Eric folded his arms and looked around the
group. The idea had hit him as he’d smiled happily at the girl in the
street
after knocking her belongings across the pavement. Now he’d told them
he was
just waiting for a response. He waited patiently for them to speak but
was
chomping at the bit. They’d listened in silence and were now casting
glances at
each other as if mentally deciding before answering verbally.
Terry looked across at Michael who was
chewing the side of his mouth and then across at Graham, who’d finally
turned
up after a late start blamed namely on his flat mate David, and saw the
same
distant expression that was always there. John, with arms still crossed
and
brow knitted was gazing darkly at Gilliam who was the first to break
the thoughtful
silence.
“Sounds like a great idea.”
There was a small moment where everyone
seemed to breathe in to speak, and then one after the other the guys
turned to
Eric and, smiling or smirking, nodded their heads in agreement.
“It sounds like a perfect solution to me.”
Said Terry, making John cock his eyebrow in his direction.
“Pardon?” he asked with a small grin.
Terry looked at him and folded his arms
across his chest. “I said I thought it was a perfect solution.”
“And you are agreeing with Eric’s idea.”
Terry nodded and John played a faint, to be
swiftly hit over the head with a notepad.
“I don’t know what the big fuss is about with
you guys. You all think I only think about my own ideas but if you knew
what I
thought about you’d be very surprised.”
Michael cocked his head to one side. “Naked
women?”
Eric shook his. “Nah that’s not surprising is
it. I bet Terry’s always thinking about naked women.”
“Perhaps he’s thinking about what he’s going
to have for dinner.” Gilliam put in and everyone looked at him and
started
laughing.
“Terry’s always thinking about proper food
and drink, so us finding that out wouldn’t be a surprise either.” Said
John.
Terry sat patiently waiting for the banter to
subside. “So what happens next Eric? You can take control of this baby
if you
want, I mean, it is your idea after all.”
Michael nodded. “After all, we do owe her
something. Ultimately she got fired because of us.”
“What’s she like Eric? Personality, brain,
boobs?” John asked and Graham stifled a laugh.
Eric pretended to ponder. “I think that’s a
tick in each box there John. But you’re married darling.”
John shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I can’t play
with other women’s boobs does it?” and Graham sniggered again.
Terry rolled his eyes. “Seriously though,
you’ve met her, what’s she like?”
“I don’t know really. I’ve only met her
twice. She’s got long dark hair, she’s probably a bit taller than Mike
and has
certainly got bigger boobs.” Michael feigned scorn and Eric winked.
“She’s
friendly and jobless and I think it’d be perfect for her. She hates
office work
and desk jobs and when I first met her she seemed like she enjoyed our
show.”
John rested an elbow on the table, covered in
script re-writes and doodles, along with a few new pieces that had come
to
light that day when Terry had thrown them in front of the group to be
read.
“Will she do everything we want her to do
though? Will she want to get involved with the writing or will she
leave us
alone?”
Eric pursed his lips. “I can’t guarantee that
she won’t want to be consulted on ideas or write some stuff herself,
but I did
a little bit of character assessment earlier after I bumped into her on
the
street. I went to her office and asked the girls in there what kind of
person
she was and they couldn’t have said anything more glowing about her.
She wants
to act, she’s friendly, feisty and certainly up for a laugh, and from
some of
the antics I’ve heard about I think she’d be perfect.”
Terry nodded. “She certainly sounds
tantalising.”
Michael laughed. “Are you going to eat her or
something?”
Terry winked. “You never know if I get
peckish….”
John rolled his eyes. “Should we hold
auditions for the part? I know there are quite a few people out there
who would
like to work with six gorgeous men. Would she be ok with showing a
little
flesh?”
It was Terry’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Obsessed.” He said under his breath and John shot him a glance.
Eric shrugged again. “I don’t know. I haven’t
really spoken to her about it yet. I thought I’d ask you guys before I
made any
arrangements or got her hopes up.”
“Besides,” Mike added, “we don’t know how
well she can act yet. I think John’s idea for an audition would be the
best way
to go. Even if we do end up choosing her in the end, at least we know
how well
she reacts under pressure, how quickly she can learn lines and how good
she is
at pulling off a comedy act.”
Eric nodded and stood up. “Should I call her
then?” he looked around expectantly at the faces at the table.
One by one they nodded and then conversation
moved on again to the next topic, which happened to be where they were
going
for a drink that very evening.
************************************************************************************************************
Chelsea awoke to the sound of a loud boxing
match blaring on her television and she blinked as she tried to
recognise where
she was. She switched off the TV and glanced around, catching sight of
the
clock on her mantelpiece and grimacing at the ridiculously stupid time
displayed
there. She had gotten pissed at two in the afternoon and woken with a
hangover
at eight.
Her hair was matted to her face and at some
point in her slumber she’d knocked over the remainder of her fifth
Vodka onto
the carpet and now her flat smelt strongly of alcoholism. She wiped the
drool
from her cheek as she sat up and steadied herself as the room swung in
all
directions.
A ringing began in her ears and she was about
to slump back down onto the sofa and snooze some more when she realised
that it
was in fact the telephone jangling in the hallway and she staggered
over to it,
her head thumping and her mouth dry from afternoon binging.
“Uh,” she said into the receiver, not really
caring who was calling or why.
“Um, hi, is Chelsea there?” asked a man’s
voice and Chelsea felt her brain begin to engage. She recognised the
voice and
as she told him it was she who had answered her mind began to put
together that
days events.
“Hi it’s Eric.” He said and she felt her
spirits lift slightly.
“Hi Eric. Sorry I sound like a cave woman,
I’ve just woken up.”
Eric grinned on the other end of the phone.
He knew she’d probably got pissed and crashed on her sofa, because it
was
something he would’ve done.
“I’m ringing about that idea I had earlier.”
He said and waited for a muffled “uhuh” before continuing.
“Well I’ve put it to the other chaps and we
all agree that we’d like you to come for an audition probably in two
days time
for a slot we need filling on the show. Are you interested?”
Chelsea felt her attention snap back into her
mind and she felt bright and very much interested. “I’d love to come.
When and
where?”
Eric filled her in and she rushed to find a
pen and paper to scribble it down on.
“I need to ask you a few things before you
carry onto the audition later. Do you mind?”
Chelsea said no and told him to fire ahead.
“Well firstly, do you mind it if we use you
pretty much as a an image of female sex?”
Chelsea smiled on the other end. “In what
way?” she asked.
Eric coughed gently. “In the way that we
might put you in very skimpy clothing for particular scenes, or we may
have to
kiss you in sketches, and there may even be the odd touching moment,
the
grabbing of a breast for instance, things like that.”
Chelsea laughed. “I don’t mind men grabbing
my breasts, as long as they don’t pull them off.” She said and Eric
began to
laugh. “It’d make a change from no one grabbing them.”
Eric chuckled. “Good. Um, how about nudity on
our part? Would you feel comfortable if one of us was naked?”
Again Chelsea smiled. “I don’t care and I
promise not to make too many jokes.”
He laughed again and carried on. “Ok this is
a tricky one. Would you want to be involved in the writing sessions or
would
you be happy just to receive scripts and act?”
Chelsea had to think about this one. She’d
seen one programme and really enjoyed it but really didn’t think she
could
write comedy. She’d written serious articles and had even started to
write a
book when she’d been in grammar school, but comedy was something she
didn’t
think she knew the first thing about.
“I don’t think I’d want to write.” She said.
“I don’t know if what I write is funny, so I’d have to pass. Send me
the script
and I’ll learn it.”
Eric smiled. “Excellent. I’m trying to think
if there’s anything else I need to ask you, just give me a moment.”
Chelsea fiddled with the telephone cord as
she waited for Eric’s next question.
“What kind of salary are you willing to work
on?” Eric asked finally. This was the crunch question and Eric was
wondering
what kind of answer he was going to get.
“What are you willing to pay me?” she asked
and Eric grinned. If that was her attitude then she was definitely in.
“Well we don’t offer much.” He said. “But
we’ll get that sorted out if you get the job, which is highly likely
judging by
the response from our ad so far.”
Chelsea grinned happily. “Thanks for this
Eric. It’s really good of you to help me out.”
“I didn’t really have much choice did I?
After all it was I who lost you your job, and then ploughed into you in
the
street.”
“Well thanks anyway.” She said and as they
signed off she ran a hand through her hair and smiled. Finally a job
she would
enjoy, and a group of people she could enjoy it with.
As she locked the front door and headed upstairs,
Chelsea made a mental assessment of her wardrobe and quickly decided
that she
would need to go shopping again.
***********************************************************************************************************
The supermarket was bustling with the usual
twenty people, unconvincingly pushing their trolleys around with
interested
faces. The night workers looked equally unimpressed as they sat at
their
checkouts, picking their noses or chatting stiltedly to each other.
Michael picked up a basket as he entered the
main foyer and glanced around uneasily. What on earth was he thinking
shopping
at this hour of the night? Especially when it was weirdo city in Aisle
number
two.
As he sped past them three Gothic looking people stared back at him, a
small man with a shabby coat and a smell of rotting potato about him
and a
scruffy dog at his side glanced briefly in his direction and a skinhead
with
about a thousand piercings on his head alone snarled a welcome.
Michael headed quickly towards the can
section and rummaged in the discount bins, keeping his head down and
knowing he
was being watched all the same.
The skinhead had followed him and was now
glaring at him. Michael pulled his hands away from the dented tins of
beans and
took a step backward, before spinning abruptly on his heel. There was
no way he
was going to get a smacking over a tin of beans.
Not realising anyone was nearby he span on
his heel and crashed straight into a shopping trolley and pushing the
owner
backwards. In a moment of slow motion he saw her get caught off guard
and flail
awkwardly backwards as the trolley rammed into her stomach.
Suddenly he was moving and dropped his
basket, grabbing her hand as she shouted in surprise, moments from
crashing
onto the polished supermarket flooring.
He held her hand tightly and put an arm
around her, helping her to her feet without a word spoken between them.
As she stood up and held onto the trolley
with two hands Michael brushed a hand through his hair and watched her
closely,
wondering what her reaction would be to his rudely knocking her over.
Chelsea breathed heavily and held firmly onto
the trolley handle. She hadn’t had a moment to react and suddenly she
was
shaking with shock.
The man at the end of the aisle rummaging in
the cans had almost knocked her flying and at the same time saved her
from
having her head stoved in by a highly polished lino.
She snuck a look at him through the mass of
hair that was now covering her face and his face struck a memory chord
in her
mind. There was something so familiar about him yet she couldn’t place
his
face.
He was running his hand through his wavy dark
hair and was watching her with worried green eyes, and as she pushed
her hair
back from her own face she felt something inside her stomach flutter.
Probably
just shock she said as she pushed it away, aware that they were stood
in the
aisle staring at each other.
“Um, I’m terribly sorry.” He said awkwardly
and worriedly.
She couldn’t think of anything to say. She
didn’t feel the usual anger that would have arisen from being knocked
flying
whilst shopping, and her irritated anger at even having to shop had
quickly
been replaced by stunned curiosity about the man before her. Where the
hell had
she seen him before?
“Are you ok?” he asked, touching her arm
gently and making her flinch.
Chelsea nodded and his face brightened a
little, his cheeks displaying the cutest dimples she’d ever seen in the
world
and his gentle eyes studying her face. Her mind nagged at memories,
trying to
piece together where she’d seen him before. As she stared back at him
she
noticed his eyes suddenly flash with recognition.
“I’ve seen you here before.” He said and she
closed her eyes. The memory of him telling her she had toilet roll
attached to
her leg flashed before her eyes and she groaned.
“It was you telling me I had toilet roll
stuck to my leg wasn’t it?” she asked.
Michael smiled. “I thought I was doing you a
favour.” He said.
Chelsea grimaced. “I was so embarrassed. But
thanks for letting me know. I’d have been walking around like that all
night
otherwise. If it wasn’t you someone else would’ve said.” She held out
her hand.
“My name’s Chelsea.”
Michael took it and brought it to his lips
without thinking. Chelsea blushed slightly and smiled.
“My name’s Michael, but my friends call me
Mike.”
“Nice to meet you. Do you come here often?”
she asked jokingly. Much to her surprise Mike looked like he was
seriously
thinking about this, until he caught her looking and a small smile
crept across
his lips.
“I know it’s a sad fact but I do.” He said
and started laughing. Motioning towards the restaurant area of the shop
he
picked up his basket. “Fancy a ‘please forgive me’ coffee?”
Chelsea nodded and pushed her near-empty
trolley towards the tables, knowing that she’d already pardoned his
bungle, and
coffee wasn’t needed.
After they were seated and Michael had
brought two coffees from a very dozy waitress stood behind the counter,
they
sipped in silence before Michael struck up a conversation.
“So why, pray, are you shopping by yourself?”
he asked as he played with the handle of his cup.
Chelsea shrugged. “I hate shopping. I can’t
stand it. Usually I get my mother to do it, but it seems she’s gone on
holiday
with some man she’s met from Bingo and I have to do it myself.” She
grimaced.
“I always do it this late to avoid huge queues and crowds. Plus I
usually look
rough and don’t want to be seen. I shop at sad o’clock in the morning
to avoid
being seen.” She started laughing and Michael joined in. When their
laughter
subsided she returned the question.
Michael folded his arms and leant back in his
chair.
“I’m mainly here at this time because it’s
the only chance I get, without being seen or spotted.”
Chelsea nodded and their conversation
continued to flow freely as they refilled their cups and sat back,
relaxed and
comfortable in each other’s presence.
They sat for what seemed an age before
Chelsea caught sight of the clock and looked shocked. “It’s three
fifteen Mike,
we’ve been here for two hours. I really ought to get my shopping done!
I have a
job interview tomorrow and I can’t be late. I really need this
opportunity.”
Michael stood up and pulled on his coat.
“What job is it?”
Chelsea blushed slightly. “It’s a sort of
acting thing. I’m not sure. But I’ve seen the people on TV before and I
completely love the show. I’ve got a chance to be on it and I don’t
want to
miss it for the world.”
Michael grinned. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.
You’ve got a great personality and it’s going to be hard for them to
resist
your charms and your pretty face.”
Chelsea blushed some more.
Michael coughed gently. “Would you like to
join me to shop?”
She nodded and they meandered their way round
the store, picking up similar items and laughing happily as they told
stories,
Michael picked up fruit and started juggling and as their hands
collided on
many occasions, reaching for the same items.
When they’d paid and made their way to the
exit they stood looking at each other. Michael was now pushing the
trolley and
Chelsea was holding on to it with one hand.
“How are you getting home?” he asked gently.
“I think I’ll catch the tube.” She said and
he shook his head, steering the trolley into the park and heading
towards a
battered car.
“Your chariot awaits madam.” He said and
grinned as he packed their belongings into the boot. “I’m not having
you catch
the train with these bags, not when I’ve got a perfectly good car to
carry you
forth in.”
Chelsea smiled. “You’re a lovely person Mike.
Thanks. You really didn’t need to do this.”
Michael shrugged. “It’s not an issue. It’s
what any decent person would do.”
They sat in relative silence as Michael drove
to her house. Chelsea watched the streets pass by, wishing for the
journey to
last as long as possible, just so she could be near this man. He
glanced at her
frequently with bright, kindness filled eyes and she smiled back,
conveying her
appreciation for all he had done for her that evening.
As she directed him to her front door, he got
out without prompting and helped her with her bags up to her flat.
They burst into her flat and she secretly
hoped she hadn’t left anything incriminating lying around her flat,
knowing
already as Michael headed in front of her to her kitchen that there
were several
Vodka bottles lying in a heap next to her bin.
His eyes perused the scene in her flat and
decided he liked it. It was homely, and she certainly liked to drink,
he
noticed as his eyes skimmed over the four bottles next to her bin.
There were
personal touches here and there and as she led him into the lounge he
smiled.
Posters and pictures decorated the walls and there were trinkets
dangling from
curtain poles and cupboard doors, and photos decorated the majority of
the
surfaces. He sat down onto the sofa and felt it squash around him in
the way
old, comfortable sofas do. He relaxed as she brought him some tea and
their
discussions continued, Chelsea crossing her legs under her and facing
him on
the opposite end of the couch.
He trailed an arm across the back and drank
with one leg resting on the other. His eyes darted around her room and
she
sighed.
“I’m not very organised am I?” she asked with
a small smile.
Michael shrugged. “It’s you, completely. This
is such a relaxed place. I’ve met people who are messy, but this isn’t
mess,
this is homely.”
She smiled. “I like to think so. It’s where I
spend most of my time, I couldn’t live in a mess.”
Michael shook his head taking a last mouthful
of tea. “It’s really time I left.” He said with what Chelsea hoped was
regret.
She followed him to the door, admiring his
shoulders and his dark waves as they went.
When she reached her pathway, Michael pulled
the gate between them and leant over it.
“I’ll see you again sometime?” he asked with
bated breath.
Chelsea nodded. “Well you know where I live
now. If you don’t start stalking me I’ll see you in the supermarket.”
He grinned. “Yeah sure.”
As he turned to get back in his car he
smiled. “Good luck with your interview tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll be
fine.”
Chelsea smiled and followed him to the car,
opening the gate and leaning on the door.
“Take care on your way home.” She said.
“See you again soon.” He said, and with that
he drove off down the road, a small smile planted neatly across his
face.
Chelsea headed inside and opened the door to
her flat. She smelt the aftershave he’d been wearing and smiled
happily to
herself before locking the door behind her and heading to bed.
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