Unravelled (22 page)

“Anthony!” My triumphant cry startles even me in the small confines of the elevator. Adam gives me a strange look I haven’t seen him give me yet and shakes his head. I must, I must remember to phone Anthony and get the number of crew members from him, so I can let the catering company know. No, not the catering company. I must let Tariska know.

“Come on, Alex.” We’ve arrived on his floor and Adam steers me out the elevator by the elbow. We pass Agatha and I’m truly confused when she doesn’t give me the usual disapproving look, but a look resembling compassion washes over me. I must be really tired today to think that she cares. We enter Adam’s office and he leads me to the little wash room that’s attached to his office. I wish I had one like that in my cubicle to freshen up. I haven’t looked at myself in a mirror for at least two days. Juan,
Erin
and all the girls at Heaven would be horror-struck.

“Um… Adam, where are you taking me?” I realise that he’s taking me in to his little wash room and for the life of me, I cannot imagine for what. Unless… I stop dead in my tracks two steps from the wash room. “What are you doing?”

“Just come with me.”

“No!” Adam pulls at my elbow and I pull back. “If you think I’m going in there with you, you are insane. We have a whole house to do this in.” After Adam’s threat of talking to me about ‘us’, I’ve been avoiding him like one would a friend you owed money to. Not that it’s been difficult. I’ve been so busy this week at the office that not seeing Adam has been easy. What I don’t understand is why he wants to do it now? And here?

“I’m not doing it here,” I say with much vehemence.

He gives me a strange look and pulls at my elbow again. “Trust me, Alex. Just come with me.”

Trust me. Hah! Many a woman have fallen for that, but not me. No way, Jose. I do a quick inventory and come to the irrefutable conclusion that I’m not prepared for a physical interlude. The last time my body saw a razor blade or a waxing strip was after my trip to “Heaven” ten days ago, I’ve run out of clean underwear and am wearing my oldest (and most comfortable) bra and a panty that is more befitting an old age pensioner and not a hot babe like me. I know that I’m in serious need of grooming and having spent the night in the office doesn’t help my body image right now.

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t trust me?” He sounds incredulous and pulls at my arm again. I forcefully pluck my elbow out of his hand and nearly knock my own wind out.

“It’s not that I can’t trust you. I’m just not ready for… for this.” I flap my hand around, hoping that he will get the meaning without me having to draw pictures or spell it out for him. I mean, even my toenail polish is chipped, for Pete’s sake! And what about protection? Does he keep condoms in his wash room? If so, what kind of man is he? Oh dear, what’s happening?

“Alex, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you, me, us, the wash room. If you think that I’m going to do it in your little wash room, you must be smoked. I mean, really, Adam. I thought you knew me better than that.” The left corner of Adam’s mouth is the window to his soul. Many times I’ve seen him put a veil over his eyes to not reveal his thoughts, but the corner of his mouth always gives him away. I watch that corner change as he works through this situation in his mind. First the corner pulls a bit down with disapproval, then it gives one little quiver as a thought hits him and finally there is that little quiver that indicates I did or said something of high entertainment value and he doesn’t know how to react to it.

“What exactly do you think I have in mind?” The quiver is still there.

“Well…um… you know.”

“No, I don’t. Tell me.” He wants me to say it? Is he the kinky kind of guy who insists on me shouting his name over and over or calling him ‘daddy”?

“Doing it, you know.” My heart has sunk to the bottom of my shoes and is now dripping through the stitching onto the floor. Both of Adam’s mouth corners are quivering now and I can hear the laughter in his voice.

“You think that I want to have sex with you in my office?”

“Um, yes.” Isn’t that what this is? Coming into my office and so masterfully commanding me into his office and then directly leading me to the wash room.

“Oh Alex.” Adam gives a half laugh. “If you would come with me, I will show you why I’m not going to make love to you today.” He takes my hand and pulls me after him into the wash room and then past him in front of the mirror. “Look at yourself.”

I look in the mirror, but can only see Adam behind me. Man, is he ever a sight for sore eyes. All fresh and suited and gorgeous. He lifts his eyebrows at me and I force my eyes down and to the left until I see my own reflection.

“Oh my god!”

“Yes.”

The sight that greets my eyes is not a pretty one. Remember me feeling like the second week of a garbage strike? Well, I almost look like one too. It is an all encompassing look, from the coffee stain on my white shirt, the wrinkled skirt to the red eyes. My make-up must have absconded late yesterday afternoon, but my new long lasting, waterproof mascara has had a longer life and is now below my eyes creating a panda look. It is a pale, tired face that looks back at me in the mirror.

I’m the antidote to desire.

“You are going to go home now and rest. I don’t want to see you in this office until Monday morning. Understood?”

“I can’t. There is too much to do before the weekend. We have exactly seven days before this festival and there is just too much to do.” There isn’t really that much left to do, but I still have the need to put up some sort of fight against Adam ordering me to go home. On the other hand, I really am exhausted and having just looked at myself in the mirror, I am also rather disheartened.

“No arguments, Alex. You are going home.”

“I’ll have to tell Ray what to do.”

“I’m sure he knows.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t.”

“You’re not going back into your office.”

“I am.” I narrow my panda-eyes and give Adam a look that I hoped he would not argue with. He is still standing behind me in the small wash room and we’re having a stare-down in the mirror. He sighs – as he does so often around me – and shakes his head.

“You have fifteen minutes. If you are not out of this building by then, I will have security escorting you out.”

My grandmother would be deeply disappointed in me. I have put up no decent fight and am already thinking about my comfortable bed waiting for me.

“Deal.”

I get back in my office to find Ray waiting for me with a to do list.

“What’s this then?”

“I’ve written everything down, in order of priority, of things that needs to be done before the end of the day.” Of course he did that. Who wouldn’t? I groan and take the offered paper from Ray. To my delight, surprise and annoyance, I find that Ray had listed everything I thought of and a few extra things I hadn’t thought of. His order of priority makes more sense that the one in my head, which is why it is annoying, but I comfort myself with the fact that it is fatigue that is causing this little lapse. And after all, Ray is so organised, I’m sure he folds his underwear like origami, so leaving him with a few arrangements is no biggie.

“This is perfect. Thank you, Ray.”

“Go home now.”

“Excuse me?” I’m surprised at the tone of his voice. It is not the usual bantering, teasing tone. He is serious.

“I’m the one who told Adam to get you out of here. I can’t work in the same office with someone who looks like…like…that.” The last word carried the image of unforgivable sins and I smile weakly. Ray turns back to his desk and gives me a gentle smile. “Leave, scoot, go! I have everything under control here”

I drag my tired body to the car park and feel like crying. For no reason. Having been sent home had me acknowledge how tired I really am and it is now at that place where one becomes emotional about any and everything. I get to Adam’s sedan, that still has the sad tear in its side, and give a little hiccough of a cry-laugh. Al promised to have my car ready this weekend and then he’ll fix Adam’s car. And everybody still believes that I’m responsible.

On my way home I think of what Adam told me in his little wash room. And then something struck me. He said that he wasn’t going to do it with me ‘today’. What did that mean? Is he planning on doing it at another time? And he said ‘make love’ not ‘save sex’, ‘nail’, ‘boink’ or any other more erotic phrase. Make love. Oh, bugger this. I’m just too tired to be thinking about it right now.

The bliss. It’s Saturday morning and I slept for fifteen hours non-stop. I did wake up once when Blossom bounced into the room, but didn’t notice anything other than the large wet spot on my pillow where I had been drooling for hours. I turned the pillow around and tried not to think of exactly how gross that was and just went back to sleep. I now have my feet dangling in the pool and a cup of coffee in my hand. Absolute bliss.

I hear the kitchen door open and the soft footfall of someone walking across the lawn to the pool. Adam. When I woke up this morning, I noticed that my curtains were drawn and someone must’ve let Blossom out during the night. The man coming towards me now has won quite a few brownie points with me.

“Good morning.” He’s carrying a tray with a selection of fruits, bread-rolls and little tubs of yoghurt.

“Good morning.” I give a huge, unsexy yawn and turn my face into the sun. “What a beautiful morning.”

Adam puts the tray between us, sits down next to me and lowers his feet in the swimming pool. “Did you sleep well?”

“Did I ever? I feel like a new person. Thank you for chasing me out of the office yesterday.”

“I can’t take all the credit. It was actually on Ray’s insistence that I came in to check on you.” He took a bite of an apple and nodded at the tray for me to help myself. “It was pretty scary to see you like that.”

I give a little laugh – one of those when you don’t want to acknowledge that the other person is telling the truth, but still have to respond.

“Yea, well. With the set back we had with the catering company, it took some reorganising to get things back on track. It’s been quite a week. And I couldn’t have fixed all this without Jamie and Tariska. And of course Ray. He’s been my right hand.”

What a disaster it was! The head of the catering company had a family tragedy and had to pull out. He made his team available to us, but could no longer be responsible for the feeding of the crowds. I had to find someone that could co-ordinate the whole thing. I was talking about it to Ray when Jamie walked into the office and after a few moments came up with the perfect solution.

Tariska apparently has a passion for cooking, not only graphic designing, and after a few meetings and with a lot of help from Ray it was agreed that she was to co-ordinate the catering for the whole festival. I was very impressed with how she handled the last minute responsibility and when I had a moment alone with Jamie gave him a piece of my mind. After the car incident he lost all courage and didn’t ask her out again and I thought it was very sad. They would make such a good couple.

I had my talk with him on Monday. On Wednesday he came into my office beaming. Yes, they went on another date and this time it had a much better ending. Ray and I teased them both a bit, but Ray was much gentler this time and he handled the ribbing well. Not being able to subcontract the catering added an unwelcome load to our second last week, but we coped. The last two days just took over my life and even though I never appreciate people sticking their noses in my business, I’m glad to have been kicked out of my own office. Adam hands me a tub of yoghurt and a spoon, and I happily splash my feet in the water.

“Ray also made me promise to not allow you to talk or think about work.”

“Aren’t you the kettle calling the pot black?” I give him an indignant look. “At least I don’t sit until one in the morning making love to my laptop. I’m sure you are one of those people who take your laptop with you on holiday.” I read a study that found that five out of eight executives take their laptops with them when they are on vacation. Sad.

“That’s not the point.”

“A contraire, my dear friend. That is the point. You’re not allowed to tell me what to do when you are ten times worse than me.” I’m winning this argument and it adds to my already blissful feeling.

“Maybe, but I never had my co-workers ask me to go have a shower.” Ouch.

“Ok, you win.” I won’t let this little defeat spoil my good mood and I stick a slice of apple in my mouth. It is a good day when losing to Mr Wall Street doesn’t rate on the same annoyance level as a telesales phone call during dinner.

Chapter 19

I love nature. I love the smell of the earth, the imperfections of nature which is what makes it perfect and above all, I love it when the birds loudly share their opinion with everyone willing to listen. What I don’t like is sharing the experience with a man who is charging through the woods ahead of me like a bull through the streets of
Pamplona
. Albeit with a bit more grace.

After a lazy morning around the pool, Adam suggested that we head to the woods for a stroll – a stroll – and a picnic. He had already packed a picnic basket and told me that he was going to take me to his favourite spot. I thought that was a great idea, but then again, I was under the impression that we were going to take in the view while walking and not see it all pass in a green blur as we power-walk our way to his ‘favourite spot’. The only pro fighting against all the cons is that Adam-from-behind is just as good to look at as Adam-from-the-front. But I have had enough of this walk-for-life experience and come to a stop.