Chapter 11
MrLoveByte
Where are you hiding, NewGirl?
I’m not sure if he’s giving Joey Tribbiani from Friends or Joe Goldberg from You .
Is he flirty, or frightening? There’s a fine line – well, there is when you have an ick alarm as sensitive as mine.
I’m pretty sure it’s charming, I’m just resisting, as always, but I don’t feel like I’ve having a very good run with men at the moment, so you’ll forgive me for swearing off them.
NewGirl
I’m hoping I’ll get to meet everyone soon. Paige is keeping me busy.
Maybe I shouldn’t have done that but I’m bored, sitting alone in a restaurant, waiting for my job which, it turns out, is not really a job. I suppose the fact that it seems so silly is the reason why I’m happy to bend the rules, just a little.
MrLoveByte
Ahh, you must be beautiful then.
NewGirl
What makes you say that?
MrLoveByte
Because she hides the beautiful women away – she’s got a real bee in her bonnet about no one in the office having relationships (except her). I thought Matcher was supposed to be about finding love?
Oh, well, that’s interesting. And an insight into Paige that I wasn’t expecting. Ludicrous, though, to suggest Matcher is a place for finding love. Give me a break.
NewGirl
I thought Matcher was for finding hook-ups?
MrLoveByte
I’m not opposed to that either.
NewGirl
It’s my birthday today!
MrLoveByte
Oh, and I haven’t even got you a present.
NewGirl
You don’t know my name – how could you have known my birthday?
MrLoveByte
That’s a good point. I’m sure I can think of something to give you when I see you…
I can’t help but smile at my phone. He’s cheeky.
I wonder if he’s right, about Paige, or if he’s just slagging off the boss – something I could see myself doing, if I had someone here to talk to, because as much as I’m enjoying being here in Sydney, the task she has finally set me (beyond just, y’know, swiping on her dating app) is not really a task at all.
She wants me to sit in on a meeting. Sort of.
Actually, no, not at all – she wants me to sit next to a meeting.
Yep, there’s a meeting here, tonight, in the hotel restaurant, and Paige has booked me a seat at a table where I can observe the meeting from a distance (she’s told me what table they’ll be at) but that I have only to watch and make notes.
Under no circumstances am I to interact with anyone, because apparently I’ll ‘disrupt the flow’ of the meeting.
I shouldn’t even let them know I’m there, she said.
So I just have to sit here, waiting for them to arrive, and then…
what? Watch them eat dinner? Again, I can’t complain, because it’s an easy job and they’re paying me for it but, I don’t know, as far as job satisfaction does, I don’t really feel like I have any – I don’t really feel like I have a job.
I’m making a real meal of it (no pun intended), mostly because I’m bored.
I’ve got my notebook and a pen, ready to jot down important notes like ‘everyone ordered the steak’ or ‘one person sneezed’.
Still, it’s a nice restaurant, with a cosy vibe, decorative wooden beams, low-key romantic lighting.
If I were to make one note, it would be that this isn’t an ideal setting for a meeting.
Next time they should choose somewhere with more light – and no pianist.
It’s nice though, and the views out over Sydney Harbour are stunning. I’m making the most of looking out of the window while I can, before my role switches to staring across the room at a table, watching people like a creep.
I’m also making the most of the fact that this is a restaurant, and I don’t have to pay for anything, and really, ordering food is the only cover I have, so I guess I’ll just have to keep it coming – well, I wouldn’t want to look out of place.
I’m sampling the local seafood, and drinking cocktails, and I haven’t even looked at the dessert menu yet, but I reckon I could order those back to back all night, if I needed to.
Let it never be said I’m not dedicated to my job.
Plus, you know, it is my birthday, and I am spending it alone.
I may as well keep myself company with food – and it means the waitstaff come over more. I’m just trying to forge some company.
Oh, could this be them? Two people are being shown to the table – the one I’m supposed to be watching.
I can see a woman – a beautiful Bondi blonde.
Like, I’m blonde, but my colour comes out of a series of bottles in a North London hairdressers.
This woman is a real blonde, the kind of colour that only comes from winning a genetic lottery and living her life in the sun, swimming in the sea, running on the beach, and probably drinking smoothies – ones with green stuff in.
She’s wearing an evening dress, not really the kind you would wear to a meeting, but I suppose it is evening, and we are in a restaurant.
I don’t know if she’s the client or the person from Matcher or what, until I see who is pulling out her chair for her – a man, the man, the one I got stuck in the lift with.
So I would imagine he’s the reason I’m here, the one I’m on hand to assist, if he needs me, which so far he hasn’t.
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…