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Chapter 39: Ungrounded.
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Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 40: Flurry Envision.
It's been a week since I called Andrew in London. I even left him two phone messages and a well-crafted, slightly desperate e-mail. The truth is Andrew favours Sandra than I. It's actually quite understandable if he is "team Sandra" and they both can now join forces to deal with me. But right now, my back is up against the wall and I'm taking a new strategy:- *'be your enemy's friend's friend.'* If I am to come out victorious in all of this, then I have to look for solutions in odd places, thanks to Dixie's fast thinking. I have known Andrew since fourth grade, when he moved to our town in the middle of the school year. There was always a flurry of intrigue when a new kid arrived, with everyone excited at the thought of fresh blood. And doing recess on the day of his arrival, Andrew sat alone on the curb near the monkey bars, writing in the dirt with a twig. Everyone was too shy to speak to him, but I summoned Sandra and Dixie and the three of us approached him. I introduced Sandra a
Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 41: A Fresh Start.
Since the past two weeks, I've been all about preparation and action, single-minded in my quest to shut down my New York affairs and get myself to London.I sublet my apartment to a young couple that found my classified ad. Then, I sold my tainted engagement ring in the diamond district and my wedding gown on eBay. Combining the proceeds with the balance in my account, I have enough money to get through my pregnancy in London without a day's work. ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** So, finally, I'm all ready to go. My bags packed full of my finest belongings, on the way to JFK for my red-eye flight to London. As I boarded the plane, I felt a sense of absolute satisfaction, knowing that I am leaving the city without a word to the people who betrayed me. I hunkered down in my business class seat, slipped on a pair of cashmere slippers, and rested my head against the bulkhead beside me . . .** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **I woke up as the plane hovered over green meadows and
Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 42: Croque Monsieurs.
I looked around the apartment, trying so hard to hide my disappointment."I told you it was small," he said, giving me a nonchalant tour.Everything looks clean and neat and well decorated, but nothing particularly appeared European, except for some decent crown molding around fairly high ceilings. The kitchen is nondescript and the bathroom downright grim—with a wall-to-wall carpeting, a very bizarre thing and an absolutely miniature toilet and, according to Andrew, it's not an uncommon thing. "Nice flat," I said with false cheer. "Where's my room?""Patience, my dear. I was getting to this," Andrew said, leading me to a room off the kitchen. The room is smaller than a maid's room in a New York apartment, and it's window is too narrow to squeeze through, yet it's still covered with a row of corroded iron bars. A white dresser in the corner clashed with the white walls, each making the other look sickly gray. Against the adjacent wall is a small empty bookshelf, also painted white,
Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 43: A Beckham or A Clooney.
I'm perusing a newspaper someone had left on our table while Andrew ordered our food at the bar, which from what I've come to know—it's a standard practice at English pubs.The newspaper has Victoria and David Beckham, or, as the Brits calls them, "Posh and Becks," plastered across the front page. I just don't get why David Beckham is a big deal in England. The dude isn't that cute. Sunken cheeks, stringy hair. And I hate the earrings in both ears. Andrew returned to our table and I made my observations about David Beckham to him. Andrew pinched his mouth and kept mute, as if David is a personal friend of his. "Have you seen him play soccer?" he asked me finally."No. Who watches soccer?""The whole world watches soccer. It happens to be the best sport in every country but America.""Whatever. As far as I'm concerned this David guy," I said, tapping his picture, "is no George Clooney. That's all I'm sayin'." Andrew rolled his eyes just as an unkempt waitress brought our food to th
Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 44: Drooling Investment.
Andrew was right. Harvey Nichols is exactly my bag. Though, I started out at Harrods, but it was too large and packed with touristy riffraff. A very terrible situation.Harvey Nics, as I overheard one British girl call it right outside the Sloane Street entrance, is more upscale and deluxe-like, reminding me of Henri Bendel in New York. It feels like heaven, going from rack to rack, gathering various gems like Dolce & Gabbana, Jean Paul Gaultier, and Marc Jacobs. I threw in some new names into the mix because, why not? They look perfectly splendid, wintery garments from designers I have never heard of. I took my new treasures to the dressing room to try them out. Shockingly, I couldn't squeeze into a size six. I am seventeen weeks pregnant, and my initial few pounds of pregnancy weight propelled me from my usual size four to size six. My afternoon is about to be ruined as tears gathered up in my eyes when I tried to squeeze into the size four version of an Alexander McQueen's black
Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 45: No Funny Business.
Andrew closed the door. I turned off the light and tried to get myself comfortable on my mattress, arranging and rearranging my pillow and blanket. It is quite difficult for me to fall asleep despite being so tired. I kept tossing as I struggled to be comfortable. Realizing that no matter what angle I keep myself, this bed is the actual problem. I took my blanket and pillow and shuffled into the living room. Andrew's couch might provide some level of comfort. But, the couch didn't. It is too short by several inches, and it gives me that desperate feeling of needing to straighten my knees. I try draping my feet over the edge of the couch, but the arms are slightly too high, which I think I can endure a bit till it's morning.I felt my blood rushing to my head because of my elevated legs. I sat up, whimpering and staring into the still, dark sitting room. Only one option remained, so I swaddled myself in my blanket and tiptoed down the hall towards Andrew's room. On reaching to his d
Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 46: Museums. Arts. Carbuncle.
Since the past weeks, my routine has just been the same—shopping all day and discovering a wide array of fashion boutiques: Joseph on Old Bond Street, Amanda Wakeley on Fulham Road, Caroline Charles on Beauchamp Place, and Nicole Farhi on New Bond Street. I've been buying fabulous pieces designer pieces: playful scarves, beautiful jumpers, chic skirts, unusual bags, and sexy shoes. I even sought out the bargain spots on Oxford Street—Next, Top Shop, River Island, and Marks & Spencer—because, it's totally effective to work such low-end pieces into an otherwise couture wardrobe. Even overt knockoffs, if paired with high-end pieces and worn with confidence, can look positively fabulous. And every night, I would return home with my purchases, and wait for Andrew to finish his day of work. We will eat takeaway together, or he would whip us up a meal, which is followed by a little bit of television and conversation. When it is time for bed, I cunningly retire to my room first, pretending t
Wild Beauty: A Tale Of Love and Lust. Chapter 47: Flickered Attraction.
I woke up to an excited chirping Andrew by eight in the morning. He kept chirping about the full day he has planned for us. We showered and dressed, and by nine, we made our way to Kesington High Street. It is a frigid, gray day, and as I slid on my aubergine leather gloves trimmed with rabbit fur, I shivered. "Why is London more cold than the actual temperature?" I asked Andrew. "It's the dampness in the air," he said. "Permeates every layer of clothing." "Yeah," I said, shivering. "It's downright bone-chilling. Glad I wore my boots." "Mhmmhmm," Andrew acknowledged.We started walking in a faster clip to keep warm and I found myself at the entrance of Holland Park, both of us slightly out of breath. "Of all the parks in London, this is my favorite," Andrew said, beaming. "It has such an intimate, romantic aura." "Are you trying to tell me something, Andrew?" I joked, as I linked my arm around his. He smiled, rolled his eyes, and shook me off. "Yeah. I'm about to propose. How'
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