Wild Fiction

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‘Genevieve had a soft spot for Conrad. That’s how he managed to escape to Africa. She used to review all the author’s work. She doesn’t anymore; it was causing too many fights between them. The author would create a beautiful, sophisticated woman who would inevitably make Genevieve jealous. She would insist that he edit her out or change her features. Sebastian and I had a sister in our story until she decided to get rid of her.’
‘When did she stop reviewing his work?’
‘I’m not sure but you certainly wouldn’t be here if she still had a hand in it.’
Rebecca pursed her lips and ran a hand through her blonde hair. She was kneeling on the ground and her firm breasts pressed out against her black T-shirt as she arched her back. The sunlight sparkled in her aqua blue eyes.
‘Genevieve would never have allowed that,’ James said referring to the previous paragraph with a smile. ‘I think you should meet Genevieve,’ he added. ‘She has her hair done today at 11am. You can bump into her in the hair salon.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘She has it done every Tuesday at 11am and today is Tuesday.’
They walked into Epsom town centre. Rebecca wanted to ask James how he knew that it was Tuesday. She had a million questions that she wanted the answers to. She felt nervous and could not bring herself to ask him anything, so they walked in silence.
They found Gunther’s Hair Experience. It stood directly across the road from Le Petit Café.
‘I’m going to wait for you in here,’ James said pointing at the coffee shop. Without a word, Rebecca nodded at him, turned, and crossed the road. When she reached the door to Gunther’s Hair Experience she took a deep breath, and pushed it open.
5
As Genevieve entered Gunther’s Hair Experience, the proprietor, Gunther Schwartz, minced over to her with a beatific smile on his face and gave her a kiss on each cheek. ‘How are you, my dear?’ he gushed as he flapped his hands around his head. ‘Not finding the summer too hot I trust?’
Pathetic, thought Genevieve. Doesn’t he know that everybody sees straight through this effusive PR crap and hate him for it. If he didn’t have the best hands in Surrey, I certainly wouldn’t be here. ‘I’m well,’ she replied in a flat voice forcing a smile at him.
‘Good, good, let me take your jacket and let’s get you seated in your favourite chair.’

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