Chapter 8
Sweat slicked EJ’s hands as she hurried to the restaurant. Gwen had texted her the location, but the Uber driver had lost his way, and instead of arriving twenty minutes early as she’d hoped, she was now running about five minutes late. Which was never the way to make a good first impression.
Nerves made her shirt wet, and she really hoped her antiperspirant would hold up for the next two hours. She might be wearing an expensive business suit, but she felt as schlumpy as if she were wearing trackies and Uggs. She wished Maurice had answered his phone to advise her.
“It’s just a simple chat,” she muttered to herself as she clutched the leather satchel containing the handouts she’d rushed to print.
They might be simple, but it was better to have something available in case anyone here wanted more information.
She hoped seeing Dream Match’s app in action on her phone would be enough to get any potential investors across the line.
She hurried down a dark alleyway, really wishing that she had Jordan beside her.
She’d texted him in the Uber, saying what was happening and where she was, but hadn’t had a response.
It was dumb to think he’d drop everything and come, anyway.
He was probably still in Wattle Vale celebrating his mum’s birthday.
Still, it would be nice to think she had a trustworthy friend right now, especially as this was a part of Sydney she wasn’t overly familiar with.
Gratitude filled her as she recognised the wavy neon sign of the bistro twenty metres away.
“Got a spare dollar?” a man asked, slumped on the ground.
She shuddered, then felt ashamed of herself. Katie and Liv would’ve most likely bought the man a meal. And while she sponsored plenty of Asian and African orphans, there was something different about interacting with a poor person one-on-one like this.
“Um, let me see.” She drew out her purse, wondering as she did so if there was a dollar coin to be found—who even carried cash these days?
Then before she knew it, he’d leaped up and snatched the purse.
“Hey! Give it back! Thief!”
She rushed after him, then slipped on the cobblestones, landing hard on her knee. “Ow!”
Another figure appeared near the restaurant, and the thief was rugby-tackled and sent flying to the ground. Her purse was flung towards her, and she scrambled to reach it as her hero straddled the thief’s back, bending his arm back like a policeman’s grip.
“Thank you,” she called, peering through the darkness. It was hard to see his features. She opened her purse, and a quick check showed all was accounted for. “Thank You, Lord.”
“Hey, you don’t need to call me Lord,” a voice she recognised teased.
She stepped closer, then blinked. “Neil? Wh–what are you doing here?”
“Saving the day, obviously.” He grinned, then stood upright, jerking the man to his feet. “Do we call this a citizen’s arrest?”
“Um …” She glanced at the homeless man, whose head lowered.
Compassion twisted within. No, she didn’t want to encourage the man to seek criminal activity, but how could she dismiss him so quickly when she had so much and he obviously had so little? What good would it do to see him reported to the police? “No.”
“No?” Neil asked. “Emma, he tried to rob you. He’s a thief. He’ll do it again.”
She bit her lip, then shook her head. “I hope he won’t.” She drew closer to the man. “You need money?”
He scowled at her, then jerked his chin. As Neil protested, she looked to see if she had a spare twenty-dollar note; then the door to the bistro burst open, spilling light onto the pavement.
“EJ? Is that you?” Gwen called.
“Um, yeah.” EJ turned to Neil. “Are you here for the dinner?”
He nodded as Gwen rushed over, peppering them with questions.
EJ internally sighed as Neil started explaining for her. Giving money to homeless people probably wasn’t the way to show these people she was ruthless and deserving of their investment.
“Oh my gosh, EJ! Come inside! You need a drink after that.” Gwen lasered the homeless man with her glare. “People like you should be locked up!”
Gwen’s Dolce & Gabbana perfume enveloped EJ as she lightly hugged her. “Poor thing. Come on. Let’s get you inside. You must’ve been so frightened!”
EJ allowed herself to be escorted inside as Neil continued to share, making it plain he was the hero of the hour and agreeing with Gwen that the homeless were a scourge on society and more should be done about it.
She was torn between wanting to agree and wanting to go back to give the man some money.
It seemed so wrong to be in this expensive place, wearing designer clothing, knowing the man out there likely had nothing to eat.
“Oh, EJ!” Gwen glanced at her horrified. “Your suit is ruined.”
“What?” She followed Gwen’s gaze to where her trouser leg was stained and, yes, torn. Suddenly her compassion for the man outside dissipated. Great. This would cost hundreds of dollars to replace.
“Come on,” Gwen said. “Let’s get you to the bathroom so you can wash yourself up and get yourself sorted.”
She followed meekly and did the best she could to repair the damage as Gwen tried to reassure that people wouldn’t really notice. Oh, what a terrible way to make a good impression.
“There. You look almost as good as new.” Gwen smoothed back EJ’s hair.
“Thanks.” She winced as she saw her grazed hands.
“Don’t worry about it. Nobody will notice,” Gwen soothed.
Hmm. Hard to believe when Gwen had just noticed it, but she’d have to hope for the best.
“Now, I know that you are probably not quite feeling like you want to do the presentation—”
The presentation!
“—so just relax. Think of tonight as an opportunity to connect.”
There was no way she could relax. Her nerves felt as jittery as popcorn kernels in a microwave. It was hard enough to draw a straight lipstick line. “Okay.”
“And don’t worry about that man. I’ll tell the manager, and we’ll make sure you get home safely.”
“I don’t actually want the man prosecuted.”
“Okay, okay, whatever you wish,” Gwen soothed again. “Now, are you ready? We have a private room at the back, and it’ll be nice and quiet. No more drama, okay?”
“I hope not.” She found a smile. “About the only drama I want is to have a bunch of investors snapping up shares.”
Gwen smiled. “Well, we’ll see what we can do.”
EJ followed as Gwen led the way past sleek tables to a section in the rear. A leather banquette divided the space, allowing for a more private area, a little like the golden table in Bennelong that only the most exclusive people got to use.
She pushed back her shoulders, bracing internally, wishing again that Jordan or Maurice were here, someone she knew was on her side, so she didn’t feel like Daniel walking into the lions’ den. Lord, be with me. Help me, please.
She pasted a smile on her dial and walked in.
Neil instantly rose. “Here she is! You okay now, Emma?”
She nodded, thanking him again, then glanced across the room at people she didn’t recognise.
Then nearly stumbled as she realised who sat beyond Neil. Someone she did recognise. Her nerves instantly rose to fever pitch.
Eric Churchill.
“Hello, EJ.”
She swallowed, but no way was she going to let this man see that he intimidated her. “Eric.”
He smiled. Well, lifted the corners of his mouth in a way unlike his usual smirk. “I hear you had a bit of an incident out there.”
“Yes.” She took her seat. Not the spare one next to him but the one next to Neil. Neil seemed a safer bet right now. She didn’t trust the crocodile grin Eric was offering.
“So, are you okay?”
She nodded, a sudden sting of tears taking her by surprise. How strange that his should be the question that clutched her heart. Maybe it was the way he asked, like he really was concerned. Or maybe that was part of his family legacy of compelling people to act in ways they hadn’t anticipated.
Still, she didn’t have time to let him see that his words affected her, so she tossed her hair back, tucking it behind an ear, then turned to Neil. “I have to say thank you again for your quick thinking out there.”
His chest puffed out a little. “You can thank the years of rugby union practice.”
“Neil once played for Sydney Uni,” Gwen said.
He grinned. “And helped St. Greg’s win three championships while I was in high school.”
She nodded. He seemed like a private school boy, someone who traded on his connections.
A glass of wine was placed before her, with Gwen’s compliments and encouragement to drink, but she refused. The day had already been unsettling enough, and she didn’t want to add anything more to cloud her thinking. “Thanks, but I’m sticking with water tonight.”
“Water?” Gwen’s nose wrinkled.
EJ shrugged. It wasn’t like she needed to explain her reasons.
The waiter took meal orders and the conversation continued, until eventually Gwen caught EJ’s eye and nodded.
Okay, so it’d be showtime soon.
Her phone buzzed, and Jordan’s name appeared. After quickly excusing herself, she snatched it up. “Hello?”
“EJ? Is everything okay?”
She closed her eyes, his voice like a comforting blanket. Again that rush of tears pressed against her eyelids. “It’s okay now.”
“Why? What happened?” he asked quickly.
“Nothing. Um, are you in Sydney or back home?”
“I’m on my way to the bistro, just like you asked.”
Oh, bless him.
“Um, EJ.” Gwen waved to get her attention. “Are you ready?”
How she wished she had a few minutes more in order to get Jordan here too.
But he wasn’t, and she couldn’t delay much longer.
She nodded, then spoke softly into the phone.
“Look, I have to get started, but can you please pray? I’ve got a few potential investors here, and I need to start without you. ”
“I’ve been praying since your text message came in.”
Her heart pricked. Did that mean he’d been praying when the man attacked her? Lord, bless him. “Thank you. I need to go, but we need to talk soon. Can I call you tonight once it’s done?”
“You don’t still want me to come in?”