Alan took off his glasses and wiped them clean with his handkerchief. “Look, I’ve been thinking about this and I’m really not sure this is such a good idea,” he started nervously. “I don’t even want a girlfriend. Don’t need one, at any rate. I’ve got my MBA work to do and . . .”
Jen sighed and looked at him firmly. If she was prepared to accept change in her life, then Alan was damn well going to do it, too. “Alan, you do want a girlfriend, and this is a good idea. Look at you—you’re a quivering wreck, and it’s only me sitting here! Tell you what, I’ll get some drinks and you can think through ways to start conversations with girls. Then you can try them out on me. Okay?”
Alan looked utterly unconvinced, but Jen headed up to the bar regardless. Change was scary, she reminded herself. She would have to help Alan through it gradually. And she was definitely the one to sort him out, she thought to herself purposefully as she ordered a pint of bitter for him and a gin and tonic for herself. The doubt and uncertainty that had been dogging her since she’d bought that suit a few hours before were gradually subsiding, leaving in their place the conviction that moving on was an incredibly positive experience. And that she was now the expert in it.
“So,” she said with a smile five minutes later, plonking the drinks on the table. “Hit me!”
Alan looked perplexed. “Hit you?” he said nervously. “What, like a high five?”
She sighed and sat down. “I meant tell me. Your chat-up lines.”
“Oh, right. Do people really say hit me?”
Jen shrugged. “I don’t know. But that isn’t really the point. So come on.”
Alan went red. “I don’t really have any chat-up lines,” he said awkwardly.
“Okay, put it this way. You’re in a pub, right here, and I’m a strange woman who has just sat down at your table because there’s nowhere else to sit. And when I say strange, I mean you don’t know me, not that I’m actually strange. I’m . . . I dunno, a pretty, intelligent-looking woman. Nice shoes, that sort of thing. So I’m sitting here and I’m obviously not with anyone, and you like the look of me. What would you say to me to start a conversation?”
Alan looked at Jen strangely. “I wouldn’t. I’d probably take out a book so that I didn’t have to talk to you.”
“Right,” Jen said uncertainly. “Well, that’s an interesting approach. Okay, what about at a party. One where you’ve seen someone you like?”
“I don’t go to parties. I hate them. You have to talk to strangers.”
Jen thought for a moment. This was turning out to be a lot more difficult that she’d hoped. “Okay, Alan. Look, the thing is, if you want to get a girlfriend, you’re going to have to talk to strangers. You did okay when you met me and Lara, didn’t you?”
“That was different. I could talk about work with you straight away. You didn’t expect me to talk about films I’ve never seen or foreign places I’ve never been. I can’t do small talk.”
Jen took a slug of her gin and tonic and sighed. Who was she kidding—she hated small talk, too. Hated going to parties full of strange people.
“Okay,” she said eventually, “let’s forget parties and pubs. Let’s think work situations. Maybe if you liked the look of someone on the MBA course. That’s got to be easier, right?”
Alan looked at her worriedly. “I don’t fancy anyone on the MBA course,” he said quickly. “I don’t know what people have been saying, but it isn’t true. I’m not . . .”
“I said if,” Jen said quickly, emphasizing the word for effect. “I’m using the MBA course as an example. A theoretical one. You know—if you did fancy someone, how might you go about talking to them?”
Alan was looking hot and uncomfortable. “I don’t, though,” he said gruffly. “I knew this was a bad idea.”
Jen put her drink down. This was going to require all her ingenuity and patience. “Alan,” she said slowly, “think about it. Lots of people meet people at work. It’s the perfect place—lots of like-minded folk all in the same office. If you can’t ask someone out at work, where you spend half your life with the same people, then you’re going to find it a lot harder anywhere else.”
“I told you,” Alan said defiantly, “I don’t fancy anyone in the course. And even if I did, and I asked them out, they’d only say no, and then I’d have to enroll in a new MBA program. No, it’s a terrible idea.”
Jen took a deep breath. “They won’t necessarily say no,” she said quickly. “Not if you plan it carefully enough. What you’ve got to do is figure out little ways to find out if they might be interested. To give them subtle signs that you might be. So that if and when you do ask them out it isn’t a total shock. You see? That way you don’t set yourself up too much.”
“You mean risk management?” Alan asked seriously.
Jen looked at him, exasperated. The man really could not talk about anything other than business strategy. It was a hopeless case, and if she had any sense she would bail right now and go to Daniel’s flat. He’d have food waiting for her, wine, those arms . . .
Then she had a thought.
“Risk management, you say?” she said carefully. “Well, actually, yes. That’s exactly what it is.” She picked up her glass again and took another sip. “In fact, why don’t you think of this whole exercise as stakeholder management? ” she said, watching as Alan’s face turned from suspicion into interest. “Your prospective girlfriend is a potential stakeholder. You’ve got to work out how interested in you she is, analyze her preferences and interests, and then develop your strategy. It’s just like an MBA assignment, only not on paper. A practical assignment.”
“You mean, find out if she’s interested in films before inviting her to the cinema?”
Jen glowed. “Alan, that’s exactly it. But you wouldn’t suggest that a business cold-call a customer, would you? Not unless they’re selling double glazing and don’t mind being hung up on a million times. No, you’d suggest building up to it first, right? Make sure that the customer has heard of the company, knows its products.”
Alan nodded.
“Right,” Jen continued. “So maybe you wouldn’t just invite this girl to the cinema straight off—first you might mention a film you’ve seen. Ask her if she’s seen it, whether she enjoyed it. Ask her what she liked or disliked about it. Market intelligence, you know? Suddenly you’re having a conversation, and if it goes well, the next time you talk about films it could be a natural thing to ask her to the cinema to see a film.”
Alan nodded seriously and started to make notes on a pad of paper.
“Like Amazon,” he said as he wrote. “Knowing what you bought last time and then making recommendations the next time you visit the site. Customer relationship management?”
Jen took a deep breath. “Exactly,” she said.
“And this stuff actually works?” he asked.
Jen smiled as she remembered her own early conversations with Daniel about MBAs, books, ethical business, family squabbles.
“There are a lot of couples out there,” she said firmly. “They all had to start somewhere.”
“Hello, gorgeous.”
Jen grinned and reached up to kiss Daniel, who wrapped his arms around her, picked her up and swung her round, depositing her in his hallway.
“What took you so long?” he asked, ushering her into his flat. “I didn’t know whether or not to cook.”
Jen’s eyes traveled around the hallway, taking in the photographs of Daniel in diving gear; on a mountain; smiling, with his arm around a woman . . . Her eyes narrowed as she frowned involuntarily.
“My sister,” Daniel said with a twinkle in his eye. “She lives in the States. So?”
“So, what?” Jen asked, slightly embarrassed at having been caught out.
“So where have you been?”
“Oh, right. I was with a friend from the course. Alan.”
Now it was Daniel’s turn to frown. “Right,” he said, walking toward the sitting room. “Well, I ho
pe you had a good time.”
Jen smiled to herself as she followed him. “We did, actually,” she teased Daniel. “We were talking about relationships, mostly.”
Daniel turned round and stared at her. “Relationships?”
“And how he can get himself one,” Jen said, grinning. “He’s a bit of a geek, actually. I was . . . kind of teaching him. How to get a girlfriend.”
“I see,” Daniel said. “Well, just so long as he isn’t eyeing you up. . . .”
Jen raised her eyebrows at him. “I really doubt it,” she said quickly. “So, what did you decide?”
Daniel looked at her curiously. “Decide about what?”
“About whether to cook. You said you didn’t know whether to cook or not.”
“Ah. Well, I decided not to. I figured that if you were hungry we could get takeout, if that suits you.”
Jen nodded. “Sounds perfect. So, what have you been up to since I saw you last?”
Daniel rummaged around in a drawer, pulled out some menus, and handed them to Jen. “Italian, Chinese or Thai—take your pick. What have I been up to? Oh, not much. Working, sleeping, waiting around for my gorgeous girlfriend to turn up . . . and trying to figure out some winning ideas for a presentation I’m doing in a couple of weeks.”
“I fancy a black bean curry with chicken,” Jen said, handing the menus back. “So what’s the presentation?”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “It’s to the board. Which would be fine, but I just don’t seem to be able to see eye to eye with my chairman these days. I need some big ideas that will blow them away, but he keeps talking about cost cutting like that’s the answer to all our problems.”
Jen frowned. “Problems? I didn’t think Wyman’s had any problems.”
Daniel shrugged. “Everyone’s got problems. All of our competitors are problems, as are the costs of real estate in London and the demise of the high street. They’re not insurmountable problems, but they keep us busy. So, black bean curry? Sounds good—I think I’ll join you.”
He picked up the phone and made the order, then joined Jen where she was sitting on the sofa.
“And what have you been doing lately,” he asked tenderly. “Missing me, I hope?”
Jen looked at him playfully. “Why should I have missed you, when all you’ve been thinking about is the cost of London real estate?”
Daniel nodded seriously. “Harsh, but fair,” he said solemnly. “Did I also mention that I’ve missed you desperately and have been unable to sleep because of it?”
Jen looked at him archly. “You can do better than that,” she said with a little smile.
He put his hand through his hair. “Okay, so sleeplessness isn’t enough. How about self-flagellation? Would that impress you?”
Jen giggled. “Did it hurt very much?”
Daniel nodded. “Yup. Quite a lot, actually. I was hoping you might kiss it better.”
“I see,” Jen said thoughtfully. “And where did this self-flagellation . . . manifest itself?”
“Um, well, I guess here,” he said, pointing to his cheek. Jen reached over and gave it a little kiss.
“Anywhere else?” she asked, her eyes glinting.
Daniel frowned, then unbuttoned his shirt slightly to reveal his broad chest. “Here,” he said, pointing to the area just below his neck. Jen reached over and kissed it.
“And here,” he said softly, pointing to the top of his back.
“You know, you might need to take off your shirt,” Jen said thoughtfully.
Daniel nodded seriously. “If you think it might help,” he said, unbuttoning further. “Do you think it would be a good idea if you took yours off too?”
Jen found herself smiling involuntarily. “You’re the one who should’ve been coaching Alan this evening, you know,” she said as she allowed Daniel to unbutton her shirt and kiss her neck. “I just told him that he should ask lots of questions.”
“Questions?” Daniel asked, taking off her shirt and putting it to one side.
“Yes,” Jen said, trying to concentrate as Daniel’s lips started to explore her body. “I said he should find out what girls like, and then he’ll have something to talk to them about.”
“Do you like this?” Daniel asked, taking off her bra and moving his lips onto her breast.
Jen nodded. “Mmm hmmm.”
“And this?” He was taking off her trousers now.
“Oh, yes.”
“And how about this?” he asked as he quickly got undressed.
Jen sighed. “I think I like that most of all.”
Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang, and Daniel reluctantly disentangled himself from Jen, ran to the bedroom, and pulled on a robe.
Jen slowly sat up and wandered over to the mantel-piece, over which was hanging a smart walnut mirror. She peered at herself—flushed cheeks, hair all over the place, and a loopy grin on her face—and mooched back to the sofa. Her brain seemed unable to think about anything other than the here and now—the day’s events seemed a lifetime ago; Bell Consulting and her mother seemed like distant memories. Was there any better stress reliever than sex? she wondered idly to herself. Was there any better sex than sex with Daniel?
He walked back in carrying two plates, handed one to Jen and placed the other on the floor. Then he left the room and returned a few seconds later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “We can eat at the table, if you want—or here. Up to you.”
Jen had her plate firmly in her lap. “Here’s good,” she said, secretly pleased that she wasn’t going to have to move. She’d put her shirt back on, but other than that she was naked and quite comfortable curled up on the sofa.
“So what are you going to do about Wyman’s problems?” she asked vaguely as she started to eat. Either she was very hungry or this was the best black bean curry she’d ever had. Daniel was sitting right next to her and the feeling of his knee brushing against hers every time he moved his fork toward his mouth sent little frissons of excitement through her. He was so perfect. This was so perfect.
Daniel rolled his eyes. “Fuck knows, and right now I really don’t care. I’m more interested in looking at your legs.”
Jen blushed slightly. “Well, I quite like looking at your legs, too, but that doesn’t stop me from being interested in your work,” she said, smiling slightly.
Daniel looked at her and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll come up with something. Hey, you’re the MBA student—I should be coming to you for ideas.”
Jen grinned. “Yes, you should,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “And while my advice doesn’t come cheap, I did learn from the master, Daniel Peterson himself, so it’s well worth the money.”
Daniel smiled. “Okay, then. So, I’ve provided you with curry—that must buy me one or two ideas, surely?”
Jen nodded seriously. “And it’s very good curry, so yes, I think at least two ideas. So . . .” She thought for a moment. Her head felt like cotton wool; endorphins had blocked out all coherent thought, and she could barely remember a thing from her course.
“How about your supply chain?” she said eventually. She’d written an essay about the supply chain in her exam and felt it had a suitably serious-enough sound about it to impress Daniel.
He raised his eyebrows. “Supply chain, you say. Go on . . .”
Jen frowned. He wanted more? She thought for another minute. “Oh, I don’t know. Buy up a publisher. Or do a deal that ties them in to producing just for you. And you can’t start eating my chicken just because you’ve finished yours!” She looked indignantly at Daniel, whose fork had just landed in her plate. He grinned mischievously, and she scooped some of her curry onto his empty plate.
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” he said thoughtfully.
“What, you’re going to buy a publisher?”
He shook his head. “Tying them in. I wonder if there’s any mileage in a joint branding deal.”
Jen, finding herself full, put her plate dow
n and picked up her wine, then leaned her head on Daniel’s shoulder.
“You need to tie in your customers too,” she pointed out. “Make them want to shop at Wyman’s rather than anywhere else. Have loyalty schemes and stuff.”
Daniel put his arm around her. “So, loyalty schemes would tie you in?”
“They might.”
“Would regular black bean curries do the trick?”
“Curries would be a start,” Jen said with a little smile.
“A start,” Daniel said thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose a start is something.”
He pulled her toward him, and as her lips met his, she felt goose bumps on the back of her neck.
“This helps too,” she said with a contented sigh, as Daniel’s lips traveled down to her neck. “This, combined with the curries, is pretty compelling, actually.”
19
“Welcome back, folks, hope you all had a great holiday.” Jen looked around the lecture hall, smiling as she caught people’s eyes. She remembered how alienated she’d felt the first time she’d sat here, how desperate she was to get out as quickly as she could. Now look at her. She was one of them. And she wasn’t even embarrassed about it.
“As you know,” Jay continued, “in the next few weeks we’ll be looking at another stage of strategic analysis— namely the SWOT analysis. That’s Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats to those who don’t know or who did know but drank enough booze during the holidays to forget. So, to walk you through the finer points, please welcome Dr. Mary Franks, who is joining us from the London Business School this term.”
Jen took out her new pad and paper and prepared to start taking notes, but her mind was still dreamily absorbed in thoughts of Daniel. Kissing her. Smiling at her. Talking till two in the morning because neither of them wanted the evening to end.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you, Jay. So, the SWOT analysis. Well, many of you will know of the SWOT. But few of you will be using it properly, and even fewer will really be getting the most from it.
Learning curves: a novel of sex, suits, and business affairs Page 17
