Bombay Mixx (2 page)

My situation is very
different
.

I have accepted a job as a secretary in a big stockbroker’s company in the city, which my mother set up for me through her friend, army major, Ann. I decided to accept this offer because I had just spilt up from my long term boyfriend after finding out he had been cheating on me for the last two years
,
and my career was going nowhere fast.

My parents have a few properties across
London
and decided to let me live in the apartment they have in Holloway if I agreed to live with my sister (much to her distaste!)
.
I agreed and after gradually moving some of my things over throughout the last two weeks, the final
bits of
clothes and shoes
are moving
today, if only my sister would help, but I can’t see that miracle happening so I’ll get my lovely brother to help instead.

Renesh is very much like my father, in looks and personality.
He
is 30 years old but seems to be mature be
yond
his
years
. Peaceful, calm and a diplomat, he never argues and always seems to find the good in people.

He has my father’s strong features, light complexion, straight black hair, muscular build (as he loves the gym) and is 6’2.

He is always the one me
and my sister go to when we need to talk, bitch about each other or need help.

Renesh is married to his university sweetheart, Shilpa, but his marriage seems to be under pressure as he has limited time with his wife because she is a trainee doctor and spends a lot of time at the hospital.

My mother
recognised
his dilemma early in his marriage and tried to talk to him
,
but Renesh is a very proud man and just says that everything is fine
,
to avoid the conversation.

As everyone continues to congratulate Gabrielle about her successes, I head for the food and ask my brother if he would help me with moving
.
‘
S
ure I’ll help, especially if that Russian girl is still living there. Wow, now there’s a lady you would never say no to!’ Renesh says whilst laughing.

As the food gets devoured and the
praising dies down, I set off to pack
the last of my clothes and head towards my new life as an independent, city slicker…well after accepting the £200.00 gift from my father and the “essential, I’m moving out” food package from my mother (even though I was only moving about 30 minutes away).

**********

The flat seemed bigger than I remember and there was no one home, which made it easier for me to
settle
into my new home.

Used wine glasses, with lipstick stains on the rim, Japanese take away boxes in the fridge and towers of fashion magazines
on
the coffee table decorated the flat and I was happy that this was my new home.

As I settled into my bedroom, I heard noises coming from the front room so I investigate
.

‘
O
h it’s you again. Hello. Has your sister moved in yet?’ said this strong Russian accent. After a few flirty giggles from my brother, I ejected myself from the bedroom to see who made my brother laugh like that.

She was tal
l and slim, with long blonde
hair, piercing blue eyes and sharp features. She was dressed like a lady but one that meant business
.
‘
H
ey hon, have you settled in ok?’

‘Yep, just got to unpack but that’s it
,
’ I replied as I observed the apartment.

Gabrielle moved into this flat a year ago so I already knew her flatmates and became good friends with them but more so with Anya as I always felt our personalities complimented each other. Where I ha
ve the calm, laid back, patient persona
, Anya has aggressive, assertive, bold character
istic
s, which are great traits to help you survive in
London
.

‘So are we going to celebrate with a glass of champagne?’ Anya asked whilst getting the bottle out of the fridge. Renesh looked at her in delight and I knew that whatever she asked him he would say yes so I went with the flow.

As we sipped glass after glass of champagne, the small talk began to progress
.
Renesh flirted more with Anya and she batted away his advances with short, sharp remarks, which seemed to entertain him more and I was happy when Amelia came home.

‘Nita, finally you’re here!’ she said as she ran over to give me a hug. ‘This is now officially the party flat
,
’ she announced as she got another bottle of champagne and we continued the celebrations.

The festivities continued for the next few hours and even with the arrival of Gabrielle
and her
smart comments about flat rules and trying to show her authority, we conquered 3 bottles of champagne, whilst gossiping about friends, boyfriends, possible future part
ners and changes. W
e then went on to devour some sushi and destroyed 3 boxes of expensive chocolates Anya got from one of her clients.

As it approached midnight, I thought I should
go to
bed as I could feel my tipsy, happy head turning into a drunken one and I could feel myself reaching
for
the phone to
call
the bastard who was probably snuggling up to
the
leggy b
londe he was shagging and exposing
all over town wh
ile
I was at home waiting for him to call and accepting his, ‘I’m really busy
,
’ excuses!

I picked up the phone, started to dial the number
-
then…I saw daylight!

**********

I couldn’t believe it, I fell asleep with the phone in my hand and it is now 7.30am…I have 30 minutes to get ready and leave
!
I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards and I’ve got bags under my eyes b
igger than a years shopping at Asda
!

Ok, focus Nita! You need to iron your clothes, get a shower, remove the fraggle hairstyle and hit the make
-
up with gusto like a make
-
up counter lady who just won’t take no for an answer when they
are
try
ing
to shotgun you with bright make up that doesn’t come near to blending
with
your natural tones, that’s why they look toxic orange with scary Stepford wives smiles.

As soon as I got to the bedroom door, I heard
a
sound which made my brain realise that it was pointless trying to plan the next 30 minutes of brutal beauty preparations because that bathroom door was now closed tighter than my ex boyfriends wallet!!!

Gabrielle must have heard me surface and ran straight into the bathroom
.
Now
this wouldn’t usually be such a bad thing
if it was any of the other girls,
but my sister is the worse for coming out of the bathroom
quickly
and insists that it is her right to use all the hot water, regardless
of
whether or not it takes at least 10 minutes to heat back up!

Normally
,
I try to ignore her selfishness but today was a new start to my life so I wanted to see what would happen when the other girls realised who was in the bathroom
.

I walked out into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and to start my day with a bit of sisterly stirring. I was happy when I saw Amelia coming out of her bedroom heading towards the bathroom
.

‘
M
orning Hun, how did you sleep?’ she said whilst sleep walking.

I started to pour the hot black tar into my huge mug, ‘I slept really well. The alcohol knocked me out
,
but no hangover which is surprising!’ I chuckled whilst I held my head.

She got to the bathroom door and tried it, ‘who’s in the bathroom?’ she asked knowing the answer
.

‘
E
rrrm Gabrielle’ I replied with an eyebrow raised
.
‘Gabby, hurry up and don’t use all the hot water!’ she shouted at the door with impatience and authority in her sleepy voice.

I must ask her to teach me how to do that, I pondered as she came back to join me for
a
chat
with Gabrielle emerging from the bathroom within 5 minutes of the ultimatum.

I was very impressed with my morning and I thought it was a great start to a new week and a new life…and how right I was.

On
the packed tube where I was wedged under a stony faced businessman, who looked like his chauffeur was ill and that was why he had to ride the
T
ube with the commoners, and then I started to wonder (trying not to focus on the armpit I was wedged under or the skinny, pretty suited woman who would rather crush her ribs to squeeze herself onto the
T
ube, knowing there was not enough space to breathe let alone get her and her huge briefcase on with!), it’s 7.45am and I would expect to be smelling
the
sweet scent of flowery perfume that makes you think of summertime in the country, sexy, masculine aftershave that makes you think I would love to rip that shirt of your chest just to get a
better
smell and taste of that sexy aroma
,
but instead I was smelling… very strong coffee on breaths, sour sweat, cheap, over powering heady scented aftershave and sweet and sickly perfume which made your head spin if you got to close to the culprit!

I had to get off the train!

As soon as the tr
ain pulled into my station, I jumped
off and ran to the exit as quick as my legs would take me, I needed the air otherwise I would throw up.

Walking into the huge glass building made feel uneasy and very nervous.

I imagined everyone that worked here w
as
super human; the women would all be stick thin even though they managed to produce three children, have a perfect husband, who
had
a high powered job
;
they would have a nanny who would look after there three posh
offspring
in their country home as a city dwelling would not be good enough for the family. The men would all be in suits that would cost the same amount
as
6 months worth of my salary, they would wear sexy, expensive aftershave that was not over powering and they would walk arou
nd with authority and supremacy. They
would not mingle with the workers beneath them as they would have assistants to do that for them.

How accurate I was about the females but surprisingly wrong about the men
.
‘
C
ould I enjoy working here?’ I thought to myself as I puffed and panted to the huge glass doors, for a sexy looking businessman to hold it open for me and give me a smile.

‘If these are the perks to the job forget health care and life insurance! I’d just be happy being near him all day!’ That thought quickly left my head as I went to the receptionist desk to announce I was here for my first day of work.

Why is it that if your new to a company or if you don’t look powerful enough to be one
of the directors
, receptionists always look at you like your something they have scraped off the
ir
shoe and talk to you with that annoying, whining tone?

I asked myself this as I was greeted by John the receptionist and his
“side kick” or colleague, Lucy
.

They were both dressed in black suits and looked very smart and groomed but nowhere near the standards of the other, more affluent employees
.
I seemed to have interrupted a very important conversation about their affairs
at
the weekend as I stood th
ere
for a few minutes
,
then sick of waiting for them to stop ignoring me
,
I s
aid
, ‘hello, I’m here to see Ann Lough
.
’