Crazygirl Falls in Love (37 page)

“Oh my.”

“Yes, most unfortunate. We can’t have that sort of behaviour
going on, it upsets the Board and unsettles the stomachs of our
investors.”

“Of course.”

“But dear, this is where my apology comes in. The reason I
suggested that a man should fill in for Sam was that at the time,
we believed you may have been the offender, not because you are
female. I was caught off-guard in the meeting and it was the first
thing I could think of for removing you from the project. I can
imagine how it must have sounded, and I do apologise.”

“Oh, that’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

Then I don’t believe my ears when he says they fired He Who
Shall Not Be Named. I do a double take,

“You fired him?”

“It’s illegal activity, the scallywag will be lucky to get
away with only a lost job. Our legal team will be pressing charges.
Which is the other reasons I’m calling. Have you decided for
certain that you’ll be leaving Gribbles?”

“Yes sir.”

“Without a shadow of a doubt?”

“No shadow here, I submitted my resignation letter
yesterday.”

“Then would you be interested in interviewing for a position
with our legal team here at Lloyds? We have a group of twelve, led
by a Mr Thomas Shears. Their workload is increasing and they are
looking to hire. Some of it would be very similar to what you did
at Gribbles, lease reviews et cetera, but other parts would be very
different, delving into criminal law I’m told, and quite a
rewarding challenge for you to be sure. Would you be
interested?”

“You want to hire me?”

“We’d like to interview you. If you agree I’ll contact HR and
they will set up a time for next week.”

I still don’t get it.

“I still don’t get it, sir. You want to
interview me after
all
the things I said?”

And what about the emotional element of women and their
crusades, eh? What about that?

“We thought it would be wise to contact you before Tesco do.
You have a good reputation amongst your clients, my dear. Why, I
used to work at Tesco back in the dark ages and they tell me you
are the backbone of their leases in the South East. Another thing,
I would want your help with the evolving field of sustainability
law. It’s not one of my strengths, as you would have picked up in
yesterday’s meeting. I simply haven’t the foggiest what it’s all
about. Sarah told me you wrote an article on sustainable property
recently that has been well received, is that so?”

We discuss my IEMA paper on ethical leasing and he seems
impressed. He tells me HR will be in touch to arrange a date and
time.

I hang up and walk in a daze back to the
sitting room. I lie on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. I have
a feeling I’ll be looking back on this moment with the same sense
of bewilderment and shock I’m feeling right now.
How has this happened?
I
am over the moon, but really truly confused at the same time. My
professional reputation is still intact? He Who Shall Not Be Named
is ruined? I might make the dream move from consulting to in-house?
Old Man Gin isn’t a chauvinist pig after all?

I message everyone the news, including Blue, then head
downstairs to check on the General and Captain. I’ve neglected them
recently, and that’s stopping right now. No workload, no idiot
Spanish wankers, no manager, nothing, will ever stop me looking
after the people I care about again.

The General greets me with his usual energy and enthusiasm. He
takes me to the kitchen, where Captain is lying on his doggy bed
looking bored. The General tells me he only came back from the vets
yesterday but is doing much better. He says they can’t wait to get
back out to Hyde Park,

“We’re both feeling rather cabin-feverish in this old hut, wot
wot?” Mr Harold laughs.

I offer to go to the park with him to keep him company but he
doesn’t want to leave Captain by himself. After a cup of tea I make
my excuses and promise to come back tomorrow. The General and I
pump fists on my way out, and I head back upstairs.

It’s late afternoon, perfect time to go for a run. I only do
three kilometres, I don’t want to risk injuring my foot, but by the
time I finish, do my stretches (I never usually stretch, but that
yogi in Goa was right – the more flexible I am the better my
running will be), grab a shower and do my hair. And by then it’s
time to head to Loft.

***

I can’t see Blue. I wander around the place
for a minute before determining he hasn’t arrived yet. It’s fine,
it’s only 7:50 p.m. and I bought a book with me just in case I was
early or he was late. It’s one I’ve wanted to tackle for a
while,
The Brothers
Karamazov
. Mum’s been asking me to read it
since forever, something about Dostoyevsky’s sympathetic portrayal
of women’s issues. My mum was a bit of a feminist back in the day,
burning bras and what not.

I settle down at one of the small tables, not far from the
sofas where Antonio, Chloe, the Stranger and I were hanging out the
weekend before last. Funny how things change.

The place is busier than I thought it would
be for a Tuesday night. I order a white wine and do a spot of
people watching. There’s always the same types at a pub or bar,
isn’t there? Emotional break up girl weeping to her friends, the
glory days gang, the clown, the lightweight slouched over the bar
mid-pass-out, the random old couple, the random baby couple (get a
sitter for Pete’s sake), the
sad old lady
in a boob tube
cougar stalking the place
like a jungle cat, the girl who really wants to dance even though
it’s not that kind of a bar...

Wait a minute.

Blushing to myself in pitiful shame as I recall last night’s
uncoordinated gargoyle-like dancing, I open my Dostoyevsky and
start reading. Nothing distracts better than a good old book. But
before I’ve finished the first paragraph the bar music goes dead. I
look up to see what’s going on. There are a few seconds of
weirdness as everyone can suddenly hear each other’s conversations.
Those who had been talking loudly to be heard over the music switch
to hushed whispers. What happened to the tunes, man?

Then we hear someone clearing his voice through a microphone.
My eyes are drawn to the small stage in the corner (if you can call
it that, it’s more like a miniature drum riser). There’s Blue. I
don’t understand what’s going on at first, so I stand to walk over
to him. Half way there I spot a karaoke set where he’d normally
have his DJ kit...

My pace slows to a stop while my heart starts to fibrillate a
little, as I see him holding the microphone with trembling hands.
But while his hands are shaking his face is relaxed and grinning as
he says through the mike,

“I’d like to dedicate this song to the pretty little peanut
with the blonde hair.”

I begin to back away slowly, edging myself
into an empty chair at a four person table, the people sitting
there looking at me in disapproval (
who is
this bird who just took our spare seat? Be gone with you, new
bird
). I’d say something but I’m mesmerised
by the sight of Blue tapping his foot as the introductory saxophone
solo bursts from the karaoke system. A familiar saxophone
solo...

It can’t be? It just can’t!
Blue starts singing in that deep, gravelly
voice,

“
If I had to live my life without you near me... The days would
all be empty... The nights would seem so long...”

I can’t believe it. It’s
Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love For You
, my most favouritest of songs! How did he
know?

“With you I see forever, oh, so clearly... I might have been
in love before... But it never felt this strong...”

His voice rises,

“Our dreams are young and we both know... They'll take us
where we want to go. Hold me now, touch me now, I don't wanna live
without you...”

Every single person at Loft has their eyes glued towards Blue,
some with eyebrows raised in astonishment, a few smiling in
amusement, others blank from not know what to think. I think I’m
the latter as he hits the chorus,

“Nothing's gonna change my love for you, you oughta know by
now how much I love you.... One thing you can be sure of... I'll
never ask for more than your love.... Nothing's gonna change my
love for you...”

The rest of the song is a bit of a blur. Blue doesn’t take his
eyes off me and pretty soon everyone has figured out that I’m the
blonde peanut. I fix my gaze firmly on Blue, my cheeks going redder
and redder at each note. It’s a lovely gesture but I’m just a
ta-a-ad embarrassed by the stares. Blue, on the other hand, looks
happy as Larry, until the tricky key change comes in where he
begins to look awkward. He manages to hold the tune somehow. His
voice is really nice, so deep and resonant. Maybe he should
audition for X Factor next year?

When he’s done he says a simple, “Thank you,” before
reverently placing the mike back in its stand.

A couple of tables explode with applause, particularly
emotional break up girl’s crew who emit a few ‘woohoos’. I’m so
embarrassed by this point that I jump up from my seat and rush to
the bar, where I hope Blue will meet me. No sense in letting this
moment of pure cheese marinate in the juice of time. Move it along,
people, nothing to see here. Don’t get me wrong, I love love LOVED
it, I can’t believe this just happened, but I can feel the thoughts
of everyone at the bar hovering above us in a cloud of furious
curiosity and lofty amusement at the expense of this wonderful guy
who just openly sacrificed his male ego for me.

Blue bounces of the stage and in a few steps is next to me,
his arm around my waist. I put my arm around his,

“So what did you think?” He asks, a huge grin on his
face,

“It was... unexpected.”

“Not too cheesy?” He asks.

“I love cheese. Cheese me up. But didn’t you say you’re afraid
of public performances?”

“I thought I’d make an exception. Plus you said I had a good
voice.”

“You do, the crowd enjoyed it as much as I did.”

I gesture around Loft, where most people have gone back to
their conversations, politely not looking at us but obviously
wanting to because they keep stealing glances. There is no better
place in the world for polite cultural norms than England. I feel
like yelling “Thank you for not making a big deal outta this!” to
the bar crowd, but that would be silly.

“But I’ve never told anyone that’s my favourite song,” I
continue.

“I chanced on in when I was listening to your music. Your Most
Played playlist has only one song in it.”

Oh
. The day of the
storm where he’d been listening to my iPod on the
couch...

“But why did you do it? I mean... That was
incredible!”

“Because it seems the guys you’ve had to endure lately have
been right twats, and I wanted to show you I’m not like
that.”

Clearly not
, I want
to say, but I’m speechless. He removes his arms from my waist and
takes both my hands in his.

“So did you want that re-race tomorrow?” He asks.

“Sure, but don’t bank on winning sandwich rights. I have a
sneaking suspicion I’m going to have the race of my life,” I
joke.

“Then my entire existence will now be focused on
winning.”

And he kisses me, and he tastes like wonder and there’s no
going back. I will love this guy, or evaporate from my sheer desire
to love him. And I think of how odd love is, a bizarre illogical
mystery of coincidences that leads us to find that one
person.

***

Chloe and I are sitting at the bar at Jamie’s, just down the
road from Loft. Since leaving Blue he’s sent me a text asking me to
let him know when I get home safety. I had replied immediately
promising I would. I’m not doing any game playing this time. No
waiting two hours before sending a response, no screening calls, no
being scared of texting twice in a row to avoid seeming desperate.
We’ll see how it goes, but so far so good.

Chloe and I have been analysing my Road to
Disaster-turned-Triumph since we ordered our first
round,

“So let’s go through this latest section of your life one more
time. You quit a job you hated,” Chloe begins anew.

“Pro,” I say, sipping my lime soda. I forgot how much I like
this drink.

“But you did it in the most obscene way
imaginable?”

“Con.”

“Nevertheless, you might be getting a job at a bank earning as
much if not more, with fewer hours, more perks and a nicer
boss.”

“Pro.”

“But most of it will be new law that you’ll have to spend
months studying up on?”

“Con.”

“You have a great boyfriend who’ll publically humiliate
himself for you.”