A Moral Dilemma: A Romantic Comedy Chick Lit Story (6 page)

“And how much can we expect to charge for these ‘
training sessions
’?

“Around fifty pounds each?”

Her eyes narrowed and her jaw instantly set rigid. “Fifty pounds?!” she spat with disgust. “You are clearly wasting my time Rebecca Hardy! Get out.”

“But I…”

“Out!” handing my business plan back to me.

I hesitated at her door. “Can I still offer the service to my clients?”

“If your clients want to waste their pamper day having
facial exercise training
– that is entirely up to them! BUT
you
must not suggest it, and we will certainly not be supporting this miniscule venture of yours as a salon offering. Do I make myself clear Rebecca Hardy?”

“Perfectly Gwendolyn.”

By the time the locksmith had changed the front door lock, and I had single-handedly lugged the sixteen plus rubbish bags containing Jeremy’s belongings out onto the landing, it was already six fifteen. But I was not at all concerned. Jeremy had said he’d be home by six which meant I wouldn’t see him before seven. I sat cross-legged
on the sofa, watching Kitty Kat play with her string ball, sipping a glass of organic red wine, listening to Corinne Bailey Rae, as I waited for Jeremy to arrive, so I could finally close the chapter on this part of my life, and step from certainty into uncertainty. So I could turn my life completely upside fuckin’ down, and embrace penniless singledom. Whoopee!

Corinne’s sultry tones wafted reassuringly through the speakers, resonating my mind, telling me to just go ahead and let my hair down. Humph.

I heard him turning his key several times unsuccessfully in the new lock, followed by his irritated buzzing of the bell. I opened the door slowly and as he leaned in for his usual welcome home kiss, I turned my back on him and walked into the living room.

He followed me. “What no kiss pumpkin?” Then: “My darned key doesn’t seem to be working…and what the blazes are all those rubbish bags doing out there?” I sat back on the sofa and watched him as he stood in the middle of the room, still appropriately holding his briefcase. He ran his fingers through his dark tousled hair and squinted inquisitively at me with his ocean blue eyes, blinking un-naturally long lashes. He was beautiful. No denying that. But he was a
beautiful
cheating lying toe-rag, of which there was also no denying!

“Your key doesn’t work because I had the locks changed, and the rubbish bags out on the landing contain your belongings,” I stated quite simply and sipped my wine. No point in getting into a discussion about it. He wasn’t going to talk or reverse-
psychologise his way out of this one. “I want you out Jeremy. Today!”

He looked stunned. “You changed the locks? Put my things – Rebecca, what the blazes is going on?”

I pointed to the TV screen. He followed my gaze and was met with the unmistakable image of himself with hand tucked incriminatingly up under Miss Thingy’s skirt. His jaw fell open, first with the
dis
belief of what he saw, and then as the realisation of having actually been found out registered – belief.

“I know what happened last night Jeremy. And I know it’s not the first time you’ve done this to me.” His eyes were looking down at the floor as though he were searching for an answer in the Persian rug. “And another thing I know for absolute certain is that this IS the very last time you get to disrespect me, because We. Are. Most. Definitely. Through!”

He stepped toward me. “Rebecca…I…”

“I want you to go Jeremy! Now!” I stood up to face him.

“Pumpkin please, don’t do this.” He looked broken. I was breaking. “…I’m so sorry.”

“You’re only sorry because you’ve been caught Jeremy! Well you can take your cheating sorry arse out of here, because I want nothing more to do with you ever again!”

“Becky please listen…”

“FUCK. OFF!” I glared, daring him to say another word. He didn’t. I never knew such square shoulders could hunch, but hunch they did, as the wreckage of Jeremy walked out of the apartment and out of my life.

Chapter Three

Of course I knew that wasn’t the end of it. Jeremy was never going to just disappear. We had too much history together. We had weddings and other landmark social events to attend – this very year – as a couple! We had a holiday booked. His mother – and maybe even he – still loved me. Our social circles inter-connected. And there was, of course, the little matter of me wanting to keep the apartment – without having to give him a cent – which we would have to at some point discuss. Obviously I
knew
this. BUT I would have thought that bloody Jeremy would’ve had the decency to give me at least a whole week to de-stress and de-traumatise my life, especially as how all of this was actually his own fault, before bombarding me with questions, demands and cheeky ultimatums. But nooooo! My head hadn’t even touched the pillow that night before the phone started ringing with his superfluous apologies. And having arrived at work extra early for once, I hadn’t even had time to fill Lauren in before I was cringing with embarrassment at the sight of his uncharacteristically unshaven and shabby appearance as he rushed into the salon begging me to hear him out. Which, by the way, Portia had found hilarious and will probably
never
let me forget! I managed to frogmarch him out within minutes of Gwendolyn’s arrival, with a hasty promise that we would talk later. Ugh! Mid-week is most definitely not the best time for one to dump one’s boyfriend.

My alarm clock beeped, which I silenced without looking and crawled back under the duvet. I couldn’t sleep but I didn’t want to get up and have to face my first Saturday without Jeremy either. Saturdays with Jeremy was always such good fun. I would make him French toast with cinnamon and fresh black coffee, then we’d share a naughty shower, after which we’d catch a cab into Camden or Covent Garden, where we’d pick bits out for the apartment or just soak up the atmosphere watching the street entertainers. We always did something. As a couple. Humph. I wondered what single people do on Saturdays? Well, I was about to find out.

I managed to drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom where I studied my reflection in the mirror. It’s amazing what havoc stress can wreck on one’s complexion. I jutted out my chin peering closer at my reflection and sure enough, there it was. The very faint beginnings of an age line stretching its way across my neck no less. These buggers really do pop up over night. Well this one had to go. I threw my head back as far as it would allow and counted to ten. Then forward for ten. To the left and to the right for ten, preparing my face and neck for a gruelling workout session. I was going to work the mutha out of this unwelcome crease today, if it was the last thing I did. Yes, I may well be twenty-eight and yes, I may well have decided to remain single for the rest of my days, but I was going to make damn sure I looked my ultimate best for each and every one of them! I don’t
need
to have a man to look good for. I am whole and entirely complete without one and I can look good for myself! So there!

“What are you doing?” Julia asked. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you since Thursday!”

“I just plugged the phone back in. Sorry,” I murmured, trying not to move my mouth too much.

“Why are you talking so funny?”

“Got a mask on. Stubborn neck crease.”

“Oh. Are you OK?” referring to my recent dumping of Jeremy I presume.

“I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Oh good. Good. I mean you had very
good
reason to do what you did Becky, sweetie…but….oh…I don’t know. Poor Jerrers has been calling Seb non-stop.” She listened for a reaction from me. There was none. “He’s in an awful state.”

“You feel sorry for
him
Julia?!” I couldn’t believe this shit!

“What?! No! No. I don’t. I feel sorry for both of you.”

“Well don’t feel sorry for me! I’ll be far better off without him!”

“Becky I know you don’t want to hear this but I do think he really does love you.”

My mouth fell open. “Loves me?!” My mask cracked.
Now
I was really annoyed. “Oh, is that why he was out shagging Miss Tits and Arse on Wednesday night?!”

“He made a mistake…”

“Oh Julia do shut up! You really are so pathetic at times! I know Jeremy’s a friend of Sebastian’s and I
know
he would have asked you to try and get round me, BUT I would’ve expected you
knowing
what I’ve been through to be a little more supportive of my decision. Which, I might add, was not a bloody easy one to make!”

“Oh Becky I’m so sorry,” she said sounding humbled. “You are so so very right. I shall tell him – you are one of my
best
friends and my allegiance lies with you. And I shall refuse to listen to anything else he has to say on the matter!”

“I should sodding well think so,” I said crossly. I moved my jaw from side to side, watching with amusement as the tiny crevices began to appear in the green algae mask, spreading like roots over my face. Not the best look, I have to say. “Right, I’ve got to go.”

“See you at class later?” Julia asked. I hesitated. “Body of Life…” she sing-songed.

“Oh OK. Body of Life, indeed,” I sighed.

I was beginning to regret this Body of Life Challenge. Not that it wasn’t a good idea. Because it was. It was a fantastic concept and the results one could achieve with hard work and dedication were phenomenal. Therein lay the problem. Abigail and Julia were not working hard and were most certainly not dedicated. They were just not taking this thing seriously enough. I really should’ve done it on my own as I’m in the gym three mornings each week anyway, but having practically begged them to enter with me, I could hardly be the first to drop out of training. And I use the word ‘
training
’ very loosely, in that whilst we do actually make it to the gym for the required two sessions, we have yet to lift a weight between us! Abigail, being naturally slim and reasonably toned had never even seen the inside of a gymnasium before we started this challenge. And though she was at first the most reluctant participant, she became a firm addict as soon as she clapped eyes on the equally firm buttocks and lean muscular physiques of the vast selection of men that actually go there to work-out. “Easy pickings,” she would laugh surveying the room. And Julia – well, Julia’s just glad to get out the house.

“Oh let’s at least
try
and do a class today,” I pointlessly pleaded.

“Oh no, not a class,” Abby said, happily sitting back on the leather couch, settling in for the night.

“Well let’s lift some weights then.”

Julia pulled a face. “Ooooh I just don’t have the energy today,” taking up her position as wingman beside Abby. I looked at them both, shaking my head with disappointment. Every single time. Oh well. I plopped myself down beside Julia. We were sat at the front of what we liked to call ‘our viewing gallery’, a juice bar with
cosy seating located at the end of the mixed gym, elevated by a few steps and clear glass barrier. This was where the posers liked to come and exhibit the muscular fruits of their laborious workouts for all to see. We were not posers. This was also where the pickup crew would come, having successfully flirted with someone on the gym floor, to giddily exchange numbers and seal the deal. Neither were we part of the pickup crew…well, Abby
had
been known to cross that line a few times. But for the most part we were what you called ‘observers’. We would sit at the front of the gallery, sipping juice and watching the goings on of the gym floor as one would watch their favourite soap. Except that Abigail would sometimes spoil the fun by interacting with one of the main characters, who would soon after leave the series altogether.

“Oh hide! Hide!” Julia squealed, grabbing my hand as she slid down on the couch. “It’s that horrid little Gustard.”

I looked up and saw Gus, with oversize baggy shorts and string vest, bopping purposefully toward us. “Er Juju,” I looked at her, “we are sitting behind a completely transparent screen on a raised platform. I think it would be fair to say he’s already seen us.”

“Yeeees ladeeez,” Gus raved like a DJ, leaning his bony frame back against the barrier, smarmily rubbing his hands together. “Lookin good, mighty fine, I might just, make you mine,” he rapped toward Abby, his head bopping up and down the whole time. She rolled her eyes at him. Julia and I burst out laughing. You really had to give the man-boy some credit for persistence. He tried it on with Abby every single week. “Why you laughing at The G,” he said with a half Jamaican half cockney accent, which, with Gus being Asian, was most likely just as fake as the rest of his exaggerated guise. “Why you got to dis The G?” his animated hands gesturing with each word like a hip hop artist. Needless to say, The Gustard, as we liked to call him,
or The G as he liked to call himself, was not the typical patron of this exclusive West Kensington health centre. Why they let him in and how he could afford it, gawd only knows. He swivelled his baseball cap and bopped behind our chairs to the other side. The three of us sat quietly, trying our best to control the fits of giggles threatening to burst out any second now. We had all learnt the hard way that the best way to handle The Gustard was to ignore him. Any interaction or reaction – giggling included – would only serve to encourage his nonsense. Julia crossed and uncrossed her legs, looking down at the floor the whole time, I sat biting my bottom lip, really hard, whilst staring fixedly out into space and Abby massaged her temples with her eyes and lips firmly closed. The Gustard rubbed his chin, studying us. Looking for a chink in the armour. “So, ladeeez, tell me something yeah,” slipping back into cockney, “why is it you three, yeah, get dressed up every week, yeah, to come down here – and sit on the fuckin’ couch?!” I heard a faint suppressed snigger from Julia. I squeezed my eyes shut not wanting her to start me off. “Ain’t you lot got sofas at home? What do you lot fink this is? The Jane Austen fuckin’ knitting club?” And that was it. Julia instantly exploded with contagious giggles, which I promptly became infected with, fuelled by Abigail rolling her eyes at the both of us.

She turned to face him coolly. “Why don’t you just piss off Gustard.”

“Aye? What was that luv? I can’t hear you,” and grabbed his crotch. “Why don’t you come over here and speak into my microphone?”

“Oh I would love to,” she crooned, “but you know, I never have liked cocktail sausages.”

It took him a few seconds to get it before he responded. “Hah! You’ve got jokes,” then bopped off bouncing his head from side to side, rapping in a now African-American accent: “Bitches and hoes, bitches and hoes, dats how it goes wid bitches and hoes.”

“Ooh,” said Julia, watching as Gustard bopped away in the distance, “you don’t suppose he was referring to us with that little ditty?” Abby and I both looked at her and simultaneously burst out laughing. Poor Juju.

The three of us sat on our couch a little longer, filling each other in on our week’s activities and it was unanimously decided that I, having caught boyfriend cheating, dumped him and been given my last verbal warning at work, had without question the most eventful week. We sat quietly sipping our freshly squeezed juices, our Body of Life single effort for the day, until Abby bolted upright and gave out: “Helloooo gorgeous!” Julia and I followed her intent gaze and when faced with the object of her present desire, we too roused ourselves from our slumber-like state with dropped jaws and gawked. He was undeniably breathtaking. A true Adonis. Unlike most of the men at this gym, which for some bizarre reason concentrated solely on working out their upper torsos, to the extent they could rival Mr Universe but completely ignored their lower half, so their skinny little matchstick legs and flat backsides ended up looking ridiculously out of proportion, resulting in a comical ‘Mr Incredible’ look, which was – despite what their steroid-induced delusions may have them believe – not a very good, yet alone
sexy
, look! Well, Mr Adonis was not like most of the men in this gym. From calf muscles to his sexy silky baby smooth pectorals, it was all buff. And not
too
muscular either, more of a natural athletic look. Perfecto. The three of us sat with bums on the edge of our seats hypnotised by his beautiful tanned six foot two frame, leaning casually against the squat rack as he joked around with a friend, who was also very good looking in his own right but paled in significance next to Mr Adonis. He leisurely flicked his long dark hair away from his deep blue eyes and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as he laughed revealing his perfect white teeth. Then he turned – in slow motion – his smiling head toward us and his smile widened with what seemed to be amusement. Oh shit! I quickly snapped out of my trance, red-faced and embarrassed, realising that he was watching us –
with amusement
– tongues hanging out and all, watching him! I nudged Julia. Real hard. Who instantly fell into Abby, who in turn nearly fell off the couch. Mr Adonis laughed openly at our pantomime act.

“Oh fuck,” Abby sighed facing me for appearance sake only, whilst she watched him from the corner of her eye. “How un-cool. You two really have to learn to chill out.”

“Us two?!” I laughed. “You were
so
away in your own fantasy just now.”

“Hmm,” she said with a very naughty look on her face, “and it was
such
a good one.”