Bianca White whose acclaimed creative mind matches her blonde beauty suffered many young women's unspoken nightmare – being left a little short of the altar. The almost handsome Joe the fiancé turned scumbag by dumping Bianca after falling into the arms a sauna 'hostess' eight days before the wedding.
Perhaps understandably, Bianca became a little upset when Joe said he was rescheduling their wedding and then calmly explained the bride would be Rosa, top earner at her mother's Gentleman's Trouble-free Sauna.
Joe waited, hands on hips for the tears and was caught napping. Bianca kicked him, sending Joe to Hospital Emergency by ambulance for treatment to part of his anatomy by then the size of golf balls.
Naturally compassionate thanks to a soft upbringing, Bianca had called an ambulance and left the door to his apartment wide open for the mobile medics; disappeared into a nearby bar to cry into a couple of martinis.
Next morning Bianca turned up for work at Melrose PR two hours late, drunk. She assaulted the boss who tried to push her back out the door to go home and sober up. Bianca of course, being in the mood she was, resisted although not physically any longer. But by then her boss had lost his cool. Nursing a swelling eye destined to show bruising, Stan Melrose fired Bianca in a fit of pique.
Oh dear, Bianca thought, what have I done. As she walked between the two lines of cold-eyed fellow workers – actually they were now former fellow workers – she laughed a little short of hysteria and joked, "What, no going away present?"
The abrupt end to her current working career persuaded Bianca to think she'd had enough of Melbourne so she spent the next couple of days packing and left for Auckland, pleased that she'd never told Joe her home was in New Zealand; that meant he'd not be able to forward her his medical bills.
The flight proved a brief diversion in itself when a male cabin attendant came on strongly, which made Bianca feel much better. He rewarded her slightly flirtatious behavior by serving her French champagne instead of Aussie bubbles. At least some men are nice, an increasingly relaxed Bianca thought until the cabin attendant leaned over her again and she noticed his wedding ring.
That happened two months ago. Bianca now worked an expensively furnished room she'd leased in an A-class office building with wonderful views of the Auckland waterfront and across to Devonport. A newspaper lay open in front of her, absorbing a second coffee cup ring as for the umpteenth time she read her advertisement.
'Miss Fix-it A graduate in advertising and public relations offers a professional advisory service to people with personal or small business image aspirations wanting to raise the bar to become stand-outs. The impossible may remain impossible but we promise to make a difference. We think outside the box and engage other professionals to offer a complete service. The first interview is free. Contact: Bianca White, Success Consultancy, Blue Sky Tower, Tel 128-9444.'
Bianca's phone didn't ring that day. A call at 9:00 next morning was a wrong number and one at 9:45 was the building maintenance man enquiring had she settled in comfortably and advising a receptionist's work-station would be installed overnight.
By this stage bored Bianca's finger-nails were looking perfect and all her personal correspondence was up to date. She also accepted she was consuming far too much coffee. Inclining towards insanity as well she had the ridiculous thought of calling Joe to say hi and ask how his rearranged wedding plans were progressing.
At 11:58 the phone went, sending her pulse soaring only to have her ear filled by the caller's yawn.
"Ooops, sorry – attempting to multi-task; you being female will assume we men are useless at that."
What a bozo, Bianca thought. "You assumed your victim was a woman?"
"If someone with a chic name of Bianca White was male I'd be worried."
She laughed and said she'd meant a male receptionist may have been answering the phone. The reply was he didn't think someone with a name like Bianca White would hire a male PA; she'd be getting more than enough socially without being distracted at the office.
"I beg your pardon!"
"Oops, perhaps I meant more than enough attention. Nothing wrong with that is there?"
"I suppose not. How may I help you?"
"My name is Marty, Marty Young. I'd like you to find me a wife."
"Marty, this is not a dating service."
"A wife with business flair."
"Oh."
Marty asked did 'Oh' signal rejection, He was told not necessarily.
"Does that mean you're too over-stretched to take on my request?"
"No, not at all."
He pressed on relentlessly: "Do you have any clients?"
Bianca sighed. "No – after twelve business hours you are my first prospective client."
"But not a suitable one? Don't answer that. Allow me to buy lunch to allow you to assess me."
Bianca considered that and immediately felt hungry. "Okay, where?"
"Harbourside – it's near you. Say 12:30 – I'll book a table. How will I recognize you?"
"I'll be wearing bright red-frame Italian sunglasses – just the very latest arrival at Melbourne Airport duty-free."
"How will I tell they're Italian – don't answer. That was my idea of a joke."
"Fine, Mr Young. I'll meet you at the Manchurian in thirty minutes.
"Harbourside."
"That was my idea of a joke. Good-bye."
Bianca joined the short line waiting for the maitre d'. Two other women were wearing bright red-frame sunglasses but the approaching maitre d' came to the back of the line and said, "Welcome, Miss White. Please follow me."
Once Bianca was seated and receiving her host's welcoming smile, Marty reached across and shook her hand.
Puzzled that he'd apparently identified her and pointed her out to the maitre d' she asked: "How were you able to distinguish between Italian sunglasses and non-Italian sunglasses at this distance?"
"That was no problem. Those other two women had partners and didn't look like people suitable for the name of Bianca White whereas you were alone so, bingo Miss White White!"
"Oh God, not you too. My mother had no idea what Bianca meant, she just liked the name and I guess father just thought it sounded sexy."
"You father obviously was a discerning man with foresight."
"Yes, and remains so. Is your Marty with a 'y' or an 'i'?
The reply was 'y'.
"My mother is French and that name in France usually goes with an 'i'.
Bianca thinking a compliment wouldn't go amiss said, "But it's a lovely name and perhaps that explains your good looks," She watched Marty duck his head behind the wine list.
Bianca concluded that was a good sign, knowing women tend to like a little humility in a man. She switched off her phone to avoid having non-existent office calls switching through. She'd decided to have this broad-shouldered and very personable man as a client. It ought to be easy to fit him up with a lovely lady. Some of her old girl friends were still unmarried, a couple were divorcees and if she placed his photo on a dating website and filtered the calls she'd probably get a few local responses and perhaps 10,000 from Russia.
"Marty, up close and personal, okay? Tell me about your undesirable traits?"
