Hawaiian Affair (Part 1 of 4) (Hawaiian Affair - 30 days to sign the deal - and stay out of love) by Debbie Flint Page A
Authors: Debbie Flint
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kinked
her little pinky finger and wiggled it, remembering it was true what they say
about ‘little’ men and flashy cars. Another reason why he didn’t last long. In
any sense.
Good
job really that he’d gone – the girls could do without yet another bad
male-role-model in their lives. Her mother brought enough of those to visit as
it was, bless her hippy cotton socks.
Sadie
looked at the photo of her girls on the side table by her bed. They were chalk
and cheese – but her finest hour. There was a hand-made good luck card
underneath the photo, and Sadie pulled it out like a talisman.
‘Go
get ‘em Supermum’ was
from Abi, and ‘ Bring home the Bacon’ from Georgia - which was funny
considering her youngest had been veggie for a good seven years now, since she
was …oo, five. Sadie shook her head. They were growing up so fast, her two very
own musketeers. She was so lucky to have them, and she was so determined not to
let them down.
Yes
this deal couldn’t have come at a better time.
Sadie
rubbed her feet. She made a dutiful call home, but no one answered so as usual
she left a message.
‘Hi
guys. What an amazing hotel. What an amazing day…’ and what an amazing man she thought to herself as she finished her message and hung up. She checked her
watch. Plenty of time.
One
hour and three minutes later, freshly scrubbed and glamorously made up, she was
almost ready. Twenty minutes until she was due to meet Hot Boat Guy. Actually,
twenty five – she should tarnish her perfect punctuality record, and be five
minutes late - don't want to look too keen. Or God forbid, arrive before her date. No, it was good form to arrive just after, wasn’t it? Were they
still the rules ? Damned if Sadie knew anymore…
She
felt her butterflies kick in with a vengeance. Having set up a five year
exclusion zone in her personal life it felt strange to be dressing to impress
once more. Time for one last check in the long length mirror.
Hmmm...
Hair
- blonde, bit tousled, fresh ‘up-do’ - good.
Makeup
– glam, sexy, not tarty - good.
Shoes
– ahhh, very good.
Dress
– kind to curves and cut just above the knee, showing off the best bits of her
legs before the thighs went lateral.
Wide
neckline - nice and stretchy – she pulled it down slightly – better off one
shoulder.
No - off two shoulders.
Oooo,
no - off one.
She
posed sideways and inhaled, then frowned at her tummy in the mirror. The dress
was empire-line - cut-in just below the bust, enhancing her hourglass shape,
and skimming over the part that let her down. Her tummy always let her down.
But according to that infomercial she’d watched a while ago – ‘ just a phone
call away, there’s an instant, no-surgery solution!’ . And needing some
retail therapy, and a way of fitting into her old suit, she’d made that phone
call! So - time for the pivotal, shape-changing decision of the night.
‘Slimming
Magic knickers? Or no ‘Slimming Magic knickers?
Disappointment
now? Or disappointment later?
Dangling
the offending garment in her fingers, she raised an eyebrow. Come on mirror,
what do you think? The mirror responded and she could swear she heard the
wicked queen’s voice.
Not
bad. But not great either.
However,
on the ‘plus’-side - as some of her clothes would be if she didn’t stop missing
her power-walking class - she already knew Mac approved. He must like ‘em
cuddly – there is a God ! And the way he’d held her meant he appreciated
her curves. Unlike some men – unlike the slick tycoon she was meeting tomorrow,
whom you could barely Google without seeing some supermodel draped all over
him. Slicked back hair, huge designer sunglasses, dark suit - sharp, prickly.
YUK. Luckily she wouldn’t need to do much more than make her presentation,
according to his advisor, who was the only one she’d been dealing with. The
advisor had been absolutely insistent that his client was already interested in
the product, and could
her little pinky finger and wiggled it, remembering it was true what they say
about ‘little’ men and flashy cars. Another reason why he didn’t last long. In
any sense.
Good
job really that he’d gone – the girls could do without yet another bad
male-role-model in their lives. Her mother brought enough of those to visit as
it was, bless her hippy cotton socks.
Sadie
looked at the photo of her girls on the side table by her bed. They were chalk
and cheese – but her finest hour. There was a hand-made good luck card
underneath the photo, and Sadie pulled it out like a talisman.
‘Go
get ‘em Supermum’ was
from Abi, and ‘ Bring home the Bacon’ from Georgia - which was funny
considering her youngest had been veggie for a good seven years now, since she
was …oo, five. Sadie shook her head. They were growing up so fast, her two very
own musketeers. She was so lucky to have them, and she was so determined not to
let them down.
Yes
this deal couldn’t have come at a better time.
Sadie
rubbed her feet. She made a dutiful call home, but no one answered so as usual
she left a message.
‘Hi
guys. What an amazing hotel. What an amazing day…’ and what an amazing man she thought to herself as she finished her message and hung up. She checked her
watch. Plenty of time.
One
hour and three minutes later, freshly scrubbed and glamorously made up, she was
almost ready. Twenty minutes until she was due to meet Hot Boat Guy. Actually,
twenty five – she should tarnish her perfect punctuality record, and be five
minutes late - don't want to look too keen. Or God forbid, arrive before her date. No, it was good form to arrive just after, wasn’t it? Were they
still the rules ? Damned if Sadie knew anymore…
She
felt her butterflies kick in with a vengeance. Having set up a five year
exclusion zone in her personal life it felt strange to be dressing to impress
once more. Time for one last check in the long length mirror.
Hmmm...
Hair
- blonde, bit tousled, fresh ‘up-do’ - good.
Makeup
– glam, sexy, not tarty - good.
Shoes
– ahhh, very good.
Dress
– kind to curves and cut just above the knee, showing off the best bits of her
legs before the thighs went lateral.
Wide
neckline - nice and stretchy – she pulled it down slightly – better off one
shoulder.
No - off two shoulders.
Oooo,
no - off one.
She
posed sideways and inhaled, then frowned at her tummy in the mirror. The dress
was empire-line - cut-in just below the bust, enhancing her hourglass shape,
and skimming over the part that let her down. Her tummy always let her down.
But according to that infomercial she’d watched a while ago – ‘ just a phone
call away, there’s an instant, no-surgery solution!’ . And needing some
retail therapy, and a way of fitting into her old suit, she’d made that phone
call! So - time for the pivotal, shape-changing decision of the night.
‘Slimming
Magic knickers? Or no ‘Slimming Magic knickers?
Disappointment
now? Or disappointment later?
Dangling
the offending garment in her fingers, she raised an eyebrow. Come on mirror,
what do you think? The mirror responded and she could swear she heard the
wicked queen’s voice.
Not
bad. But not great either.
However,
on the ‘plus’-side - as some of her clothes would be if she didn’t stop missing
her power-walking class - she already knew Mac approved. He must like ‘em
cuddly – there is a God ! And the way he’d held her meant he appreciated
her curves. Unlike some men – unlike the slick tycoon she was meeting tomorrow,
whom you could barely Google without seeing some supermodel draped all over
him. Slicked back hair, huge designer sunglasses, dark suit - sharp, prickly.
YUK. Luckily she wouldn’t need to do much more than make her presentation,
according to his advisor, who was the only one she’d been dealing with. The
advisor had been absolutely insistent that his client was already interested in
the product, and could
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