by Becci Fox
Downstairs I could hear some sort of kerfuffle which I thought was either my bacon or Mum’s mutton (that’s Cheryl and Sue to you). I walked downstairs slowly and peered into the kitchen. Guess who the fuck was there? Only the bloody racing driver! I still don’t know how he found out where I lived. I keep forgetting to ask people for this vital information, but I reckon it must have been my insider down One9Five. And there he was, talking to my mum in the kitchen with Cheryl and Sue. If I’d had more strength I would have slapped myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I staggered back upstairs to Jake.
‘Do me a favour, Jake?’ He didn’t even look up from his game. ‘Jake. Look at me. Jake. Stop playing . . . Jayyyyyyyyke,’ I screeched, snatching the console from his hands. Now he was looking at me, but he looked like he was about to hit me. Hard to believe it, but I actually used to beat him in fights. These days I find myself in a lot of headlocks so I try to avoid all confrontations with him if possible.
‘What the fuck are you playing at? Give us that,’ he said, getting up.
‘Chill your boots, I’ve put it on pause. Listen, this is important. There’s a bloke down in the kitchen talking to Mum. Go downstairs and if they ask if I’m about, tell them I drove over to Brooke’s.’
‘That’s a shit lie for starters cos your Audi’s in the drive.’
‘Oh yeah, good point. Alright, tell them I’m asleep up here then and I’m really unwell.’
‘Fine, but you owe me. Who’s this geezer anyway?’
‘Never you mind. And can you bring up the bacon sandwich while you’re down there?’
He was gone for a good ten minutes. I started to fret so much that I didn’t realize I had sat down on Jake’s skanky sheets. Urggh. Boys and black sheets are such a bad combo. Eventually he came back with a half-eaten bacon sandwich. Majorly gutted.
‘What’s your problem with Ben? He’s well sound.’ I’d actually forgotten the racing driver’s name up until that point.
‘My problem is that I don’t like people dropping over unannounced and he’s a stalker. Did you tell them I was sick?’
‘Sick in the head? Yes I did, you silly cow.’ Charming.
‘And what’d he say?’
‘He said he’d come by another time.’
‘Oh good, and then he went?’
‘No, he’s still down there with Mum, Cheryl and Sue. I think he’s staying over for the roast.’
‘You fucking what?’ I spluttered. I sneaked downstairs to check. He was still there and the ‘ladies’ were all over him like a rash. They were sabotaging my chances! Then I saw Dad walk into the kitchen. That was game over as far as I was concerned.
I went back upstairs and lay on Mum and Dad’s bed to work out my next move. That’s when I heard a car revving up. I went over to the window and it was Ben leaving in a red Mercedes. I’m not sure if he saw me, but I fell to the floor quickly. I’ve never been so relieved. I crawled out the room so I couldn’t be seen and then went over to Jake’s room.
‘You fucking wind-up merchant.’
‘Just given you a taste of your own piss-take medicine.’
It was a fair point.
Although I had a lot to thank him for, as all that adrenalin totally shifted the hangover. I really appreciated my day after that lucky escape, but I stayed clear of the house because everyone kept grilling me about Ben. And I had no answers. This was a total first for me, so I didn’t really know what to do next. I didn’t have his number, so I was just waiting for a text to find out why the hell he’d come over. Except I was just left hanging because I didn’t hear a thing from him.
I’m sorry, but that just annoys me.
The next fews days passed without any drama. I went to the wholesalers, I got Gem to agree to us all wearing coral and we went to Russ and Rob’s birthday night at Luxe. The club had just reopened after a complete facelift – same owner, new name. The place was damaged goods after becoming a scene for major fights. When I say major, I mean a hundred and fifty people really going for it on Loughton High Street, and before that a twenty-person knife fight. Even when it comes to brawling, people round here can’t stand not being a part of the action.
But I got to say, I’ve been warming to Luxe since Nu Bar gets all the TOWIE tourists on Saturdays now. It’s just too small for that, whereas Luxe has gone more upmarket and the kids are kept out. Russ had hired out the whole place, and on the invite he’d promised ‘a red-carpet entrance, celebrities and dancing fire-eaters’. Like I said, he’d been in the background in three scenes of TOWIE and at this time he was making out he was friend to the stars. Barry the Bouncer was the most famous person to walk up Russ’ red carpet and that’s only cos he went over to chat with one of his mates on the door. His ‘best friend’ Kirk didn’t show up, but it turned out to be a top night anyway. To give him credit, he did have an amazing turnout and he had hired two fire-eaters. They each weighed twenty stone and, unfortunately, they did dance.
There was one dramatic change in my life, though. I took my Audi TT in for an MOT and came out the garage with a Mercedes SLR. Don’t ask me how that happened. I was trying to budget at the time too, but this car just had a bit more swag about it. I mean, I traded it in, plus it’s a vintage car now they’ve stopped making them, so essentially it’s an investment piece. Goes without saying, I bought it on finance. Dad’s allowance and my earnings don’t make me a millionaire, you know! And before you start, if you had Don and Jackie Fox for parents, you’d charge too. It was a pretty good few days as I did a lot of cruising with Brooke in the SLR when she was on standby. I recall we spent a lot of time down Virgin Active, talking in the pool, chilling in the sauna and getting treatments at Harmony. Before you get jel and start accusing me of being a slacker, I was doing wedding fairs at the weekends so I could chill here and there during the week. Tasha would disagree, but I’m sort of my own boss.
Driving back from one of these hectic days, I got a call from Tasha. I had finally worked out how to plug my iPhone into the car, so I took my first call on the car speaker. Pretty flash, right?
‘Becci, where are you?’
‘Just coming back to the shop, but I’ve got to drop Brooke off first.’
‘Well, there’s a bloke here says he knows you. Ben? Yeah, he’s called Ben.’ Then she whispered something which I think was ‘He’s fit.’ Unless I heard what I wanted to hear. She could have said, ‘You shit.’ The thing is, I was too stunned to even talk or listen.
‘Shut up!’ squealed Brooke, followed by, ‘Fuck, you just ran a red light . . . No, don’t stop. Keep driving, hun.’
I was all confused. I had to pull over.
‘Tasha, I’m coming straight back. Be there in ten,’ I said and hung up. What the fuck was this Ben playing at? Now he knew where I worked. Mum must have said something.
‘OMG, Becs, what you going to do? Hide again?’
‘No, babe, I’m nipping this stalker in the bud. I’m going to confront him. Woman to man. I mean, what if he starts showing up at every club, every beauty salon, the doggy day spa, going through my bins. It’s getting out of control.’
‘I love it when you do fighting talk,’ said Brooke with genuine admiration in her voice.
‘How’s my hair and make-up?’ I asked.
‘You’ve never looked better.’ So true. We had just come from getting our eyelashes done. How lucky was that?
I didn’t have time to drop Brooke off, so she had to come to the shop too. I think she would have missed a flight to watch this palaver play out anyway. I burst in looking all determined with Brooke in my wake. And then I saw him. And he was flirting with my sister.
Well, new tactics were called for altogether. I know she’s married and five years older than me, but that means nothing when it comes to sisterly rivalry. So I turned on the charm and then some.
‘Hun, I can’t believe you’re in my shop,’ I said, bouncing towards him.
‘My shop,’ butted in Tasha. So I jutted out the baps. It is mo
ments like this that I am one hundred per cent glad I bought them. Actually, Nan got them for me. Was it for my nineteenth? She’s paid for all of her granddaughters to have some sort of surgery, so don’t go thinking I get special treatment. Tasha got her lips pumped up and a tummy tuck, thank God. But that would be no help to her now. I could see Ben was transfixed by the 34Ds.
‘Alright, sweet cheeks?’ were his first words to me. I’ll never forget that moment. I think I might get it tattooed on my inner thigh, I love it that much. It was a proper thunderbolt moment. He was even hotter than I remembered. I’m sorry, but who’s not a sucker for a tanned, toned man? He was wearing a whiteV-neck T-shirt under a black jacket and jeans. I caught a flash of a gold Cartier watch on his wrist too. My eyesight is very good.
‘Yeah, fine thanks. You been looking for me?’
‘You’re a hard lady to pin down. You feeling better now?’
‘What?’
‘You was ill when I came over to your parents’.’
‘Oh yeah, just had the lurgy. I was a bit weak for visitors.’
‘So nothing to do with your mate Grey Goose?’
‘Nah, can’t blame her. I think it was just the vodka.’
‘That’s what I meant.’ Shit, I was being such a lemon. Grey Goose is what we call Brooke because she’s convinced she’s going grey. Why would he be referring to that? Basically, my Essex brain takes my normal brain hostage in moments of panic. It’s a major affliction and there is no cure.
‘Yeah, I knew you meant that. I was just joking,’ I said, turning to Brooke. Her head was down and her shoulders were shaking. What a bitch. Move it on, my normal brain screamed. ‘So what can I do for you, anyway?’
‘I just wanted to take you out for dinner and drinks if you fancied it.’
‘You could have just texted me that. No need talk to my parents and my sister. A bit extreme, don’t you reckon?’ That question was slightly pass-agg (that’s passive-aggressive to you. I’m well big on the pass-agg).
‘Texting’s not my style, hun,’ he said, flashing me the whitest smile. ‘Texting’s for boys. Nicer to arrange a date in person, don’t you think?’
‘Oh yeah, it’s just unusual, that’s all.’ I was melting on the inside. I’d only known him for about thirty-five minutes of my life, but he’d turned what I thought I knew about men upside down. Yeah, he was liking the chase, but this was well extreme.
‘How you fixed for tonight?’
‘I’m totally free.’ Stupid Essex brain was piping up again. I’m only repeating my blunders so you know what not to do. I sounded as keen as Marilyn when he spots a leg to hump. Before I had time to style it out, he was already making arrangements.
‘Right, I’ll pick you up at eight p.m. tonight and get us a table at Sheesh.’ I had to contain my excitement because I’d been dying to go there for ages. I mean, get this – I tried to book a table there for Mother’s Day in March, and they told me there was no space at weekends until August and I’d have to put down a deposit! Then they asked in all sincerity whether I wanted to book a table for then. What a joke. I phoned up the Ivy and it turns out I could have got a table there if I’d wanted it. I didn’t, I just wanted to prove a point about how out of control things can get around here. The hype is all down to it being owned by Alan Sugar. To be clear, he says he’s just the landlord and has no part in it, but he promotes it enough. So I had been thinking, screw you, Sheesh, I don’t want to go there anyway, but a girl’s allowed to change her tune.
‘Lovely, eight it is. Obviously you know where I live.’ I meant that to come out as pass-agg again, but it ended up being a merry trill instead.
You may have twigged already, but by this point I had decided not to take out a restraining order on Ben. I did want to get one on myself, though. I am always the cool one and I wasn’t about to let this man turn all that around. I thought all this as his tight butt walked its way out the shop and popped itself in the Mercedes. My sister turned to me and went, ‘You jammy bitch.’
‘Watch and learn, Tash,’ I replied as smugly as possible. She always bleats on about how blessed she is to have a husband and a kid, so I’m forced to look for any opportunity to throw it back in her face. Petty, I know. We’re actually polar opposites. She’s got a slick black bob, she’s tall, never wears heels and was always desperate to settle down. Whereas I got big blonde hair, I’m petite, never seen out of heels and desperate to stay out. I swear we got different dads.
Brooke and I went to celebrate the only way we knew how: dancing in the stock room to Hed Kandi while wearing two new wedding dresses. I can’t be the only bridal boutiquer to do this, right? Tasha stopped the fun though because she was jel and we had to do a fitting. Like I really had time for that with less than five hours to get ready!
I don’t know how I did it but I did. Brooke came back with me and we managed to do an emergency spray in my tanning tent. Dad bought it after I kept tanning the carpet. You just forget, don’t you, when you’re spraying yourself that the mist gets everything? And then you end up with these two perfect footmarks in the white carpet. Dad was livid by the time he bought the third carpet, even though I pointed out how lucky he was to own a carpet shop and have a carpet fitter for a son. Not impressed. He was so happy when his mate told him about tan tents. I can totally let loose with the spray now (I swear only to ever use St Tropez or Lancôme Flash Bronzer if I’m forced to home-tan). I know I said I’m against on-the-day tans, but I was really pale because I’d planned on having a quiet one that weekend. I can always find an excuse to bend the rules.
Then I had to do my make-up, create massive hair and choose an outfit. We were well pleased with ourselves. Brooke said she’d totally do me if she were a bloke. Let me talk you through my look: a short cream dress with gold sequins, and I put a sparkly black silk jacket over the top with rolled-up sleeves. Then I went for a quilted pink Chanel bag with nude peep-toe heels. And we did my hair in a messy up-do – thank God I’d got those extensions otherwise I’d have been a major flathead. I made Victoria Beckham look scruffy that night. For once in my life, I was ready ahead of time.
Brooke had gone home in a taxi, so I decided to chill out in the kitchen with Marilyn to pass the time. I picked up his Jimmy Chew and he growled at me. So cute! It’s this squishy toy in the shape of a stiletto and he won’t go anywhere without it now. He’s so my dog. I threw it across the kitchen and Marilyn went skidding after it and straight into Dad’s feet.
‘Hello, Honkytonks,’ he said. He always calls me this when I’m dressed up smart, and I just know he’s mocking me as he knows no better. ‘You look like you’re going to be sick, Princess. Tell yer old man what’s up?’
‘Nothing’s wrong, I’ve just got a date,’ I snapped.
‘Hmmm, interesting. Not like my little girl to look so anxious. You got frown lines going on and everything.’ See, even Dad could tell I wasn’t the cool one any more. And I was ageing before him. Not good. ‘Is it that Ben bloke?’
‘Yeah, it is, if you must know.’
‘Hmmm, very interesting. Nice bloke, that. I reckon he could have his pick of the bunch, but he chose you, love, so what’s to worry about?’
‘I’m not worried. I just don’t know him very well so I’m a bit nervous.’
‘Oh, I’ve talked to him loads. What you want to know?’
This was a turn-up for the books. I’m normally quite secretive when it comes to blokes I’m seeing, so I felt well uncomfortable that Dad had chatted him up before me.
‘Don’t trouble yourself, Dad. I know you’re mates and all, but I think I’ll just find out for myself.’
‘Suit yourself, girl. But I just want you to know that I want him for my son-in-law. He can get us into the Monaco Grand Prix for free. So no pressure or nothing.’
If you want to relax before a big event, don’t go to Don Fox. I felt sick. The truth is, I actually think Dad’s a really good judge of character and he seemed to be besotted with Ben already. He’
d just raised the stakes for me.
There was a beep outside. I felt like changing, I was so hot. I suppose I could have taken my jacket off, but that would have ruined the look.
‘Why do people always hoot? Why can’t people get out the car and ring the doorbell anymore?’ Ha, I knew Dad couldn’t stay sweet on Ben for long. He loves a good moan.
‘Bye, Dad. Do not stay up.’ Even though I live across the way, he doesn’t go to bed until the light over my front door is off. And the sitting room is dead opposite mine, so he’ll just sit there in his leather armchair, legs up, a tumbler of Glenfiddich in hand, glaring at the TV, but he’s really looking through the French windows at my front door. It’s all a bit Tony Soprano, if I’m to be honest. Not that he’s dedicated, because I’ve never seen him awake in that chair once.
I tottered over to the car (have I mentioned my shoes yet? Louboutins. Say no more) and he leant over the passenger seat to open the door. Now, I’m quite tiny, but this car was so low I was practically sitting on the floor. I spent most of the drive to Chigwell thinking about how I was going to exit without crawling out or being yanked up. It’s at times like these that I’m glad I’m a girl who wears knickers. If I’m ever famous, no pap will ever get an up-skirt shot of me thanks to Nan. Back in the day, she used to drop us off at Faces or Charlie Chan’s in her black Mini. I was always like, ‘Nan, whatever you do, do not drop us off right outside the door.’ Every time she did and it was impossible not to flash some pant as we clambered out the back. It’s hard to believe that was a decade ago, and now look at me in a red Mercedes, I thought. I took a sideward glance at Ben, this stunning man driving this stunning car, and then I checked my own face in the overhead-mirror. Yeah, it was definitely me. I looked composed but my mouth was twitching, dying to betray the high-pitched screams going on in my head. I’d only gone and bagged myself a proper winner. What a moment.
