Where it all begins.
I've been sat here so long i've chipped off my bright pink nail polish in anxiety.
I used to bite my nails when i was nervous, but Reese gave me that foul tasting
stuff in that little tub which you stick your fingers into.( It's hell trying to eat
crisps but, hey, it works)
I should be thankful i'm here.
I have a job interview with the one and only Scene magazine.
Celebrity journalist, that will be me. Hopefully. If the interview goes well.
I am immediatley regretting picking at my nail varnish.
My nails look completely tatty. Every other woman here seems to have scarily
long nails , shiny and polished.
Their whole look is shiny and polished.
Stylish and smart black skirts and shoes.
Immaculately applied mascara coated eyelashes.
Apart from my massacred fingernails, i think i fit fairly in with them all.
Black skirt, black high heels, black and blue top, blonde hair swept in an updo,
Tiny blue bow clip, neatly applied make-up, the works.
I was waiting in the hallway quietly , lost in my worries about chipped nail polish
and leaving a mental note to cover them in the interview, when a gaggle of guys about my age
came round the corner and sat in the seats across from me, led by another shiny member of staff.
My cell started ringing and i groaned when i saw who was calling.
The guy sat at the end of the seats, nearest me, took out his own cell
to see if it was his who was ringing.
'It's me' I said.
I put the phone to my ear.
'Mum' I said.
'Hey Ella darling, how'd the job interview go?'
'It hasn't. I'm still waiting.'
'Oh , well call me when it's finshed then.'
'Oh, and Ella, One more thing'
'I was thinking why don't your father and i take a trip out to visit you someday soon?'
No no no no no .
Harsh? Maybe, but you don't know my mother.
She's not just a Susan, she's an extreme Susan.
She's incredibly picky and dissaproving of everything about myself.
From my friends to my hair.
Every single little thing, she's never happy.
'Oh mum, i don't know if that would be wise....' I started saying.
'Sure it would! I haven't seen you in such along time dearie.We could come stay with you for a few days.......
just have a visit to see how your doing. Meet your friends......your boyfriend...'
'Mum, i don't have one.'
That's another thing about my mother. She's obsessed about me getting a boyfriend.
She's got it into her mind that i'm far too highly opinionated for any guy to ever want
to marry me. She forgets that this is now the 21st century, and most guys don't expect women just
to sit quietly in the corner and knit like a good wife.
I voiced these opinions to my mother, who put on her sour voice, and said that all she was saying
is that i could at least try once in while, and that it wouldn't hurt to date.
I date. Sure i do.
Well if i feel like it.
Which i often don't.
'But mum' I whined 'the last date i went on was a complete disaster. I ended up crawling out
the bathroom window to ecscape'.
I was aware that the 5 guys had turned to look at me right now.
The door of the office i was supposed to be having my interview in opened,
and out stepped a slender woman,dressed smartly in black ,
clasping a clipboard in her arm.
I couldn't help noticing her eyebrows.
They were really really thin and pointy.
Not only that but they were so high that if she were ever to be surprised
they might dissapear off her head completely.
I hung up on my mother.
'Mrs. Evans would like to apologise for the delay.' She said 'I'm afraid we're having a bit of trouble in the office
at the moment, but we assure you we'll be completely sorted soon enough. If you could just bare with us for
a few more minutes.'
Then she walked back into the office.
I sighed and sunk down in my seat.
It was a really hot humid day, and i was starting to stick to my chair.
I'd have to think of a way to stand up without making a loud squelch
infront of the admittedly, cute guys sat just across from me.
'Excuse me' the one at the far end (furthest from me) piped up. 'Can i ask...are you by any chance British?'
'Um , yes' I replied to the scruffy haired guy in flip flops.
'I knew it' Said a really cute one with pillowy lips and sullen eyes.
'I really can't tell the difference between the accents..' Said another one with fair hair, small twinkly eyes and round face.
'How can you NOT tell the difference?' Scoffed another one 'It's blatently obvious.'
This one had light brown...fluffy....hair, and large brown eyes , that reminded me somewhat of Reeses old puppy momo.
Unfortunately Reese turned out to be deathly allergic, and had to give him away, but the point i'm making here,
is that this guy was cute, very very cute.
He was a lot skinnier than momo tho.
Lots and lots skinnier.
So skinny i had to try and restrain myself from jumping on him and forcing the alpen bar
i always carry in my bag with me, down his scrawny throat.
'But seriously though' the round faced one continued 'i don't think she sounds any different.'
They turned to look at me.
'Hello i'm Ella i am British, not American as you can tell from my accent.' I said in one breath, in an
almost robotic tone.
'Acutuallyl i see what you mean' The round faced one said.
'Sorry about this Ella' Apologised Momo.
'No problem Momo' I said stupidly.
He looked at me funny.
'Is momo a British word or something?' The scruffy one asked.
'Yeah it's English for i've just made a complete idiot of myself.'
'So...no problem i just made a complete idiot of myself' Said pillow lips.
'No it's just you see...theres this dog....'
'Oh a dog...' Said the scruffy one humourously.
'Right and it's called Momo. You just reminded me of it.' I said to Momo.
'Oh i see..'
'No! Not that i meant you look like a dog...God oh shit.' I said putting my face in my hands.
'I love it when British people swear' Said Flip flops.
'Don't worry about it' Momo said to me 'As long as it was a cute dog then it's OK
What breed exactly?'
'One of those little Andrex advert ones.'
'Oh well then it's fine' He smiled.
I laughed.'You must think i'm a right idiot.'
'We are all idiots in this world.' Said Scruffy.
I nodded slowly 'Yeah.......wise words.' I said, rolling my eyes
'Anyway, sorry i'm Ryan' Momo introduced.
'I'm Brendon' Said Pillow lips.
'Spencer' Said twinkle eyes.
'Jon' Nodded flip flops
'Ella' I said, though they already knew my name 'What brings you here to Scene headquarters?'
'Our band is doing a photo shoot and interview for it.' Answered Momo. I mean Ryan.
'Yeah we're just waiting to check the pictures out.' Said Brendon.
'What band are you in?' I asked interested.
'Panic! At The Disco.' They chimed.
That name sounded familiar...
'Oh! You sing that ''close the stupid door'' song.' I said.
'Goddamn door actually' Corrected Brendon.
'That's what i said.'
'I love her' Said Jon 'She's like a martian, but from Britain.'
'I'm flattered' I said.
'Excuse Jon' Said Ryan 'So why are you here?'
'Job interview.' I replied simply.
Then my blasted phone started ringing again.
It was my brother.
'Hi Chris' I said.
'Hey' He answered.
'So mum and dad have been talking to me about visiting you.'
'Oh God, i know, mum just phoned me, i don't want them visiting at the moment..
i'm too busy to put up with mums constant rants about how if i don't
get a boyfriend soon i'll end up a cat lady.'
I heard one or two of the guys snigger at this.
'She's such a hypocrite' i went on 'Once i actually get a boyfriend, she awlays dissaproves something
'Don't worry about it Ella, your better of without a boyfriend. Guys are bastards, trust me, i am one.'
'Hey Chris' I said , an idea popping into my head.'What if you were to come visit,
and tell mum and dad that you were already planning on visiting me and that i don't have enough
room in my apartement for them to stay aswell.'
'Woo trip to Las Vegas for me? It's on.See you in a week little sis'
And he hung up.
'Miss.LaPone, Mrs.Evans is ready to see you now.' Said the eyebrow lady stepping out
of her office again.
I took a deep breath, stood up, brushed myself down and picked up my suitcase.
And luckily, thank God, i didn't sqeulch as i did so.