Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [132]
The up side of chauffeuring Miranda to work on cold mornings, Fenn discovered, was that he no longer had to endure her sitting cross-legged in one of the salon's swivel chairs, a hairdryer blasting away in each hand, defrosting her feet.
`Ooh, someone's going to get the sack,' Miranda crowed, poring over the day's appointments and giving Bev a nudge. `Is that your writing? You've only gone and booked Try-it-on Tabitha in for nine thirty and forgotten to put Home Visit. And Fenn's already got a nine o'clock and a ten o'clock lined up, so he won't-'
`Actually,' Fenn intercepted her in mid-gloat, `I wrote it in. And she isn't a Home Visit.' He shrugged his way out of his brown leather jacket. `From now on, Tabitha's coming here for her appointments.'
Miranda boggled at him.`Blimey, how d'you manage that?'
Fenn rolled up his shirt sleeves, ready to start work.
`She tried to grope me once too often. When I told her to cut it out, she offered me five grand to go to bed with her.' His tone was matter-of-fact. `So I said that was it, I'd had enough. No more home visits. From now on she either came to the salon or found herself another hairdresser.'
`Wow.' Miranda was impressed. `Masterful or what? Of course you know what this means, don't you?'
Wearily, Fenn said, `What?'
`This is going to make Tabitha keener than ever. In fact we'd better get a panic button installed in the VIP room, pronto.' Miranda imitated Tabitha's lascivious, sex-kitten leer. `She's going to be unstoppable now.'
At nine thirty on the dot, Tabitha Lester made her Hollywood entrance in a floor-length fake-fur coat, dark glasses, a silver tracksuit and pink Manolo Blahnik mules. Bev's hackles rose instinctively as she recognised Tabitha's companion.
Spotting Johnnie, Miranda rushed over to give him a massive hug.
`I have the most embarrassing godmother in the world,' he told her. `Her personal trainer, her manicurist and now her hairdresser all refuse to come to the house. She's a preying mantis in six-inch stilettos.'
`And you're the one paying the price.' Miranda was sympathetic.
`Having to cart her around from one appointment to the next.' Johnnie nodded in mournful agreement. `How fair is that?'
`Never mind,' Miranda said soothingly, `we'll take care
of Tabitha now. You just sit down, put your feet up, and Bev will bring you a cup of coffee.'
Johnnie looked over at Bev, who was stonily flicking through the appointments and listening to every word. `Only if she promises not to spit in it.'
Bev, who usually enjoyed chatting to the people waiting on the parmaviolet sofas next to her desk, vowed not to chat to this one. Who the hell did Tabitha Lester's godson think he was?
Spit in his coffee? Ha, he'd be lucky if she didn't wee in it.
Half an hour, Tabitha had promised; it didn't take long for a wash and blow-dry. Johnnie made himself comfortable on the sofa, deliberately closed his ears to his godmother's louder and more outrageous remarks as she carried on her one-sided flirtation with Fenn Lomax, and glanced up at Bev-the-receptionist, who was making a point of acting as if he didn't exist.
Fine. He picked up one of the glossy women's magazines on the coffee table and skimmed through an article entitled `The Terrible Mistakes Men Make In Bed!'.
Good God, the detail it went into was mind-boggling, women's magazines these days were sheer porn. And as for the stuff they expected a bloke to get up to - well, that was nothing short of outrageous.
His glance flickering up from the page, Johnnie caught Bev looking at him. She immediately turned away, snatched up the phone and said, `Yes, hello?' in a high-pitched voice, even though it hadn't rung.
Johnnie smiled to himself and turned the page. Ah, thatwas better, he liked questionnaires. This one, called `Do You Always Get What You Want?', sounded right up his street.
If you see a bloke