Chapter Seven #3
But honestly. He’s so totally not my sort. Too intense. Too frowny. And everyone else in the room seems terrified of him.
“Speaking of which.” He picks up a plastic folder and skims it deftly across the table toward the goatee-beard guy. “Last night I put together some points with regard to the Morris Farquhar consultation. Just a memo. Might help.”
“Oh.” Goatee-beard guy looks utterly taken aback. “Well…thanks. I appreciate it.” He flips through wonderingly. “Can I use this?”
“That’s the general idea,” says the American guy, with a smile so wry and brief you’d miss it if you blinked. “So, regarding the final point…”
From my place at the back, I can see goatee-beard guy leafing through the typed pages, agog. “When the hell did he have time to do this?” he mutters to his neighbor, who shrugs.
“I have to go.” The American guy suddenly consults his watch. “My apologies for hijacking the meeting. Simon, please continue.”
“I have just one question.” The sandy-haired man hurriedly raises his hand. “When you’re talking about innovating procedure, do you mean—”
“Quick!” Sadie’s voice suddenly resounds in my ear, making me jump. “Ask him on a date! He’s leaving! You promised! Do it! Do-it-do-it-do-it—”
Ok!!!!!! I scrawl, flinching. Just Give Me a Second.
Sadie stalks to the other side of the room and watches me expectantly. After a while she starts making impatient Come on! gestures with her hands. Mr. American Frown has finished answering the sandy-haired guy and is pushing some papers into his briefcase.
I can’t do this. It’s ludicrous.
“Go on! Go on!” Sadie’s voice blasts my eardrum again. “Ask!”
Blood is pulsating around my head. My legs are trembling under the table. Somehow I force myself to raise a hand.
“Excuse me?” I say in an embarrassed squeak.
Mr. American Frown turns and surveys me, looking puzzled. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m in a hurry—”
“I have a question.”
Everyone around the table has swiveled to look at me. I can see a man whispering “Who’s that?” to his neighbor.
“OK.” He sighs. “One more quick question. What is it?”
“I…um…It’s just…I wanted to ask…” My voice is jumpy and I clear my throat. “Would you like to go out with me?”
There’s a stunned silence, apart from someone spluttering on their coffee. My face is boiling hot, but I hold steady. I can see a few astounded looks passing between the people at the table.
“Excuse me?” says the American man, looking bewildered.
“Like…on a date?” I risk a little smile.
Suddenly I’m aware of Sadie beside him. “Say yes!” she shrieks into his ear, so loudly that I want to flinch on his behalf. “Say yes! Say yes!”
To my astonishment, I can see the American man reacting. He’s cocking his head as though he can hear some distant radio signal. Can he hear her?
“Young lady,” says a gray-haired man curtly. “This really isn’t the time or place—”
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” I say humbly. “I won’t take up much time. I just need an answer, one way or the other.” I turn to the American man again. “Would you like to go out with me?”
“Say yes! Say yes!” Sadie’s yelling increases to an unbearable level.
This is unreal. The American man can definitely hear something. He shakes his head and takes a couple of steps away, but Sadie follows him, still yelling. His eyes are glazed and he looks like he’s in a trance.
No one else in the room is moving or speaking. They all seem pinioned by shock; one woman has her hand clapped across her face as though she’s watching a train wreck.
“Say yes!” Sadie’s starting to sound hoarse as she screams. “Right now! Say it! SAY YES!”
It’s almost comical, the sight of her yelling so hard and only getting the faintest reaction.
But as I watch, I only feel pity. She looks so powerless, as though she’s shouting behind a sheet of glass and the only one who can hear her properly is me.
Sadie’s world must be so frustrating, I find myself thinking.
She can’t touch anything, she can’t communicate with anyone, it’s obvious she’s never going to get through to this guy—
“Yes.” The American man nods desperately.
My pity dies away.
Yes?
There’s a gasp all around the table and a hastily stifled giggle. Everyone immediately turns to gape at me, but I’m temporarily too dumbfounded to reply.
He said yes.
Does this mean…I actually have to go on a date with him?
“Great!” I try to gather my wits. “So…let’s be in touch, shall we? My name’s Lara Lington, by the way, here’s my card….” I scrabble in my bag.
“I’m Ed.” The man still looks dazed. “Ed Harrison.” He reaches into his inside pocket and produces his own business card.
“So…um…bye, then, Ed!” I pick up my bag and hurriedly beat a retreat, to the sound of a growing hubbub.
I can hear someone saying, “Who the bloody hell was that?” and a woman saying in an urgent undertone, “You see? You just have to have the guts. You have to be direct with men. Stop the games. Lay it out there. If I’d known at her age what that girl knows… ”
What I know?
I don’t know anything except I need to get out of here.