuck my career prospects!

I’m going on a date with Blaze Stone!

To be continued… 

What's a girl to do

Its 7am and the faint hum of my phone buzzing under the pillow pulls me from my blissful sleep. I press snooze and do just that. Ten minutes later and the phone beeps again.

“Okay, okay! I'm up! I'm up!”

I bark at my phone like an adolescent teenager. Swinging my legs out of the bed I sit there letting the cold morning apartment air bite my bare legs.

“I should probably shave those soon,” I think to myself.

“Pfft, who for??" I add, scolding myself as I slump off to the bathroom.

It wasn't the thought of trudging to the station or the warm over-packed underground that was getting to me. Honestly, I was beginning to enjoy the human contact of being pressed up against strangers - kind of like angry hugs. Clearly I'd been single too long. Yes, I'm 27 and I'm bored with my life. Even I'm not that self-absorbed to realize how stupid that sounds. I know in comparison to the single mother living on benefits in a Hackney tower block, I am Princess bloody Caroline! And to be fair I would see her  point,

I had only ever touched a pram to move it out of my way and I was convinced Primark was the portal to hell. Also things did tend to land on my lap. Jobs, opportunities, holidays and to quote my brother "If a bucket of shit fell from heaven it would turn to gold and land in front of me" I never quite understood that phrase, so I would just laugh in response while secretly rolling my eyes at my sister. But right now it was 7:15 and I was depressed! Quite rightly.

My life had become this endless repetitive story line, up early - go to work - look busy - fuck up a little - come home - have dinner and go to bed. If reincarnation is a real thing I'm terrified of coming back as myself. This was just not good enough. Of course, I would never let anyone at home know this. The minute I arrived back to my sleepy village on the west coast of Ireland, I was Katie fecking Price! Regaling every one of my escapades in Chelsea and Soho, or which celebrity I saw in Harrods the week before. Or talk about some major upcoming London event, which I had NO intention of attending. But as long as I kept up the pretense of a London socialite and felt they were sufficiently jealous, I was safe.

Unfortunately the weight of other people's expectations was beginning to take its toll. I worked as an EA (Executive Assistant) in a top architectural firm based in St James's. Every morning I'd walk by the Ritz and say hello to Vin, the doorman. He's a sweet old man who has a soft spot for my Irish accent and on the rare occasions when I wasn't running late, I would grab us a coffee and stop for a chat. But there would be no coffee this morning so I threw him a bone instead - "Top o'da morning m'dear!" He was elated. Why did I have that bottle of wine last night? I can feel it sloshing around inside me as I trot downhill.

Blaze Stone's Audi was just pulling in, as I crept up the steps to the side entrance. I could see by his erratic hand gestures that he was on the phone to his ex-wife. So I had some time but not much - he'd soon realize he was no longer married to the bitch, and hang up. Thank God he divorced that woman. The details were a little sketchy, but apparently he came home early one day and caught Mrs. Stone giving their dog walker more than a tip!

Best day of my life, no more putting up with her Chanel No.5 and veiled insults.

"Oh you Irish and that sense of humor," she'd fake giggle. "However do you get anything done, no wonder the country is in such disarray!”

But by the end of their relationship, she didn't even bother trying so hard and referred to me as "Mrs. Potato-head.”

I always hoped it was more to do with the whole famine thing and not that I looked anything like Ben from Eastenders.

"JO!"

Will whisper-yelled as soft as possible but it was still enough to send me flying into the fridge.

"Back door again, really??"

Will was one of my best friends and only ally in the office. He kept me sane or drunk, never both.

"Christ Will! You scared the shite out of me!"

He thought that being gay permitted him to wear the loudest outfits known to man, and today he didn't disappoint.

"Jesus... is that a skirt?" I pointed at his legs. Which by the way were more hairless than mine?

"No it’s a kilt, my little Irish fairy!” he corrected with an actual curtsy. I just stared awaiting a real explanation

“Its Support your Heritage day! I told you about this last week! Did anyone read my email??” he yelled toward the office as he flitted off in a sulk.

 “Sure I’m the fairy!” I thought to myself limping over to my desk.

"Morning Jo!" smirked Mr. Clarke's P.A. Amanda Dawson. The "P" stood for ‘Perfect.’ I sometimes wondered if she was real and not one of those Barbie robots from Japan – it really wouldn't surprise me if under her designer skirt were plastic private parts. Fuck - she'd probably STILL get more action than me! Amanda was a 22 year old Chelsea Daddy's girl and a walking poster child for why men should pull out.

“Late again Jo? Don't worry - I won’t say anything to Mr. Stone but as a suggestion I think you should invest in a real alarm clock. I'm sure you could pick one up at John Lewis, they'll have a sale on soon." She patted my arm and tilted her head like a dignitary visiting a refugee camp. This made my lip curl over my teeth.

"Thanks Amanda, but if I want your opinion I'll kick your kennel!"

With that she snapped her perfect jaw line back towards her desk, and in strolled Blaze. I hated my job but I loved my boss, without sounding too Savage Garden,

I truly, madly, deeply loved my boss!

Everyone loved him, even though he wasn't aware of the power he held over women and men, if Will was anything to go by. I always thought swooning was a just some word Jackie Collins invented until my first interview here. I literally fell over when he greeted me, my knees collapsing under me for the first time, despite the weight they carried.

He smiled sweetly to reveal perfect teeth and blamed the old carpet to save me further embarrassment. His dark caramel eyes glistened as he held out a hand like a white knight. He seemed more carefree back then, and that was only two years ago. Nowadays he was less trusting of people, because whatever window he had left open inside himself was now shut down tight.

At just 29 he was so accomplished. He landed The London Businessman Award two years running. He was the whole package - fit, tall and had that deep broody angry sexy... Okay I've lost my train of thought, but you get the idea. He was HOT and girls like me don't get the hot guys, we only get to stare at them on the underground while they mentally undress the Amanda's of this cruel world. So the fact I got to spend most of my day with Blaze was the only perk I needed.

This morning he seemed less focused and tired, confirming I was right about the ex-wife then.

"Morning all!” His greeting was formal yet polite.

He sauntered past Annie the receptionist, who must be at least 100 years old at this stage and looks like she's haunting the place rather than part of the staff. Mr. Stone was then passed some papers from Kate Vile - our client liaison, who never failed to live up to her name.

"Good Morning Mr. Stone!"

Amanda's perky breasts greeted him eagerly. I could feel a growl rolling inside me and like a wild animal I wanted to pee all around him just to claim my territory.

"Morning Ms. Dawson," he replied without looking up from the papers.

"Jo? My office  please, and bring your diary."

Mmmmm, I love how he says my name. How can a man make one syllable sound so delicious? I swear he walks in slow motion.

"Eh, Jo?" he repeats, now staring at me.

Shit!

“Oh! Yes Blaze! Ah, eh, Mr. Stone - sorry, I'm coming!"

Will raises an eyebrow to match his smirk.

“I bet you are you dirty tart!” he whispers as I follow Blaze into his office like a lovesick puppy.

I close the door and inhale the room - it smells of him.

"I trust you’re well and had a nice weekend?" he asks whilst rounding his large desk and slipping the tailored jacket down his broad shoulders.

I’m not sure if this is a statement or a genuine question but I decided on a short response and spared him the escapades of me and Will getting thrown out of a Camden club for disorderly conduct

"Yes Sir, thank you".

His office was huge with floor to ceiling windows and a beautiful view of St James's Park. Scattered around the mahogany shelves were antique heads and ornaments - no doubt collected by his younger self during his family trips to Asia. If I was lucky enough, I got a tinkers trinket from some Kilkee stall as a child.

And with that memory I can mentally taste the bottle of Old Spice Dad had spilled in the car. It had impregnated the upholstery and always released a sickening aroma on damp days. Mum and Dad bickering over routes and the rhythm of window wipers was the soundtrack to my childhood excursions. A far cry from Blaze and his private jet no doubt!

The Family Stone were old money. His great grandfather had opened a hotel in the 1800's which became two and before long had expanded into a chain all over the world. So Blaze never wanted for anything - his trust fund must have been close to fifty million easily! But he was an old soul and chose to earn his way in the world, which of course made him even more irresistible.

The heavy silver frames housed photographs of his parents outside a large manor house. His sister and her husband onboard a yacht and one of him asleep with his nephew, which I adored. I used to stare at it and imagine them as my husband and son, yes I was THAT twisted

"Please move my one o'clock with Jim Murphy to this evening, and book a table at the Garson club for three people."

I immediately hunch over my diary and begin to scribble.

"Today I'll be working on the Victoria project so I will need the status report from Kate ASAP.  Remind her it was due last Friday and don't take any of her nonsense!”

He rolls up his sleeves to reveal tanned arms and the tip of a mysterious tattoo, I was starving to see. I couldn't help but smirk at the last command. Kate Vile was more polished than the Queen’s fingernail - which got up Amanda's tiny nose more than anyone. With her private school accent and slim physique she was by all accounts, a perfect match for Blaze.

Fortunately he had seen his fair share of gold digging debutants and she was no different. He knew she would inevitably tire from his rejections and move on where her assets would be appreciated. But he needed her snotty attitude and delusions of grandeur to win over some of our, well, similar clients.

"Oh, and I'd like you to accompany me, to the LAB this year."

The London Architects Ball was the highlight of the property world - invites may as well have been hidden in Wonka bars.  I stop writing, stunned, wondering if I had heard him right.

"Jerry O'Brien will be in attendance with his PA, so you two will be working closely once the contract is signed. It would be good know the face behind the name. Also the fellow Irish accent may win him over!"

His expression seemed to lift with that last line. He quickly glanced over to my side of the desk with the faint hint of a smile. His black hair swung over his dark eyes. Time seemed to stop as he tamed it back, automatically flexing a bicep.

Once I realized I had been staring at his hair a second too long, I flipped through my diary - distracting us both from the rising blood cells racing towards my face.

"That'll be all for now," he concluded.

It might have been my imagination - but that smirk still lingered at the corner of his mouth, and it briefly reminded me of the old Blaze. The playful charming boy who ran this company, before the heart broken man took his place.

“Oh and Jo? Please use the front entrance from now on?”

THE LAB!!!! My mind screamed when closing his door. This would be the first time I ever saw Blaze outside the office and I will be on his arm at the LAB!

Well not exactly on his arm, but hell that's why God invented Photoshop. Secretly I know I'm already reading way too much into this invitation. After all, it’s just a meet and greet, but no one else needs to know that.

I immediately text Will to meet me in the kitchen but he was already in there - tending to a rouge thread from his kilt.

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!”

I was practically hopping on the spot.

"What's up Mrs. Doyle?" he asks grinning, finding himself hilarious.

"Stone just asked me to the LAB!”

 Will’s jaw dropping was enough to send me over the edge and I was hit with an immediate dose of reality.

“Oh Jesus, what the hell am I gonna wear?” 

..... to be continued