‘She was just trying to give you a stir,’ Theo said with a sigh, ‘she knows I’m going, I’ve not made a secret of it. I’m on my way now, actually, I want to have a word with Chung before the glad-handing begins.’
‘Just so long as you don’t glad-hand Herself, if you know what I mean,’ Ari said darkly and Theo’s replying snort echoed up the stairwell.
‘Unlikely,’ he assured him. ‘I’ll call Harry Anderson on my way to the High-Rise. You should tell events no on the picture, block McKillop’s secretary if you think it’s necessary, tell Ann I’ll try to find some time for a chat next week, and give the unveiling invite to Isma, she likes those sorts of things, doesn’t she? Someone should get something out of Lena’s desire for public humiliation.’
‘Hmm.’ Ari sounded unconvinced. ‘You haven’t read that book I left on your desk last week, have you?’
‘Sibling Succour – The art of loving those born to love you?’ Theo asked. ‘No, funnily enough, I gave that one a miss. Also, is there any chance you could stop leaving self-help books lying around my office?’
‘Not until you stop needing help with yourself, no.’
‘Great.’ Theo sighed again. ‘Any final words?’
‘Yes, stay out of O’Connor’s way tonight.’
Theo paused, his hand on the door to the car park, the beginnings of a headache thumping at his temples. ‘My plan is to stay out of everyone’s way tonight,’ he said steadily. ‘I’m just going to show my face for a couple of hours, and then head on home. No dramas.’
‘Yeah.’ Ari sounded unconvinced. ‘Good luck with that.’
2
The High-Rise was an incredibly upmarket hotel in the CBD and everyone knew that only the crème de la crème had their parties on the top floor. I was not the crème de la crème, I wasn’t even really crème, to be honest, and yet here I was in my fancy dress with my fancy man on the fanciest floor of the fanciest venue in town. Extraordinary.
Since Dec had rung me on my lunchbreak to ask me to come with him, I hadn’t really thought about the party so much as that I’d be with him. Now, however, as I looked around at the muted cream tones of the décor and heard the genteel murmur of over a hundred people having sophisticated conversations, I realised that I was firmly out of my comfort zone. I mean, I could see the famous High-Rise balcony where everyone knew Philomena Leventis herself had posed naked, draped across the balustrade. It was intimidating stuff.
‘So,’ I said, trying to sound as unfazed as possible as Dec and I moved out of the lift and towards the crowd, ‘I thought you corporate types were all work, work, work? What’s with the party?’
‘Sure, we like to work,’ Dec agreed cheerfully, clearly invigorated rather than daunted by the environment we’d just entered, ‘but it’s the original Allsopp’s eightieth birthday and you know what the people I work for like even more than working?’ I shook my head and he leant down to whisper, ‘Schmoozing.’
I felt goose bumps ripple along my arms at the intimate way he’d imparted that last bit, but kept my voice light as I replied, ‘Right, schmoozing. We don’t have much call for that in the baking sector. What exactly does it entail?’
‘Smiling a lot and agreeing with anything anyone says.’
‘Well, that seems fairly basic, I’m sure I can manage that.’
‘You’ll do fine.’
He was distracted now, I could tell, his gaze travelling around the large open-plan space, taking in the lie of the land. This didn’t surprise me; everything he’d told me about his work suggested that staying on top of who was where and what was happening was paramount. What he said next, however, did surprise me.
‘Drink?’
He said it casually, like I imagined other people did at a soiree such as this, but there was nothing casual about the way he was suddenly avoiding my eye. In the next moment, he was steering me towards the nearest bar – nearest because there were at least four dotted around the place that I could see – and I was trying not to look concerned.
Dec didn’t drink, not alcohol, not ever. Dec’s dad, on the other hand, did drink, in fact that was pretty much all he did, which was a real shame because he was actually kind of terrible at it. Dec’s upbringing had been filled with violence and unpredictability delivered neatly in the form of a bottle, so his aversion to the stuff was hardly surprising.
Looking around, though, I saw that abstaining from alcohol at an Allsopp, Hudson and Clarke party wasn’t really an option. Everyone had a glass in their hand, almost as if booze was their on switch and they wouldn’t work without one.
I got that Dec needed to fit in with his workmates, but I don’t think I realised just how much until he caught the bartender’s eye and said confidently, ‘A bourbon on the rocks, please, and a Pinot Grigio for the lady.’
He’d added that last clichéd bit for my amusement, and I was amused, just not enough to ignore the fact that he, the teetotaller, had just ordered a spirit. Also, Pinot Grigio? I was your basic fruity, painfully sweet, doesn’t-even-taste-like-there’s-alcohol-in-it kind of drinker and he knew it.
‘Wine?’ I whispered to him as the bartender set to work preparing our drinks.
Dec shrugged somewhat sheepishly. ‘Do you mind?’
I took from this that it was about looking the part for him, so I graciously took the glass handed to me and made no comment on the fact that he lifted his own drink to his tightly closed lips and then lowered it again without imbibing a drop. He gave me the tiniest smile to show me it was okay and then pressed a warm hand against my lower back, steering me further into the crowd.
‘O’Connor!’
We’d barely moved a few metres from the bar before a hearty exclamation stood out from the murmurs of the multitude, and an equally hearty hand clamped down on Dec’s shoulder.
‘We were just wondering where you were. Trust you to show up fashionably late.’
As if by magic, one of the tightly packed circles of people widened to include us and I found myself surrounded by a group of men around our age with outfits and haircuts eerily similar to Dec’s.
‘Never pays to look too keen, Michaels.’ Dec slapped the man’s shoulder equally jovially. ‘One of these days you’ll learn that.’
The laughs that greeted this statement were much too raucous considering the joke and I blinked in surprise, confronted with so much forced bonhomie. Dec really hadn’t been kidding about the schmoozing.
‘And who’s this lovely lady?’ The portly ginger chap across from me gave me a roguish wink. ‘She can’t have come with you, surely? Not when she could obviously do so much better.’
‘I somehow conned her into it,’ Dec replied. ‘You worked with me on the Port Songley case, Pete, you know I’m good at talking people into things.’
More laughter from them, a bit of suppressed eye rolling from me.
‘I’m Gio,’ I said once the guffaws had died down, deciding to take control of the introductions. Unfortunately, I stuck my palm out for a handshake just as the Pete fellow leant in for an air-kiss and there was a very near miss as I snatched my hand away millimetres before it collided with his crotch.
So they were air-kissers. Well, of course they were, I should’ve known.
I dutifully presented my cheek for the merest brush of contact with each of the men as they introduced themselves, then stepped back beside Dec, where I became immediately, and profoundly, invisible.
Sure, every now and again one of the group swept their eyes across me and offered a faint smile, but then their attention would immediately switch to something one of the others was saying and each time I felt like I’d blinked suddenly out of existence. Even Dec, whose hand, much to my delight, had moved round to rest proprietorially on my waist, offered me no acknowledgement beyond the occasional apologetic glance. It was some consolation that he understood how dull it was for me so I tried to appreciate that it was their work party, and that they were naturally going to want to talk shop. Still, as the minu
tes ticked by and they talked about nothing except things I didn’t understand, I found myself becoming increasingly bored.
The wine was warming in my hand, too dry for me to do more than take a couple of hastily aborted sips. I was just at the point of wondering whether it would be too I Love Lucy to find a pot plant to tip my glass into when my eye was caught by the most deliciously pink and sparkly drink in the hand of a woman standing a couple of metres or so away from me. I was so entranced by the cheerful vibrancy of her cocktail that it took me a while to realise that the holder of the drink was just as amazing looking. Tall and lithe, with wicket-straight strawberry-blonde hair falling in a graceful line down her back, she exuded class and sophistication.
As if she could feel my eyes on her, the woman suddenly turned my way and, for a startling moment, our eyes met. God, she was beautiful. I hadn’t realised people could truly be that good looking in real life. My cheeks were actually growing hot under her benign scrutiny.
She smiled, a gracious smile that suggested she’d seen my reaction many times before, and then, to my complete astonishment, she made her excuses to the people she was with and started to approach me.
I watched her with equal parts awe and trepidation. She wore a simple black dress that made her look professional but also incredibly sexy as the material clung to her perfectly toned pale skin. In the few seconds it took her to reach my side, I think I fell a little bit in love with her.
‘Hello, boys.’ Her voice was slinky and soft as she announced herself to the group and the effect was immediate. To a man, Dec and his mates all stood straighter and broadened their chests before trying to out-do each other with just how casually they could greet her in return. They clearly knew her and equally clearly were infatuated with her.
It was no wonder then that I felt a slight twinge of unease as she turned to Dec and, resting a soft hand on his arm, fixed him with her silky gaze.
‘O’Connor, do you mind if I steal your date away for a moment?’ she asked in a manner that suggested it wasn’t really a question at all. ‘I have to know where she got that dress and what on earth she’s doing wasting it on the likes of you.’
The men all roared with laughter, none as loudly as Dec and, while they were still in the throes of reacting to her wit, she hooked her arm around mine and drew me away.
‘You looked like you could do with a save,’ she said simply as she glided through the crowd, smiling politely at everyone she made eye contact with in the manner of a queen greeting her courtiers.
‘Thanks,’ I breathed, my slight moment of jealousy crushed under the weight of my gratitude. ‘I’m sure if I had any idea what those guys were talking about it would’ve been more interesting, but–’
‘No.’ She laughed and gave a small shake of her head. ‘Trust me, I know exactly what they were talking about and I guarantee you it was fundamentally boring stuff. Ah, here we are, sanctuary.’
And so saying, she leant back against a door, pushing it open and tugging me inside with her. We had entered some sort of antechamber to the toilets, I realised after a moment, a carpeted space with gilded mirrors all along one wall and delicately patterned ottomans lined up before them. My saviour gracefully took a seat, placed her pink drink on a wooden side-table and opened her clutch to pull out a lipstick.
‘I’m Vanessa Allsopp, by the way,’ she said, smiling at me in the reflection of one of the mirrors. ‘Very pleased to meet you.’
At her introduction, I stopped gazing at all the opulence – for a bathroom for goodness’ sake – and repeated stupidly, ‘Allsopp, like . . .?’
‘Like the granddaughter of the original Allsopp from Allsopp, Hudson and Clarke, yes,’ she finished for me. ‘And you?’
‘Oh, I’m Gio,’ I said quickly. ‘Gio Koppelmann.’
‘Koppelmann?’ She wound the impossibly creamy-looking lipstick up as she spoke and then used a lip brush to dab some of the pigment onto her lips. Of course she was the sort to use a lip brush. ‘As in Lars and Cordelia Koppelmann?’
I refused to be embarrassed by my humble, but most excellent, roots, so I grinned as I replied, ‘As in Boris and Maria Koppelmann, who, unless my parents have been hiding some sort of exciting double life from me, you probably don’t know.’
‘Of course,’ she said graciously. ‘I’m sorry, trying to discover a mutual acquaintance is a stupid habit. And, anyway,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘if you thought the men out there were boring, it’s lucky you’re not related to Lars and Cordelia, those two could bore your knickers off.’ She met my eyes in the mirror again and added slyly, ‘Which would at least go some way to livening up their company, I suppose.’
I beamed back at her, oblivious to the other women entering and leaving the bathroom behind us as I basked in the glow of her indefinable X-factor. I wasn’t sure what exactly I’d done to be awarded Vanessa’s extraordinary company, but I was enjoying every second of it.
‘And speaking of livening up company,’ she continued, picking up her martini glass and taking a sip of its lurid contents, ‘thank god for the acai cosmo. Present company excepted, it’s just been the same old, same old tonight.’
‘I was checking your drink out,’ I admitted. ‘It looks much nicer than my wine. It wasn’t my choice.’
She let out a sigh. ‘Men,’ she said, clearly understanding how the drinks ordering had gone down. ‘You should have a try of mine,’ she added, before smirking at my expression and explaining, ‘A taste of my cosmo, I mean, although frankly, considering the calibre of them lately, you’d be welcome to a try of my men as well.’
I laughed as if I, too, were as sophisticated as she, and had a range of men she was welcome to try out, although obviously nothing was further from the truth.
‘Thanks,’ I said, suspecting she was just offering to be polite, ‘but I’m fine.’
‘No, come on, Gio, I’ve had enough of false civilities tonight. Have a taste.’ She held the nearly full glass out to me and there was really nothing else I could do other than take it from her and lift it to my lips. And, oh, heaven. It was sweet and sour and crisp and tingly all at once. I’d never been much good at telling one spirit from another, but I could taste acai syrup, lime juice and some other fruit, perhaps pomegranate or cranberry, maybe both.
‘Makes your tongue sing, doesn’t it?’ Vanessa said knowingly as I closed my eyes in bliss. ‘You really can’t fault the High-Rise for their bar service. Finish it if you like,’ she continued, ‘I’ll get another one once I’ve worked up the enthusiasm to resume my rounds.’
My manners wanted me to protest, but my taste buds demanded that the cocktail stay firmly in my hand and, as happened embarrassingly often with me, my taste buds won out.
‘So, how long have you known O’Connor?’
I was so busy assessing the flavours of her drink and wondering how I could turn them into a baked good – acai cosmo cupcake, perhaps? – that it took me a moment to process her question. When I did, I felt a little nudge of guilt at having abandoned Dec.
Just a couple more minutes, I told myself, just a couple more minutes and then I’ll head back into the party and find him.
Realising Vanessa was waiting for an answer, I did some quick mathematics and replied, ‘A little over seventeen years.’
‘Oh!’ Her cornflower blue eyes, not dissimilar in colour to Zoë’s, widened in surprise. ‘And you’re his . . .?’
‘Friend,’ I said quickly. ‘Just his friend.’
‘I see.’ Her expression was alarmingly shrewd and I had no doubt that she really did see. ‘Well, I wasn’t kidding about how stunning you look in that dress. If you wanted to maybe be more than just friends, I reckon it’ll do the trick.’
I reddened and mumbled something that even I couldn’t decipher, pitifully grateful that she chose not to press the issue and instead leant forward into the mirror for a final check of her makeup.
‘Right,’ she said, ‘I’d better show my face, I can’t hide away in here
forever, much as I’d like to. But there’s an after-party that O’Connor will no doubt drag you to. Give me your number and we can catch up there.’
It was a demand more than a request, and I dutifully recited the digits and she called me to log her number in my phone in return. It was the recognised symbol of a commenced friendship in this modern age and the exchange made me a little giddy, like the most popular girl in school had just given me a friendship bracelet.
She left, the subtle scent of whatever undoubtedly expensive perfume she was wearing floating out after her. I stayed behind for a couple of minutes to sip her drink and send a quick text to Zoë to advise her that I’d met a goddess called Vanessa and that she needed to up her game if she was going to compete as my best friend now, and then followed her out.
I’m not sure whether it was the liquor in Vanessa’s drink, or buoyancy from her company, but I felt significantly more confident as I emerged back into the party and looked around for Dec. If all the beautiful, sophisticated people surrounding me were as lovely as Vanessa, what did I have to fear?
Despite this renewed optimism, I couldn’t help hoping Dec might have moved on from the initial group he’d met up with while I’d been girling it up in the bathroom; they really had been hard work. When I saw him, however, he was still with Michaels, Pete and the others.
No matter. Dec’s job was important to him so if he needed me to do some arse kissing for one night, I could pucker up.
So, yes, feeling a little smug at my own affability, I approached the group with all the goodwill and understanding I could muster. I was brought up short a small distance away, however, as I heard the one Dec had called Michaels boom, ‘So what’s the deal with the cute little thing you brought along tonight, O’Connor? I thought you were coming with Nadia from accounting.’
I froze, wondering what to be offended most about first. Because, seriously, ‘cute little thing’? Ew. And who the hell was Nadia?
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