Bare Necessities 2 (The Bare Necessities), Page 2

  Whilst the singer had no physical scar, the mental torment of that day had remained. No longer would she sing to an audience clothed. She couldn't do it. She hadn't even tried. That experience as a fifteen year old had shaped the rest of her life and far from being a topic for comedic discussion it was an essential part of her life story.

  It was part of what made Paige, herself. Her friend, Sammy, was a minor footnote in that evening for her. The victorious dancer had used her charms and her talent to secure the votes that had propelled her to victory, beating the rap artists, magicians, dancers and violinists.

  Paige had often wondered how life might have been different if she had stripped that evening. What would have happened if she had ignored any requests to be clothed and just done what she wanted, and strode onto that stage without a stitch on her body. All her practising, in her bedroom, were without clothes. Karaoke at the naturist venues was performed without clothes.

  She should have performed as she'd practised, and sung naked. She would have treated the hall to a splendid rendition of her voice and no doubt captured the attentions of every person in that room. Instead, she didn't. She tried to force herself to do something she couldn't do and it was only by chance that she managed to find her voice again.

  Never again would she try and be like that. She'd learnt her lesson. It wasn't worth trying to be someone else. The world knew Paige now, and they knew what the militant naturist would demand.

  The host's snappy voice brought her attention back to the game show. “We think it must be David,” the opposing team captain announced after conferring with his colleagues. “Newsagent.”

  “Sammy, could you reveal.”

  “My name is Sammy. And I won a talent contest and beat Paige when we were both fifteen,” the lithe model announced. She leant over to cuddle the diminutive singer.

  The model was wolf whistled as she left the stage, pouting as she walked; the offer of appearing on prime-time television too great to turn down; contracts were slim.

  She had nothing else better to do.

  Unfortunately, the same was also true for Paige.

  Chapter II

  Lucinda

  The door to the remote office flung open in the wind as a weather-battered figure fell through the door. “They say it’s still summer but it’s damn windy out there,” the soaked woman cried, falling into the small building on a secluded part of the Hertfordshire countryside. “Damn windy out there. And wetter than a female duck in heat.” She nodded towards the smiling secretary, shuffling a deck of papers. “Hey, you been crying?” The CEO hung her colourful coat onto the clothes peg, and placed her bright designer handbag on the table, leaning on the desk over her young charge. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” she whimpered, forcing her lips together. “Nothing.”

  “Well either you’ve been crying or your face has mutated overnight into a sprinkler system. And I’m guessing that your tears aren’t because you’ve gone to the back of your spirits cupboard and found that you’ve run out of decent Scotch so had to do a quick dash to Waitrose to pick up a cheeky twenty-five year old.”

  “Ummm …”

  “Like I had to last night. Only to be ID’d by a damn cheeky eighteen year-old. I’m in my fifties and I get ID’d by a lad who is younger than the spirit I was buying. Oh, I loved him so much!”

  “Ummm … I’m fine.”

  “So, what is it?” The brash woman boomed, ignoring the reticence of her employee.

  “It’s just our landlord.”

  “Him again? What’s he been up to this time?”

  “He’s just been ringing me and wants money we don’t have for damage we haven’t done to his property. And now he’s threatening us with eviction. Keeps ringing and threatening us.” Lucinda slid a chair alongside the young woman, wiping the young lady’s eyes with a tissue.

  “Tell me.”

  “It’s fine, I don’t …”

  “Tell me wasn’t an optional request. Tell me.”

  She sniffed, dabbing her cheeks with a tissue. “We had a leak in the roof last month and he sent his brother to fix it. But when he was carrying his ladder and tools, he smacked into the wall and took out big chunks of the plaster. And now our landlord says it’s us but it isn’t. But we can’t prove it wasn’t us and his brother is saying it’s nothing to do with him.” Her voice trembled as her concerns gushed from her. Tears formed in her eyes and tumbled down her cheek as the young secretary recounted her predicament. “And Bobby’s car needs new tyres but there’s no way we can afford it with this hanging over us. He says he wants five hundred pounds and …”

  “Five hundred pounds!” Lucinda cried. “For a bit of plaster. What’s it made with? Unicorn hair. Get ‘im on the blower and punch him through to my office. I’ve got ten minutes before I’ve got a conference call with Harriet.”

  “Honestly it’s fine, it’s my problem and …”

  “Nonsense!” The businesswoman interrupted. “I’ve spent my entire life standing up to bullies. Making them squirm is one of my favourite hobbies. After naturism, drinking and masturbation obviously. And I’m very skilled at it.” Her eyes twinkled as she grabbed her handbag and winked at the young lady. “The standing up to bullies bit. Although I’m pretty good at the other three as well. Get him on the line and put him through.”

  Lucinda’s phone rang as the catch on her office door clicked, and the middle-aged woman strode to her desk, flicking the speaker button on the phone. “Lucinda Rees-Montague,” she barked into the equipment as she unbuttoned her faintly coloured blouse. “Bare Business Ltd.”

  “You wanted me?” The voice was gruff and sharp. Lucinda rolled her eyes as she slouched on her vast leather chair.

  “Yes. I hear you’ve been upsetting a member of my staff about some damage she didn’t do and I’m ringing to put a stop to it.” Lucinda took a deep breath as her designer shoes were flicked into the corner of the room. “My staff come here to work, not to receive threatening calls from greedy twats. So stop it.”

  “Listen love. I don’t know you and I don’t know what she’s told you but that little tart, her latest squeeze and her kiddies have damaged my property and I want paying for it.”

  “Ahh no!” Lucinda cried. “We have a written statement from and independent member of the public that says that the damage was not there pre-roofing leak and was there after the leak was repaired. And this independent member of the public will go to court.” She ruffled some loose paper into the speaker.

  “Who?”

  “Me!” Lucinda squealed triumphantly. She pushed her trousers to her ankles. “I was there to deliver Amy’s wages and there was no damage then, and the following week there was. And do you know who owns this company? Do you know Paige Simmons? Do you know that she was the anonymous donor that funded the legal challenge against slum landlords at the High Court? Do you know what she would do if I was to ring her and tell her of your little antics? How deep are your grubby pockets? I hear her lawyers are very expensive. And she has more money than God. Every time she opens her mouth she adds another zero to her bank balance. It’s quite cool. And she would be especially pissed off when I tell her that her employees are getting harassed. She is quite the protective and litigious psychopath at times.”

  Lucinda squirmed in the cool leather chair, clammy and cold against her exposed skin. She pressed her computer’s power button with her outstretched toe. The fans whirred, replacing the landlord’s silence with a quiet hum.

  “I’m waiting.”

  He coughed. “OK, well I’m not happy about this. There’s been damage and someone needs to pay for it.”

  “Sure, ring your brother. But if I hear that you’ve been threatening my staff again then I will make sure that your nuts are in my nutcracker. And I’m going to squeeze them until your eyes bleed and your screams wake the demons in the depths of Hell. Understand?”

  His grunt signified a begrudging acknowledgement; the snort signified the end o
f the call. The businesswoman looked on her desk, opening a small parcel from the brewery the three musicians owned, and took a small box from within.

  Dear Miss Rees-Montague,

  Here is the proposed gift set from the brewery for Christmas. What do you think?

  Tom, Head Brewer

  The lady smiled, the respectful employee never failed to call her Miss Rees-Montague no matter how many times she told him otherwise. She was “Luci” or “Lucinda” or even “L”, but he was comfortable with his formalities. She opened the colourful wrapping and took the branded pint glass from the box. Their ruby-coloured signature beer filled the elegant vessel with an impressive head.

  “Sweet,” she murmured into the room, revelling in the aroma of the hops as she smelt the ale. “Should sell nicely.”

  Her computer beeped, her fingers clicked the accept button on the video conferencing application, reading the label on the back of the bottle while holding the full pint of beer.

  “Oh for God’s sake, woman! It’s nine in the morning and you’re already drinking.”

  “Hello, bro!” Lucinda’s eyes flicked towards the computer screen; her elder brother and niece were displayed in a window on the video conferencing application. “Christmas line from the brewery, what do you think?”

  “Oh, and you’re naked.”

  “This, is a clothing optional office. And in the Summer, completely unnecessary! You know that, all of the businesses owned by Bare Business Ltd are clothing optional where possible, the brewery, the childcare centre, the hotel, the naturist camp. It’s on our roadmap to look at companies we part own too, like the factory. Bring clothing optional working there too.”

  “You are not letting my workforce strut around without clothes on. It’s …”

  “Well, it’s Paige’s philosophy: clothing is bad, naked is freedom and umm … wiggling is good. And stuff.”

  “Are you sure you haven’t been drinking?” Paul muttered as he opened a piece of folded paper. “The band merchandise sales from the final tour,” he started. “We’ve sent them over by email, could we go through them?”

  “Anything for my big brother,” Lucinda gushed, opening her e-mail application.

  “Then put some ruddy clothes on!” He muttered; Lucinda pretended not to hear his jibe. The meeting took an hour: they discussed some new opportunities for the factory, but as they no longer had the staple income of the band merchandising machine to look forward to receiving, the forecasted profits from the Rees-Montague factory had dipped as a result.

  After the meeting finished, Lucinda called her secretary into the office. “Your landlord is all sorted,” she replied with a smile. “I told him that Paige is going to fund a legal challenge against him.”

  “Wow! Is she? There’s no need.”

  “She isn’t! But that’s the best thing about Paige,” Lucinda said, with a devilish smirk. “Whatever I say she’s done or going to do, people believe. I told him that she funded a big legal challenge against slum landlords.”

  “Did she?”

  Lucinda shrugged. “Not that I know of. But it sounds like something Paige would do. It’s so helpful when dealing with muppets.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, cheers,” Lucinda smiled, holding the pint glass aloft. “I think I’ve earned this! I’ve got to go to a bike ride later.” Amy sniggered. “Stop laughing. You’re coming too!”

  “I haven’t got a bike.”

  Lucinda opened her purse and took out a small bundle of notes, counting ten of them and passed them to her young secretary. “Then go buy one. I’m not cycling bare arsed ‘round London on my own!”

  Chapter III

  Hazel

  Hazel looked out of the first floor window, overlooking the stone courtyard and entrance into the recording complex. The voice was unmistakable, and the source of the commotion was obvious.

  Her sister stood on tiptoes, desperately trying to look into the eyes of the unmoved man, still glaring down his beak-like nose at the annoyed musician. He stood akimbo with his thick, muscular arms crossed and his steely eyes boring into the waif-like Paige as she struggled with her hair in the swirling wind within the yard.

  “I got dressed to come down here,” she barked indignantly as her fingers slapped against her scratched mobile phone. “Three days wandering around without so much as a sock on. I get dressed and get … this is a bloody outrage and … Aha! Right, I’ll show you. Just you wait …”

  She held her mobile to her ear, shuffling on her feet as Hazel left the window and crossed the atrium towards the stairs. Her phone vibrated; the display needlessly informing her that her sister was calling. “Ah Hazel. It’s me. I’m at the front door but some brute won’t let me in. Come and get me.”

  “I’m already on my way.” She had been dispatched by her boyfriend, busily talking to his entourage, when the voice of Hazel’s sister had been heard through the open window. The vociferous anger had interrupted Ricky, and he had dispatched Hazel to the front door of the recording studio to silence the loud, vocal indignation.

  “Paige,” she shouted from behind the Goliath of a man. The security guard stepped aside to allow Hazel to pass, and her flame-haired elder sister embraced her. “How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  Her voice belied a truth as she marched past the security guard. “Have a nice day, Ma’am,” he offered as the door closed; Paige swore unceremoniously in reply as they climbed the stairs to the large, expansive music studio, stuffed with half-a-dozen sound engineers and musicians.

  “Hiya babe,” a drooling voice called from behind the producer. “You ‘an ‘alf making a fuckin’ racket out there.”

  “Your brute …”

  “Sounded like the little woman bein’ put in her place.” He laughed as Paige focused on her partner’s muscle-bound fiancée in the studio.

  His smile looked false as he evaluated the calculating Paige. She glared in response.

  He ran his hands down his topless toned torso, drawing attention to his athletic physique. “Want to help add a backing track.” He winked, glancing at the topless singers in the recording booth. “Music sounds so much better when it’s recorded with … passion, eh?” Paige shuddered.

  “Music sounds …”

  “We’re going for lunch,” Hazel wisely interrupted. “I’ll see you later, babe!”

  “And you need to have a word with that brute on the door. He was rude, and he stopped me coming in and …”

  “Ah that’s just Jason. He’s a mate,” Ricky interrupted. “Great lad. Probably didn’t take any of your bitchin’ shit that’s all.” His laughs filled the studio, embracing his fiancée with a smile and forced his kiss onto the diminutive Hazel. “Later, babes! Don’t be late. I don’t like it when you’re late.”

  His hands gripped the slender woman, openly caressing and pawing at her teenage body. He groped his fiancée. Her T-Shirt rode up, her trousers forced downwards to expose huge swathes of her pasty skin to the studio employees and his support staff.

  Hazel nodded, as he backed away from her. Her smile wavered as she adjusted her clothing, Paige’s scowl remained undiminished as the two sisters left the recording studio for lunch at a nearby café in Hazel’s car.

  “I don’t know what you see in him,” Paige moaned as her hands held a café menu. “He’s so …”

  “Ricky.” She replied. “He’s just Ricky.”

  “What’s that art he’s got littered around your flat?”

  “Apartment,” Hazel corrected her. “Ricky calls it an apartment.”

  “It’s a flat. And there’s just erotica everywhere. It must be like living in a brothel!”

  Hazel sniffed. “It’s his apartment. He decorated it. You get used to it.”

  “And who needs so many pictures of themselves naked. And fuckin’ statues too. I have never bought a bust of myself. He’s so vain.”

  “He’s just the same as any man; they all have their own ways of
fucking things up.”

  “Agree with that. Jack today, woke me up in the middle of a wonderful dream because he was awake and I was snoring. Bang out of order. And last week, he insisted on giving me my a driving lesson after I stopped doing it with my instructor. And then he shouted at me for going too fast over the speedbumps. I’m sure someone told me that the faster you go over them the less you feel them but he was screaming about his suspension and he’s banned me from ever … oh yeah, how’s the wedding planning?”

  “Fine. We have seating plan all sorted. Collect my dress next week.”

  “Hen night’s all booked,” Paige added, with a wry grin. “We’re going to … Ibiza. Big villa, by the beach and overlooks the main party street. All night partying, secluded garden for naked sun-bathing.” Hazel giggled. “Nothing but the best for my sister.”

  “Can I take your order please?”

  Paige glanced at the menu. “Cappuccino and a chicken and bacon panini please. Oh, and some of those fancy crisps you got.” She passed the cardboard flyer to the waitress as Hazel glanced at the table. “I know they are bourgeois and pretentious but the Parsnip and Honey flavour is just amazing.”

  Hazel giggled. “Just a Diet Coke, please.”

  “Hey,” Paige argued. “What about lunch?”

  “I’m not hungry.” Hazel’s hands shook. “I’ve got a wedding dress to get into,” she whispered to her sister. “And Ricky won’t like it if I put weight on.”

  “She’ll have a Caesar Salad,” Paige told the waitress, not looking at her sister. “She’ll collapse if she doesn’t eat anything.”

  “I’m …” Paige glared at her; Hazel shrunk in her seat and shrugged. “It’s OK for you, you don’t need to worry about weddings.”

  “Quite the reverse. I have a hen night to organise. Jack says I don’t need to make a speech but I’ve written one. Please can I give a speech.” Hazel bit her lip as her excitable sibling tapped the café table. “Please. I promise I won’t mention that incident. Promise.”