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

An Irish Mammy at Christmas

They say its Santa's busiest time of year but no one ever thinks about poor Mrs Claus running around the kitchen tripping over elves and wrestling the giant turkey while her husband is out scoffing cookies and brandy!

In my house Christmas wouldn't exist without my Mum. She is the chef, the host, the cleaner, the caretaker, the nanny, the personal shopper and the referee. She is by far the magic behind every twinkling fairy light which she evenly spaced along the mantle piece.

Her Christmas begins in November, when she stocks up on the limited edition cheeses, pate's  and crates of beer! She calls each of us to find out what we would like over the holiday period and spares no expense meeting our every preference. She then orders the turkey/ham and plans the dinner(s), three in total but that doesn't include all the breakfasts, lunches and mini dinners she prepares in between! After food its the presents, and once again, no expense is spared. The woman will spend every last penny she has on her children and grandchild all the while telling you she didn't spend much to avoid guilt on our part. 

The Christmas tree would put Rockefeller Center to shame! She spends hours delicately placing each fairy light to shine through her Waterford crystal decorations and then carefully wraps the branches with tinsel. It is admired by all, but she doesn't do it for the pride or compliments. I know with each decoration placed she thinks "I hope they like this". 

She makes her way upstairs to prepare the rooms. The awaiting beds are dressed in their Sunday best! Brand new sheets (sometimes duvets!) are expertly folded in military style and lockers are emptied for our personal belongings. She has even supplied toiletries we may need and new underwear (just in case!). 

She is the last to go to bed and the first to rise. If we go out to the pub she'll be up waiting for us when we come back, no matter what time. The fire will be cleaned out at 7am every morning and a new one set just so the house is warm for us when we rise. The tea will be made and the frying pan heating. Once we have breakfast eaten she will clear it up, make the beds after us and then take us where ever we want to go. In the evenings she makes sure no one has an empty glass or tummy and refuses to sit down unless everyone else is happy.

So its not the perfect Christmas / Stephens Day / New Years Day Dinner that makes the holiday so special, its the dedication behind it all. The hope in her eyes that her children are happy and the genuine concern for our well-being. 

She loves to see us arrive and cries when we leave, she is my absolute hero. She's my Mum and without her Christmas just wouldn't be worth celebrating.  

.... no offence Dad!