Page 8 of The Moon Also Rises
Jake doesn’t even try to hide his eye roll as he goes back to speaking to Harry.
“Have a think, Harry. Let me know if you can do it. Or tell me how much it would… cost me.”
I cough again. I can’t stop myself because I don’t like hearing what he’s saying. I don’t know the man, but I don’t like the idea of Jake having to pay anyone to be his date, to be a good friend to him.
After Jake hangs up, he stares at his phone for a few seconds, his expression holding onto a slightly sad-looking blankness, and then he blinks, and all his features jump into action again. He combs back some of the loose strands of the ash blond hair that flops onto his forehead and his mouth pulls into a pout that doesn’t do his soft pink lips any favours but it still doesn’t look out of place either. His pale white skin still has a little colour in it, and I’m not surprised considering how much effort he just put into trying to convince his friends to be his date for this wedding. He pulls down on his shirt sleeves and I see then that his navy suit fits his narrow frame well, and for some reason my eyes then roll down his body even though the desk obscures most of it.
“So, do we want coffee for this meeting? Or tea?” he asks as he goes about moving a few more papers from his desk to the floor. With his downcast expression I can’t see the warm hazel shade of his eyes, but I can see how long and elegant his eyelashes are, which is a very weird thing to notice about a new colleague.
“I’ll have a cup of tea.” I stand, abruptly wanting to move. “I’ll go make it.”
“You’ll do no such thing. Only Sharon knows exactly how I like it. When it comes to tea, I mean.” He winks at me before raising his voice. “Shazza! Two teas please!”
I’m pretty sure I hear a grunt or a groan but Jake ignores it, so I decide to as well. A moment later Sharon is stood at the door.
“How do you like your tea, Rami?” she asks.
“Black, no sugar,” I reply with a smile.
“Righty-oh. One no-fun tea for you and one pretentious oat milk tea in which the bag has to be squeezed ten times and stirring is only permissible in a counter clockwise direction for madam over there.” Sharon sharpens her gaze on Jake, but I swear there’s the ghost of a smile on her lips.
“Thank you, Sharon, you old wench.” Jake unplugs his laptop and brings it to the table. “So, shall we get started?”
“Sure,” I say and I open up the corporate calendar in one tab and alongside it a clean page in the Notepad app of my laptop.
Jake takes a moment to look at the chair next to me and then the one on the corner of the table. When he opts for the latter, I sense it’s because it’s slightly further away and I try hard to not take it personally. Quickly, he launches into a big speech about how he and I are supposed to work together. There are no surprises. It’s my job to plan events, budget for them and execute them, and it’s his job to ensure the company’s venues provide everything we need, within his budget and on time.
“It’s going to mean a lot of open communication.” Jake leans back in his chair. “Your predecessor was good at that, I’ll admit, but she didn’t make it much fun. I am much more amenable and accommodating when someone can ask me things with an appropriate emoji. I’m talking smiley faces, not aubergines, just to clarify. And I can be quite partial to an amusing GIF or two on a Friday.”
“Noted,” I say, biting back a grin.
“So, this is where both our teams will have visibility on projects,” Jake says, and he quickly opens up an app that is completely new to me. There are rectangular boxes and text all over the screen. He starts opening more tabs within it as he talks about staff, facilities, catering, and other words I lose. I’m about to ask him to slow down a little when Sharon returns with two steaming mugs of tea.
“Here you go, you lazy man-children,” Sharon mutters as she somehow manages to bang both mugs on the table with a thump and yet not spill a drop.
“Thanks so much,” I say and try to catch her eye with my smile.
“Yes, ta muchly, tea bitch,” Jake says, still focused on the laptop in front of him.
Sharon folds her arms as she stares at Jake. “Need anything else? Your pimples popping? Your arse wiping?”
I frown at Sharon’s words, but Jake doesn’t even blink.
“No, thank you. Go back to your cross-stitch sub-Reddit and leave us be,” he dismisses her and I’m starting to think Sharon is playing her part perfectly when she tuts and marches out of the room.
“So, just to rewind,” I say. “What’s this app called? I don’t think I’ve used it before—” I lean closer to Jake hoping that will stop him skimming through text I’m trying to read. It doesn’t work. What does pull his hand off the laptop’s trackpad is his phone ringing. He retrieves it out of his pocket in a rush.
“It’s Harry! I knew he’d see sense. Pathetic empathetic Pisces that he is,” Jake answers the phone in his next breath. “Hazza! Are you going to put me out of my misery and come to this wedding after all? … What do you mean— … I thought you were calling to— … No, I don’t want to talk about that right now… I know it’s my fortieth but really who cares? … Well,Idon’t care. Tomorrow? If I agree to this, will you come to the wedding with me? … Oh fuck Bicester Village and Mildred! … Sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean that. You know I love Mildred and outlet prices on designer brands as much as the next guy... Fine. Let’s do lunch and discuss… They all want to come too? Jesus. Funny how you all want a free party for my birthday but won’t take the one on offer at this wedding… Yes, I am bitter… Whatever… Yes, ugh, see you tomorrow. Love you, hate you.”
After hanging up Jake throws his phone onto the table and we both watch it slide away from us.
“Still no luck?”
Jake’s lips are clamped shut for so long that I speak again.
“You know, I really don’t mind going with you,” I offer again even though I’m not sure I want him to say yes.
“You don’t know me. And we work together. Two good reasons for me to again say, no.”
