Chapter 2-2
1614 Words
“Okay, you lot,” Owen said. “It’s after six. Or, as it’s also known, wine o’clock.”
Noah and Penny looked up from their notepads and books, and Max plopped the large legal tome he carried onto the desk with a thump. Owen stood at the door of the room which served as the firm’s library, his coat on. The two trainees had spent the afternoon researching some obscure points of law for a client, while Max did the fetching and carrying of law books, and much needed consciousness-sustaining coffee, between filing and general dogsbody work for Mrs Barstow. She’d gone at five. The senior partners had gone at three—being Friday, that was yet another tradition. Owen had been working in his office. Max had taken him coffee a couple of times and revelled in the smiles of thanks he’d got. But Owen had been too busy to chat.
“Come on,” Owen said. “Pencils down. Start again on Monday. You’ve all worked hard this week. Let’s get something to eat.”
Penny and Noah accepted the order with smiles. They sighed and stretched in their chairs before getting up.
“You, too, Max,” Owen said when Max started to gather up to the law books to put away.
“This isn’t a solicitors’ only thing?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Get your coat.”
Yes!
They walked through darkening streets to an Italian restaurant nearby. The head waiter fussed over Owen like he was a long-lost family member returning home and seated the party at a good table.
“Can I sit on that side?” Max said to Penny as they started to take their seats. “I can’t hear too well out of my right ear.”
“No problem,” she said, swapping around, so she was on his left when he sat and Owen was straight across from him. “What happened to your ear?”
“Ear infection when I was a kid,” he said. “I’ve only got about twenty percent hearing in it. It’s got me into a scrape or two.”
“Such as?” Owen asked.
He’d discarded his suit jacket, and Max could barely tear his gaze from the broad shoulders in the snowy shirt. His arms must be amazing. He went to the gym every morning before work apparently. Even fully dressed, the results were impressive. Undressed…maybe Max would get to see that one day. A waiter brought menus and a basket of bread.
“Bring us two bottles of the house wine for the table, please,” Owen said. “One red, one white. Thank you.” He picked up a piece of bread and tore it. His strong fingers mesmerised Max. “Sorry, Max, do go on.”
“Ah…what was I saying?”
“Your hearing loss getting you into scrapes.”
“Right. There was the gastro pubs things.”
Noah groaned. Which made Max fear he shouldn’t tell the story. But he plunged on.
“It was at a party, when Noah was a student. There was this guy, and we, ah…hit it off.” He blushed, looking at Owen, who ate his bread and looked riveted by the story. “He said he was going away for a week to study gastro pubs on the south coast and did I want to come with him. I figured, gastro pubs, so great food, nice accommodation, so I said yes.”
“Who studies gastro pubs?” Noah said. “Did it never occur to you that sounded weird?”
“He could have been studying tourism and leisure or something,” Max argued. “So he picked me up in the morning, and off we went to the coast. Which is where I found out it wasn’t gastro pubs he’d said.”
“What was it?” Owen asked.
“Gastropods. Shellfish. He was studying marine biology. Between my dodgy ear and the loud music, I’d misheard.”
Owen was chuckling, Penny laughing. “Oh, Max,” she said. “So no great food? No nice accommodation?”
“Fish and chips every night, and a tent.”
“Did you stay for the week?” Owen asked.
“Yes, but after the first night in the tent, I insisted we stay at a B&B for the rest of the time.”
“You’re such high-maintenance,” Penny said.
“Yep, I’m a diva.”
Owen was still laughing, shaking his head. “Gastropods,” he muttered and laughed again.
Max relaxed with relief, fearing how the story might have gone over. He wasn’t sure what Owen thought of him going off with a virtual stranger for a week of shellfish-watching—since he must know Max was there to do more than help the guy put the tent up. But he didn’t seem to be thinking about that aspect.
“We’d better order,” Noah said as the waiter arrived with the two bottles of wine.
“Give us a moment, please,” Owen said to the waiter. He glanced over his menu, but then spoke to Penny and Noah. “Order me my usual if he comes back before me. Excuse me a second, everyone.”
He took off for the bathroom. Max watched him go in the mirror. No jacket meant he got a delightful view of what looked like a very muscular ass. He turned his attention back to the menu when Penny touched his arm.
“Don’t worry about prices,” she said. “Owen always picks up the whole bill. Order whatever you want. He doesn’t mind.”
“Wow, really?” He glanced at Noah, who nodded. Max supposed Owen was on great money, and his family must be minted, too. The bill here would be like pocket change to him. “That’s so nice. He’s a great guy, isn’t he?” Then he feared he was giving too much away and gulped down half his glass of wine to shut himself up. Noah gave him a rather warning look. Max hid behind his menu until the waiter came and took their orders.
Max glanced in the mirror on the wall again and saw Owen. He was at the bar, chatting to a guy he apparently knew well. Laughing heartily about whatever they were saying to each other. Not a bad looking guy, and in a suit as good as Owen’s. Nearer his own age, too. Far more the kind of guy he’d probably be interested in. Not the office junior, ten years younger than him. What did Max have to say to a man of substance like Owen anyway? He only had so many stupid anecdotes to tell. Even if Owen would respond to an advance, he’d only want to shag Max a couple of times and dump him when he was bored.
Owen finally slapped the other guy on the upper arm, shook his hand, and left with a laughing goodbye. He came back to the table and picked up his wine glass.
“So, have you enjoyed your first week with us, Max?”
It wasn’t quite a week. He’d started on Tuesday. But he certainly felt as if he’d done a week’s work. Noah gave Max a look. Not the OMG, stop talking, look yet. More the think before you speak look.
“It’s been great,” Max said. “I feel as if I’m learning so much and getting a chance to stretch and challenge myself.”
There, Noah should be proud of that. Owen and Penny on the other hand looked slightly nonplussed, exchanging a glance.
“Okay,” Owen said. “That’s good to hear.” He looked at Max with the intense lie-detector eyes again. “Now how about you tell us what you really think?”
“Ah…can I exercise my right to remain silent on the grounds I might incriminate myself?”
Owen and Penny laughed.
“You have learned something,” Penny said. “That’s for sure.”
The arrival of their first course saved Max from further cross examination.
* * * *
Max approached Owen cautiously. He was standing at the bar as the barman fixed their latest round of drinks.
“Ah, you want a hand?” Max asked.
Owen glanced around and smiled at him. “I’ve got a tray, but thanks anyway.”
That was probably a good thing. Max had had a couple of drinks too many. Anything he carried, he’d spill. He didn’t leave, though. He moved closer, leaned on the bar. The drinks had made him bold. He was gonna do it. He was going to ask him.
“Want some crisps?” Owen asked.
“What? Oh, yeah, sure, crisps. Yes. Get some for Noah, too. He loves crisps. Kettle crisps most of all. Give that man a bag of those, and he’s happy for hours. He…”
Stop babbling. God, shut up!
The barman appeared with the last drink, and Owen ordered some packets of crisps.
“I was thinking, ah, wondering, Owen, if you’d maybe, with me, sometime, fancy seeing dinner and eating a movie.”
Owen looked puzzled. Max’s ears caught up with his mouth.
“I mean the other way around. Move a dinner…No, hang on. I got confused. Can I start over? Or…I’ll shut up. Sorry.” And then maybe he can find a way up to the roof and throw himself off it.
The barman dropped the bags of crisps on the tray, and Owen paid the bill and picked up the tray. “Let’s go and sit down, eh?”
Max trailed him miserably back to the table. The best he could hope was that Owen hadn’t heard him over the music playing in the pub. He was profoundly grateful to find a couple of people Owen and the others apparently knew had joined them at the table, and he didn’t get another chance to talk to Owen alone. All he had to deal with was an occasional glance his way. Sometimes one of those bone-melting smiles, other times a puzzled expression, as if he was trying to figure out which planet Max had come from.
Not encouraging.
* * * *
“You okay?” Noah asked in the taxi later.
Max, hanging onto the handle above the window because otherwise he felt he’d fall off the seat, turned from gazing out of the window, wondering if Owen was going home to a lonely bed or if someone waited for him. Or if he’d gone on some place after the party split up. Some classy bar full of well-dressed men who talked sense, where he’d find someone he could take home who wasn’t an i***t.
“I tried to ask Owen out,” he said. “I made a total tool of myself.”
“God, Max.”
“I know. He’s way out of my league. I shouldn’t have. What can I say? I’m pretty drunk?”
“How is he out of your league?” Noah frowned. “I’m more inclined to say he’s too old for you.”
“That, too. I mean, I’m too young for him. Too silly.”
“Look, never mind any of that. He’s not the type to date someone he works with, I’m afraid. Especially one he’s in a position of authority over. What did he say?”
“We didn’t get the chance to discuss it.”
Noah sighed. “You’ll have to talk to him about it on Monday.”
“I could do that, yes. Or I could go to Iceland, find a volcano, and throw myself in.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic. He’ll be fine. Be a grown-up.”
“Now you’re being unreasonable.”
- Writer
