Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
I was at the bar, drinking cheap wine and getting to know my co-workers. Much to my disappointment, I couldn’t see Arnaud, so I settled down next to Coco, a redhead with a penchant for black, high-heeled, pointy-toed boots and tight-fitting vests. She was one of the staff writers, bubbly, friendly and always ready for a chat. Coco was young, about twenty-two years old, and I envied her enthusiasm, her she’ll be right attitude. She also prided herself on using unusual words in conversation.
‘My birth name is Karen, can you believe?’ Coco’s drawl was exaggerated. ‘Too prosaic. Coco is much more enchanting, don’t you think?’
‘Absolutely,’ I said, wondering whether I should change my name.
‘So, how are things working out with Graeme? You know’ – she leaned in close – ‘he’s made all the women on staff shriek at some stage. I’m over him now, water off a duck’s back, but I’m flabbergasted he hasn’t procured you yet. You’ve been hither a week.’
‘Hmm,’ I said as I spied Arnaud walking in .
‘Yeah, beware, Kate. Graeme can be a real satyr.’
I laughed, not only at Coco’s use of satyr. ‘I’m sure there are more interesting people for him to sleaze onto than me. I’m a mother.’
‘Hasn’t stopped him before, trust me.’
What? Did Graeme shag anything with a pulse?
‘Does he have a wife? Kids? A dog?’
‘The Bachelor of the Year? Hardly! No wife. No kids – none I know of, anyway. He isn’t a commitment sort of guy. He works, he drinks, and he has girlfriends from time to time, often a couple at once. He’s a cad, really.’
Arnaud came over with a drink in hand to toast my birthday.
‘Hip, hip, hooray,’ the assembled crowd sang. I felt rather chuffed.
As Arnaud and I talked, I noticed Fern chatting easily with Graeme at the end of the table. An enigma. On the one hand, Graeme was short-tempered, aggressive, violent, arrogant and rude. On the other, he could be gracious and social. I could see why some women fell for his charms.
He was saying, ‘Fern, you know me. I explode, storm out, then come back five minutes later. Really, I’m a pussycat and easy to work with.’
Fern threw her head back and laughed.
Yes, Graeme had a certain danger, and he was handsome when he wasn’t hurling cooking implements.
All too soon, Arnaud was standing up to leave, helmet in hand. ‘Want a lift?’
I looked at my watch. Seven o’clock. I could go home, eat dinner, read Gus a story, then have an amicable chat with Lexi and her girlfriends. It sounded like a plan. A sensible plan. But my head was buzzing, and I liked it. It had been a long time since I had been out with work colleagues.
Over eight years .
And it was my birthday.
I swayed, happy to discard my familial responsibilities. I could do without watching a documentary on the mating habits of penguins. And I doubted my ability to remain upright on his bike.
‘No, I’ll stay for a bit longer.’
‘Make sure you leave your car then, oui ?’
Arnaud! Such concern. A true gentleman. I held on to his arm a little longer than I needed to when I said, ‘I’m glad you’re here. You make my days here at Image Ink fun.’
‘ Merci … Take it easy and ’appy birthday.’
A minute later he was gone, and I wondered why I hadn’t left as well. I didn’t need the fresh glass of wine Coco handed me. It would have to be my last. Then I’d catch a cab home. But just then, a waiter delivered my seared salmon and salad.
‘I guess you were shocked at Graeme and Mara’s antics this morning?’ Fern said, when I pulled a chair up beside her to eat.
‘You mean when Graeme and Mara argued violently over the Boxing Day degustation menu and lobbed fruit and pans at each other, while I cowered in the studio corner?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Not at all.’ I smiled. ‘Though I was grateful no knives were thrown.’
‘Don’t take it to heart. They both like to think they’re creative geniuses and I guess they both are. With Mara appearing on MasterChef, Graeme’s on edge, worried her celebrity will eclipse his.’
‘You’re amazingly rational and calm. I’m on guard whenever I’m with them both.’
Fern picked at her lettuce. ‘They’re the talent, I’m the manager. Both want to be in control, to take the opportunity to showcase their creativity. Unfortunately, it leads to clashes, which I do my best to manage. Not always successfully… ’
‘Clashes? They fight like animals.’ I put down my fork. ‘Exactly what is acceptable behaviour between creatives? I mean besides bullying, harassment, and victimisation?’
Fern ran her fingers through her hair and glanced at Graeme. ‘It’s not that bad, though there’s definitely a link between creativity and negative moods. Also, poor impulse control.’
I smiled. ‘You don’t say?’
‘As Nietzsche once noted: “One must have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star”. Eventually Graeme and Mara always calm down and compromise. It’s all for show. Graeme’s really quite gifted.’
‘So you keep telling me.’
‘Truly. And not only is he a brilliant photographer and visionary, but he brings the hip, cool factor to the magazine. Graeme’s the one who cruises the social circuit… always networking in the hottest clubs. He gets the magazine noticed big time.’
‘I’ll say.’ Graeme swaggered over to join us. ‘If you’re not impressed by me by now, I don’t know what else I can do. I am, after all, me.’ He took off his glasses and sat down without breaking eye contact with me. I blinked and turned away, unnerved.
I was drinking too much wine. I’d hardly touched my salmon. Soon after our conversation, plates were cleared, and Fern left, citing personal commitments. I moved back to Coco who filled me in on staff dynamics. The gossip. The scandal. The lowdown. The skinny. I was far too intoxicated to take the moral high ground and stop her. And even if I hadn’t been drinking, I doubt I’d have stopped her unless the gossip had been about me.
Though I didn’t know most of the people Coco mentioned, her anecdotes and words were compelling. I was hooked .
‘Do you know how Simone – the person you superseded – shattered her talocrural joint?’ Coco asked me.
‘Her–’
Coco rolled her eyes. ‘Ankle. Keep up.’
I nodded. ‘Fell off a wonky ladder?’
‘Sort of. I wasn’t in attendance, but ostensibly Simone was so incensed by a malicious comment Graeme made about her camera angle she disremembered she was positioned on a two-metre ladder and vaulted to abuse him. Boom! Shattered her talocrural joint when she smacked the floor.’
Took me several moments to disentangle Coco’s terminologies… I was drunk and starting to think like her. (Except I didn’t think terminologies was the right word.)
It was around this time everyone left the pub except Coco, Graeme and me.
The more I talked to Graeme, the more entertaining he seemed, witty and charming – all the things that make someone fun to be with. Of course, after all the wine I’d consumed, I was easily entertained. And distracted. I’d never noticed his perfect skin, strong hands and deep, throaty laugh. Until now.
I listened attentively as Graeme told me the real story about Simone and her broken ankle. ‘It was her vile temper and impulsiveness that led to her broken ankle, K. I had nothing to do with it. Simone can’t stand to be told anything. I made a simple suggestion about the camera angle, and she flew off the plank, so to speak.’
‘Get out!’ I was fascinated.
Soon after, Coco answered a telephone call and left. Alarm bells were ringing in the back of my head, but I didn’t listen. Instead, I stayed for one more drink.
But I’d had so many one-more-drinks I’d lost count.
‘Not only that,’ Graeme continued, ‘but Simone’s a dobber – and no one likes a dobber, do they, K? She runs to Mara whenever she doesn’t agree with me. I’m her boss, for fuck’s sake. Since when do you argue with your boss? Or tattle-tale?’
As I listened to Graeme talk, I kept repeating the mantra in my head: I am not going to get drunk and kiss this man. I am not going to get drunk and kiss this man.
Unfortunately, I was already drunk.
I think.
Anyway, I kissed that man.