Foolproof was exactly what it wasn't. Thirty minutes later, I was perched on a stool smiling awkwardly across the studio desk at Roxy Rogers in the tanned flesh. I'd never seen a platinum blonde bob so glossy, blue eyes so icy or cheekbones so pronounced. I had actually seen bigger boobs when I'd taken a weekend trip to Essex, but Roxy's were still impressive. She was flanked by an angry looking manager and a busy looking PR rep. They looked on as Mikey jabbed at the phone to call the technical department.
'Uh, yes,' he said in the calmest voice he could muster. 'We're having some technical difficulties in the studio. We're trying to pre-record an interview with Roxy Rogers and we're not getting any sound coming through.'
There was a pause. Loz complimented Roxy on her shoes - blood red stilettos. Roxy gave a tight lipped smile. I remained silent.
'Carlo is on his lunch break? Well, we need someone up here right now. Roxy's on a very tight schedule.'
Roxy's manager tapped away furiously at his phone, presumably creating an obscenity laced text telling the rest of his PR team waiting in the lobby how useless we were. Mikey hung up and told us someone was on their way. As I waited, I mentally went over the answers Loz had scrawled down on a piece of paper and thrust in my face just as Roxy's car was pulling into the lot. Place of birth: Maidstone; the name of her handbag range: Glory; Prince Harry once said he had a crush on her - true or false? According to Loz and an internet search, it was apparently true.
I was trying to remember who'd designed the infamous Marie Antoinette inspired gown that she'd worn to the British TV Awards in 2003 when in sauntered Leon.
'I was told I'm needed here?' I met his wink with a wide-eyed stare. Roxy's lips arranged themselves into an appreciative smile.
'We're having some sound problems here, gorgeous,' she purred before Mikey had a chance to explain.
'I'm sure I can do something about that,' replied Leon, winking at her too. He knelt under the studio desk and fiddled around with the tangled web of wires. I wished I'd worn trousers today but, no, I'd chosen to wear a short skirt and four-year-old faded mint undies because I'd promised myself I'd go straight home after work. I'd figured there was no chance of going out, meeting the man of my dreams and falling into bed with him in his luxury flat overlooking the Thames.
I jammed my palm down against the hem of my skirt as Leon's head came so close to my knee, his sideburns tickled the hairs on my thigh. Why did I have to listen to my mum's advice about never shaving above the knee? He turned his face up to me and grinned.
'Hey, Sport, to think that I didn't even have to buy you a drink to see you from this angle.'
The whole studio - even the angry manager and PR lady - erupted with laughter. The mood in the studio had definitely thawed in Leon's smart alec presence, but I hated that he'd got his cheap laugh at my expense. I gave him a half-smile and crossed my legs, hoping not to inadvertently do a Sharon Stone.
'Should be all good now,' he said as he stood up.
'Won't you stay for the interview?' asked Roxy, smoothing her already sleek hair.
'Yes, please stay, the more the merrier,' said Mikey eagerly. I could tell that he was just as enthralled as Roxy was by the beautiful man who'd saved the day.
'Love to,' accepted Leon, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. Great, as if I wasn't nervous enough. At least this interview wasn't going to be live on-air. It would be recorded now and broadcast next week. That eased a bit of the pressure. I stared straight ahead as Mikey and Loz put their headphones on and switched to radio personality mode. My expression was as stony as the PR team, who listened intently to every word that came out of their client's mouth, ready to stop the interview if she said something vaguely damaging to her reputation.
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