The outfit was meant to get Will's attention, not that of the minicab driver, the workmen on the corner with their hard hats and hard-ons, and the suited cityboys at the bar.ĭraining the lukewarm dregs of her "house speciality" cocktail she toyed with the idea of another round. She'd been waiting for over half an hour, which didn't seem like a long time when she was curled up at home on the sofa watching Sex and the City - one minute it was the opening credits and Sarah Jessica Parker was stumbling around in a tutu, the next it was all over and the commercials were on - but it was a completely different storyline when she was marooned in the West End in a brand new pair of killer heels and a dress that should read "do not wear unaccompanied" next to the dry-clean-only instructions. Being stood up was bad enough, but by her boyfriend. Sitting conspicuously by herself at a table for two in a fashionable bar-cum-restaurant in Soho, she glanced self-consciously at her watch - nearly 7:30 - and tried to ignore the pitying glances of the cozy couples around her. How would you feel if you were stood up? Embarrassed? Upset? Pissed off?
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