Chapter 4
FOUR
CARMINE
“God, I miss my old place,” Carmine said.
“Here we go,” Samantha replied. “Tell me all about your fancy L.A. office again. I can hardly wait.”
They were shifting a table for the third time. Despite it being sub-zero temperatures outside, Carmine was working up a sweat. Everything had to be right. If an architect can’t create a welcoming space for clients, what does it say about his abilities?
“I’m not sure you’re supposed to talk to the boss like that. A little more to the left.”
“We had it there to start with.”
She was right. There were no other options available. The whole place was way smaller than he’d been used to. The meeting room they were frantically getting ready barely fitted two people.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s leave it. Soft furnishings?”
Samantha glanced at her watch. “It’s only just gone one thirty. I’ve got time to run out and get some flowers.”
They walked into the main working space they shared. It wasn’t much bigger. At least it fitted a decent-sized workstation for Carmine and Samantha’s desk, which doubled as coffee-making space.
“You might have to get a vase too,” Carmine replied. “Unless there’s one in the bathroom.”
She frowned at him. “How likely do you think that is?”
Carmine shared her frustration. He’d been aghast at the prices of office real estate in the centre of Manchester. He’d considered going out of town but decided he had to be as convenient as possible to his customers. At least until he’d built a reputation.
“It’s only temporary,” he replied. “A few decent clients like this soccer—”
“Football.”
“This football star and we’ll be flying. Then I promise you working conditions fit for the princess you are.”
Samantha flopped down in her chair. “If that’s the deal, then I’ll buy a scented candle too. This place still stinks.”
The previous occupants had been tech nerds. It appeared that smoking weed had been on the agenda most days. There was still a faint whiff despite having the windows open for as long as they could bear most days. The cold forcing them to close them eventually.
“Good idea. Perhaps I should get you a date with this footballer. You know, to distract him.”
Samantha dropped the pen she’d been fiddling with.
“Are you dead?”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s the only explanation. Noah Farman is one of the gay musketeers.”
Carmine stopped.
“The what?”
“That’s what the press call them. Surely your dad has told you about what’s been going on at Brockton?”
Now she mentioned it, Stefano had been banging on about the influx of gay players in his local team.
Brockton FC had been customers of La Piazza since they opened.
Of course, Stefano was still a huge fan.
Although he did lament that some of his customers were not happy about the changes at the club.
“I couldn’t care less,” Carmine said. “As long as his money’s good, this is a great chance at getting my name out there.”
Samantha’s mobile rang out. Carmine flinched.
“Erm, remember the rule? No phones during work time.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you meant it.”
“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it? I hate phones in the office.”
The phone rang out. Samantha sighed.
“I don’t mind you checking it…”
“How simply marvellous of you.”
Everyone he’d worked with in Los Angeles had been happy to adopt this rule. Whilst he hadn’t been the ultimate boss, he had risen highly enough in the architecture practice that his word was followed. As he watched Samantha fiddling with her phone, he suspected those days were long gone.
“Who was it?”
“Oh some guy. Nothing important.”
“Am I being too heavy-handed?”
Samantha grinned at him. “You’re trying your best. It’s quite sweet really. Don’t worry, we’ll soon settle in with each other.”
Why did that sound so menacing?
The soccer player would be there at any moment. A wave of nerves washed over him. It wasn’t the celebrity aspect of Noah that worried him. Carmine had designed for far more famous people in his time. It was the fact this was his first potential customer under his own name.
He really didn’t want to screw it up. Carmine was superstitious. He got it from Nonna who’d instilled a hundred ridiculous notions in his head as a child.
“God, I hope we get this,” he said.
“Relax for goodness’ sake,” Samantha replied. “Being a bag of nerves won’t help anyone. Do you want some of my rescue remedy?”
She held up a small vial of liquid. Carmine took it.
“It can’t hurt.”
“Princess Diana used to swear by it.”
He flipped the lid off and swigged the contents.
“Hey,” Samantha shouted. “You’re only supposed to have a few drops.”
“I need all the help I can get.”
Samantha was preparing a mail drop of the brochures Carmine had had created at great expense. She’d tried to persuade him that emailing would be far cheaper. Carmine disagreed. Sometimes the old ways were better. Emails were too easily deleted.
He checked the meeting room for the umpteenth time. Samantha had done a great job. A vase of pink hydrangeas sat in the middle of the table. A scented candle burned away on the windowsill. She’d even managed to get some prints of Manchester and hung them.
She might be the cheekiest assistant he’d ever met. But she was efficient too. Besides, he’d begun to warm to her.
The buzzer went, making them both jump.
“It’s showtime,” Samantha said.
“Okay,” Carmine replied, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers. “I’ll wait in there. No wait, does that seem like I’m used to having an office and don’t have one?”
“Sit down,” Samantha instructed. “I’ll answer the door personally.”
She swept out of the small office. The main entrance to the office block was along a corridor. Carmine took a moment. He had to manage his expectations. This guy probably wanted a mock Tudor mansion with gold dolphin taps and a mosaic of himself in the swimming pool.
He shuddered when he remembered a client in L.A. who had insisted on a fully mirrored dressing room. Narcissism was an essential attribute in the City of Angels.
The door opened and Samantha came in. She looked flushed, which came as a surprise. He’d assumed nothing would crack that sarcastic crust.
The man who followed literally shook Carmine to his core. Now he understood Samantha’s blotchiness.
In his early to mid-twenties, Noah Farman was shorter than Carmine had expected. Even so, his light brown skin positively glowed and the nervous glint in his eyes was adorable.
With shaky legs, Carmine stood and extended his hand.
“Mr Farman.”
Oh God, don’t sound so breathless. Get a grip.
“Call me Noah.”
“Noah. Welcome.”
“Thank you.”
Noah glanced around. It appeared he was far more confident on grass than in this setting. Something else that instantly grabbed Carmine’s interest. He wasn’t going to get a cocky sport star with no taste, then.
Hold that mosaic swimming pool.
“Please,” Carmine said. “Come through. Can we get you anything to drink?”
“Some water would be good.”
Carmine glanced at Samantha, who hadn’t taken her eyes off their potential client.
“Samantha?”
“What’s up?”
“Could you get Noah some water, please.”
“Oh right,” Samantha replied, snapping to attention. “Yes. Water. One sec.”
She gave a high-pitched giggle before heading off to the communal kitchen.
Carmine led Noah into the meeting room. He took a seat and gestured to the one opposite him. Now they were alone without Samantha’s beady eyes on them, his confidence flourished.
“I will warn you now,” Carmine said. “I know nothing about football.”
Noah beamed. His whole face lit up.
“That’s a refreshing change,” he replied. “It seems to be all I ever talk about.”
Samantha knocked and came in. She set a glass of water carefully in front of Noah.
“Thank you,” he said.
She blushed and left them to it.
“Sorry,” Carmine said. “I think she may be a bit starstruck.”
Noah chuckled. “It happens.”
I’m sure it does.
They both stared at each other. Seemingly lost for words. It was Carmine who broke the silence.
“Why don’t you tell me what you want out of today?”
Noah took a sip of his water. He seemed pensive. This was totally not what Carmine had been expecting.
“I’ve bought a plot of land,” Noah began. “There’s already planning permission to build a small dwelling.”
Carmine exhaled. “That’s great news,” he said. “A small dwelling?”
“Absolutely. I don’t want anything too crazy. That’s not my style.”
Carmine frowned.
“I guess I’m a surprise to you,” Noah said.
“You could say that. Do you have the dimensions of the plot?”
Noah nodded. “I can email them to you. I would like three bedrooms, an open-plan living space and a den that’s for me. I’ll need landscaping too.”
Carmine frantically scribbled this list into a notebook.
“I can’t help you with that but I’m sure I can find someone,” Carmine said. “I’ll project manage it for you if you like.”
“Show me the designs first.”
Carmine almost broke the lead on his pencil. This guy had a hard edge to him as well. Each layer Carmine peeled away intrigued him more.
“How about I send you some mood boards?” Carmine asked. “You can tell me what you like and don’t like. Then I’ll have a much better idea of where to take this.”
Noah nodded. “I like that. How long will it take?”
It was Friday now. Carmine had nothing planned over the weekend. Again.
“I can get the pictures to you by Monday. If you can reply by midweek, then I should have some preliminary drawings done in a couple of weeks. Does that sound okay?”
Noah took a sip of his water. Carmine fixated on the way Noah’s large hands gripped the glass. How his lips looked as he drank.
“I have no idea how quickly these things can be done,” Noah replied. “I’d love to be in by the summer.”
Carmine sighed. “Six months is a long shot. I’d say a year to finish everything. Although if you’re open to a prefabricated kit, we can reduce that big-time.”
“What are those?”
“I’ll send you some ideas over. They’re doing amazing stuff and it’s way more sustainable.”
He’d been to an exhibition before Christmas and been blown away by the versatility of this area of construction.
“I like it. It sounds daft but I want to be part of the landscape rather than sticking out like a sore thumb.”
“I don’t think that sounds daft at all.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
The loaded stare that followed Noah’s comment almost overwhelmed Carmine.
He swallowed his feelings down and carried on his interrogation. They talked for another twenty minutes. Noah had a few fixed ideas that Carmine really liked. Yet he was open to suggestions from Carmine.
This was a dream job. Carmine loved learning to think the way his client did so he could identify everything that was important to them.
Once they’d finished and he’d seen Noah out, Carmine walked back down the corridor. Not only did he want to get this commission because it was an interesting project. He really wanted to work with Noah.
When he came into the office, he was greeted by Samantha grinning at him.
“Well?”
“He seems interested,” Carmine said, taking his seat. “It sounds like a really exciting design.”
“Pfft,” Samantha replied. “I meant what did you think of him?”
“I wasn’t simpering all over like some I could mention.”
She blushed. “I don’t know what happened. He’s bloody gorgeous.”
“You need to get better at hiding it. We’ll be having A-listers through these doors in no time.”
“Roger that. He is fit though, isn’t he?”
“Not bad. Way too young for me.”
Samantha glanced at her screen. “There’s twelve years between you. Also he’s very single.”
“Samantha!”
“What? Is it bad to do client research? His parents died with he was a child, leaving him and a brother, Malcolm. That’s all I’ve got so far.”
Carmine shook his head. “Why don’t you find me a list of prefabricated house companies instead? I’m not about to sleep with a client.”
He opened his laptop. Samantha stayed stock-still.
“And please don’t look at me like that.”