“Oh, no, my flight’s been delayed.”
“So has ours.” Emma says disappointedly.
“I better call Joseph to let him know.”
“Good idea.” Rose says, pulling out her phone. “We’d better call home too, Em.”
As Olivia dials out, she looks out to the ever growing blizzard outside, the snow swirling passed the windows in a wild flurry making everything beyond it hard to see. The wind howls loudly as Joseph answers his phone.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
“Hey, babe.”
“Is everything all right?” he asks sounding concerned.
“No, it’s really not. There’s a bit of a blizzard in New York at the moment. All flights have been delayed. I might be waiting here a while.”
“Oh, that’s no good.”
“I know. I hope it passes quickly but… I just had to let you know.”
“It’s all right sweetheart. You’ve got plenty of time to get home.”
“I know. But you know me… worry, worry, worry.”
“Just relax, dear. I know it’s early, but maybe you should go get a drink with the girls. Do something to pass the time.”
“Like what?”
“Is there a salon at the airport?”
“I don’t know. There might be one in the hotel across the way.”
“Well, if there is, go get yourself a massage.”
“Joe, they’ve put the gate numbers up.” Olivia heard Reuben at the other end.
“Yeah, I’m coming. Listen, sweetheart, I’d better go.”
“Okay, fly safe and let me know when you land.”
“I will and you let me know when they blizzard gives up, okay?”
“I will. Love you.”
“I love you to, sweetheart. Bye.”
“Bye.”
“No mopey faces.” Emma said, surprising Olivia as she stowed her phone away. “Shots.”
“Emma, it’s not even eleven.”
“She’s got me drinking them too.” Rose called from the bar. “Come on, I’ll get us a table.”
“Down the hatchet.” Emma said, clinking her glass with Olivia’s before necking the drink.
“Oh what the hell. It’s not like my day can get any worse, right?”
“They’re calling you, Joe.”
“Already?”
“Yeah, you better get going. Don’t want to miss it.”
Joseph shouldered his bag, double checking the black velvet box is still inside before he zips the bag up again. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Reuben.
“It’s not going to sprout little legs and toddle off, you know.”
Joseph laughs, “I know. I’m just being paranoid. Well, thanks for everything, mate.”
“It’s my job.” Reuben shakes Joseph’s hand.
“Oh, no. You’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty, I want you to know I appreciate it. Here.” Joseph holds out a small parcel wrapped neatly in metallic paper.
“For me? You’re getting right soft in your old age you know.”
“Enough of the cheek. Open it.”
“Cufflinks?” Reuben smirked. “No. 1 PA. How cute.”
“Okay, I know they’re not much. They were only like five Euros so I went one better and bumped your ticket to New York up to first class. You’re always following me in economy, you deserve a treat once in a while.”
“Jesus Christ, Joe! I can’t ask you to do that!”
“You don’t have to ask. It’s already done. Now off to the first class lounge with yourself. You still have an hour before you board. Enjoy yourself.”
“Thanks. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say a thing.” Joseph says, gathering up the last of things. Pausing, her turns back to Reuben, “You know, sometimes you surprise me. Half the time, I forget you’re actually American.”
“Only half. English father, American mother.”
“Yeah, but you always sound so English.”
“I think that’s just you rubbing off on me… mate.”
“I’m not English, Reuben. I’m Welsh, you know that.”
“Then why do you talk like them?”
“Because, if I spoke in my own accent, you’d have a hard time keeping up with me.” Joseph winks.
“I have a hard time keeping up with you now.”
“I know. I love it.”
“Git. You better go before you miss your flight.”
“I’m leaving, I’m leaving. But, before I go, just let me say… Merry Christmas, Reuben.”
“Merry Christmas, Joseph, and have a Happy New Year.”
“You too. Call me, if you need anything.”
“I will. Have a safe journey.”
“You too. See you in 2013.”
“2013.”
On the tall table sits nine empty shot glasses, two empty wine bottles and a newly opened one still sitting in the ice bucket. The girls sit, drinking from the large wine glasses whilst barely touching the salmon dish they ordered for lunch.
“We should probably eat something, or we’ll be suffering in the morning.” Emma said, pushing around her potatoes.
“Do you think the critics hated my show?” Rose asked, dismally.
“No it was amazing. You worry too much, Rose.”
“Let’s check the papers.” Emma says, passing one to Olivia.
“Uh, here The New York Times has a good review. And there’s even a mention on Emma.”
“Read it aloud.” Rose says, taking another sip from her glass.
“Article by May Brown. Of all the shows I’ve attended this week, none took my breath away quite like the inspired collection from Rose Thorn. The up and coming designer will leave you reeling with her Spring collection. Her latest collection is accentuated with warm gold’s, forrest greens and chunky, bold accessories as displayed on her latest recruit and muse, Emma Gold. When we spoke to the young supermodel later on we asked her what she thought of her friend’s latest collection, ‘She’s a genius!’ Miss Gold trilled, ‘I wouldn’t dream of working for anyone else. She has something for every woman. Rose has such great vision. I don’t know how she does it but, she has this way of showing that beauty runs more than skin deep. It’s her passion. Her art. And I’m honoured to be a part of it’.”
“Em, that’s so sweet. Thank you.”
“That was a really great thing to say.”
“Thanks. We should celebrate. Bubbly, girls?”
“You want more alcohol, Emma? Bloody hell, if I try to get up I doubt my legs will cooperate.”
“I love it when we get Olivia drunk.” Rose laughed. “She gets more British with every drink. Oh, bloody hell. Sodding this and sodding that.” Rose imitated Olivia’s accent.
“I don’t sound like that.”
“Yes you do.” Emma giggled.
“What about the other night when that guy kept pestering you for your phone number and you said…”
“Bugger off you twit!” The two girls erupted into a fit of laughter.
“That’s nothing,” came a familiar voice, “you ought to have heard the things that came out of her mouth when I forgot her birthday.”
Olivia choked on her mouthful of champagne, spraying her two friends as she realised who stood behind her. An old flame.
“Alfie?”
“Hello, Olli. Long time, no see.”
“Olivia, who is he?” Rose asks.
“This is Alfie Yates, my ex. Alfie these are my friends Rose and Emma.”
“Nice to meet you.” Emma smiles politely.
“The pleasure’s all mine. You know I must say I’m quite surprised to see you here, Olivia.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Well, the last I heard you were still working for that small town newspaper near Peckham.”
“I haven’t worked for the gazette in over six years.”
“Oh? Who do you work for now?”
“Vogue.” She smiled coolly. “That’s how I met Miss Thorn here, I was covering her first fashion show in London.”
“Impressive.”
“And yourself? Still in the family business?”
“No I sold that after my father died. I was attending a friends’ wedding in Central Park the other day.”
“Ooh, Central Park at Christmas. How romantic.” Emma cooed.
“Enchanting.” Rose simpered.
“I don’t mean to intrude. I’ll let you get back to your… wine. I have a call to take. It was good seeing you again, Olivia.”
“Really? Wish I could say the same.”
Alfie smiled and sauntered off to find a table for himself.
“Well that was rude.” Rose snorted.
“I know can you believe him?”
“I think she meant you, Olivia.” Emma chided.
“What? Oh, please, tell me you’re not falling for his charms. He’s a bloody pariah.”
“He seemed pleasant enough.” Rose said smiling over her shoulder at him.
“He’s real cute too.”
“He’s what you’d call, a condescending jerk.” Olivia said, imitating the girls’ accent. “Alfie Yates was the bane of my life. We were together for three years before I ended it.”
“Why didn’t you end it sooner?” asks Rose.
“Because I had convinced myself I was in love with him. The pretentious prick would always quote Shakespeare at me every time I had a fight with him. Whenever he forgot my birthday, made comments about my driving and such. He was a real dick.”
“But, sweetie, now you’re with Joseph. Can’t you leave it in the past?”
“Not until that arse gives me an apology.”
“An apology for what?” Emma asks.
“For 2003 to 2005.”