A Little of Chantelle Rose by Cristina Hodgson

Author:Cristina Hodgson [Hodgson, Cristina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature
Publisher: Crooked Cat Books
Published: 2017-05-03T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

The following day, after a really restless night, I found myself prancing around my miniscule living room to Tina Shore's Salsacise exercise video. It's sexy salsa dance and aerobics rolled into one. I'd found it covered in dust on my living room bookshelf. I'd been given it a few years back by an ex of mine who was a complete fitness freak, and I’d forgotten all about it.

So there I was, at 6.30 in the morning – bored to tears, unable to stop my head spinning around in circles, Lionel at the forefront of my thoughts. I tried desperately to give him the benefit of the doubt, to believe that the images of him and Vivien looking so lovey-dovey together were just a bogus piece of paparazzi work. But I had a horrid, underlying feeling that it probably wasn’t. In which case, what on earth had the forty-minute conversation I'd held with Lionel actually been about?

It was because of all these doubts and worries causing mayhem in my tired mind that I'd found myself out of bed and aimlessly wandering around my flat. That’s when I'd stumbled across that long-forgotten exercise DVD. There had been another one alongside: Learning to Line Dance. I don't have a clue how that got onto my book shelf, what with its Electric Slide and Boot-Scootin' Boogie. I thought it much too severe to try to get to grips with at such an early hour, and, anyway, I didn't want the neighbours calling the police with a complaint about noise as a result of my Achey Breaky Heart.

After a rather dicey start, I soon got into the swing of dodging my bedsitting room furniture as I Cha-Cha-Cha'd around. Midway through the salsacise session I was startled by my mobile phone's piercing tone. It's not actually a ring; it’s a donkey EEH-HAA bray. I work on the theory that no one in their right mind would use a donkey tone, thus I always know when it's my phone sounding, avoiding those rather embarrassing moments on public transport of rummaging around one's handbag in a mad attempt to answer the phone as everyone else does the same. Of course, I do get some odd looks, but so what?

On hearing the donkey braying out in true Old MacDonald style, I halted in mid-shimmy, just as I was sussing out the Mambo arm-leg coordination, and searched for my mobile.

"Don't hang up," I called out, blindly convinced that at that early hour the only person who would phone would be Lionel.

"Hello," I answered, breathless from the aerobics and added exertion of whooshing around the flat hunting for my phone despite the ear-shattering donkey call. The caller ID came up as “unknown number,” but that was normal; Lionel was a huge star and his personal number was probably permanently hidden, and he'd just forgotten to undo the option on calling me.

"Hello…" I called out again. The line was silent but not dead. Whoever was at the other end hadn't hung up, though apparently couldn't hear me.

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