Sushi for Beginners
Page 43
‘But the last time I asked a young lady for her phone number, she said “It’s in the book.” The problem was I didn’t know her name and when I asked her, she said –’ He paused and with impeccable timing went on, ‘“Oh, that’s in the book too.”’
The venue erupted, but the laughter was sympathetic and of the at-least-it’s-not-just-me type.
‘So I decided I’d act a bit cool.’ He gave a klutzy grin and everyone melted. ‘Thought I’d model myself on Austin Powers and ask the young lady to call me. So I wrote my name and number on a bit of paper and then I asked myself what would Austin Powers say.’ He closed his eyes and held his fingertips to his temples, to show that he was communing with Austin Powers. ‘And suddenly I knew. Bellez-moi!’ Marcus declared. ‘Suave, slick, sophisticated. What woman could resist? Bellez-moi!’
I’m famous. Ashling had an hysterical urge to stand up and tell everyone.
‘And guess what?’ Marcus scanned the audience with a cute, goofy expression. His connection with each person was taut. They strained towards him, full of love, as he stretched the anticipatory silence to its furthest reach, holding his public in the palm of his freckly hand. ‘She never rang!’
No doubt about it, Marcus Valentine had loser star-quality.
Lisa was out of her seat the minute he left the stage. He’d already refused to have lunch with her when Trix had rung his agent but she hoped that extreme flattery and herself in person would change his mind. Ashling watched her block him off at the edge of the stage and wondered if she should follow. She didn’t want to get too near to Marcus, in case he saw her. In case he thought… But Ted was besieged by fans and Joy had just seen Half-man-ha –… Mick talking to another woman and had gone to investigate. After sitting alone for a while longer, Ashling got up.
With curiosity, she watched Marcus watching Lisa as she did her pitch. His head was to one side and he had a perplexed quirky way of turning down his mouth that was delightful. Then Lisa stopped talking and he began. He was in the middle of something that looked very like a refusal, when his eye snagged Ashling’s and he stopped abruptly.
‘Hi,’ he mouthed, and gave her a huge smile, holding her eyes, projecting warmth. As if we have some understanding, Ashling thought uncomfortably. He thinks I came here specially to see him.
He continued talking for a short time longer, but kept sneaking looks, then touched Lisa’s arm in valediction and came over.
‘Hello again.’
‘Hello.’
‘What are you doing here?’
She paused, looked up from under her lashes and smiled. ‘I thought Macy Gray was playing.’ Fuck! she realized. I’m flirting with him.
His laugh was appreciative. ‘Did you enjoy the show?’
‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded and did that eyelash look again.
‘Will you let me take you out for a drink sometime?’
Now that would teach her. She was like a rabbit caught in headlights, who’d bitten off more than she could chew. As it were.
I can’t fancy him just because he’s famous and admired. That would make me very shallow.
‘OK.’ Her voice had decided to go on ahead without her. ‘Call me.’
‘Your number…?’
‘You have it.’
‘Give it to me again to be on the safe side.’
Marcus began an elaborate pantomime of patting himself, vaguely seeking a pen and paper.
Luckily, Ashling had the equivalent of a small stationery cupboard in her bag. She scribbled her name and phone number on a page torn from a notebook.
‘I’ll treasure this,’ he said, folding it small and shoving it deep into the front pocket of his jeans. ‘Next to my heart,’ he promised, in a tone dense with innuendo. ‘I’m leaving now, but I’ll be in touch.’
Confused with herself, Ashling watched him leave. Then, aware that Lisa was looking at her with amusement, she escaped to the ladies’. Where her path to the wash-basin was partially blocked by a small girl with tragic eyes who was standing in front of the mirror, renewing her eye-liner and making herself look even more tragic. As Ashling turned the tap on, the tragic girl turned to her taller friend, who was idly doing circle after circle of jammy pink lip-gloss on her mouth, and said, ‘Frances, you’ll never believe it, but that was me, you know.’
‘What was?’
‘The girl who Marcus Valentine gave that Bellez-moi note to.’
Ashling jerked violently, hooshing water down her front. No one noticed.
Frances did a slow, incredulous body-turn, her lip-gloss applicator frozen against her mouth. Her tragic friend elaborated, ‘It was last Christmas, we stood next to each other for two hours in a taxi-queue.’
‘But why didn’t you bellez him?’ Frances levered her lip-gloss wand away from her mouth and vigorously shook the tragic girl by the shoulders. ‘He’s yummy. Yummy!’
‘I just thought he was some freckly eejit.’
Frances surveyed the shorter girl for a long, thoughtful time before delivering judgement. ‘Do you know something, Linda O’Neill? You deserve your unhappiness, you really do. I’ll never feel sorry for you again.’
Ashling, still washing her hands like someone in the terminal stages of obsessive compulsive disorder, was mesmerized. She spent her entire life looking for Signs, and if this wasn’t a Sign, then she didn’t know what was. Give it a lash with Marcus Valentine, the celestial oracle was urging her. Even if he was handing out Bellez-moi notes like they were flyers, she had a good feeling about this. A very good feeling.
When Ashling re-emerged, Lisa was about to leave. Now that she’d got what she wanted, she saw no reason to hang around this low-rent club any longer.
‘Bye then, see you at work on Monday,’ Ashling said, awkwardly, not sure how chummy she should be.
Lisa wriggled through the crowds, her face satisfied. Not a bad night’s work. Seeing Marcus Valentine had convinced her that he was certainly worth pursuing. Though it wouldn’t be easy. He wasn’t half as guileless in real life. In fact, he was smart – and slippery. Lisa suspected he had no objection to writing a column per se, but that he was holding out for a quality newspaper. To combat which she could feed him some bollocks about possibly syndicating his column to Randolph Media publications worldwide.
The venue erupted, but the laughter was sympathetic and of the at-least-it’s-not-just-me type.
‘So I decided I’d act a bit cool.’ He gave a klutzy grin and everyone melted. ‘Thought I’d model myself on Austin Powers and ask the young lady to call me. So I wrote my name and number on a bit of paper and then I asked myself what would Austin Powers say.’ He closed his eyes and held his fingertips to his temples, to show that he was communing with Austin Powers. ‘And suddenly I knew. Bellez-moi!’ Marcus declared. ‘Suave, slick, sophisticated. What woman could resist? Bellez-moi!’
I’m famous. Ashling had an hysterical urge to stand up and tell everyone.
‘And guess what?’ Marcus scanned the audience with a cute, goofy expression. His connection with each person was taut. They strained towards him, full of love, as he stretched the anticipatory silence to its furthest reach, holding his public in the palm of his freckly hand. ‘She never rang!’
No doubt about it, Marcus Valentine had loser star-quality.
Lisa was out of her seat the minute he left the stage. He’d already refused to have lunch with her when Trix had rung his agent but she hoped that extreme flattery and herself in person would change his mind. Ashling watched her block him off at the edge of the stage and wondered if she should follow. She didn’t want to get too near to Marcus, in case he saw her. In case he thought… But Ted was besieged by fans and Joy had just seen Half-man-ha –… Mick talking to another woman and had gone to investigate. After sitting alone for a while longer, Ashling got up.
With curiosity, she watched Marcus watching Lisa as she did her pitch. His head was to one side and he had a perplexed quirky way of turning down his mouth that was delightful. Then Lisa stopped talking and he began. He was in the middle of something that looked very like a refusal, when his eye snagged Ashling’s and he stopped abruptly.
‘Hi,’ he mouthed, and gave her a huge smile, holding her eyes, projecting warmth. As if we have some understanding, Ashling thought uncomfortably. He thinks I came here specially to see him.
He continued talking for a short time longer, but kept sneaking looks, then touched Lisa’s arm in valediction and came over.
‘Hello again.’
‘Hello.’
‘What are you doing here?’
She paused, looked up from under her lashes and smiled. ‘I thought Macy Gray was playing.’ Fuck! she realized. I’m flirting with him.
His laugh was appreciative. ‘Did you enjoy the show?’
‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded and did that eyelash look again.
‘Will you let me take you out for a drink sometime?’
Now that would teach her. She was like a rabbit caught in headlights, who’d bitten off more than she could chew. As it were.
I can’t fancy him just because he’s famous and admired. That would make me very shallow.
‘OK.’ Her voice had decided to go on ahead without her. ‘Call me.’
‘Your number…?’
‘You have it.’
‘Give it to me again to be on the safe side.’
Marcus began an elaborate pantomime of patting himself, vaguely seeking a pen and paper.
Luckily, Ashling had the equivalent of a small stationery cupboard in her bag. She scribbled her name and phone number on a page torn from a notebook.
‘I’ll treasure this,’ he said, folding it small and shoving it deep into the front pocket of his jeans. ‘Next to my heart,’ he promised, in a tone dense with innuendo. ‘I’m leaving now, but I’ll be in touch.’
Confused with herself, Ashling watched him leave. Then, aware that Lisa was looking at her with amusement, she escaped to the ladies’. Where her path to the wash-basin was partially blocked by a small girl with tragic eyes who was standing in front of the mirror, renewing her eye-liner and making herself look even more tragic. As Ashling turned the tap on, the tragic girl turned to her taller friend, who was idly doing circle after circle of jammy pink lip-gloss on her mouth, and said, ‘Frances, you’ll never believe it, but that was me, you know.’
‘What was?’
‘The girl who Marcus Valentine gave that Bellez-moi note to.’
Ashling jerked violently, hooshing water down her front. No one noticed.
Frances did a slow, incredulous body-turn, her lip-gloss applicator frozen against her mouth. Her tragic friend elaborated, ‘It was last Christmas, we stood next to each other for two hours in a taxi-queue.’
‘But why didn’t you bellez him?’ Frances levered her lip-gloss wand away from her mouth and vigorously shook the tragic girl by the shoulders. ‘He’s yummy. Yummy!’
‘I just thought he was some freckly eejit.’
Frances surveyed the shorter girl for a long, thoughtful time before delivering judgement. ‘Do you know something, Linda O’Neill? You deserve your unhappiness, you really do. I’ll never feel sorry for you again.’
Ashling, still washing her hands like someone in the terminal stages of obsessive compulsive disorder, was mesmerized. She spent her entire life looking for Signs, and if this wasn’t a Sign, then she didn’t know what was. Give it a lash with Marcus Valentine, the celestial oracle was urging her. Even if he was handing out Bellez-moi notes like they were flyers, she had a good feeling about this. A very good feeling.
When Ashling re-emerged, Lisa was about to leave. Now that she’d got what she wanted, she saw no reason to hang around this low-rent club any longer.
‘Bye then, see you at work on Monday,’ Ashling said, awkwardly, not sure how chummy she should be.
Lisa wriggled through the crowds, her face satisfied. Not a bad night’s work. Seeing Marcus Valentine had convinced her that he was certainly worth pursuing. Though it wouldn’t be easy. He wasn’t half as guileless in real life. In fact, he was smart – and slippery. Lisa suspected he had no objection to writing a column per se, but that he was holding out for a quality newspaper. To combat which she could feed him some bollocks about possibly syndicating his column to Randolph Media publications worldwide.
