“Not generous enough. I just didn’t have any more cash from the ATM. I need to grab another round, actually. There were people outside who need help.”
“Yes, there are. I told the security guards explicitly to leave them alone, but something must have gone wrong down the chain. They won’t be shoving people in need out of the way again.”
This is crazy. My eyes fix on his. My stupid observation must have been right – call it intuition, I guess.
“Yes, I own the shopping centre,” he says, clocking my expression. “The work party here is always my work party, so to speak. I own the restaurant I’m taking you to.”
I’m trying to make sense of things.
“So you don’t need help?”
“No, I don’t. But plenty of people do. Plenty of people are crying out for people with good souls, willing to help at short notice, no matter what the circumstances.”
I stay quiet, still unsure what the hell is going on as he directs me through to the restaurantFirenzo– it looks very grand. He directs me to a table, and I take a seat on one of the Chesterfield style stools, still mute as he hands me a menu.
“Time to be upfront. I’m going to do something for you, Holly,” he says, then laughs. “Call me kind of eccentric, but I like to channel my charity through many different outlets. Some outlets are like Santa’s grotto, some direct charity donations, some more time based. And some of my charity situations are completely off the wall. Which is why I sent so many of you a proposal this morning.”
“Ok,” I say. “And I responded. But I didn’t expect this, genuinely. I really thought you were a guy who needed my help.”
“Exactly, which is why I trust you’ll stay humble, and think carefully about what you do with the outcome.”
“The outcome?”
“I saw you are a new member of the agency.”
“Quite new, yes.”
“So, you’re still a fledgling. You said you know how it feels to need help.”
“Yeah, I do. Very much so. I was in a horrible situation when I came to London. Working long hours, with barely enough to live on. At least I had a room in a house, though. No matter how crappy it is. A lot of people in need don’t have that luxury.”
The waiter comes over, and User 5639 gestures me to order a drink. I go for an orange juice with athank you.He chooses mineral water.
He leans towards me across the table.
“I’d like you to do me another favour,” he says, once the waiter is out of earshot. “I’ll be giving the agency plenty of money in fees over the coming months, but I’d rather you didn’t lose the twenty percent on this particular one.”
“On thirty pounds?” I say, and wave it aside. “Don’t worry, I don’t need payment for this at all, we can put it down as cancelled.”
“No, no. The agency are welcome to the fee on the thirty pounds.That’snot the money I’m talking about.”
I’m so confused now, it’s crazy.
“I’m not just giving you thirty pounds,” he answers. “I’m giving you thirty thousand.”
I drop my menu in shock.
“Sorry, what?!”
“Thirty thousand pounds,” he says casually. “That’s the reward I’ll be giving you for your generosity today. Please, choose to do with it as you will, but take it with my warm thanks.”
“But I don’t–”
“Need it?” he says, and smiles. “No, I’m sure you don’t. I’m sure the clients are flooding in, but from me to you, please, call it a thank you. For your help.” He gives me back my menu from the tabletop. “But as I requested, please don’t tell the agency of this. They will be having plenty in fees from me. We all have our personal tastes and hobbies, don’t we? I do allow myself some little privileges.”
“Ok,” I tell him, in a bluster. “Um, I don’t know quite what to say.”
“It must be a lot to process, maybe focus on the menu for the time being.”