It hadn’t taken long for the news to spread throughout the village. Around 2am Mrs Robinson called the police. She then proceeded to call her neighbour, Mrs James, and anyone she could think of. Half and hour later, the police and most of the village folk were standing outside 25 Rookbridge avenue, trying to find out what had happened. The police tried their best to get everyone to leave the scene, but to no avail. There hadn’t been a commotion like this in years, not since a young boy had drowned in the local river in 1987. That was 20 years ago. People talked and moved amongst groups trying to piece together what had happened. All they knew so far was that Penelope and Matthew Chambers were dead. Their bodies had been removed from the scene very quickly amongst the gasps and tears of the watchers, tears quickly wiped away and replaced with questions. It was still unclear whether their daughter, Nephtys, had survived, or how this tragedy had occurred. At 3h30 am a mysterious woman was brought into the house by the police, the women showed no sign of any emotion. Rumours began to circulate throughout the watching groups. Some said she was the perpetrator of this awful act, others thought she was a physic brought in to use her powers of mystic to find out what had happened. Everyone gathered around Mrs Robinson and asked her whether she knew who the women was. After all, she had been the Chambers neighbours as long as they had been here. Unfortunately even Mrs Chambers was unable to identify her, so they waited, hoping some new information would be made available quickly.

It took a few hours before anything new happened. Police came and went but nothing was said to the still waiting group of neighbours. News reporters from local news channels had started flocking in small groups, all wanting the exclusive of this apparent double homicide in such a small peaceful little town.

At around 6h00am Nephtys emerged from the house guided to a waiting car by the mysterious women. Flashes of light came from everywhere as photographers went wild trying to get a picture of the surviving child. Microphones were jammed into her face as all the reporters tried to get an exclusive from the child, but she said nothing. All the neighbours stretched their necks and tried to push through the reporters to get a glimpse of the young girl they had come to know over the last 11 years. Mrs Robinson was the last to catch a glimpse of Nephtys as she was led away by the shoulder by the women, who had now been identified by a reporter as being her grand-mother. She was the only one who saw the flicker of a smile that spread on the face of the girl as she disappeared into the car and out of their sight forever.

  Everyone wishes they were special, that there was something about them that meant they were different to everyone else. It could be they were the best at a sport or they were the smartest person around. Sometimes it was something they weren’t even aware of. But sometimes, someone was so special that it was hard for them not to be aware of it. Rachael McAdams was one such person.

She had known she was special as far back as she could remember. Everyone had always told her so. She was called the smartest by all the teachers, the kindest by all the parents and the most popular by everyone else. There was very little she didn’t excel at. She dated two of the best looking and smartest guys during her school time. She went to one of the top universities in England, graduated top of her class in media production and went on to be the vice president of one of the best media production houses in England by the time she was 20. She had the talent but most importantly, the luck, needed to succeed in life. But she didn’t need to be told by everyone else, she always knew it in her gut. She would succeed. A fact that had only been strengthened by our meeting with the fortune teller.

Sorry, did I not mention that I am not Rachael? My bad.

My name is Roxas Rocquette and that is about the only thing about me that is unique. Well, that, and I have been Rachael’s only real friend since we were 9. I had just arrived to England after living in the United States for 5 years and therefore had a very strong American accent. It’s funny how kids can be so cruel when young. I was not only teased for my accent, something I had expected, but also for having been held back a year due to being seriously ill for 6 months. Kids. Rachael was the first person to sit and talk to me. For some reason, that I would be unable to explain, we then became inseparable. I suppose, in a way, we completed each other. She was the popular, perfect girl who had never had a real friend and I was the average girl un-afraid to treat her like a normal person. It was hard at times, always being in her shadow, but I got used to it. I thought that eventually I could learn from her, that some of her luck and talent could perhaps rub off on me.

Please don’t misunderstand. I wasn’t using her, wasn’t her friend just to try and get something out of it. I had needed a friend and she had been the only one to offer it, and for that I was eternally grateful and in admiration of her. She had nonetheless made it very clear from the start that she would allow no mooching or taking advantage of her talents.                                                                                             A few months into our friendship she won tickets to a rock concert of my favourite band. I had hoped that she might invite me to come along as she knew my love of them and had no one else to take. However, she decided to take a girl from our school who had been kissing up to her ever since we had become friends. Rachael explained to me that she did not want me to expect anything from her as friends and wanted me to learn that I should never ask or expect ‘freebies’ simply because of our friendship. At the time I was hurt. None of my friends in the past had been this way. However, after spending more time with her and seeing all of the people who would try and be her friend simply to take advantage of her talent and luck, I started to understand why she did what she did. This pattern of keeping her winnings and advantages to herself or of sharing them with anyone but me continued until this day, and I wouldn’t even think of questioning it now. But I digress.

I was going to tell you about the day I learned I would never be special, never stand out, never be anything more than a face in a sea of faces.

When we were 12, Rachael’s mother took us both to the circus. Rachael had, once again, won free tickets and had decided that for once I would be the lucky person to go with her. This happened from time to time when she was in an exceptionally good mood. Luckily for me her winning the tickets had coincided with her having appeared on tv for having won the national science contest.                           As if you needed more examples of how brilliant this girl was.                                                                   At the circus, we road rides, ate enough junk food for a lifetime and explored to our hearts content. Once the main show was over Rachael decided that to finish off the evening we would go see the fortune teller. We entered the tent, giggling like the school girls we were, but quickly went quiet as we went deeper into the tent. Rachael’s mother had stayed outside and as it was the end of the day there was no one else but us waiting to see the fortune teller. All natural light had been blocked out, leaving only scented candles and lava lamps to light the room. The room was thick with the scent of lavender and cinnamon that cam from the candles. There were beads hanging from all corners of the room and the wood floor was caked in worn out round carpets. It felt more as if we had stepped into the 70’s then into a fortune tellers tent. Rachael clenched her jaw as she looked around, a sign she was not impressed.                                                                                                                                                        

‘Come closer girls’ said a woman’s voice.                                                                                                         

As we reached the area with the voice, I coughed widely, trying desperately to try and hide my laughter. The women, who was without a doubt the fortune teller, fit in perfectly with the room. She appeared to be in her mid 40’s, her skin and wrinkles showed her age but her eyes and the energy she exuded was invigorating and youthful. Her thick brown hair went down to the middle of her back in a controlled mess, framing her curvy body. She wore high waisted denim jeans and a denim jacket covering a a sleeveless black fitting top. Her outfit, however, was not the most striking thing about her. As we approached her, I couldn’t tear my gaze from her left eye. It appeared to be multicoloured and gave the impression that the colours were swirling and moving in and out of her eye. Remembering that it wasn’t quite polite to stare at people, no matter how fascinating they were, we sat down.        

‘Now darlings, what are your names and what can I do for you?’ the women asked us in a beautiful velvet tone. Rachael scrutinised every inch of the women. The way she looked at her made me uncomfortable, but the women seemed to think nothing of it and looked expectingly at both of us.      

‘ My name is Rachael and this is my friend Roxas’, Rachael said, seeming to have finally made up her mind on the women. Although what she thought exactly was probably not very pleasant, considering the tone she used. ‘ I want to have my future confirmed. The smart and important man I’ll marry, the highly placed job I’ll have, the -‘                                                                                                                   

‘Woah, woah, woah calm down my dear.’ Chuckled the women. She had a sweet smirk on her face as she looked at Rachael. ‘ I am afraid that that is not how fortune telling works. I cannot simply ask fate questions. Lady fate simply decides to tell me certain things and -‘                                                          

‘Well then you’re not really a fortune teller are you’ barked Rachael. She had stopped clenching her jaw but instead had scrunched her face up, a face I knew to well. It always amused me how when she didn’t get her away she could suddenly go from being so beautiful to looking like a pug.                                          The women looked at her thoughtfully.                                                                                                              

‘ You shouldn’t be in such a hurry to know everything. It seems, anyhow, that all you’re really asking me is to confirm your predictions, not tell you something you don’t know. You need to learn that not knowing what the future holds can only make life more interesting’. Somehow I felt that Rachael did not agree with this idea in the slightness. However, she seemed to have decided to ignore that last bit.                                                                                                                      

‘ You’re not a fortune teller, you could just tell people anything and because they think you’re a fortune teller they would believe you. Well I don’t believe you, I think you’re a fake and a hippie and I’m going to tell everyone.’                                                                                                                                                     

I looked nervously from Rachael to the women, wishing the floor would swallow me up. I somehow did not share Rachael’s thoughts. For me this women was the real deal. I couldn’t exact explain why, although I won’t lie that her eye probably had something to do with it, but I just felt like this women was anything but ordinary. Although I did agree with Rachael that she was a hippy, but I wasn’t about to say that. Rachael and the women seemed to be having a staring competition. Rachael’s pug face had disappeared and know a smirk orned her beautiful face. The women just started at her, expressionless, her colourful eye swirling and twirling madly, as if examining every bit of Rachael. Just as I was about to say something to break the unbearable tension, a tension I was pretty sure only I was feeling, the women leaned back in her chair, making me jump slightly. She closed her eyes and sighed, missing the look of victory that briefly graced Rachael’s face.                                                                                             

‘ Fine,’ she said, ‘As I don’t want my reputation tarnished, I will do my best to answer some of your questions.’                                                                                                                                                       

Rachael leaned forward, re-adjusting herself in her chair, a look of ecstasy on her face. She was so enthralled at having thought she won, that she missed the tone in which the women had spoken. I didn’t believe for a minute that this women was afraid of Rachael or that she feared her reputation being tarnished. I think she didn’t give a shit about her reputation, which intrigued me as to why she would therefore decide to humour Rachael.                                                                                                 And humour her she did. Rachael asked what seemed like a million questions from the perfectly mundane to exceedingly precise questions. The women answered most, some with a short yes or no, others with more detail. When she couldn’t answer a question Rachael would ‘pug out’ for a few seconds, then seeing she wouldn’t get her way, would return to her ruthless attack. Eventually she calmed down and slowly leaned back in her chair, once again re-adjusting herself. Most people would have thought that that was the end of it, but I knew better. I knew she had kept one last question up her sleeve, something unexpected to end the session. She starred at the women intently, and then to my surprise her eyes darted towards me, another smirk appearing on her face making me feel uneasy.         She turned back to the women, who apparently knew another question was coming.                               

‘ As you can see I have my brought my best friend Roxas with me. Now as you know we only paid for one person to ask questions and as it is my birthday, I was the one to ask the questions. However I really want to ask one question on her part, to make sure she doesn’t feel left out and to show her how much she means to me.’                                                                                                                                     

The women looked at Rachael with furrowed brows. Although what she was saying seemed sweet and lovely, there was something in Rachael’s tone of voice, some heightened intensity in it that scared me.

‘ No no,’ I laughed nervously, ‘ that’s ok, I don’t really want to know anything. I -‘

‘ No, no Roxas I think it’s only fair. I think you will also agree that’s it only faire if I choose the question to ask.’ She smiled at me baring all her shinny teeth. It reminded me of a sharks mouth, menacingly full of teeth.

‘ What I want to know’ she asked, taking extra time for each word to come out’, ‘ is will Roxas ever be special’.

The women stared and Rachael, her brow still furrowed. Her gaze then slowly moved towards me, her left eye swirling out of control, turing into a tornado of colours and shapes. I held my breath, not sure I wanted to know the answer. Yet I couldn’t deny the fact that always being around Rachael had made me yern to stand out, to be my own person, to find what about me was special.                                    Time seemed to slow down, and it felt like hours before the women finally decided to say something. Rachael looked at her with eager eyes, filled not with curiosity but maliciousness.                                  The women seemed to also think her words through before saying in a monotone voice.

‘’ You, my dear, do not possess a single special bone in your body on this planet earth. You will never be different, never stand out, never be anything more whilst you remain on this green earth’.

As Rachael led me away holding my hand, whispering that it didn’t matter, that not everyone could be special, I was barely there. I could barely hear what she said, I couldn’t see the wide malicious smirk on her face. All I knew was that the women had told me exactly what I had expected and that know I needed to simply accept that I would never be special.

What the hell?

    “Shit, shit, shit, shit”

Roxas ran out of her room, bottom half of her pyjama’s still on, her alarm clock blaring.

She ran frantically from one room to another. Bathroom to the kitchen, kitchen to room, room to kitchen, throwing clothes, makeup and anything that got in her way to one side of the room, forming a messy pile.

“ Feed rogue, bag, keys, umbrella. Come on”.

Rogue sat calmly on the counter, tail swishing, a look of boredom on her cat face as she watched her mistress run around like a headless chicken. As long as she remembered to feed her what did she care.

It’s funny how when you’re at university, you live in this little isolated bubble of easy life without realising it. You barely have classes and can spend your free time doing nothing if you so wish. If you’re lucky you have enough money and won’t need to work. If you need to work, it’s only a part time job and won’t feel like a proper job. You go out, eat crap food and live life desperately ignoring life after university. However, when the time comes to leave the cozy comfort of university and enter the intense “real” world, it is a real slap in the face for most people. The stress of finding a job, as you suddenly realise you’re student loan money is gone and needs to be re-paid and bills need to be paid. Lazing around feels lazy and when you finally get a job it’s another slap in the face. Finished are the days of sleeping in. Instead, they are replaced with early mornings, late evenings, little holidays compared to the 4-5 months of holiday during university. Add to that having to deal with annoying co-workers and customers and it can be a real hell. If you’re lucky enough you will love your job, making dealing with all the bad pints just that bit easier. If you’re unlucky, you will hate your job, counting down the hours to the end of the day.

Roxas, luckily, loved her job. She was a cameraman for a big TV channel, mostly working on small documentaries looking at people’s lives and making you feel better about yours. Whilst the hours were long, the pay minimal and she had to deal with her share of crazy, egotistic twats, she still loved her job. Whenever she got to meet amazing people and hear their wonderful or hard stories, it reminded her that there was some good left in humanity worth sharing with the world. This didn’t, however, mean that getting up early every day was any easier. 

An hour later, having barely made her train and spent the whole journey stuck against the door, crushed by several sweaty people in the sweltering piccadilly line, she arrived at work in a foul mood. This wasn’t made any better by the arrival, near seconds after she had sat at her desk, of her manager. Mr Roldin was only 3 years older then Roxas and with his 55kg in weight, even Roxas could have sent him to the ground if she tried. He was a spindly little man, who had always thought himself above everyone else, even though he was about as useful as a grave robber in a crematorium. He had somehow managed to be promoted to manager (thanks to, most people thought, his father having donated large sums of money to the company) and had lorded it over everyone ever since. He seemed to think his new position allowed him to use everyone as his personal servant and loved to give them ridiculous demands whenever he was bored. So as he came towards Roxas, a twinkle in his eye, she knew this morning was only going to get worse. 

“ Well, well Roxas. Cutting it quite close aren’t we?’ He perched himself on her desk, lengthening himself as much as possible to try and appear as big as he could, wish was not very. He always reminded Roxas of an ill pigeon, looking frantically around for any scrap of food. She opened her mouth to answer him, then decided against it. Any excuse she could come up with would just get her into more trouble. Better to let him think whatever he wanted.

“ I’m sorry” 

“ Ah you’re sorry. Good, I’m glad you are. Well just to make me see how sorry you really are, why don’t you go back down and buy me a coffee? Black, two sugars. Vamos”.

Roxas gritted her teeth as she got up, making sure to avoid eye contact with him. The office, which had been so quiet a mere second ago, suddenly buzzed with people typing and speaking on phones, trying desperately to look busy and avoid attracting Roldin’s eye. This had obviously not worked well for Robert, one of the numerous changing interns of the office, who, as Roxas was leaving, was being asked how much he would like to prove his will to be here by washing Roldin’s motorbike. Roxas felt she had gotten off easy for once. 

Feeling a little bit better, she entered the elevator and headed down, letting her mind wonder as she did most of the time. This was why, when the elevator opened on the 10th floor, she didn’t even notice a group of people entering the elevator. 

     “Roxas. Roxas!” a voice hissed.

Roxas emerged from a lovely thought of what she would cook for dinner to find herself staring at the worried faces of Jonathan Strangden, the Head of the company, a few of his assistants and, more frighteningly, Rachael’s annoyed face. She had a wide, tight smile on her face, the kind that doesn’t spread to the eyes. She turned to Strangden.

“ Jonathan, this is Roxas Rocquette, one of the cameraman in our people doc group. Roxas, this is Mr Strangden, the head of the company.”

Roxas and Strangden shook hands and exchanged greetings. Roxas didn’t point out that they had already met, several times. She was introduced in turn to the assistants as well, each giving her a small nod of acknowledgement. One women however took the time to shake her hand and introduce herself as Mary, one of the newest partners of the company. Her smile seemed genuine compared to the one still plastered on Rachael’s face. As Strangdan had turned on Roxas and started talking to Rachael, Mary and Roxas started chatting. It turned out they had quite a lot in common. Mary had been a cameraman at the start of her career, although Roxas thought that this couldn’t have been very long ago as she looked no older then 30 years old. She had eventually given it up and become a producer in order to have more control over what was made. 

As they reached the ground floor the group of people walked out, following Strangdan like sheep, who in turn seemed to be following Rachael with a wandering eye. As they left Rachael cast a quick look at Roxas that seemed to say they would be talking about this later. Mary shook Roxas’s hand again before leaving and gave her her card, in case she ever needed some help or just wanted to have a coffee. Roxas looked down at the card, which didn’t have much more information on it other then Mary’s first and last name and contact details. Roxas put it into her pocket, thinking nothing more of it, and went off to get Roldin’s coffee before he decided that he needed other things.

                        ___________________________________________

‘Of all the times for her to be daydreaming.’

Later that evening, Rachael sat on the tube reviewing her day. 

It was rare for Strangdan to be around and of course the one time he showed up to his own office Roxas had to be having one of her off moments. Thankfully Strangdan hadn’t seemed to have thought much of his meeting with her. In fact he seemed to have forgotten her as quickly as he had met her. 

Rachael looked around her carriage. She rarely got to take the tube, living only 10 minutes away from the office, but she was always happy when she had an excuse to take it. It allowed her to people watch. Ever since she was little she had enjoyed it. It had always felt to her as if she was learning how her opponents worked and thought. The old lady watching the man next to her do his crossword puzzle, even though she held the exact same paper that contained the same crossword puzzle in her hands. The business man trying to catch a few minutes of sleep before he got home to his family after a long days work. Kids coming home from school, showing off to each other in an effort to appear cool. 

Simple people, in normal situations, yet so much to learn from them. 

There were times however when watching wasn’t enough. Sometimes it was necessary to enter the enemies territory, interact and fraternise with those around you in order to learn what you needed. For instance, taking a classmate you barely know and like to a concert in order to learn more about her mother’s job on the cheerleaders panel, thus getting an invitation over as a thank you, allowing to meet said mother. Such interactions were necessary. 

An hour later, she got up off her tube and walked into the dressmakers where her handmade dress awaited her. It was a simple off the shoulder silver/white dress, a few crystals here and there to make it pop, a small slit half way up her right thigh. The perfect mix of sexy and classy in Rachael’s eyes. Just enough to stand out a bit, but not so much that all eyes would constantly be on her. She twirled and admired herself in the mirror, a soft smile on her face. She looked at the other dresses that were scattered around the room. Most screamed ‘look at me’ and would be worn by young, rich girls trying to make the wrong impression. 

Stupid.

When all the attention is on you, it means both positive and negative attention. How was that of any use.

Happy with the work the seamstress had done, she paid and left, clutching her new dress tightly in her arms. At that moment she made the fatal mistake of thinking everything was going right for her, as usual. 

A mistake we have all made. 

She felt her phone ringing in her bag. She stopped at a bench and gently put down her dress, desperately rifling through her bag. She answered the phone to the dull droning voice of Millie, one of the many assistants who worked under Mr Strangdan. They were supposed to go to the Charity Gala Ball together that evening. Rachael never took actual dates to these events, too much of a distraction, for her and for others. Better to go with someone already invited and known by everyone.

“Rachael babe”, Millie had a way of saying babe that made it seem like you were being mocked, belittled. “I’m really sorry to call you so late but I ‘m afraid I’m going to have to cancel our little date tonight. Rob’s asked me to go to a special dinner with him and I think this could be it. I think he’s finally going to propose. You understand don’t you babe.”

No, Rachael did not understand. She did not understand how this dim witted bitch could think it was alright to cancel on her at the last second, simply because she thought her idiotic, flat faced, wannabe footballer boyfriend, who she had been introduced to by Rachael, was going to propose after only 2 months together.

“But Millie, babe,” Rachael made sure to pronounce the babe in the exact same patronising way. “ You agreed to come months ago. You know I can’t go alone and I have no one else to take.”

“Oh I’m sure Mr Strangdan would perfectly understand if you went by yourself. You’re such an independent women after all,” There was something in the way she had said ‘independent women’ that made it definitely not a compliment. 

“ I know he said that we needed to bring people, but I’m sure he’ll make an exception for you. You are his favourite after all. Besides I’ll probably show up at some point with the future fiancé. I’ll be sure to tell Mr Strangdan it was my fault you were all by your lonesome. I have to go now, Rob is on his way. Tootles babe.”

With the beeping of the phone hanging up, Rachael was left fuming. She was very aware that she had just been played at her own game. She paced quickly around the bench, trying to concentrate her anger into something useful, getting back at Millie. After several minutes she had a plan, but for it to work, first and foremost, she would need a partner for the gala. She looked down at her phone and sighed. She had only one option, even if it wasn’t a very good one. 

____________________________________________________

The day finally over, it was time to relax. Roxas collapsed in her couch, Rogue climbing on and laying down against her. The rest of Roxas’s day hadn’t been as bad as she had thought it would be. By the time she had given Roldin his coffee he seemed to have lightened up, perhaps due to his giddiness at being invited to the gala that evening. Once he had told her all about what an amazing opportunity him being invited was and how it showed that this company really valued him, he asked Roxas to go down to the kit room and test out the new camera’s they had recently received. Roxas had gladly accepted and spent the rest of the day playing with the new camera’s, leaving her in a delightful mood. Add to this that it was the weekend and that she had a much anticipated date with a man she had been seeing steadily for a while, she was having a great day. However, she couldn’t help but feel as if there was a small, dark cloud over her head. As if there was something, some small problem she should be worrying about. She decided to ignore it and finish off this day with a nice home made steak and chips. 

Halfway through cooking her meal her phone rang and suddenly that bad feeling came rushing back. The phone vibrated with Rachael’s name appearing. ‘Shit’, she thought, ‘shit shit SHIT’. She had completely forgotten about her little “faux pas” in the elevator and the look Rachael had given her. She looked at the phone and hesitated. If she answered it she was in for a good hour or two of telling off and being told how she needed to be more serious and bla bla bla. Not answering however didn’t seem like a much better option. She was fucked either way.

She picked up the phone, dreading the sound of her friends voice. “Hello”

“Roxas, good, glad I caught you. What are you doing tonight?”

“Umm”. This was not what Roxas had expected. 

Rachel continued without waiting for an answer. “Well, whatever you are doing, cancel it. I have an extra ticket to the gala tonight and you are coming with me.”

Roxas stood silently, eyes scrunched up.

“Why” she asked forcefully.

Rachel laughed nervously.

“What do you mean why? I have an extra ticket and seeing as you’re my best friend I-“

“No, why?”

Roxas could almost hear Rachael grinding her teeth. She spoke slowly and with controlled strength.

“I told you why, now stop being silly and-“

“Why”

“Roxas-“

“Why”

“This is ridiculous,” Rachael hissed. “ Look if you don’t want to come you don’t fucking have to-“

Roxas asked one last time. “Why”.

Rachael was silent. On the other end, Roxas could hear cars and people walking and talking. Finally, it seemed like Rachael cracked.

“Fine, fine, FINE. I was supposed to go with Milly, but the bitch has fucked me over royally and now I don’t have anyone to go with to the gala. I can’t go by myself, I’ve told you how Strangdan feels about women going to events by themselves. He’s an old fashion git really. So old fashion, that he might love it if Millie does get engaged and might decide to put her in my spot. He’s tried to do it before and I am not going to let him, so I NEED to go. I will beg if I have to. Please, please, PLEASE will you come with me. I’ll take care and pay for everything.”

For Rachael to be willing to bring Roxas along to the gala as well as pay for everything meant she was really desperate. Most people would have been insulted by being a last minute invite and being offered money to go. For Roxas however this wasn’t unusual, simply a sign of shear desperation. She knew Rachael would never have taken her if she had the choice. Taking Roxas along would bring her nothing. It was just the way Rachael was and it wasn’t an insult but a compliment, in a way. Although if you asked Roxas to explain how it was a compliment she would have been unable to tell you exactly.

 She didn’t really want to go out, she was comfortable at home and had a lovely meal cooking. On the other hand, her friend was in need, and she did have a dress that she had been dying to wear but had no occasion for it. 

“Ok I’ll come”. Rachael squealed into her ear. “ But, you have to pinky promise infinite that you will not abandon me like last time.”

The only other time Rachael had taken Roxas to a ‘classy’ private event was when she had been given tickets to an event that was occurring on Roxas’s birthday. After she had seen how upset Roxas was that they would not get to spend some time together on her birthday, Rachael had given in and invited her to the premiere. However, as soon as they had gotten into the cinema, Roxas had lost Rachael and as she had been carrying the tickets and it was her name on the register, Roxas had been unable to get into the cinema and had been kicked out. 

She had refused to speak to Rachael for two months after that. 

“Yes, perfect, thank you, thank you! I’ll be by to pick you up in 1hour. Bye”.

Roxas sighed, staring at her phone. 1hour. That was just enough time to shower and get ready. She put the steak and chips in the oven. Hopefully she could be home early enough to eat them.  

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Rachael was in her flat trying on clothes, although her mind was elsewhere. Bringing Roxas to the gala was not what she had wanted, not at all. She would never be able to keep her promise, but Roxas would know. She would eventually forgive her, she always did. All she needed was for Roxas to stay awake and quiet around these people. It wasn’t that she would be rude, but Roxas had a way of being too, familiar, with people. She didn’t do it on purpose and some would call it a redeeming feature. Not Rachael. She would simply have to find a way of keeping her busy, and making sure she doesn’t talk to the wrong people. Perhaps she would introduce her to Jason. He could talk anyones ear off, and would love Roxas’s forwardness. Yes, that would work.

 Now on to the real problem. Millie.

Rachael came back to reality long enough to give herself a last minute check and then get into the black Mercedes waiting outside. As she watched London zooming before her through the window, her mind went back to her problem. She would need to keep it simple. Strangdan was not an idiot, he would quickly notice if something was not right. She had to use one of Millie’s weaknesses. For one, she actually loved her dumbass boyfriend that’s for certain. It was hard to say whether he loved her as much however. The few times Rachael had met him he had spent more time staring at other women’s asses then his girlfriend. But that could mean nothing, he may just be a twat. In fact he was a twat. He was a man’s man, a butch idiotic gorilla, stuck in the old idea that the man was in charge of everything in a relationship. Maybe there was a way to play with his ego, use it against him. A plan was starting to form in Rachael’s mind, but she would need to be quick, and call in a few favours. She whipped out her phone and rang a friend who owned one of the most romantic restaurants in London, the exact restaurant where Millie and Jeff would be. By the time the taxi arrived at Roxas’s flat, Rachael had made several calls and had set her plan in motion. It could go of two ways, perfectly or completely backfire on her, but there was no other solution that she could think of. As Roxas opened the door of the car, Rachael finished her last phone call. 

“ Yes, a dozen red roses arranged into a heart. Perfect, thank you very much”.

She put her phone down and fell back in her seat with a loud, content sigh. 

“ You alright there?” asked Roxas with a raised eyebrow. 

“None of your business, now shush and get in the car, we can’t be late.” Rachael looked over Roxas as she entered the car, at a painstakingly slow pace. She was wearing a beautiful white shimmering dress made of satin, with a heart neckline and lace designs on the bottom half. Rachael approved. 

“I see that my fashion lessons have finally rubbed off on you.” She said smugly. 

Roxas laughed. Rachael had always thought that Roxas’s most redeeming feature was her smile. Bright, bold and attractive. She saw how people’s attitudes always changed towards Roxas when she smiled, as if they saw who she really was all of a sudden, a sweet friendly person. How she envied her for it. 

The ride went smoothly, Rachael and Roxas chatted and, as usual when they were alone, quickly reverted back to their childhood selves. Mocking peoples clothes on the street, making faces at people they passed, etc. Roxas had always been the only person she had ever felt comfortable enough with to let go and relax for a while. She had this quality of making people relax around her and quickly feel comfortable with her. It was a good and bad thing. 

As soon as they reached the museum however, Rachel immediately reverted back to her serious self. She needed to concentrate for this next bit. The door to the taxi was opened and they were blinded by thousands of flashing lights from camera’s. Roxas looked like a deer caught in the headlights. She had never really had to deal with the paparazzi and didn’t particularly enjoy the attention. Rachael got out of the car and held out her hand for Roxas, giving her one of her rare sweet smiles. Roxas hesitantly took her hand and got out, arm linked with Rachael as they walked down the red carpet, past the photographers towards the museum. It was a rare moment of kindness, but worth it. She didn’t have time to deal with a stressed Roxas.

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