Miss Spelled (12 page)

‘Oh yeah, it’s a shame that…urgh, there she is.’ Ella stops when a pair of lips teeter into the room, closely followed by a pair of breasts attached to an unflatteringly skinny body with a huge mop of sleek blonde hair perched on top. A mirror image follows behind.

‘It’s a shame he’s getting married…to her,’ Ella says pointing directly at the bony blonde who is now doing her best leech impersonation on Aiden’s arm.

My blood pressure rises instantly and I find myself launching out of my seat. How dare she touch my fiancé like that! Without warning, my mouth opens and my brain is preparing a tirade of abuse against the Barbie doll attached to the love of my life.
Married…to her? She’s his fiancée? But that’s me. I’m his fiancée. Me. Not her
.

My eyes fill with tears and it takes all of my resolve not to collapse on the floor and howl like a banshee. If I cry now, Ella will know that something’s up. Besides, once these waterworks start, it’s unlikely they’ll stop.
Must hold back the flow…must hold back the flow…

‘Are you okay?’ Ella asks.

I stare at Aiden, unable to take my eyes off him.

‘Did the two of you have a thing together? Is this news to you?’ Ella asks, looking backwards and forwards between Aiden and myself. ‘You and Hunter, and you and Aiden? Man, you have done well.’ She looks at me with a mixture of confusion and admiration on her face. It’s a look I have grown accustomed to when Aiden takes me out. How on earth did she get him? It’s a real morale boost — not.

‘Ah, no. I just, um, mistook him for someone else, that’s all,’ I lie. ‘When are they getting…married?’ It chokes me to have to say that word. Married.

‘On Sunday, I believe.’

‘Sunday? This Sunday?’
Holy fuck!

‘Yep,’ she says and shakes her head, ‘Such a waste. Another one bites the dust.’

‘But that’s only six days away!’

My entire body is numb. Even my lips — which I believe are doing a little tremble —can’t be felt properly.

‘I know, it’s heartbreaking isn’t it? Her family’s loaded, you know. I mean L.O.A.D.E.D. They’re in the resource industry. They could buy the entire country if they wanted to. She gets whatever, whoever, whenever she wants.’

‘Well then, you’d think she could afford a decent feed with all that money,’ I mumble.

Ella laughs.

‘But what does he see in her?’ I just have to know. This girl is the kind that Aiden used to go out with, the kind his mother forced upon him prior to my arrival. The kind of girl who belongs in the world that he belongs in, or so Cressida used to say.

‘Question of the century,’ Ella says. ‘No one can figure that bit out. They say opposites attract, but…’

It has to have something to do with Cressida
.

Ella continues, ‘Between you and me, I’ve heard Geneva is a real princess.’

‘Her name is Geneva? Her parents named her after a city in Switzerland?’

‘Yeah, but I get the feeling that she thinks it’s the other way around — that the city was named after her.’

Oh my God. How can Aiden be with this woman?

‘Sorry, you were saying?’ I continue.

‘Geneva spends her life shopping and living between New York, London, Paris and here. And maybe Geneva as well,’ she laughs.

Why would Aiden be interested in someone like that?

‘She’s a bit of a coke-head too, likes to party and…well, you know,’ she continues.

‘Know what?’

‘Rumour has it she’s a bit of a nympho,’ she says.

‘A nympho? Is that what the idle rich call a slut?’

Ella nearly falls off her seat laughing. ‘What a shame we’ve only got a week left together. Let’s get another drink.’

‘Yup, let’s do that,’ I say, still staring at Aiden and the blonde, trying not to let the sound of my breaking heart be heard.

* * *

The anaesthetic properties of the vibrant red-coloured drinks have worked their magic on my whimpering feet, to the point they no longer belong to me. My heart, on the other hand, is a different matter. It feels so heavy that I fear it might break away and freefall to my feet before it shatters irreparably, casting itself far and wide for people to step on and mush into the pizza-patterned carpet.

My night is spent watching Aiden and Geneva as discreetly as possible, from behind a potted palm I manoeuvred in front of me while Ella was refilling our drinks. The sight of Geneva’s red-taloned fingernails on the chest of my soulmate make every speck of jealousy in my body rise to the surface. It could rupture at any moment, leaving green goo stuck to everything in this room and hopefully taking Geneva out with it.

Eventually, Geneva leaves his side, followed by her clone. This is my chance to get up-close and personal. They giggle and waltz their way into the ladies’ room, arms linked like my grade twos. I follow at a discreet distance.

The ladies’ room is decorated in floor-to-ceiling marble, with intricate gold taps and pendant lights. In place of paper towels are thick, fluffy white hand towels and a wicker basket to dispose of them after one use. It looks like more like Buckingham Palace than riverside Melbourne.

Geneva’s red-soled Louboutin heels click-clack on the floor as she teeters into a cubicle. The clone takes the one next to Geneva. I scoot into the one on the other side of her, and can hear a small compact of some kind being opened, followed by four almighty sniffs. So it is true! She’s a coke-head. Or possibly a hayfever sufferer.

‘So, like, how boring is this party?’ says one.

‘Urgh! I know, and that cheap, shitty champagne doesn’t help. It tastes like cat piss.’

‘The piss of a sick cat,’ says one.

‘A dead cat,’ replies the other, as they launch off into hysterics at their own wittiness.

‘How long do we have to stay? I am sooo bored. There’s not even any eye candy.’

‘Of course there is! It’s just you can’t touch him. He’s all mine. ‘

That’s obviously Geneva. A huge weight falls upon me. She loves him. She loves my Aiden.

‘This entire charade must be killing you.’

‘It is, believe me. Fucking old Grandpa and his demands,’ Geneva starts. ‘”You must settle down, Geneva. Life is not about partying. You’re shaming the family”,’ she says, doing an impersonation of a man. ‘”You’re out of the inheritance unless you marry and stop partying”. Fuck him.’

Hang on! What?

They flush their loos and I can hear them moving out toward the taps.

‘And on top of that,’ continues Geneva, ‘Last week Aiden says to me, ‘I think I might take a redundancy, return to Uni and become a teacher. What do you think?’’

A teacher! He’s taking his own life back!
Pride swells within me.

‘Ha!’ the other one laughs. ‘And what did you say to that?’

‘What do you think I said to that? A fucking teacher? Even though it’s not a real marriage, I still have to look good in it.’

‘Of course you do! What a selfish bastard!’

‘I know! So anyway, I made it clear to him that he is to stay at his job, because Geneva West is not the wife of a fucking teacher! Of course, I phrased it differently for his benefit.’

‘Of course.’

‘I tell you, the stress is taking its toll on my skin. Just look at me!’ she says, and snorts more cocaine.

‘Aww, don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon, honey. Then you can get back to life.’

‘Hopefully Grandpa’s cancer kills him before Sunday, then I won’t have to marry Aiden. But it’s unlikely.’

‘How long does he have?’

‘Long enough to change his will after I marry; a couple of months. Once he’s dead, I can get a quickie divorce, inherit my squillions and get back to real life.’

Holy shit! She’s marrying him to get an inheritance
.

There are another four sniffs, as I flush my loo and move out into the adjacent powder room. They are both rubbing their noses and continuing to sniff, but unlike any normal person suffering hayfever, they don’t blow their noses. I guess they wouldn’t want to waste all that cocaine by emptying their nasal passages into a tissue.

‘And his mother! Fuck me. Dried-up old hag. No wonder the dad took off with his PA. Cressida looks like she’d need a crowbar to open those legs of hers — after brushing away years of cobwebs,’ Geneva says.

‘Maybe it’s healed over?’ the clone laughs.

They both burst into hysterics again.

I try not to laugh, but can’t help a little smirk. So, Lewis has taken off? Not surprising.

My hands are trembling as we stand next to each other, our bags on the marbled vanity – mine a bargain from Strandbags, theirs probably not. They have both emptied the contents of their handbags onto the vanity, taking up all available room. There are more cosmetics here than in Myers and DJ’s combined. Chanel, Prada, all the expensive brands. The lipstick I scored for $5 refuses to come out of my handbag. It’s gone into hiding, probably for fear of making an embarrassment of itself. Even cosmetics have an ego, surely?

‘So, is everything, like, ready for Sunday?’ the clone asks.

‘Pfft,’ Geneva shrugs, ‘Who cares? My dress is divine, and I am going to be heading up all the social pages, both here and overseas. That’s the main thing.’

She is much taller than me, a good six inches at least, and would definitely have a BMI that is in the ‘dangerously skeletal’ range, if it weren’t for the enormous lips and breasts that in no way suit her scrawny physique. At least between the boobs and the lips, she’d never drown.

My stomach swirls as anxiety grips and tosses me around in a sea of nausea. All Dutch courage previously brought on by too much alcohol has deserted me. I am a tiny, old, decaying building, barely standing amongst brand new, shiny skyscrapers.

I make eye contact and swallow the acrid taste in my mouth at the thought of having to speak to this woman, but my curiosity just has to be satisfied. ‘I’ve been staring at your shoes all night. They are…like…fabulous. Where did you get them?’ I ask.

Geneva looks up from ruffling around in her bag, the one that looks remarkably like mine, but has tiny silver letters on the top that read
Hermes
.

Her eyes are glassy and struggle a little to locate me in the mirror. ‘They are gorgeous, aren’t they? I got them in New York yesterday,’ she says, attempting to eye me up and down but getting lost on the way back up and needing to clutch onto the vanity to regain her balance. ‘But of course, you’ll have to wait ages to get a pair. You’ll be on a waiting list for nine months to get these, if you’re lucky.’

‘Wow! Lucky you,’ I say, trying feign interest.

She flips her long hair, which is platinum blonde with beige highlights and so straight it could be used as a spirit level. It’s also much glossier than nature intended it to be. Her dilated eyes are surrounded by too much smoky eyeshadow, the amount often found on strippers, and her face is devoid of natural movement. All in all, up close, she’s a bit scary to those not well-versed in cosmetic enhancements. The clone is remarkably similar, but with a darker blond version of hair.

What is Aiden thinking?

‘So, can we go now?’ the clone whines.

Geneva adjusts the material barely covering her breasts and thighs in order to reveal more flesh. ‘Soon. I spotted a friend I need to catch up with. As soon as I saw him tonight, all I could think of was straddling him again and riding him like a bucking bull until the middle of next week.’

Holy fuck!
This entire thing is just getting freakier and veering into Melrose Place territory.

‘He is hot,’ smiles the clone, as she smooths her hair. ‘He can polish my vajazzling anytime.’

Urgh! That’s a mental image that will be hard to get rid of
.

Geneva abruptly stops applying the fiftieth layer of lipstick and looks at her friend in the mirror, scowling. ‘Well, you can’t have him. He’s mine, Imogene. Even after Sunday, he’s still mine. Got it?’

Imogene looks to be suitably put back in her place as she places her hands up into surrender position and her face flushes bright pink. ‘Of course he is! I was just saying, that, like, you know…you make a great couple. I’d never try to get him or anything.’

‘That’s good, because you’d make an absolute fool of yourself if you did. He’d never be interested in you,’ she snarls, eyeing her friend up and down.

They pack up their entire makeup collection, smooth their hair one last time and leave the ladies room together.

It’s only now that it occurs to me that I have been too nervous to breathe for the last ten minutes.
Jesus! What a bitch. How can Aiden be marrying her? How can he not know about her motives? Does he actually love her? Is this a real marriage for him? And just who is she going to straddle?

Oh, wait a minute. Of course. It can only be one man. Hunter.

My agonised feet click-clack after Geneva as fast as they can, but seeing as her legs are about three feet longer than mine, she’s at a distinct advantage. Short of bursting into a sprint, I’ve no hope of catching up. But it doesn’t matter, because the view is much better from back here.

With the stealth of a jaguar, I dart behind a well-placed, extremely large potted plant, one of many located between the ladies and the Chart Room door.

Hunter is standing outside the Chart Room and is firmly in my sights as Geneva approaches him. He looks to have been waiting there for her.

His lips curl into a sexy as hell smile—in fact, sexier than hell. It’s the kind of smile that could dissolve all panties within a 10 metre radius. Poof! Gone.

Geneva says something to Imogene, who continues on into the function. She side-steps behind one of the other jungle-sized plants only three plants away from my current camouflaged position. Hunter joins her as they nestle into the foliage.

One advantage of being short, apart from getting all the bargains at sales, is that it lends itself very well to going unnoticed. My plant’s foliage is touching the wall so closely that a taller person would have no way of getting in between it and the wall. But for me — cinch! I flatten myself against the wall,
a la
Spiderman, and work my way over to the next potted plant where I repeat the exercise again. Within 30 seconds, I am only three metres away from Hunter and Geneva, who have locked their lips together like hormonally overdosed teenagers.