Redemption

~37~

Looking sharp, John thought as he moved through the ball room. Floor to ceiling mirrors lined the wall along one side assisting in his checking out of his own reflection. He wasn't vain nor an overly egotist lad... 

Alright, maybe a little egotistical but that goes with the profession doesn't it... Need to look good for all the hordes of fans, and all photographs being taken, don't you.

Although as I chase after Isabelle and her posse, well that's how it seems, I look a little like the bloke that chases after a bit of skirt on the telly. Benny Hill, the dirty bugger, funny as shit though.

This was my shindig and all of a sudden, she's surrounded like Custer at the Alamo – was Custer at the Alamo? No wonder I couldn't get a green card straight up, I don't know American History 101.

Isabelle the conqueror, conqueress? I don't know it's just slightly askew all this. Nice but bloody crazy weird.

Her face was a myriad of emotions when the first gal rocked up, nice piece too, not that I'm in the market cause I'm not but she was put together nicely and a rack to die for... Anyway where was I, yeah, the gal turns out to be Issys' boss lady, Loriele, from the publishers' and the first word out of her mouth had Isabelle looking like a wanted duck in duck shooting season.

Bloody shit that, stupid idiots blowing a whistle to sound like a duck, get it over for a date with said whistle then shoot it- horrid stuff.

Anyhoo. Where'd she go...!?

Oh, drinks.

"Thanks mate" Lemonade neat, I am being a good sober lad tonight.

Called her Giselle didn't she. I spit my orange juice over the table cloth and the four woman, that were seated at the table with us, started hitting my back because they thought I was choking.

I was choking but not on the orange juice.

Poor Isabelle, she was up and off, pulling Loriele away in a matter of seconds. I was still choking at that point by the way. Anyway, sure Isabelle was all sugar and spice but she was also overly speedy trying to get this Loriele chick to pipe down on the alter ego moniker.

Finally, I was rid of the mayoress, her daughter, Dick Clarks niece, a portly matron from the East side plus an overly touchy-feely waitress that was passing by.

And now, here I find myself tailing Isabelle who was herding a few more women toward a bank of palm trees cutting off the main room from the bathrooms.

"Girls- Giselle. Giselle... your fans" Loriele grinned as she swung the champagne flute in her hand.

"Lori- shush"

"Really!?!... The actual author Gise-" a lookalike of Loriele piped up.

Isabelle went to throw a good old shush in but Loriele cut her off.

*

"Oh hush, we won't tell" Loriele grinned wickedly at John who had caught up and was hovering behind Issy.

"I loved your last novel, G-"

"Issy" Isabelle clarified her name with a worried look on her face.

"Who's your friend Issy- G? Oh I know, it's-" Loriele teased Iss.

"He's not, he was just trying to go to the bathroom weren't you Mister Lennon, lovely event by the way" Issy tried to shoo John to the bathrooms as he smirked and stood his ground listening, and watching, Issy flap about.

"When will the next novel be out? Do you think you could sign it for me?" Another lady asked of Issy.

"Oh, I think Mister Lennon might be a fan- Hello John" Loriele stepped past Issy and held her hand out for John to shake.