While I Was Shopping: Part 3

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.

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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.

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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.