Husband Hunters

by Genevieve Gannon

  ‘I’ve never been here before,’ she said, unbuttoning her jacket. She had spent half an hour curating the perfect outfit for today. With the jacket on, her suit was unassuming work wear. Once she took it off, the blouse said ‘come and talk to me’. But the skirt said ‘I’m looking for something serious’.

  ‘I should take my jacket off, too,’ said Daniela, shrugging out of her boxy blazer.

  ‘Wow, Ms DeLuca, where did you come from?’ Annabel gazed approvingly.

  Dani turned pink.

  ‘If I’m going to do this, I have to put in a bit of effort. It’s just a black top.’ Her usual ploughman’s shirt had been replaced by a thin knit with a low-scooped neck.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ Clementine told her.

  Dani crossed her arms over her chest.

  ‘Drinks?’

  Clem ordered two gin and tonics — Hendrick’s with cucumber — and a glass of champagne for Annabel. The room was grand, the tall columns and high ceiling giving it a palatial air.

  ‘Dutch courage,’ Clem said, handing out glasses. ‘But first: ground rules. Let’s go over them.’

  They had come up with some guidelines to help them move relationships along without getting side-tracked by affection or feelings. Rule number one: Be immaculate and interested. They figured men were visual creatures. They should be the best versions of themselves and puff up their targets’ egos. Rule number two: The men must initiate all contact. Be receptive but not over-eager. This meant not making men feel like they were sitting around waiting for their call. Rule number three: Don’t sleep with them.

  ‘The chemicals a woman’s body releases during orgasm can cause feelings of affection. If we want to stay detached, it’s best to resist,’ Clementine said.

  ‘No kissing,’ said Annabel. ‘The plan is to lock in a date as if you are arranging a business meeting. You wouldn’t kiss your interior decorator, would you?’

  Dani banged her glass down.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Clem asked. Dani’s pink blush had become an agitated red.

  ‘Nothing.’ She straightened her back. ‘We’re going out to have a good time, right?’

  ‘A productive time,’ Clem said.

  ‘You should be excited,’ Annabel gushed, giving Daniela a playful push. ‘You might be about to meet the love of your life. Just because it’s not part of the plan, that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.’

  ‘We’re not here to find the loves of our lives,’ Clementine said.

  ‘But we can still hope,’ Annabel replied.

  Clem had to admit that for the first time in a long time she felt ready to be attracted to someone new. She felt her faith in men had begun to return on Saturday night when Damon had offered her a lift home. As he drove, he told her about growing up in the country and going to school with only twelve other students, including three of his siblings.

  ‘The other kids at school used to call me and my brothers and sister posh just because we had an indoor toilet,’ he had said as they left the mansion.

  He had seemed like a nice man. One who genuinely cared about the answers Clem gave to his many questions. She sensed he was honest and dependable. He seemed loyal, ethical and open. He had a valiant smile and a trustworthy face. She looked around at the bar at the men and wondered if any of them were nice.

  Annabel was stressing the importance of making eye contact.

  ‘Let them know you’re interested,’ she said. ‘I know you’re both funny and smart, but they don’t know that. Give them a reason to pick you out of all the women here.’

  Clementine practised this on three men who were sitting one table over from them. Two of them glanced over. One ran his gaze over Daniela and the other looked at Clem. She returned the look, holding his eyes a nanosecond longer than was comfortable. Then she looked away and took a sip from her G and T in what she hoped was an alluring manner. The man was still watching. His hair was shot with grey, and he had a mask of black stubble sprinkled with silver hairs. He had a thick body and broad, formidable shoulders. Clementine finished her gin.

  ‘My round,’ said Annabel.

  ‘It’s okay, I’ll get it.’

  As Clem stood she gave a meaningful look in the direction of the neighbouring table. She rested her arms on the bar and pretended to read the cocktail menu. The eye contact had had the desired effect. The salt-and-pepper man joined her.

  ‘You’re new,’ he said.

  He was close enough that she could breathe in his cologne. It was sharp and citrusy.

  ‘In what sense?’

  ‘I come here nearly every week. I’ve never seen you before.’

  ‘Who are you, the nightclub police?’ Her exterior was cool, but inside she was thrilled. She had done it: she had issued an invitation with her eyes and summoned a man.

  ‘I’d remember someone like you.’ He leaned against the bar.

  Clementine smiled. ‘Smooth.’

  He insisted on buying her round of drinks. They chatted as the bartender mixed them. It took barely a minute. In that short time the man had asked Clementine if she would like to meet him for a cocktail the following Thursday.

  ‘I’ll have to check my diary,’ she said, feeling powerful.

  She collected her drinks, thanked him and reported back to her table.

  ‘Thursday means he’s cautiously optimistic,’ said Annabel sagely. ‘He likes you, but if it doesn’t work out he’s still got his Friday free to find someone else. But it’s late enough in the week that if things go really well there’s a chance of ending up back at his place.’

  Clementine hadn’t slept with anyone since Jason, and even when they had been together it had felt rushed, or cut short, never enough. He had always left her wanting more. He satisfied her, but only in the most basic sense.

  ‘He only wanted to have a drink,’ Clem said pessimistically.

  ‘What’s wrong with a drink?’ asked Dani.

  ‘Dinner would be better. Studies have shown that simply sharing a meal with others increases people’s levels of oxytocin — the love hormone.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Annabel. ‘If he can’t commit to dinner, how is he going to commit to a mortgage, three kids and a Border Collie?’

  ‘That’s silly,’ Daniela said dismissively. ‘A drink is fine.’

  ‘Do you mind if we join you?’ The salt-and-pepper man had followed Clementine back to the table. He was flanked by two friends.

  ‘You didn’t like my offer,’ he whispered, as he shuffled in next to her.

  ‘What is this, a business deal?’ she asked, inwardly enjoying the joke. He laughed.

  ‘I’m Rex,’ he offered a hand. ‘Or is a handshake too business-like? Should I write to your father and state my intentions to court you?’

  ‘Rex? As in the T-Rex, the feared predator?’

  Annabel was laughing at something a man with short red hair was saying.

  ‘That’s my friend Archer,’ said Rex. ‘It looks as though he likes your friend.’ This was true; Clementine could see him practically salivating. ‘So you don’t want cocktails. Would you be interested in having dinner sometime?’

  ‘I’m very interested in having dinner. So interested, in fact, that I have it nightly,’ Clem said.

  Rex roared with laughter. ‘Me, too. And people say men and women have nothing in common.’

  She couldn’t help but smile. He was confident and funny.

  ‘Maybe we could arrange it so we have dinner at the same place,’ he said.

  ‘I’m only free Monday,’ she said, choosing the most serious, unsexy night of the week.

  When Rex went to the back bar, Clem caught Annabel’s eye, stood and exited to the bathroom. Annabel followed.

  ‘He upgraded to dinner.’

  ‘Mine invited me to dinner, too.’

  Daniela came through the door.

  ‘I heard. Two dinners. They seem nice,’ she said flatly. ‘I’m not sure this guy I’m talking to is interested.’

  �
��Then he’s insane,’ said Annabel. ‘What do you think of him?’

  Dani shrugged. ‘He’s a bit serious.’

  ‘He seems sweet.’ Clem was feeling positive.

  But Annabel was on Dani’s side. ‘He’s quite short.’

  ‘The height doesn’t bother me, as long as he has the inches where it counts,’ Daniela smirked.

  Annabel laughed. ‘That’s the spirit.’

  ‘We should leave,’ Clem said.

  ‘Leave? I’ve only been talking to him for half an hour,’ said Daniela.

  ‘It’s the perfect opportunity to get him to ask you out. You’re leaving, so if he wants to see you again he’ll have to take you to dinner.’

  Daniela looked doubtful.

  ‘Unless you don’t want to—’

  ‘No, no, I do want to. And it’s part of the plan, right? No eligible man left behind.’

  ‘He seems friendly,’ Annabel said. ‘He’s handsome, too.’

  ‘He ticks all the boxes,’ Clem encouraged.

  ‘Right, and who doesn’t like having their box ticked?’ Daniela adjusted her top.

  They finished a last round of drinks, then, as if choreographed, stood and announced they had another engagement.

  ‘Oh, but, you’re leaving, oh,’ said the man Daniela had been talking to. Physically speaking, they were an uncannily well-matched pair. He was diminutive and strong, like her, and had the same browns and shades of gold colouring his skin and hair.

  He leaned forward.

  ‘Can I … Are you free for dinner one night next week?’

  ‘Oh, that would be lovely.’ Dani looked genuinely surprised. She put her number into his phone. Her smile grew with each tap of a button.

  Clem, Annabel and Dani moved to the door and burst out into the night.

  ‘That was amazing!’ Daniela laughed. ‘Three dates.’

  ‘It did go remarkably well,’ Clem said. ‘And it was so simple. Annabel, you’re a genius.’

  ‘We’re all geniuses,’ she gushed. ‘It was a team effort.’

  It was just after 10pm. The sky was black and the air had a biting winter chill.

  ‘Where to next?’ Daniela asked, rubbing her hands together.

  They chose The Silk, a smart bar nestled in the legal district. When they entered a tall man immediately homed in on Annabel, leaving Clementine and Daniela at a table by themselves. They ordered Cokes and finished them quickly. As Dani’s drink drained away, so did her smile. Clem watched her play with the ice in her glass for a minute before she asked what was wrong.

  ‘Is it James?’ Clem said. She got her answer from the sad look on Dani’s face.

  ‘He was flirting with a woman from work today,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why I care! It’s been fifteen years.’

  ‘You were so smitten with him,’ Clem said, almost to herself.

  Dani had written pages of essays to Clem during their tertiary years, outlining arguments for why she and James should get married.

  ‘I thought I was over it. I don’t know what changed. Perhaps I’m bored. I have nobody else in my life, so I’ve locked onto someone comfortable and familiar.’

  ‘People do that,’ Clem nodded.

  She didn’t want to tell Dani that it was plainly obvious she was in love with James. Clementine had thought she had seen longing looks from him on Saturday night, too. But she didn’t want to give Dani false hope. In her twenties she had learned the harsh lesson that girlfriends tended to give more weight to her advice because they believed she had uncovered some secret to men’s souls in her Psych classes. Too often she’d had broken-hearted girls call in tears to denounce her suggestions, even though other friends got off unscathed, despite their advice being far sillier. (Like when Melanie Sissowitz told Daniela to dye her hair blonde because James really liked Madonna.)

  ‘What I need is a distraction,’ Daniela said. She was looking eagerly around the room, scanning, like a terminator set to matrimony. ‘What about them?’ she nodded at a large table of men.

  Annabel’s suitor left, but not before taking a business card. She settled in next to Daniela and Clementine.

  ‘He was nice. But he’s not really someone I would normally go for. Nor was the guy at The Establishment.’

  ‘We’re not supposed to be going for men we normally go for,’ Dani reminded her.

  She drained her glass and walked defiantly to the other end of the bar. Annabel and Clementine stretched their necks to watch. Two men from a table of six were ordering drinks. They were deep in conversation. Daniela leaned over, said something and then started chatting with the bartender. For Clementine and Annabel it was like watching a silent movie where you have to wait for the dialogue to come up and reveal what the conversation was about. The men grinned at each other and started talking to Daniela. After a minute she waved them over.

  ‘Wow. That interjection really worked,’ Clementine said in another bathroom conference.

  ‘The second I broke the ice, they were all over me,’ said Dani.

  ‘I say we try the swift retreat method again,’ said Annabel.

  For the second time that night, they made their excuses and left, but not without another date each.

  Walking a wobbly line home they passed York 64, a sports bar that was packed to bursting point. Its windows had fogged up from all the people inside.

  ‘One more?’ asked Annabel.

  ‘No, we’ve had too much to drunk,’ Clem said. ‘Drink — we’ve had too much to drink. See! We can’t drink on the job.’

  ‘Okay, no more husband-hunting,’ said Annabel. ‘But we should have one more cocktail. To celebrate a successful phase one. Just us. I’m buying. Daiquiris. Come on, we’ve barely paid for a drink all night.’

  In the end they didn’t pay for the daiquiris either. They stumbled upon a friendly bachelor party of genial men in their late thirties who were enjoying some sedate last drinks. The buck already had three children with his fiancée, and they were planning a quick ceremony at the registry office in the morning before leaving the kids with his parents and hopping on a plane to Hamilton Island.

  By the end of the night, Daniela and Clementine had three dates each and Annabel had four. Clem walked home feeling comforted. Maybe she wasn’t going to be left on the shelf. Maybe she wouldn’t have to marry a fantasy role-playing fan who dressed like a warlock and made her call him Sirridian the Bold while insisting their home was not in Annandale but the Kingdom of Arrowsreach. She climbed into bed with a smile on her face. But she still couldn’t resist pulling out her phone to check for messages from Jason. Just in case.

  Chapter 8 Annabel

  Annabel pressed mute. The bong sound her computer made every time an email arrived was relentless. She was starting to wonder if it was in her head and she was going a little bit mad. Sweet Success had just signed a major new client — Farouk Spices, high-quality seasonings — and work was chaotic. She had advertised for two new staff members. Her opposite number at Farouk appeared to be a control freak, and was constantly emailing and calling. Because Kathy was off having her wisdom teeth removed, all of her emails and calls were being diverted to Annabel. Bong! Mute. She clicked again: MUTE!

  Ant stuck his head into her office.

  ‘Um, two hundred sample vials of Farouk paprika have just arrived.’

  ‘What? They were supposed to go to the bar for the party on Wednesday night.’

  ‘I know, the courier wants someone to sign for them. Shall I send him to the bar?’

  The phone rang.

  ‘No, no, I’ll sign for them. I’ll drive them over on Wednesday.’

  Ant brought her the clipboard. Annabel scribbled a signature, then he disappeared. She picked up the phone.

  ‘Hi, this is Penny Lenkhoff speaking. I applied for the PR job and was just wondering when you were going to be contacting candidates for interviews.’

  Annabel couldn’t believe it. She had only advertised the job five days ago.

  �
�I’m sorry, Penny,’ Annabel said. Two more résumés popped into her inbox as she explained that she hadn’t had a chance to start going through the CVs yet.

  ‘Besides, applications don’t close until the end of the week.’

  She hung up without saying goodbye, which is something she never did. It’s very bad form. But Ant was at her door again with a large brown box.

  ‘Is that the paprika?’

  The phone rang again.

  ‘Oh, for crying out loud!’

  ‘No, it’s a parcel that’s just arrived.’

  She motioned for him to put it down and answered the phone. It was a commercial real estate agent who specialised in leasing office space.

  ‘I have found some possibilities for you if you’re free to look at some venues this week,’ he said.

  After placing the job ads Annabel had realised her office could barely accommodate one more staff member, let alone two.

  ‘Um, Thursday … no, Friday?’ she suggested.

  ‘Let me see …’ While the agent consulted his schedule, Annabel opened the box Ant had put on her desk. Inside was a plate of pancakes drizzled with raspberry coulis and a letter. It was a job application from a girl named Sybilla. She said that she had read in a Vogue interview about models who had switched careers that Annabel loved to relax with a book and a plate of pancakes on Sundays. The coulis was by Eton Essentials, a food client of Annabel’s that specialised in condiments. Annabel was impressed. She agreed to meet the real estate agent on Friday, then she called Sybilla and asked her to come in for an interview at eight-thirty the next morning. She bit into a forkful of crimson-coloured pancakes. Another résumé arrived while she was chewing.

  ‘Worry about it tomorrow,’ she told herself and logged out. It was time for her first husband-hunting date.

  Date 1: Monday night dinner at Aria. Target: Archer Drysdale, dollar analyst at CommSec. Keen tennis player and Sydney Theatre Company subscriber. Expectations: middling.

  The cab pulled up at the restaurant just after eight. As Annabel was paying the driver a text message arrived. It was Archer writing to say he was running five to ten minutes late. The waiter seated her and did his utmost to be of help. Nine minutes later Archer called and said he was so sorry but — expletive, expletive, expletive — a computer bug was throwing out projections, but he would be there in five minutes.