Hello my lovelies! I'm back again. So far I'm finding I can juggle updating regularly with a full time job and a semblance of a social life (even if it's slightly at the detriment of my sleep and my mother's sanity).
Today I found out that my ex's video, which I had a small part in and helped with the storyboarding, won a competition. I'm almost overloading on warm and fuzzies lately.
I was not able to turn down the offered $200 share in the prize money which will go nicely towards replacing my missing laptop (which was stolen while we were filming) :-)
So it turns out Karma is my friend after all.
Aaaaanyway, some more characters pulled into this one, more filler. And because not every day can be warm and fuzzy, Naomi's having a difficult day at work. With bigger responsibilities comes more stress. I'll try to update soon with something more interesting.
Oh by the way, I went back and corrected my horrid typos in the previous chapter – thanks everyone for not picking fault at them and focusing instead on the loveliness that is Naomily.
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins, but I wouldn't kick it out of bed for eating crackers.
Fuck's sake! For a Friday this day's got knobs on it!
I secured my bike to the gate post on the corner and marched up to the office slowly. After a night like last night this was the last thing I wanted to be doing. Wasn't I supposed to be skipping through fields or breaking into song at cartoon bluebirds on my shoulder? That's if you believed those rom-coms or musicals. But I guess mum's rants about mass-consumerism and the media magnates had instilled a more than healthy cynicism in me.
Instead I had woken up to a splitting headache as I recounted the number of standard drinks I had ingested. Not fair. And to make matters worse, this was going to be one of the most important work days I had met with so far.
I reached the fourth floor and passed Kieran's office on my way down the hall.
"Holy mother of divine shite! Who makes up this shit?"
He was bent over under his desk, grumbling to himself and wrestling with cables, with an instructions manual open next to him. Obviously I wasn't the only one struggling today. Still I knew better than to intervene so I walked on by swiftly, thankfully unnoticed. Mad as a March Hare that one! He and my mother were truly a good, if not a little scary, match.
I sat at my computer and reached feebly into my desk drawers for some paracetamol. When the machine had booted up I saw there was already an email in my inbox waiting for me. I clicked on the message and read:
From: Angie Morris [mailto: .com]
Sent: Friday, 14 October 2011 7:45 AM
To: Naomi Campbell
Subject: Arnolfini Poetry Slam Column
Naomi,
I'm assuming Kieran told you that you would be covering the reading at the Arnolfini.
If he didn't, I'm going to kill the bastard because that would leave me proper fucked and that's the last time I do him a fucking favour…
Still; it's 1200words, the deadline is 3pm so I will need your first draft by 12.30 for review.
I hope you live up to the draft I saw on Monday. If it's as good as that one was we should both still be employed next week.
Regards,
Angie Morris
Editor, Arts and Entertainment Dpt.
Bristol Evening Post
I let out the sirocco that filled my lungs and opened a fresh document. My notebook by my side, I flicked through the pages to find a good starting place. That's when it dropped out from between the pages. The little yellow post-it note with Emily's scrawl and the two little paper kisses staring up at me like the memory of the two real kisses we had shared at Sans-Souci.
I pulled out my phone and stared blankly at the smaller screen instead. I hadn't messaged the night before because I didn't want to come across like a drunken 'stage-5 clinger' but now I realized I didn't even know where to start.
I had fallen asleep hours after being dropped home, to the sounds of Rufus Wainwright's melodic arrangements. Dreaming of Emily and her hands set upon my hips. Her lips on mine and the gentle aroma of chocolate and Irish cream cut with smoke. How comfortable I had felt in her arms despite my mental ramblings leading up to that moment. Her acceptance of my presence, standing close enough to really see me, take in who I was and what I had to give. Unwavering affection in that first kiss, she had taken the leap for me.
That first contact had shocked me to my core. Like a real electric shock, when the current hits you without warning. None of that buzzing through your body bullshit; no this was a loud and instant crack. One that hits you in the face and bolts carelessly through you searching earth. Leaves you glued to the spot as it completes the circuit and the point where it made contact stings like a lash from a whip. I knew that from experience, I had been zapped before. But nothing could have prepared me for the shock I received last night.
Still that second kiss had soothed the pain in my lips and other parts but ignited smaller electric fires as it grew more searching. Damn Katie! If it wasn't for her dropping me home, I really had reason to dislike that twin as much as I was starting to like Emily.
I slept on, my imagination filling in the blanks of what my experience could not provide. When I had woken up after far too little sleep, my head was pounding but the music was still softly playing.
My fingers moved slowly against the screen as I attempted to shake away the smoky haze that clouded my mind. I typed out a few pathetic options before I arrived at something not too lame:
I love 'Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk'
The track I mean. Thanks again for the loan.
Nxx
I hit send. There! That wasn't so hard. Then why did I feel like it wasn't good enough?
I set about typing up something for this dreaded column, anything really, just to get rid of the white page. I could go back and edit later. I always did.
A few minutes later my phone buzzed contentedly on the desk.
I'm not talking 2u.
My lip is still sore where u bit me.
Besides, what took u so long?
E
I snickered at the message, causing Rebecca to look at me from the next desk along. I pressed my lips together and looked down, typing up a response.
Toughen up Princess!
How did you sleep?
Nxx
Not even a minute went by before she fired back.
I'm sseriousth ;-) See!
You've made me lisp like Katie…}
Slept well. U?
E x
My aching mind went through a quick play by play of how I'd actually slept – or rather, as the case may be, not slept. Typing up another paragraph of the column seemed like a worthy distraction. I got back to my phone when I had formulated.
Yeah, slept fine.
Woke up with a bitch of
a hangover though.:-(
Fine! So I hadn't really slept fine. I'd spent most of the night dwelling on thoughts of what could be. It's not like I was playing this up to be more than it was. I knew not to expect the world from someone you'd met less than a week ago. I knew people usually disappoint you. Again, I knew that from experience.
So I had chosen to lie and keep my cards close to my chest. It wasn't a big lie. I just thought it was probably wiser not to tell the girl who had only just kissed me that I had spent important hours I should have been sleeping fantasizing about her. She wasn't the first girl I had kissed. I'd gotten over that hang-up in college.
But this still felt different. Like somehow, in that moment we'd shared a smoke outside, we'd shared a bit more. She'd looked straight into my eyes and I had to force myself not obey my natural instinct to turn away. My thoughts were fighting their way to the surface, saying I'm not sure, but want to know you and her eyes had said I understand.
I returned to the article and hammered away another paragraph. Gulping back another glass of water to quell the rioting nerves I re-read what I had so far. What utter drivel!
I looked down at my hands and nails, or rather lack thereof. There would be even less of them by the end of today. That's when Emily's next text arrived.
Aww… Now who's being a Princess?
Ur too straight laced.
Can't hold your drinks.
I'll have to train u.
BTW how's the column going?
E x
Maybe sending an email to Angie asking for an extension on account of my contending with the three competing issues of deadline stress, hangover from hell and flirting by text with a cute redhead wouldn't be the wisest of career choices. So I heeded Emily's advice and manned up. I culled about a paragraph and took another pass at Krispin's reading. But not before sending through a reply.
So you're talking to me now?
Finding it hard to focus.
Nxx
Her answer came straight back:
K, I'll stop distracting u.
E x
.
No! I didn't mean you,
the headache :-P
Only 250 words in.
Nxx
.
R U allowed to direct quote?
Might make up a few words.
E x
.
Ha! Ha! Very funny… 278 now.
Doesn't help that I keep deleting crap.
Nxx
.
Well that's because ur a perfectionist.
And don't bite your nails!
E xo
.
Well, for someone I'd only met 6 days ago, the girl had an uncanny grasp of my vices.
I removed my left hand from my mouth.
Letting out another large sigh, I decided to make up for my delayed first message by being a bit bolder.
What are you doing tonight?
Wanna catch up?
Nx
I had to restrain myself from biting my nails even as I waited to hear back. Thankfully she didn't keep me waiting too long.
Can't :-( Sorry.
Got rehearsal for the gig tomorrow.
Soooo not ready!
Of course! Fuck! Too bad. Although that did save me from the dread of having to come up with something to do and stay interesting for the length of another conversation. How had I even managed to convince her I was worth it last night? But that didn't really matter now. I had, and my goal was to make sure I could keep her.
Before I had answered though she had sent another.
Tomorrow morning tho?
Boys are busy with their girlfriends
So no practice.
E x
I think I squealed a little. Rebecca cast me another glace from her corner so I quickly replied:
Deal! Pick you up at
Sans-Souci at 9.30
Nxx
I tucked my phone back into my bag and returned to the column. After another hour I had knocked off another 800 words. Lara appeared at my desk with a sandwich and a cup of tea.
"Thought you could do with some nourishment, seeing as you will probably have your nose to the grindstone 'til 3."
"Thanks Lara. You're a legend, you know that?"
She smiled impishly "Tell that to the guys I've been wasting exorbitant babysitter's fees to go on lackluster dates with."
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep the plot under wraps.
Another hour later and I had what could almost be reasonably deemed a first draft. I read through my efforts, dotted my i's and crossed my t's and sent off an email to Angie.
In quite a timely fashion, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting just a confirmation from Emily. It was Effy instead.
I know ur at work. Can u talk?
What happened to u last nite?
I hit the call button.
"Hi Eff, I got home with Katie and Cook. What about you though?" I paused, then added "You dirty stop-out!"
"Fine, so I stayed the night. But I meant before you left. After I grabbed that smoke off you, I saw you sharing one with Emily and then you disappeared…"
As usual, despite being tongue-deep in her dance floor activities with her new boyfriend, Eff had been observing. And she had been watching me with Emily. I calculated the odds of my being able to pull the wool over her eyes about what happened after that. They were not good.
"Em and I went to change the music and we argued about cover versi-"
My best friend cut me off "Naomi, cut the crap. Are you forgetting I spent the night there? Emily was a very chirpy little toaster this morning. She's not a morning person. Something happened."
Busted.
"If I said no, would I regret it?"
"Probably, but not because of me."
"We're objects of lust." I offered as confirmation.
I could hear her smile through the phone. "See you at the gig, Naomi." And the bitch hung up on me.
A little while later Angie appeared at my desk holding my printed draft.
"So, uhm…" said the woman "It's good, for a first draft." Her grey eyes darted furtively between the paper and me from under her fringe. "Anyway, I've marked it up. Some changes here and there, nothing you can't do before 3."
She dropped the paper on my desk and turned on her heels. Just before disappearing out of view she spun around and cast back at me. "Good work Naomi. Thank Kieran for both of us."
I looked down at the sheet in front of me and the headache came flooding back.
A few changes? I wonder what this would look like if it wasn't 'good work'.
I threw down a couple more paracetamol and buckled down to the task, emerging only when I had completed the re-write. Angie's email to my second draft was a single line.
'Good. That'll print. Now go enjoy your Friday.'
