She nodded at him and turned her attention to the auction.
“Vegas, eh?” grinned Marc as he looked across at Jim.
“Mmm, fancy that.” Jim grinned back.
“Have you ever been to Vegas?” Marc asked Tasha.
“No, well, not yet.” She smiled at the men she was sandwiched between recalling Jim’s story of how lucky number seven in Vegas had been dreamt up by the two of them.
Jim excused himself and suddenly Tasha felt a little wary.
“You obviously like to take a chance, a gamble some might say. Maybe you should consider a little trip. They employ all sorts out there so you may even find some work.” Mickie made no attempt to hide her bitchiness.
“I don’t think Tasha will struggle to find work in L.A.” Marcia hoped her words would be supportive and maybe even stem Mickie’s flow of bitter and unpleasant words. They didn’t.
“Well, when you’re an actress and you fuck the head of the studio, work is easy, much like the actress,” spat Mickie across the table.
“Shit,” muttered Marc to Marcia as he took in Tasha’s shocked expression, while Jon and Helen exchanged a glance.
It was actually Jon who spoke though, “Mickie, please, this is all very unpleasant and unnecessary.”
“Much like the addition of an easy, English tramp.” Mickie suddenly sounded drunk and upset rather than her earlier threatening and intimidating.
“Yeah, well, better easy than desperate,” replied Tasha calmly, tiring of being the butt of the other woman’s outbursts. Seeing Mickie’s expression shift to awkward, maybe even embarrassed she smiled as she asked, “Just how many years was it that you hung on to bag yourself Jim before I came along and he fell head over heels right under your nose?”
Mickie stood up and stared across the table at Tasha, opened her mouth to speak then closed it before finally and dramatically feigning tears and upset.
“Sit down, Mickie,” came Jim’s voice from behind Tasha. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.” He was obviously irritated but Tasha was still a little surprised when Mickie sat down immediately and silently.
“The following lot you will be bidding on is for the services of a personal trainer and gym membership at L.A.’s most exclusive new gym,” said the auctioneer giving everyone something else to focus on.
“Ooh I fancy a personal trainer,” said Helen as she started the bidding.
“Are you okay?” asked Jim in a hushed tone.
“Not really, this is fucking hideous.” Tasha’s reply was quiet, but serious.
Jim moved closer so that his mouth was almost pressed against her ear.
“I get that you’re not happy, but lose the language, Tasha,” he warned.
“Sorry, but I sincerely hope this is the last time I will have to endure that woman’s company.”
“For a while.”
Tasha turned and stared at him, cold and angry herself now. She had no intention of spending any time with a woman who openly despised her and took every opportunity to publicly berate her.
“Yay!” cried Helen now as she began clapping. “I have a personal trainer,” she shouted and then grimaced at the prospect of it making the others laugh.
Several more lots came and went while Marc began refilling wine glasses, both Tasha and Marcia declined the offer.
“Apart from the fact that I am driving tonight I have an early start at the airport with Jim in the morning,” explained Marcia.
“Ooh, where are you two off to then?” asked Mickie.
Tasha looked across at the other woman who was facing Marcia. She spoke without any inference and yet there was something in the way she’d phrased her question and her demeanour that suggested she already knew the answer before Jim replied.
“New York.”
