Destination India. Katy Colins
calls with suppliers; we haven’t done that for a while actually, but it was really funny,’ I said thinking out loud. I was struggling now. Maybe I wasn’t putting out any please-take-me-to-bed subliminal messages, but then again, neither was he. And I needed to act like I didn’t care. I just wished I could stop my heart whispering that I blatantly did. Shut up and just do your job pumping blood, my brain growled back.
‘Hmm.’ She rolled her eyes, looking majorly unimpressed with my seduction skills. ‘Well if you want my opinion …’
‘Do I want your opinion?’
‘Yes. If you want my opinion, the girl he was crazy for back in Thailand seems to have stayed on that beach.’
‘What?’
‘I’m just saying the fun, carefree, live-for-the-moment Georgia that he first met isn’t here any more.’ She gulped her wine, ignoring my look of surprise. ‘When did you last do something just for fun? And I don’t mean playing lame word bingo on the phone, I mean really fun?’
I took a long sip thinking about it. ‘Drinking wine in the office is fun, risqué even.’ I winked as she tutted.
‘I’m serious, Georgia. Where’s the girl I met who would go skinny-dipping in the Thai ocean, who had the balls to travel solo after being left jilted, who would say only yes to new things, not check if she could fit them into her busy schedule first?’
I mumbled a response. ‘I can do fun …’
‘When did you last do something spontaneous? Really let your hair down?’
‘Shelley, there is no spontaneity in running a business.’ Just then an email pinged through to my inbox. Ignoring her rolling her eyes I leant over to see if it was Nihal explaining the scathing review.
‘Is it that Nihal fella you’re waiting to hear from?’ Shelley asked.
I shook my head. ‘Nope. Just an automatic email saying the Indian visas for the tour group are ready to collect,’ I said sadly. How ironic.
‘That’s it!’ Shelley exclaimed sloshing some wine on her legs as she pointed a finger in the air.
‘What? Visas?’
‘No, you daft sod. This is the answer to your problems.’ She grinned and then took a dramatic pause. ‘We should go to India.’
‘Ha ha very funny,’ I said sarcastically.
‘No. Georgia, I’m serious. We should go together to meet this Nihal bloke in person, see what’s really going on, put an end to these bad reviews once and for all. Why not? I love samosas and I even came first in a vindaloo-eating competition at home,’ she boasted. ‘Plus I’ve always wanted to go to India. And you can go and track down this tour guide. Wait – we can go undercover! Yes, that would be perfect. Get the real scoop on what’s happening. This is the perfect spontaneous thing for you to do!’ She looked like she could burst with excitement.
‘I think you need to start drinking some water,’ I said, shaking my head at the absurdity of the idea. Pfft, I couldn’t just take two weeks off work to jet off to India. How would the business survive without me?
‘I’m not drunk; this is the best idea I’ve ever had. Trust me, it’s a win-win. I mean, you never take any holidays, or days off for that matter. Plus you get to show Ben how you can be fun and daring Georgia again. I get to take a trip with my best friend and your business problem will be all smoothed over.’
‘Really, you think it could work?’ I tilted my head, thinking about what she was suggesting. The alcohol was making my head feel fuzzy and I couldn’t concentrate properly. Maybe it could be a good idea. It was just two little weeks.
‘Yes! Getting that email from the visa agency is a sign. See, the world wants you to go!’ She started to do a little jig. ‘That is, unless you’re too boring to say yes. The old Georgia would have booked her flight straight away …’
I shut my eyes. ‘I’m not too boring. Yes. Fuck it. Let’s do it. Right now!’
‘Yay!’ She began whipping a wet tea towel over her head in excitement then hesitated. ‘Wait, you don’t want to talk to Ben first? Check it’s OK that you’re gone for a few weeks?’
I shook my head – probably a little too dramatically – as spots appeared in front of my eyes. ‘No, we need to seize the moment. He’ll think it’s a great idea being proactive and courageous, trust me!’
‘OMG we’re going to India, baby! Let’s book it!’ Shelley beamed at me.
I looked at my smiling reflection in my black laptop screen. Yes this will help everything. We are a pair of geniuses. Wait, what is the plural of genius? Genii? Whatever it is, that’s what we are.
Repercussion (n.) An effect or result, often indirect or remote, of some event or action
The sound of the bin lorries rumbling down the street woke me with a start. I opened my eyes and immediately felt like I was being stabbed in the corneas with all the sunlight beaming through the office windows. I groggily turned over and nearly chucked up. The room was a complete state. I carefully sat up holding my throbbing head. My mouth was as dry as sandpaper and I reeked of booze. I’d slept in the office again, only this time I had Shelley and her melodic snores for company.
I combed my fingers through my hair and winced as a piece of gristly kebab meat fell onto the sofa that I was spreadeagled over – the sofa that we used as a waiting area for customers to sit and browse our brochures, which was now wet in patches from spilt wine and drool. Easing my weary bones to stand up I grabbed a cloth and half-arsedly wiped the stains before turning my phone back on and giving Shelley a shove to wake up. Missed calls, a drunken voicemail from Jimmy and three texts from Ben beeped through, each of his worried messages growing more disappointed in their tone that I didn’t make Kelli’s gig and hadn’t even bothered to apologise.
‘Shel, Shel, wake up!’ I nudged her.
‘Mdnasudhu’ came from her as she turned and got comfier on the floor cushions.
‘No, I’m serious, Shelley; you need to get up now. Ben and Kelli will be here soon.’
‘What?’ She leant up, rubbed her eyes and let out a dry chesty cough. ‘What time is it?’
‘Time to get up and sort this disaster zone out. Man, what time did we even go to bed? I feel like ass.’
‘Eurgh, I dunno. Maybe about three or could have been four. Whenever we finished that third or was it fourth bottle of wine?’ She unsteadily got to her feet.
‘What? I thought you only brought two with you,’ I said, puffing the sofa cushions back to life and staggering to the bathroom.
‘Yeah I did but then you said we could open this other bottle that someone had bought you.’
I blinked, trying to remember, then suddenly it hit me. ‘Shelley, that wasn’t wine that was rum one of the customers bought us as a thank-you present. No wonder I feel so rough. I hate rum!’
She clapped a hand to her pale face as if burping down vomit threatening to escape. ‘Eurgh, me too. I need sleep, a shower and greasy food, pronto. Do you need me to tidy up first?’
I glanced at the room that smelt like a brewery but judging by her clammy almost-green cheeks it was probably better that she made a speedy exit. ‘Nah, I’ll open all the windows and Febreze the shit out of this place. I’ll call you later.’
She gratefully stumbled out as I collected the empty bottles and greasy kebab boxes and tried to make the room look presentable before Ben and Kelli turned up. I sprayed air freshener everywhere including over my crumpled clothes and quickly washed my face, rubbing