Page 33 of A Lot to Unpack
He’s wearing a suit – an expensive-looking one – and a watch that looks like it’s worth more than my life. I can’t believe he’s the one I’m here to watch.
He takes his seat, smiling at the blonde, and they start talking. Then laughing, and she’s got her hand on his arm, like he just said the fuuuuunniest thing. Nothing is that funny, is it? I don’t think a man has ever made me laugh like that – not unless you count Jimmy Carr, and even then, he was talking to a theatre full of people, not just me.
I squint, as though that’s going to make it easier to hear, but I can’t tell what they’re talking about. I can only try to read their vibe, but I’ll tell you this: neither of them has so much as an iPad, a sheet of paper, a notebook – nothing.
It doesn’t look businessy. It looks flirty. They’re talking, laughing, looking relaxed and yet somehow like they’re still on their best behaviour (so if it is a date, it’s an early one). Then again, no one seems to find the need to be their best self on first dates with me, so why would this guy be any different?
Why on earth has Paige sent me here? Why does she have me watching him from afar like this? And what the hell am I supposed to report back to her with? The two of them seem happy together. Totally comfortable in each other’s company. They’re getting on like a house on fire if I’m being honest with you. There’s… a familiarity, maybe? Does Paige want to know about that? They are definitely holding date levels of eye contact, that’s for sure – but then again maybe that’s a business move? How would I know? The girl who lied her way through an interview to bag a job that is seemingly not a job at all.
I grab my cocktail and drink as much and as quickly as the straw will allow me to. Maybe I am going to have to order a dessert or two, because they’ve only just got here, and they don’t look like they’ll be moving any time soon.
I pick two: something mango, and something chocolatey. I’m doing vital work here.
By the time my dessert arrives I could swear they’re leaning in toward each other. She’s twirling her hair. He’s smiling like she’s just told him something filthy.
I’m not sure what exactly Paige is expecting to hear from me, what kind of details she wants to hear, but whatever is going on at that table, I dunno, it’s not like any business meeting I’ve ever sat in on.
Perhaps, when I report back to Paige, I’ll have a better idea about what exactly it is she wants to know, and then I’ll work out exactly how much to tell her.
My phone buzzes on the table, making me jump for no reason other than the fact I’m trying to be incognito here.
I pick it up, unlock it and see that I have another happy birthday message – all of the other ones have made me smile, but not this one. This one is from Ben.
Ben
Happy Birthday
That’s all it says. Nothing else. No apology. No kiss at the end. No punctuation full stop. I’m not saying a full stop – or even an exclamation mark – would have compelled me to send a polite reply but, come on, guy, that’s a poor effort. I suppose I should just count myself lucky that he didn’t send me a photo of his knob with a lit candle sticking out of it – now that would have been effort.
Ugh. I already said I’m not doing this today. The man is still living rent free in my head and not only should he not be there on my birthday, he shouldn’t be there at all. In fact – there – I’ve blocked him. We should be blocking more people from our lives, and not just their messages, but their entire person. I know I’d be a lot happier if I blocked people.
I need to focus, get back to the task at hand, and think about what I’m going to tell Paige.
And while I do it, seeing as though I need to sit here a bit longer, more food for me, I guess…
12
I’m at Matcher HQ today – and relieved to tell you that the lift is working. It’s funny, when the man I got stuck with said he would rather chance it breaking down than take the stairs every day, I thought he was crazy, but when I arrived here this morning, walked into reception, my entire body feeling stiff from the freezing December weather outside, it made sense. The thought of walking up all those stairs, well, it made me roll the dice on the lift without batting an eye.
Should I be nervous, that Paige has called me in? I guess because so far my job has been, well, not very jobby, it feels like a red flag to be invited here to talk, especially when I’ve just got back from Sydney.
‘Hello,’ I say brightly, stepping into Paige’s corner office.
‘You’ve caught the sun,’ she points out. ‘Look at your tan.’
‘Yeah, I could definitely get on board with living six months here, six months in Australia,’ I joke – although I could.
‘Sit,’ she tells me, pointing to the chair on the other side of her desk. ‘I got us coffees and pastries.’
Okay, so this is either really good news, or really bad, because she’s either trying to soften me – or – the blow from whatever she’s about to say.
‘Lovely,’ I reply, holding my nerve.
I don’t know if I feel penned in or exposed, here in her office, which is basically a glass box in the sky. I’m a little unnerved by the fact that all of the walls are glass, meaning everyone else in the office can see right in here, so if I have an emotional outburst, everyone will see. Cool.
‘So,’ she begins, her face giving nothing away. ‘Tell me about the dinner in Sydney.’
I sit up a little straighter.
