Geli Voyante's Hot or Not (15 page)

‘Ooh,’ she says after calming down from her squealing
to consider the Uncle Colin-Tiggy aspect of my tale. ‘How very curious. I wonder what Tiggy is up to.’

‘Do you not think she was genuine?’

Glinda snorts at this as she finally selects a rather slinky vintage Gucci number that I know was nabbed from her mother’s dressing room. ‘Theo must be good, Geli,’ she says. ‘He’s addled your brain. This is
Tiggy Boodles
we are talking about.
Tiggy Boodles
. Of course she has some ulterior motive. Don’t let her fool you. Something’s up here, I know it.’

She probably has a point.
That’s a black mark against Theo then if he causes me to believe Tiggy Boodles’ lies; I’ll have to be careful with that one
if
we become a couple.

‘I’ll remember,’ I say. ‘Now go on! You need to get moving.’

‘He’ll only start flirting with some waitress if I’m late,’ she bluntly says. ‘He’ll be fine.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be on his best
behaviour. I can just tell!’ I can’t help but squeal at her. Oh dear. Well done me. She shoots me a look. ‘Christ,’ I quickly bluff. ‘What on earth has Theo done to me?’

She smiles, reassured at that.

‘Now, go! Have fun! But don’t let him get your forgiveness immediately. Make him earn it.’

‘Will do,’ she says, with a little nod.

A quick hug and she’s out of the door to become Mrs Jeeves and I’m left alone to write. Certainly less exciting. I now have until five o’clock to e-mail across my draft to Susie. Tomorrow will be a nightmare if I have any major corrections to do. Thursdays and Fridays are by far my worst days and, yes, I realise I should pace myself over the week, but I actually prefer the thrill of the stress Thursdays and Fridays bring… even if of late I’ve not got a big kick out of my columns. Maybe I’m having a Quarter Life Crisis? That could explain it.

Reluctantly I pass by the TV and the lure of
Neighbours
to head
to my crumpled bed. It’s the best place to write, as long as I don’t fall asleep.

Right, as of December
15th when my column will be published, what’s Hot or Not in this fickle, cruel world? Only eight hundred words to go…

Weekend greetings. Let me warmly
kiss you on both cheeks.
Yes, that’s right, the
air high five
has fallen out of favour. With the sub-zero temperatures, who can blame me for wanting to inject a little winter warmth into everyone’s lives? Better pucker up with your
nude lips
and kiss away – just not under
mistletoe
, please. It’s a parasitic plant and when have parasites ever been Hot?

That is unless you happen to chance upon a
tartan
-wearer and then it’s your Geli right to issue an air slap to air your grievance. Please, I implore you all to keep tartan where it belongs – in the form of kilts, or in the privacy of your own home – what have you fashion designers inhaled? Parasitic mistletoe, perhaps? Shame on you!

However, one designer has
got it right. May I point you in the direction of Notting Hill to
Raphael Von Coutter’s
boutique, situated on Ledbury Road. Raphael debuted back in 2004 with his pint-sized collection at London Fashion Week. A graduate of Central St Martins
,
his debuting theme was childhood nostalgia. Raphael has now gone one further. He’s decided to design for the little cherubs in a severely-lacking children’s market which, where it does exist, usually screams more Lolita than lovely. It really is a rare achievement to see a designer cater so tastefully for the tween crowd and if you’re a bit of a mini-adult, the size sixes out there will be able to squeeze into Raphael’s largest size and look as glamorous as an adult, at more child-friendly prices! No tax, hurrah!

You might go up a dress size if you eat at
Ali’s
however, the phenomenal family-owned restaurant in Covent Garden. Ali’s boasts home-cooked food which left me feeling full and toasty for the rest of the day. Located on Garrick Street, Ali’s boasts scrumptious dishes and possibly the best homemade soups in London. I can guarantee you’ll be waiting months to book a table, but the wait will be worth it when your taste buds experience food heaven in the form of traditional pub grub favourites done well, a rare find in the capital.

Watch your portion sizes though because recent reports suggest one in four British adults are now
obese
. If this trend continues, alarmingly one in two will be classified as clinically obese in the near future. Not Hot people: a
healthy lifestyle
balancing yummy foods with healthy foods and
exercise
should be your New Year’s resolution – that’s straight from the Geli mouth!

Perhaps take up football if you’re feeling inspired
by the four-year signing of Italian
Fabio Capello
to the England national football team. He replaces fired manager Steve McClaren. This girl’s not convinced but maybe a solid performance at England’s first friendly game under Capello’s thumbs in February will see the endorsement of the Italian as red Hot. For now, Fabio’s status remains as cold as the weather outside from the outside invasion.

However, one invasion
I will commend is the
Brit invasion
at the
Golden Globes
.
Atonement
is up for seven; let’s hope it gets one and puts the British players in the Hot spot where they deserve to be.

Speaking of film,
the length of time between the US film release and the UK release
is Not Hot. Although nominations from the Golden Globes are usually based on festival performance, most of the films on the nomination list won’t be released over here until after the winners are unveiled. Not Hot. How can we feel part of the award show magic if we don’t know the films? Sort it out distributors!

But
it’s likely the award show magic won’t be taking place next year due to the ongoing
WGA strikes
over pay percentages for new media. Stick to your convictions all those involved! There’s lots of Geli love winging its way to the picket lines, even though I’m sad I won’t get to see
Josh Jackson
make his
Grey’s Anatomy
debut and TV return just yet. But, I admire the cause and am fully behind the strike.
Greedy fat cats
are Not Hot, unlike the sublime scrumptiousness that is Mr Joshua Jackson and the image of him in scrubs. Doctor, I’m burning up!

GA
’s Dr McDreamy wasn’t looking Hot in the film
Enchanted
which opened this week. Stick to your scrubs
Patrick Dempsey
! But,
Enchanted
is definitely this week’s must-see movie.

Quickly to the telly-box now as I wind up this week’s odyssey into the highs and lows of
our fair world. It’s the
X Factor
live final tonight and
Kylie and Jason
are performing (separately). It’s like I’ve been transported back to the eighties – Not Hot – but finalist
Rhydain Roberts
is. Get voting!

Also scraping low this week is
Gary Barlow
who has said there is “no place” for Robbie in the band. Stop being so mean, Mr Barlow, and play nicely!

Finally, let’s hear it for
J.K. Rowling
who raised nearly £2 million pounds for charity by auctioning a copy of
The
Tales of Beedle the Bard,
featured in the seventh and final Harry Potter book. (One more book, pretty please?)

Until next week Geli-watchers, wrap up warm
. It’s cold outside, so make sure you stay HOT!

Sometimes, like
with tomorrow’s column, I like to go for plenty of items to include – it’s easier that way and at the moment there’s plenty happening. On slow weeks though, I struggle to pad out my words and the seemingly paltry eight hundred words seem as dramatic as eight
thousand
. I really applaud serious journalists – journalists like Theo – who day in, day out, produce top quality word counts. I’ll never be that kind of journalist, but if I didn’t have my column, what could I honestly do?

My thoughts are interrupted by a laugh from Theo
before I can begin to contemplate my career-changing list. I turn to look at him. He’s smiling at me.

‘What?’
I feel quite shy around him right now given I was barely at work today. At least if I had been there, any shyness would have been diffused over the course of the day through cups of tea and column banter.

‘
You have that look on your face,’ he says. He doesn’t seem shy with me. Theo’s an interesting one, gorgeous, too. His stubble turns into filthy scruffy delectableness by the end of the day I have discovered. The Board would have a fit if he ever came into the office like this; I, on the other hand, really don’t mind in the slightest.

‘What look?’ I demand.

‘Your thinking look.’

‘
I have a thinking look?
’

‘You do.
So, what are you thinking about?’

‘Work,’ I
geekily admit. Why couldn’t I have made some witty quip?

‘
Irgh, Geli.
Please
. It’s the evening. No work talk please.’

This surprises me. I’ve always had Theo pegged as being
a “live to work” type. I raise my eyebrows.

‘What about work?’ he asks seeing
this. See, he is such a gentleman. This is why I love…
like
him a lot.

‘What would you
do if you didn’t work at
New News
?’

The question doesn’t seem to register with
him; I sense a lack of comprehension. He’s probably always wanted to work at
New News,
so he went out and achieved it.

‘
I always wanted to work there.’
See, I knew it
. ‘I mean, they have the best graduate scheme around and I spent two years learning all over the world which was fantastic.’

He then proceeds to start gesticulating so I know I’m in for the full
New News
history of Theodore Bones. I rearrange myself comfortably on the couch and pretend to listen. I wonder what sort of face I make when I am pretending to listen... this is why Theo is such a fabulous, serious professional and I’m a bit of a flake. There was no graduate scheme for me – no intense training – I managed to get this job by sheer nepotism and a little luck. Hideous, I know.

Originally, I wasn’t at
New News
as a columnist. Surprise, surprise. I was there as a general lackey and by some minor miracle, Jenna – the girl who used to write my column – was off sick. It was a fairly infant column, only six weeks old, and it hadn’t been doing that well. The powers in charge were close to pulling it when Jenna called in sick (well, it was her boyfriend – Jenna had been hospitalised with violent food poisoning). Disaster struck when no one could find her column notes for the week, which proved to be career-defining for me. Also,
column notes
? Thankfully
I’ve
never been off sick...

It
had been my second day in the Gherkin. My first day was hideous; I had serious doubts I would make it to my third.

Susie
was the one assigned to write Jenna’s column. Yes, Susie, a journalist of the serious persuasion, one far from happy about this situation. Neither were the powers-that-be with her end result.

‘Here, Geli,’ they said to me.
‘Read this. You’re our demographic (cue laughter). See what you think.’

So, I read it, ignoring their laughter, and I was appalled. This was supposed to be a light-hearted column. Where was the fun? How was the reader able to relate to this dry prose? Where was the personal touch? I’m not saying Susie is a bad writer – she’s brilliant at what she does – but this was far re
moved from what she usually did; no wonder it sucked. It would be like me writing about medical advances – totally stupid.

‘Well?’ they demanded
.

‘Umm,’ I
’d stammered.

‘Go on,’ they’d encouraged.

‘Well, where’s the mention of
Lola’s Theme
? Bobby hitting Whitney? Natasha winning
Strictly Come Dancing
with Brendan? The launch of the iPod mini? Prince William’s mile for Sport Relief?’

‘Write it,’ they instructed me
, clearly clueless about what I had just mentioned – a sure sign it must be relevant.

So, I di
d. I can’t say it was brilliant and I can’t say it was perfectly constructed, but it was more relevant to a Hot or Not column than Susie’s attempt. After a quick word with Uncle Colin, I became the temporary Hot or Not girl. People loved it.

When
Jenna’s food poisoning ordeal led to her finding out she was actually seven months pregnant,
Geli Voyante’s Hot or Not
was born. I was given the pod between Theo and Jerry and that was that. I was sent on an intense course so I could become qualified, writing my column whilst studying, and I’m still writing it now. Jenna, you’ll be pleased to know, went on to have healthy twin boys and decided to be a stay-at-home mum after she fell pregnant again, three months after the boys were born.

If that hadn’t happened though
… I have no idea what I would be doing now. Probably living in the Cotswolds with Mum and going mad. Not the best thought.

When Tiggy found out about my promotion, she too called in a favour
with my dad and that’s how she landed the job at
Glitz
, except she didn’t get a lucky break. She went through the mill there until she finally got rewarded with her “Fab or Faux” column. She’s made to graft, which makes me feel very ungrateful since I have it quite easy at the paper. Saying that though, I’ll never be the editor here, but I can totally see Tiggy becoming a Wilhelmina Slater – she’s definitely evil enough.

Ah, the gesticulating has died down
. ‘And that’s why I’d never work anywhere else,’ he declares triumphantly, finishing with a hefty slap on his knee.

Right, w
hatever. I take that slap as my cue to sit on his knee.

‘Hello,’ he says, as I delicately sit down
, trying not to put my full weight on him. It’s funny how some men don’t care about crushing women with their manly bulk, but if you sit a little too heavily on their lap, you never hear the end of it.   

‘Hi,’ I murmur back leaning in to kiss him, which is very nice. We kiss for a bit, but he breaks it off before I can step it up a notch to the next level.

‘Geli,’ he says seriously.

Drat.
I don’t like the sound of that tone. I much preferred his tummy-tingling tones. ‘Mmm?’

‘I want you, babe, I really do
... but I want to get to know you before we,
you know
.’

‘Have sex,’ I fill in. It’s not hard to say. Theo is thirty
-three. See: Have. Sex. Simple.

‘Exactly.’ H
e smiles.

Why is he smiling? This is not a concept to smile at. No sex with the hot, Hot man is not something I would smile about. Frow
n, yes, but not smile in happy compliance.

‘Don’t you fancy me?’ I can’t help but ask.

Surely he must? What about last night? I still have the bruises and aches to prove that Theo had a bloody good time. I mean, I fancy Theo. I really fancy him. My mind often wanders to more salacious thoughts at work and can you blame me considering Theo’s physique?

Theo is
this gorgeous half-English, half-Danish hunk of a man with features to die for and dark blonde hair most women would kill to have as a colour base. He has the most incredible upper arms I’ve ever seen – strong and muscular – in a way that lets the world know that everywhere else is going to be perfectly proportioned, formed and of the highest quality. He certainly didn’t disappoint my fantasies last night.

‘Geli Voyante,’ he says, kissing the top of my nose and wrapping his amaz
ing arms even tighter around me. ‘You are beautiful and you have been driving me mad for the past three years. You are
the
winning combination, brains
and
beauty.’

This is me
. I can’t just sit there and take those nice lies. I have to disagree and, really, I do. What Theo has just said might be the loveliest compliment I’ve ever had, but it’s certainly not true.

‘I don’t have the brains,’ I argue.

‘You do, you are cleverer than you think. A tad lazy perhaps, maybe a wee bit superficial, but if you applied yourself–’

‘Hey!’ I interrupt hotly. ‘I am not superficial
. Lazy, granted, but never superficial. I don’t want to be the Hot or Not girl forever, you know? I didn’t even want to be it in the first place.’

‘Well, what did
you want to be?’

Rumbled
. ‘I have no idea.’

T
hat’s not the issue though – the issue is Theo. Theo, me and sex. Mind-blowing sex. If this relationship (?) peters out into the land of Trouble, which it inevitably will do, I want to make full use of his body whilst I can. If you could see him right now, you’d understand.

Theo
, however, seems to have different ideas. ‘Yes, you do. That’s why I want to get to know you first.’

What can I say to that? No
, you
must
have sex with me. It sort of takes all the pleasure out of it. Although, thinking about it, I know Theo has always been a womaniser and has never got to
know
any woman. Perhaps this is good (but frustrating) that he’s not treating me like all those other women he has cruelly dismissed before me. What’s a week without sex, right?

‘
OK,’ I agree, ‘but how long do you think that will take? A week?’

I don’t want to appear slutty, but I have needs and knowing what Theo is like, these needs have intensified given my close proximity to him.

‘It’s going to be longer than a week, Geli,’ he says kindly. He looks slightly awkward. ‘In fact, you’re going to have to get yourself checked over. My results came back today and I did have something.’

I panic at this. Oh God
, I can’t believe this. I’ve always been incredibly careful with this sort of thing.
I am mortified.

‘I’m so sorry, Geli.’
             

Great. Just great.
Like sorry can cut it. But still, I smile weakly at Theo instead of having a go at him. What else can I honestly say? It was my fault as much as his. Well, not that he caught whatever he caught in the first place, but that I caught it from him. I shouldn’t have lost my head like I did.