Page 14 of The Moon Also Rises
“Hello?” I answer.
“Rami, hi.” I hear Jake say over a lot of background noise that suggests he’s outside and surrounded by traffic.
“Jake? Is everything okay? I’m just having some lunch and then I’ll be back in the office,” I say, unsure why I feel the need to explain where I am as if that will ease the shiver of peculiar and totally unnecessary panic running through my veins. Why would Jake call me? And from a different mobile number? I was pretty sure I had his number saved.
“Good God, I’m not your mother checking up on you. I couldn’t give a chimpanzee’s testicle where you are. But I just wanted to quickly ask you something while we were both out of the office.”
“Okay, go ahead,” I say and then I mouth the words ‘Jake’ and ‘work’ to my sister, and she nods but doesn’t stop watching me.
“Well, you know your first day in the office and how hilariously disastrous that was,” he says with a half-hearted laugh.
“When you mistook me for postal staff? Yes, I remember that.” I catch Radia pulling a face.
“Oh, well, if you’re going to just throw all my mistakes back in my face, we may as well stop this conversation right now because we’ll both be old and grey by the time you’re finished,” Jake rushes out.
“Jake, wait. I’m sorry. I was trying to make a joke,” I say.
“Well, I don’t have time for your weak attempts at humour, Rami. Neither of us are getting any younger.”
“I guess that’s true. So what’s up?”
The phone rattles as he sucks in a breath. “I need to ask you a favour.”
“I’m listening.”
“On that first day, you…” Jake pauses, and I wait. “You offered to be my plus one for my friend Lionel’s wedding.”
“I did,” I say and I find Radia’s eyes again. She’s studying me with a small smile, one that I know I’m returning now, although I don’t really know why. I have no reason to smile, do I?
Jake sighs before he speaks again. “Well, is that offer still open?”
Chapter Five
Jake
As I sit and look at the menu, I feel my throat constrict. The prices are extortionate. Maybe if we spend ten minutes or so talking about the upcoming architecture convention that our Manchester hotel is going to host, we can expense it. I certainly don’t expect Rami to pay for it when I’m about to ask him to do such a big favour for me.
Pulling out my wallet I glance quickly at the credit cards I have in there and I mentally try to recall which ones still have some credit available on them. Just as I’m remembering with considerable relief that I paid off an extra three hundred quid on one of my MasterCards last month, I see Rami approaching my table.
Dressing in all black doesn’t normally do anything for me – I’ve long stipulated to anyone listening that it’s only for funerals, kinksters, and goths – but there is something about this uniform of his that suits him. Not that that’s really a compliment. Black personalities are basically as unappealing as head-to-toe black clothing. But I must concede his black trousers fit him well, keeping a nice shape to them when he walks, and his black T-shirts are always a little more than a basic cotton tee, like the one he wears today which has a slightly higher neck than usual and looks like it’s made from a heavy jersey material. His black denim jacket is also deceptively smart, almost edgy in fact, with its matte black buttons and all-black stitching, and I make a note to try asking him the label to see if it’s a brand I can maybe afford. On credit, of course.
“Hey,” Rami says as he sits down opposite me.
“Hi.” I force a smile out. I hope it’s one of my better ones.
“Nice place,” Rami says looking around. “Not sure why we couldn’t walk here together though.”
My smile morphs into a pouted scowl before I can hold it back. “Apart from hungover Burger King dates with Sharon, I never go to lunch with anyone from work. If we had left the building together, it would have been all over Share’s gossip channel before the end of the day.”
Rami’s eyes widen. “There’s a gossip channel on Share? Why didn’t you show me that?”
“Because you’re still new, so youareour gossip. Anyway, trust me. You don’t want people thinking anything romantic is happening between you and me. You’re already on shaky ground with your morose clothing choices and very limited banter. You really don’t want people thinking we’re shagging as well.”
Rami flashes me an unexpectedly quick and wry smile. “But isn’t that exactly what you wantLionelto think?”
I flutter my eyelashes as I swallow. “Yes, about that. I suppose we should discuss it as that’s why we’re here.”
“It is,” Rami says, and he seems to relax a little, leaning back in his chair. Our eyes lock in together and I am momentarily lost for words, stupidly adrift in the iridescent silver of his eyes and it feels like he does me a favour when he looks away and picks up his menu.
