Just The Way You Are. Lynsey James

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Just The Way You Are - Lynsey  James


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new deal for exclusivity on the photos and story. He wasn’t too chuffed to find out Mirage had it first and told me to do whatever I had to do to secure the deal. I might’ve brought Mirage’s questionable information gathering techniques to their attention: phone hacking, raking in people’s bins and the like.’

      My eyes widened. ‘But that’s not true!’

      ‘What they don’t know can’t hurt them. Who’s this lovely creature?’ His eyes widened with pleasure as they met Amira’s. ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Nate Walton.’

      He bent low and picked up Amira’s slender, manicured hand. After holding her gaze just a fraction too long, he gently kissed her hand then released it. She giggled coquettishly and fluttered her eyelashes.

      ‘Amira Sharma,’ she replied with a cat-like grin.

      I heard Max’s knuckles crack ominously. He looked absolutely furious. I put my hand on his arm and his features immediately softened. I recognised the anger boiling up inside him; I’d seen it before when men approached Amira on a night out. He’d confided in me one night that he was sure she was going to go off with one of them someday.

      ‘I’m fine,’ he said quietly. He looked up and turned his attention to Nate. ‘So what brings you to Manchester anyway? You don’t sound like you’re from round here.’

      ‘You’re right there Maxie-boy. I lived in Paris, LA, Sydney then New York, but I’m back on home soil now. I did freelance work for an international photo agency and ended up visiting places like Vanuatu, Fiji and Antigua. It was brilliant.’

      ‘This must be a bit of a comedown for you then?’ Max shot back.

      My heart was in my mouth as the tension rose between them. If they made a scene, it’d be splashed all over the front pages of the national newspapers tomorrow. I’d probably lose my job for not keeping a lid on the situation and no magazine would ever hire me again.

      ‘Why don’t you and Amira head off to have a bite to eat or something and I can do the interview?’ I suggested.

      Before anyone could protest, I grabbed Nate’s arm and dragged him in the happy couple’s direction.

      Giselle and Aaron were a down-to-earth couple who spoke at ease of their love for one another, despite them having once moved in very different circles. Giselle, it seemed, hadn’t always mingled with soap stars and footballers. I listened with fascination as they talked about the night they met; she’d been a barmaid at her local pub and he’d come in one night after training. After spotting her serving some regulars, he had fallen in love with her instantly. He’d stayed on at the pub until the end of her shift, flirted relentlessly with her until she’d agreed to go out with him and the rest was history.

      ‘He can’t cook to save his life and he leaves his dirty underpants everywhere, but I love him anyway!’

      ‘Says the woman who dyed my away kit pink!’

      The love and affection between them was plain for all to see. You could see it in the way their eyes shone around one another, the smiles plastered to both of their faces and even the way their fingers were laced together. I even began to feel a little bit jealous, before reminding myself I had an admirer of my very own; he just hadn’t revealed himself yet.

      ‘Thank you so much for allowing us to do this interview. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else and congratulations again,’ I said, shaking their hands.

      ‘No problem chick, any time,’ said Giselle.

      They happily posed for snaps while Nate clicked away furiously with his long-lens camera. Anyone who saw them could tell they fit together naturally; they were soulmates.

      I felt a little ache in my heart. Would I ever find my soulmate, or would he always just be a collection of words on a page?

      I was stood at the buffet table, poring over the vast array of food on offer, when Amira oozed her way up to me.

      ‘Having a good time then?’ Her voice reminded me of Miranda’s: syrupy-sweet to the point of nauseating when people were around, and cold and nasty when they weren’t.

      ‘Yeah it’s been a lovely wedding so far,’ I replied as I piled my plate high with sausage rolls. ‘How about you?’

      ‘It’s all a bit tacky in my opinion, but then I suppose these are just the kind of social circles Max moves in.’

      That comment didn’t sit well with me. It sounded very much like she was saying my best friend wasn’t good enough for her.

      ‘Is this not your scene then?’ I asked, trying to keep my tone as civil as possible.

      Amira scoffed loudly. ‘Um not really, love. I’m used to mixing with a cooler crowd than this. Oh by the way, I meant to say nice dress; bit cheap-looking though. A bit like you really.’

       Right that’s it, no more Miss Nice Ava.

      ‘What exactly is your problem with me, because I don’t get it! For some reason, you’ve decided you hate me and that’s fine. I’m a big girl and I can deal with that. What I can’t deal with is you standing there making snide remarks about me and implying that my best friend isn’t good enough for you! If you can’t see what an amazing guy he is, that’s your problem.’

      ‘From the sounds of things, you’ve already seen what an “amazing guy” he is. Don’t get me wrong, Max is OK and I like him but I know I can do better. He, on the other hand, will never do better than me.’

      ‘Wow, you’re such a romantic,’ I bit back. ‘So you’re only with Max because you think you’re out of his league and he should be grateful to have you?’

      ‘Precisely. Girls like me always date downwards until someone who deserves us comes along. Oh, and if you’re thinking of telling Max about any of this, don’t bother. I can make your life a living hell and make sure he never speaks to you again.’

      Amira picked up a vegetable samosa, popped it in her bow-like mouth and sidled away. I watched her for a second as she went to mingle with some guests. Something in her bag distracted her and I saw her pull out her phone. She moved in a sleek curve away from the group of people she’d been chatting to and I saw her jaw tighten and her eyes screw tightly shut.

      As she passed by me, I heard her say ‘Mum, it’s fine… it was just a nightmare. Yes, it was. Look, Grace is calling round at seven to help put you to bed. She’s your carer, remember? You do know her, Mum…’

      She said a hurried goodbye and ended the call. While her back was turned, her head dropped into her hands and I heard her exhale sharply. Sensing someone was watching her, she whipped her head round and glared at me.

      ‘What are you looking at?!’ she snapped.

      ‘I… Nothing.’

      Amira snatched a glass of champagne from a passing tray and stormed off. Although I couldn’t swear to it, I was sure I saw a tear roll down her cheek.

      Just to plunge me even further into the depths of despair, the first dance soon followed. The new Mr and Mrs Henderson took to the floor as Take My Breath Away by Berlin began to play. Gradually, the guests began to pair off and joined them on the dance floor to celebrate their special night. Soon, only me and a few other “spares” remained. Amira had dragged Max up at the first opportunity while Nate was getting very friendly with a bridesmaid.

      ‘Makes you sad, don’t it honey?’ A rich female voice lifted straight from the Deep South drifted across to me from a nearby table.

      I turned to see who the mystery person was and found an old woman of around seventy sitting by herself. She was extremely beautiful; her crop of silver hair made her look full of life, as did the glint in her sparkly black eyes. Her skin was the colour of milky coffee and barely had any wrinkles, save for some lines at the corners of her eyes when she smiled. I recognised her as the jazz singer from earlier, the one who’d


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