Phone call

This is purely fictional. I wrote this a while back to experiment with different styles of writing - I wanted to know if I could write a chick novel or not. This is a conversation between two friends (I tried to make it super girly). I don't like it much - it doesn't lead anywhere, but I thought I'll post it here as it has been lying around hidden on my laptop - thought I'd show it some light of the day.



She had been staring at her computer screen for a little less than an hour. Her notes scrawled in her childish handwriting on her notebook lay next to the black laptop, the blank page of Microsoft glared at her.
She picked up her phone, looked at the time, checked for new messages, played a game or two. “Inspiration, inspiration…” she muttered. The fact that La Roux was melodically screaming she’s bulletproof on Radio 1, didn’t help the thoughts flow any easier.
“It’s a trend report, how hard could it be” she sighed. Of course, it was a mammoth task when your entire career depended on it. This one article – maybe, hopefully could land her a job, any job! Or not, depending on how dependable people were.
December 28th, 2009 and Zi was glad the terrible year was coming to an end. The trouble with being 24 is, she thought, you are like a little bird, glad to be alive – but still dependent on others. “Oh lordy, lordy, make things alright already!” she screamed to no one in particular.

The phone rang, Zi let it go to the answer phone – inspiration was still a far cry away. “Hello my lil’ fashionista, we missed you at the party last night. I met that guy again, he asked about you and wasn’t surprised when I mentioned you were home, probably buried under a pile of pillows...” Zi leaped on to grab the phone – “What do you mean he wasn’t surprised?” A crackle of laughter came from the other end, “Anne, you know you sound like a hyena when you laugh like that” “Hyena or not, I knew you would pick up the phone as soon as I mentioned him.” “Well, that’s no fair, I was just working on my article” A long silence followed, then more laughter. “Is that Fearne Cotton I hear in the background? Dah-ling Zi, I know you think she’s fashionable and all, but living vicariously through her won’t help you, anyhoo, I’m coming over. Lovely, go take a shower – I have news you might like, toodles.” Click.

Zi was left mumbling, as she glanced a look in the mirror. How does your best friend know that you still haven’t showered at four pm, she thought. Anne, or Annabell Foxely may not be the best influence, but she was the best friend a girl could ask for. She walked like she owned the world, didn’t give a damn about the rumors circulating about her and loved Zi like a sister. To top it she was drop dead gorgeous, those bones could give Kate Moss a run for her money. But Anne’s idea about modelling, like everything else, was a bit extreme – “Modelling is like prostitution, and I don’t sell my body. It’s only for me & the men I choose to devour on – exclusive you know.” Anne would proclaim. That girl was crazy, Zi thought.


Right then, she switched her laptop off and ran to the bathroom to scrub herself clean for the big news her bestie was about to lay down on her.


xxx