“… and client satisfaction ratings have increased, year-on-year-”
“Stop right there.” A man standing at the window, whom I hadn’t even noticed before, turns around. He has an American accent, a dark suit, and chestnut-colored hair brushed straight back. There’s a deep V-shaped frown between his eyebrows, and he’s looking at the wavy-haired guy as though he represents some great personal disappointment to him. “Client satisfaction ratings aren’t what we’re about. I don’t want to perform work that a client rates as an A. I want to perform work that I rate as an A.”
The man with wavy hair looks wrong-footed, and I feel a stab of sympathy for him.
“Of course,” he mumbles.
“The emphasis in this room is all wrong.” The American guy frowns around the table. “We’re not here to perform tactical quick fixes. We should be influencing strategy. Innovating. Since I’ve been over here…”
I tune out as I notice Sadie sliding into the chair next to me. I scribble WHICH MAN? and push my pad across.
“The one who looks like Rudolph Valentino,” she says, as though surprised I even need to ask.
For God’s sake.
HOW WOULD I KNOW WHAT BLOODY RUDOLPH VALENTINO LOOKS LIKE? I scribble. WHICH ONE?
I’m betting on the wavy-haired man. Unless it’s the blond guy sitting right at the front; he looks quite nice. Or maybe that chap with the goatee?
“Him, of course!” Sadie points to the other side of the room.
THE MAN GIVING THE PRESENTATION? I write, just to confirm it.
“No, silly!” She giggles. “Him!” She appears in front of the American man with the frown, and gazes at him longingly. “Isn’t he a dove?”
“Him?”
Oops. I spoke out loud. Everyone turns to look at me, and I hastily try to sound as though I’m clearing my throat: “Hmrrrm hrrrmm.”
SERIOUSLY, HIM? I write on my pad of paper as she returns to my side.
“He’s delicious!” she says in my ear, sounding affronted.
I survey the American guy dubiously, trying to be fair. I suppose he is quite good-looking in that classic preppy way. His hair springs up from a broad, square brow, he has the hint of a tan, and dark wrist hair is visible inside his immaculate white cuffs. And his eyes are penetrating. He’s got that magnetic quality that leaders always seem to have. Strong hands and gestures. As he speaks, he commands attention.
But honestly. He’s so totally not my sort. Too intense. Too frowny. And everyone else in the room seems terrified of him.
“Speaking of which.” He picks up a plastic folder and skims it deftly across the table toward the goatee-beard guy. “Last night I put together some points with regard to the Morris Farquhar consultation. Just a memo. Might help.”
“Oh.” Goatee-beard guy looks utterly taken aback. “Well… thanks. I appreciate it.” He flips through wonderingly. “Can I use this?”
“That’s the general idea,” says the American guy, with a smile so wry and brief you’d miss it if you blinked. “So, regarding the final point…”
From my place at the back, I can see goatee-beard guy leafing through the typed pages, agog. “When the hell did he have time to do this?” he mutters to his neighbor, who shrugs.
“I have to go.” The American guy suddenly consults his watch. “My apologies for hijacking the meeting. Simon, please continue.”
“I have just one question.” The sandy-haired man hurriedly raises his hand. “When you’re talking about innovating procedure, do you mean-”
“Quick!” Sadie’s voice suddenly resounds in my ear, making me jump. “Ask him on a date! He’s leaving! You promised! Do it! Do-it-do-it-do-it-”
OK!!!!!! I scrawl, flinching. JUST GIVE ME A SECOND .
Sadie stalks to the other side of the room and watches me expectantly. After a while she starts making impatient Come on! gestures with her hands. Mr. American Frown has finished answering the sandy-haired guy and is pushing some papers into his briefcase.
I can’t do this. It’s ludicrous.
“Go on! Go on!” Sadie’s voice blasts my eardrum again. “Ask!”
Blood is pulsating around my head. My legs are trembling under the table. Somehow I force myself to raise a hand.
“Excuse me?” I say in an embarrassed squeak.
Mr. American Frown turns and surveys me, looking puzzled. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m in a hurry-”
“I have a question.”
Everyone around the table has swiveled to look at me. I can see a man whispering “Who’s that?” to his neighbor.
“OK.” He sighs. “One more quick question. What is it?”
“I… um… It’s just… I wanted to ask…” My voice is jumpy and I clear my throat. “Would you like to go out with me?”
There’s a stunned silence, apart from someone spluttering on their coffee. My face is boiling hot, but I hold steady. I can see a few astounded looks passing between the people at the table.
“Excuse me?” says the American man, looking bewildered.
“Like… on a date?” I risk a little smile.
Suddenly I’m aware of Sadie beside him. “Say yes !” she shrieks into his ear, so loudly that I want to flinch on his behalf. “Say yes! Say yes!”
To my astonishment, I can see the American man reacting. He’s cocking his head as though he can hear some distant radio signal. Can he hear her?