Lindsey Kelk - I Heart Vegas

‘Christmas, eh?’ I nodded at the black PVC tree in the corner of the room. Obviously Thomas’s tastes ran to the more exotic, but I was always excited by the presence of a Christmas tree. The mini dildo baubles made me blush a little, but still, ’twas the season. Each to his own. ‘Any exciting plans?’

‘Just to actually have Christmas.’ Delia gave me a tired smile. ‘I just can’t believe another year has gone by already. I swore I was going to get myself together before New Year’s, and here I am again. Still working for Granddaddy, still under the thumb.’

‘You work for Bob – I mean, Mr Spencer?’ I corrected myself quickly. We probably weren’t still on ‘Bob and Angie’ terms any more. ‘You’re at Spencer Media too?’

‘Bob, yes,’ she replied. ‘Spender Media, no. He runs a bunch of real estate businesses too – I’ve been there for a few years. I’m overseeing an apartment complex in Brooklyn right now.’

‘I live in Brooklyn!’ I exclaimed. Probably wasn’t any need for me to sound quite so excited about having something so minor in common, but still, common ground. Nice. ‘Do you like it? The real estate thing?’

‘I actually always wanted to work in publishing,’ she admitted. ‘But of course, Cici got there first. Cecelia always gets there first. Once she had a foot in the door, there was no way I could follow, and I wanted to stay on at school, get my masters. She went straight into the office.’

‘If it helps, she’s not there all that often.’ I thought back to all the times I’d got her answering machine when I was calling Mary, our boss. ‘I don’t think Anna Wintour needs to worry about her position.’

‘I know, I just hate competing with her. This is the problem with being the good twin. She’s always going to play dirty to get what she wants, and I can never win.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’ I tapped her on the arm and pointed towards the bedroom door. ‘This should be good.’

Jenny emerged first, a smile stretched all the way across her face. She looked like she’d just been for a quickie with Bradley Cooper. But this was much, much better. This was something we could all enjoy. Following her out of the bedroom and into the party was a very proud, very smug, very almost naked Cici Spencer.

‘For the love of God,’ Delia groaned as she made her full entrance.

Once she had worked her way into the middle of the room, I could see that Cici was actually wearing something, and as soon as I laid eyes on it, despite never having seen any of his work before, I knew it was a Thomas. The bum-skimming white silk shift dress draped artfully off one shoulder, rendering a bra unwearable, and the sheer nature of the silk meant that it was a flesh-coloured thong or nothing. Cici had opted for nothing. It was the modern sartorial equivalent of the Emperor’s new clothes, and Cici looked every inch the Empress.

But that wasn’t enough for her. Under Jenny’s instruction, she gave us all a spin, allowing me to spot the real coup de grâce of the ensemble. On the front of the dress was a black and white screen print of a great big cock. Seriously. Cici was wearing, to all intents and purposes, a see-through T-shirt with a picture of a knob on it. Thomas, you are a master. Jenny, you are a genius.

‘Is it me,’ Delia started, ‘or …’

‘It’s not you,’ I stopped her. ‘It’s really not you.’

‘Delia!’ Cici trotted over, proud as punch and not even drunk. ‘You came? You never come.’

‘Thomas is buying one of my condos,’ Delia explained, ignoring the fact that her sister was standing in the middle of a very glamorous Christmas party ninety-nine per cent naked. ‘I thought I’d show my face. Good of you to show everything else.’

I couldn’t help but think it must be something of a strange sensation to see your twin, your identical twin, parading around a formal cocktail party more or less in the buff. It must have been like taking a really annoying funhouse mirror with you everywhere you went. And tonight, it was a bit of a pervy mirror as well. I didn’t want to be staring at her tits, but I had very little choice in the matter. Jenny stood behind her looking like the cat who got the cream. Then spiked the cream with acid and served it to Cici.

‘I know my dress is amazing,’ she said to me. ‘But you could be less obvious while you’re checking me out. What’s wrong? Get bored of turning other people gay?’

‘It’s a very lovely dress,’ I said, trying not to giggle, but half a cackle managed to escape as a squeak. ‘You look charming.’

‘Right.’ She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. ‘So, that guy you were seeing? Alan?’

‘Alex.’ I took a couple of deep breaths. It really didn’t matter what she said, this was too good. She was this close to being stark bollock naked and still giving me attitude. There was something faintly admirable about it. Or at least there would be if she weren’t Satan.

‘Yeah, Alex. Did he dump your ass yet or are you still his charity fuck?’

Jenny physically recoiled as though she’d been hit, but before she could strike, I stepped in. I had this.

‘You can’t dump charity at Christmas,’ I said, smiling politely. ‘We’re still together, thanks.’

‘I’m sure he’s going to get tired of you soon enough,’ she shrugged. ‘You should give me his number. I still work in the media. I could help his band.’

‘His band doesn’t need help, and actually, I still work in the media,’ Admittedly it was just barely, but still. Semantics schemantics.

‘Only because I couldn’t get the UK office to fire your ass.’ She looked me up and down. ‘It’s actually kind of amazing how easy it was to get you blocked. Maybe because you suck? I figure it will take me longer to get you banned from whatever this is –’ she paused to wave a horrified hand at my ‘waitressing’ outfit – ‘because I don’t usually hire the help, but give me a couple of days and you’ll be out on your ass. Again.’

‘Blocked?’ I blinked.

‘Maybe it wasn’t me,’ Cici mused. ‘Maybe every publisher in New York canned your ass because you don’t understand simple words.’

So that was the reason no one at Spencer would hire me. Not because I sucked, but because Cici did.

‘Are you for real?’ Her sister spoke up before I regained the power of speech. ‘Seriously, what is wrong with you? Why do you always have to have an enemy?’

‘Eff you, Deals. She threw a coffee at me!’

‘You got me fired!’ I shouted. Inside voices, Angela, inside voices. ‘And blew up my shoes! And you’re a massive cow!’

‘Uh, I’m a massive cow?’ she scoffed. ‘I didn’t know they made fetish outfits in a plus size.’

‘I wasn’t calling you fat, I was …’ A red mist settled over my ability to form a sentence. It was impossible to enjoy shouting at someone if they were too stupid to understand exactly how you were slagging them off. ‘You’re an idiot.’

I looked at Delia. She looked at me. I looked at Jenny. She looked at Cici. Cici looked far too happy with herself. As I saw it, there were two ways this could go. I could be the bigger man, turn around and walk out of the party with my head held high. Or I could slap the mare silly.

‘Sorry, Jenny, I have to go.’ Apologizing, I stepped out of my borrowed shoes and picked them up. There was no such thing as a speedy exit in Louboutins. ‘I’m really sorry to let you down.’

Before Jenny could reply, Cici let out a tiny wicked cackle. ‘Are you sure you can afford to pass up work? And dude, those shoes are clearly not yours. Christian Louboutin would set them on fire before he let you walk around in his shoes.’

Now that was a mistake. Insult me, fire me, but never insult my shoes. Even if they were actually borrowed. Besides, I was never more dangerous than when I had a pair of Louboutins in my mitts, but GBH by way of shoe had been done before and so instead I grabbed a glass of red wine from a passing tray and took aim.