Page 20 of Oz
He shoots me a look. “Who do you think?”
“Oz, of course.” He laughs and I shoot him a look. “He’s very different from the sort of person you said you wanted for the job, Niall.”
He hums thoughtfully. “I know. But I sat in the interview room and it was like they’d all been made by Mattel. Perfect and plastic. I wassobored and then he walked in and the room came alive. And I thought how sick I was of public school Barbie and Kens. He’s perfect for–” He pauses. “I just sat there and I thought, I want him.”
“You want him?” My voice is a little sharper than I want but I can’t backtrack because Niall knows me better than anyone. He should do. We were roommates at boarding school and all through uni.
He stops abruptly and turns to face me. “Of course not.”
“What do you mean by that? What’s wrong with him?”
He smiles while I stare at him. “Absolutely nothing. He’s just not for me.”
“Then who is he for?” I ask, but I’m distracted by the sound of raised voices and quicken my pace.
By mutual accord we stop before the door and poke our heads around.
Mr Johnson the builder is pacing agitatedly around the rubble-strewn room, pausing only to shout and wave his hands around. Oz, meanwhile, looks as cool as a cucumber. He’s leaning against the wall, his ankles neatly crossed. I watch as he checks his nails and sighs resignedly while Milo, clutching an armful of plans, looks askance at him.
“Mr Johnson,” Oz finally says, and although he isn’t loud his voice cuts through the room and the builder stops. “Mr Johnson, can I call you Barry?” Milo mutters something and Oz nods. “Okay, I won’t call you Barry because apparently that isn’t your name.” He pauses. “Although it would suit you.”
I repress a snort of laughter and Niall turns a laughing face to me.
“What the hell are you on about?” Mr Johnson roars.
“Well, I like to be friendly,” Oz says primly. He turns a warm gaze on the man that obviously startles him. “I’m just sosorryfor everything.”
“What?” The builder sounds worried now and his eyes are fixed on Oz who shakes his head in a very sorrowful manner.
“I’m sorry that times are so hard for you.”
“Times are so hard forme?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Oz puts a hand up to his mouth. “That’s just what I’ve heard.”
“Heard? Heard where? Who the fuck is spreading rumours about me?”
“I really don’t know. Isn’t it terrible?” Oz sighs. He moves closer to the man and lowers his voice. “They’re saying you can’t complete jobs anymore what with the problems with your workforce and everything.”
“What bloody problems with my workforce?”
Oz looks at him confidingly and I want to shout with laughter. “Well, the rampant alcoholism amongst your men.”
Milo stares at Oz and Mr Johnson goes slowly purple in the face. “What the hell do you mean?”
“Well, talk says they’re always in the pub and a few people have seen the pig’s ear here and–” He shrugs. “They put two and two together and made–”
“Seventeen,” the builder barks but Oz slowly shakes his head.
“I’d have said four myself.”
“What the hell would you know about it, you tatted-up bog-trotting Southerner?”
My fists clench and I go to push my way in but Niall grabs my arm. “No. Leave him.”
“He’s getting really offensive.”
“So? Watch. Oz has got this.”
