04 June 2011

Have You Ever


... Been a Favourite?

I can feel the bass beats hitting the wall again, Toni must be hitting her decks again... she has a habit of doing that each and every morning, especially on weekends.  The neighbours have nothing to say, because they've all moved out and I'm surprised I'm still part sharing with her.  To be honest, the house is amazing and the rent is pretty reasonable between the four of us, so I have no complaints... well, maybe one on this occasion.  I sit up and wait, suddenly realising it isn't Toni after all, but my head, it's thumping... well banging at the moment and I realise it's from last night's drinking. D-R-I-N-K-I-N-G, oh lord.  I lie back in bed and close my eyes, willing the roughness to disappear but no amount of will power will make it go away.  I need an aspirin or two, but as I reach for my bedside table, Ronan comes storming in.  He's one of my other flatmates, camp as they come and the most chattiest person I know.

He looks at his Rolex watch, "What time do you call this missy? I thought you would be at least out of your pyjamas by now and strutting your stuff down the catwalk of life." Always impressionable, always honest, that's what I like about him.

"I went out last night had way too many drinks, it seems my gut isn't what it used to be," I try to explain myself.

"Darling, I think your gut is the least of your worries... you'll be doing a whole lot more drinking tonight at Charlotte's exhibition, don't forget to wear something exceptional tonight," Ronan flicks his hand up in the air as if he's swatting a fly, "You do have something exceptional to wear tonight, don't you?" He surveys his nails and then looks pointedly to me.

I screw my features up, I don't have anything "exceptional" to wear- and as if reading my thoughts, Ronan unveils a box right in front of me.

"What's this?" I say in utter shock.

"Something I brought when I was in Milan last week, just a thank you for the Nick and Steve situation."

"How is the Nick and Steve situation now by the way?" I ask curiously.

"Oh, y'know much better then I had hoped. Nick wasn't too pleased that he had caught me shagging Steve- but I wasn't ecstastic about his stalker tendencies anyway, but with your collaborate way of turning things around, he's out of the picture.  Steve was a good shag but he lacks in personality... but enough about me, open it," he pushes the box closer to me.
I open the box, peel away the decadent tissue paper and gasp, "Oh my God, I can't accept this, this is too much."

"You deserve it darling, and if Charlotte asks you where you brought it, say you found it in a car boot sale or something... remember the last time she found out I brought you those Jimmy Choos, she went mental with jealousy, I don't fancy being on the other end of that any time soon, you are my favourite fag hag."

I smile and hug Ronan and he walks off sheepishly and closes the door. 


Later that night, Toni, Ronan and I make our way over to the Exhibition Hall a few roads away. We decide to walk, as it's a gorgeous summer evening, so there's no need to wear a shawl or even my denim jacket and even if I wanted to, it wouldn't go with my Armani Prive dress.  Ronan knows me so well, he knows what fits me and it feels like a second skin.  He even said so, when I came out of my bedroom earlier. If it weren't for him liking men, he would so do me in a flash, which is a compliment by far and the only one I have received in a very long time.

The hall is bustling with critics, art lovers, the chic and sophisticated and just about anyone who appreciates art.  I can spot Charlotte talking to a reporter about her collection on the far end of the hall.  This is her second collection she's unveiled. She's an artist and you wouldn't think it either, she's beautiful, blonde and ambitious. You'd think she belonged in the boardroom then in an art studio.  A tray of champagne passes us and we grab a flute each and schmooze.  It's packed and I can just about catch snippets of conversation above the music that Toni has supplied for the night with the in house DJ. This is the first time I have seen her second collection and she has aptly called it, "Lots of things about Lottie." Ronan has gone to the bar to order something stronger and Toni is already chatting to the DJ, meanwhile, I take a look at Charlotte's work, her work is mesmerising and sells for thousands of pounds at a time.  Her work is very Renaissance modern, her brush strokes are imperfect which makes the painting so perfect and the colours mesmerising, and the subjects she chooses fit.  I come to a painting that's called, "Residing With Ronan"- I can only think of our flat mate at the bar, it's an explosion of colour and a man within it and I think Charlotte has captured Ronan perfectly.

"Do you like it?" I turn around to see Charlotte standing behind me. I squeal like a teenage girl and hug her.

"Y'know I love it, bit gutted that I don't have a painting dedicated to me..." I smile.

"Of course you do, you just haven't got around yet... oh wow, I love your dress. Where did you get it?" Charlotte asks.

"This old thing, it was lying around," I shake off the idea.

"Really, lying around in some designer shop... it's beautiful," she says admiringly and I feel guilty for lying to her, "So, how was your night last night Fred?"

Fred is my name, okay, well, it's short for Frederica but everyone who knows me calls me Fred.

"I got a little too pissed," I say apologetically.

"I know, you were singing from the top of your lungs when you came in... I'm just glad we didn't have any neighbours about to complain about the racket...where's Ronan and Toni?" she asks.

I point behind me to Ronan who's still at the bar and Toni who's now saddled with the DJ in his box.  Charlotte nods and excuses herself, as she continues to socialise with the others attendees.  I walk around and am completely bewildered by Charlotte's talent. Charlotte is outspoken in her art as well as being direct, she's the go to girl if you want to get something or someone off your back, she's also hard working and comes from a very wealthy back ground.  She's independent and doesn't like to depend on her family name to make a mark in the world. Her success is purely down to her hard work and perseverance.  I walk around taking in the landscapes, the portraits, when suddenly I spot him. Jack.  He's staring at a portrait of someone who looks utterly familiar and I realise, it's a portrait of me.  I walk a bit closer and realise he has started talking to a brunette, who's petite and much smaller in height to him.

"I swear to God, I know this woman... I just can't pinpoint where though." he says in that unmistakably voice of his.

The woman to his left replies, "Ambitious aren't you Jack? Come on, she's probably as fictional as my mansion in the Hollywood hills" she tuts.

"No, seriously Kay... I know her," the art of persuasion doesn't work on her and I can see, he's trying to think of where he's seen her. Me. "Honestly, I've met this woman!"

I come closer to the painting and glance at the title, it reads "Fun Fred." I can barely contain my smile when the woman turns around and sees me smiling and then she glances back at the painting and then back at me. She prods Jack on the shoulder and looks blankly back at me. Jack turns around and realisation hits, he's about to mouth something to his companion or to me but I don't get to hear what he says as I hear Charlotte calling me, "Fred, I want you to come and meet someone."
I turn away and walk towards Charlotte and an imposingly gorgeous guy standing right next to her. He's at least, six feet tall and has the most prettiest brown eyes I have ever seen.

"This is Matt, my boyfriend. Fred this is Matt," Charlotte says grinning from ear to ear.

"Nice to meet you Matt," I give him my best smile, "How did you two meet?"

"Well, Lottie and I met through our friend Jack... oh there he is now!" Matt replies and Jack comes striding towards us, "Jack, this is Fred..." he says to his friend who is looking at me as if he's just witnessed a ghost or something, "Is that short for anything?"

"Frederica but everyone who knows me, calls me Fred," I muster.

"So, you're the muse for that painting over there?" the petite brunette pitches in, the one who only minutes ago was standing in front of my painting with Jack.

"Yes, she is my flat mate," I hear Charlotte say, "Fred is a baker."

I wave at everyone feeling really self conscious all of a sudden, I'm not used to being leered at or put under the microscope for inspection.  Suddenly, it gets all too much for me and I excuse myself and head outside for some air. Reaching the familiar street and look of the King's Road, I head towards a little cafe when the door opens and the voice of Jack heralds my pause.

"You have a habit of running away, don't you?"

I turn around, I really don't have time for this. "I was running off, there's a difference."

He folds his arms, which accentuates his biceps in his black blazer and baby blue shirt, "Really?"

"Yes, really. I don't like crowds and I certainly don't like attention..." I begin to say, but he's staring at me in a way that's making me feel slightly dizzy and I don't know if it's because he's absolutely still gorgeous from when I saw him in Sainsbury's a couple of weeks ago or that I am feeling the fringes of my claustrophobia.

"So, you're the Sainsbury's girl then?" it's more a comment then a question, "And it's a small world, isn't it?" Now that's a question. He comes closer towards me and is literally a few feet away, "We better have proper introductions then, I'm Jack McCalister and your full name is?"

"Jack McCalister, I'm Frederica St.Clair, it's nice to finally put a name to a face." I shake his hand as if we've agreed on a transaction, but the only transaction I want to face is a kiss perhaps, God, he has great hands.

"Likewise," he smiles, "By the way, you don't happen to be related to Freida St. Clair?"

Oh boy, why would this be any different... Freida St. Claire is my famous actress sister... and now I don't have a chance in hell.

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