Authors: Bruce Beckham
‘It was Sharon.’
He nods patiently – of
course they both know that. What he understands too is that a small fear
has been allayed. It had occurred to him that if Jasmin-Sharon had
admitted her involvement with them (or him), then Xara might have
intervened. But if the latter had any hand in postponing tonight’s visit,
then at least secrecy has been preserved. As it is, he guesses Jasmin-Sharon
has run into trouble with a client whom she was probably trying to fit in
before seeing them – until Monique corrects this misapprehension:
‘It is her grandfather – he
has been taken ill and rushed into hospital.’
‘Really?’ This isn’t what
he’d expected, and for a moment it suppresses his scepticism.
‘A suspected heart attack.
She is there waiting to see him.’
‘At this time of night?’
‘That is what she said.’
‘Did she say which hospital?’
Monique shakes her head.
‘Do you believe her?’
‘Why should I not, my darling?’
‘I just wonder… how many times
her grandfather has suffered conveniently timed heart attacks.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Has she mentioned a grandfather
before?’
‘No… but – we have hardly
had that kind of conversation. I am sure it is true. She sounded
extremely upset – she was crying.’
‘You know the expression
crocodile
tears
.’
‘Adam – why are you being
so unkind to her?’
‘I’m not – I mean, I don’t
intend to be. I’m just a bit suspicious.’
‘She would not make up something
like that – about a member of her family?’
‘Why not? It’s the perfect
kind of excuse. There’s no way we can be upset with her. And no way
to check it out. Not that most of her clients would go to the trouble.’
‘But… why would she make an
excuse?’
‘She got a better offer.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She said it herself. I
think it was when she phoned us in the middle of the night, after last
time. She’d drop anything to come to see us… except an ‘overnight’.
I don’t think she even noticed she was saying it – it was like she was speaking
her thoughts aloud.’
‘But… she said she was
free. She was the one to suggest tonight.’
‘Yeah – but it only takes
someone to roll into town, phone her on spec…’
‘But… she likes… us. She
likes being with us.’
‘I’ll tell you what she likes
better.’
‘You mean the money?’
‘And what it buys. Look how
much she makes for an ‘overnight’ – you’ve seen the website. It’s
money for old rope. I’d consider sleeping next to some snoring old git
for that kind of payday.’
Monique looks at him quizzically
– he thinks she’s tempted for a moment to make a joke about him, but the
disconcerting notion that Jasmin-Sharon might be standing them up reasserts
precedence. She laments:
‘Well… maybe you are right.
But why would she make up a false story? Surely she could just tell us
the truth and we would understand – we knew she was giving us a kind of
discount for tonight – we would not have wanted to deprive her of earning
a lot of money.’
‘Monique – it’s what people
do. It’s what you do. Think about it – what do you say when
you’ve got two customers who both want you to go for a meeting on the same
day? I bet you never mention the other client. You tell them what
you think they’d like to hear – you’re away on a training course, you’ve
had a car crash, there’s a funeral –
Monique shrugs in reluctant
acceptance of the principle, though still looks unwilling to apply it to
Jasmin-Sharon. She says:
‘Yes, my darling – but
usually you do that through a secretary or colleague, not in person. I
just spoke to Sharon and she sounded genuine to me. Her crying… it was
real, I am sure.’
‘Monique.’ He hears his
tone, impatient-patience. ‘These girls make a living out of faking
it. We shouldn’t be surprised if she does it to us once in a while.
I mean – I don’t think she’s ‘all there’ all of the time.’
‘Poor girl… she was almost
hysterical – scared.’
‘Scared of you being mad at her.’
‘You are too cynical, my
darling.’
Adam, arms folded, raises his
shoulders, holding the pose, a gesture of unsold acceptance. ‘Maybe I
am. Anyway – there’s not a lot we can do about it. If you ask
me she got a better offer and that’s where she is right now – that was
probably her cigarette break when she phoned. Otherwise why wait two
hours to let us know? I think she was trying to let us down gently via
the
‘head in the sand’
method followed by the
‘damsel in distress’
technique. Don’t all girls learn these at finishing school?’
Now Monique smiles
sympathetically. ‘Are you disappointed, my darling?’
He’s wrong-footed for a moment by
her change of direction. ‘No… no… not at all – we’ve had a really
nice time.’ He looks earnestly at her. ‘Haven’t we?’
She nods in vigorous
confirmation. ‘She tricked us into dressing up for one another… turning
our bedroom into a boudoir!’
‘Wait a minute… this isn’t
something you’ve cooked up between you, is it?’ He’s not exactly serious,
but poses the question in an even tone.
‘What do you mean, my darling?’
‘She never was going to come?’
Monique shakes her head, her eyes
widening. ‘No, my darling – there was no trick… except…’ She
trails off, shyly, Adam thinks.
‘Except what?’
‘Oh – maybe you should wait
until next time.’
‘
What
next time?
Anyway I don’t want to wait – tell me.’
Monique reaches for her wine
glass and takes a long draught. He can’t tell if it’s for Dutch courage
or if she’s just composing her answer. After a moment or so she takes a
deep breath and the words spill out:
‘Sharon – Jasmin –
was going to bring a double… thing… you know… a double-dildo – the kind
that two girls can use together… or a girl can use on a man.’ Now she
laughs nervously, suggesting both embarrassment and devilment.
‘Naughty. And which part of
that did you think I might like?’ A flashback revisits him.
Monique tosses her ringlets so
they hide her eyes. ‘Probably both, would be my guess.’
‘Ouch.’
‘You never know, my darling
– it might do you good to get more in touch with your feminine side.’
‘And you your masculine?’
‘I was thinking I would be
watching.’
‘You are a bad girl, beneath all
those sweet curls.’
‘Good bad.’
‘Okay then, good bad.’
‘Maybe I should buy us one, just
in case – now I know where to shop.’
‘You’re getting to know too
much. You’ll start charging me soon.’
She drinks again, as if she’s
readying herself to take a run at the next hurdle. ‘How much could I ask,
do you think? More or less than Sharon?’
‘More than double.’ And he’s sure she probably could.
‘Would you like it if I
visited you?’
He knows exactly where she is
going, but now he is forced to stall. This path is overhung by shadowy
fears he wishes to avoid. He says:
‘What do you mean,
visited?
’
‘Well – if you were a
business executive – and I came to your hotel room – for an
outcall?
’
‘I
am
a business
executive.’ He avoids the direct reply.
‘So – would you be… pleased
– when you saw me?’
‘I’m not sure I want to think
about it.’
‘Come on, my darling – I am
just saying… joking – would you fancy me if I arrived at your door?’
‘You’re not thinking of a new
sideline?’
‘Adam – how could you say
that? You almost sound serious – don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Well – why are you
asking?’
‘You know… they say how a good
wife should be a… a
whore
in the bedroom?’ She lobs in the
expression like a hand grenade, then ducks for cover behind her glass, eyes
sparkling behind fluttering lashes.
‘You are very attractive –
you know I think that. Look at what happened tonight.’
But his compliment is
half-hearted, and her features cloud a little.
‘You are disappointed that Sharon
has not arrived?’
He means to disagree, but falters
in his reply. Such hesitation risks a contradictory signal, so he
dramatises the pause and leans towards her, resting his chin on the bridge of
his intertwined fingers. He says:
‘To be honest, Monique, I feel a
little bit relieved.’
‘Why, my darling?’
‘Well… we can’t rely on someone
like her to make things exciting.’
Now he takes a drink. He
resumes, keeping a poker face:
‘Anyway, since you’re in training
as her understudy, she’ll soon be out of a job.’
‘Adam! You are bad, saying
these things. I am only asking if you find me sexy.’
Now he says more lightly:
‘You make it sound like you’re
thinking about it, that’s all. And we talked about it in Jurmala,
remember?’
‘Yes – but that was just
messing around – to make us aroused. Sure – you can think
about what it would be like, but… the answer is…’ She shudders
dramatically to complete the sentence.
‘Your friend Sharon manages it
fine.’ He probes again. ‘Don’t you think it might be exciting to go
along with her? Just for the thrill.’
Monique creases her brow.
‘You just said you would not want me to do that.’
‘I couldn’t stand it.’
Her consternation softens.
She says:
‘Nor I. It would be
terrifying.’
He twirls the stem of his glass
and stares thoughtfully into the mini whirlpool of wine. ‘Never mind the
fact that you only want to be with me.’
‘You know that, my darling.’
She reaches a hand across the
table to take his. Adam looks up. She’s gazing intently at him, but
doesn’t speak. He says:
‘I just keep thinking… well… this
would have been the second time we’ve done a ‘two-girl’… thing. What’s to
stop you wanting to do some kind of ‘two-guy’ thing? Or some ‘completely
crazy’ thing?’
‘I told you before – and
after Jurmala… you know? – I don’t want that. This affair with
Sharon is completely different – I feel relaxed about you and her, and
about us together with her.’
Adam notices she doesn’t mention
the other pairing, she with Jasmin-Sharon, but he lets it pass, along with her
use of the word
affair
. Maybe she used the French, this
business
.
While he’s partly reassured by her response to his testing, her seemingly
unguarded replies showing no sign that she’s got something to hide, there’s
still a nagging doubt that she has glossed over the depth of involvement she’s
had with Jasmin-Sharon – texts, phone calls, perhaps meeting for at least
a drink, certainly arranging this abortive second encounter.
Nevertheless, she is making him feel any ideas of ‘professional involvement’
are overly fanciful. He says:
‘If you say so, Moni. Call
it one of those things you should do before you die. But maybe it’s for
the best she didn’t show tonight.’
‘Do you think we should
not
rearrange to see her?’
‘Maybe. What about you?’
‘Well… I would feel a bit awkward
telling her no, especially just after she has had this bad news. It might
seem like we are punishing her for not keeping the appointment.’
Adam senses there’s more to it
than that. He doubts Monique wants to break up what has become a
stimulating relationship – she probably sees no harm in prolonging her
contact with the girl, even if the contractual aspects were to be
terminated. And there’s that part of her nature that always wants to
please – why say no when you can both feel good? He says:
‘Anyway, the next two weekends
we’ll be travelling to and from Shanghai.’
Monique creases her brow, then
brightens again. ‘It is true about China – it will put things off
for a while. And that will be exciting for us, my darling.’
‘Hans emailed me to say we need
visas. I’ll go to the embassy on Monday in case there’s a hitch.
Now you’ve not been secretly accessing dissident Chinese call girls’ blogs, I
hope?’
She says, demurely:
‘The Chinese ought to treat me as
an honoured guest – we placed an order this week for five million
soft-toy pandas for a client’s promotion.’
‘I thought you just made the
ads?’
‘Until recently – but
through AMIE I’ve made contacts who can organise promotional merchandise
– some of the bigger agencies offer a sourcing service – so we’ve been
able to sub-contract the work and we get an agreed commission.’
‘Why don’t your clients just do
it themselves – surely it would be cheaper for them?’
‘Until something goes wrong
– like when pirates start pushing the containers into the Indian
Ocean. Or a small child chokes on a glass eye that was not properly
sewn. Then they wish someone else had made the contract. The
sensible clients give the work to specialists who understand the risk.’
‘So who’s the specialist importer
of cuddly pandas?’
He gets a sudden sense that his
hand rests upon on the lid of a little Pandora’s box – is it the flicker
of disquiet in Monique’s eyes, or the almost imperceptible delay in her
reply? Whichever, her answer confirms his intuition:
‘It is the marketing group run by
the AMIE President.’
‘That… Lucien guy?’ His
feigned uncertainty is clumsy; he knows it must transmit alarm signals of his
own.
‘Aha.’
Adam affects a yawn, he
stretches, wishing to displace the displeasure that ripples through his
body. He’s irked by this news – an additional reason for Monique to
have contact with Lucien, another forum for dialogue that can so easily lead to
intimacy. He says:
‘I suppose you’ve got the added
advantage of the language?’