I went inside Palm Court Country Club and headed for the restaurant. Natalie and Katz were already there, signalling me to come over. Smiling, I walked there and sat between them.
“I miss you!” we said in unision.
“You are so paying for our lunch today!” said Natalie.
“Nat’s right! Anyway, I was just telling Nat that I’m finally getting married to Mr. Darcy!” said Katz.
“OH, MY GOD! Mr Darcy? You mean The Mr Darcy, Ryan Collins? I’m so happy for you, Katz! I have to be your bridesmaid!” I screamed excitedly. It felt wonderful to know that Katz was finally getting married! Ryan Collins, her boyfriend of 5 years, had asked her to marry him during their 5th anniversary celebration.
We spent an hour updating each other on the latest events and gossips. It was so good to bond with and chat with the girls. We exchanged secrets and happenings but no matter how great friends we were, I swore I would never, ever to let them know I had a tiny fling with a girl.
After lunch, I went down town and went on a shopping spree. I badly needed a dress for my date with Alex, a hot cutie whom I met at a charity party held by his company. He often invited the Jenn Models Company (JMC) as he and the JMC CEO were close friends.
I bought so many items such Chanel’s latest Rouge Allure Extrait De Gloss, a black Topshop body con skirt, a red bustier from Mango and a bow belt from Banana Republic. At half past three in the afternoon, I was in August 8 trying out the 100th dress. Making the assistant work hard was one of the best bits about shopping. After all, it was her job to keep customers like me, happy. After a long time, I decided to get the cotton floral maxi dress. The assistant wiped her forehead with relief. Noticing her relief, I made her get me pair of sunglasses… just for fun.
She came running to me, panting and passed the sunglasses to me.
“Eeek, what a horrid colour! And they’re sticky and icky! Take them back!” I said.
I was pretty sure she felt like killing me. Laughing hard inside, I paid for my dress and made my way out of August 8. Outside the door, I burst out laughing.
Then I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned and my face turned a paler shade of white. It was her. Blue Blonde. Oh no, what does she think she’s doing? I ran and hailed a taxi. When one stopped for me, I turned but she was nowhere to be found.
My stomach did a few quick summersaults. Suddenly, she appeared again and whispered in my ear about how she loved my attitude and that she wanted to recruit me into Club Perspire. In her husky voice, she said the women there would be all over me, and I could earn at least US$8,000 per week.
That much? Tempting. But I stopped myself nodding and told her I was going to be a supermodel, not a kinky pole dancer in a gay club. Quickly, I got into the taxi, for fear she would hurt me. I could hear her saying, “CURSES TO YOU!”.
‘IT’S DISGUSTING HOW I LOVE YOU. GOD, I HATE ME. I COULD KILL YOU..’
A new text message arrived. I took my BlackBerry out and read it. Oh, I really loved my new message alert sound. It’s a first verse of the song Disgusting by Kesha.
‘Reject me one more time, and you will be cursed!’