Chapter 5
****
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 idiot.
“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.”
Max didn’t talk to Owen about it on Monday.He kept himself busy,and since Owen was out a lot of the day in court,it wasn’t too hard to avoid him.By Tuesday afternoon,the strategy was working so well,they’d barely exchanged two words.
Tuesday afternoon.After the end of today,he’d have done five full days working here.A whole working week.Next step,a fortnight.After that,the nearly unchartered territory of a month.But could he stay working here with Owen going around being simultaneously gorgeous and unapproachable?
“Sagan,”Mr Bell said,coming out of his office,“we want coffee for two in the conference room,immediately.”
“Yes,sir.”Max jumped to it,heading for the little kitchen and putting the kettle on.In most of Max’s other jobs,making the coffee had involved a kettle,a mug,a teaspoon of instant coffee,and a splash of semi-skimmed.
Not here.
As the kettle boiled,he scooped freshly ground coffee into a French press.He arranged the best cups,saucers,and spoons on a tray.He put out some fancy biscuits—which he’d been told plainly by Mrs Barstow were for solicitors and clients only,not the likes of him.He added a jug of fresh cream and the bowl of sugar—making sure none of the sugar was clumped together thanks to inconsiderate people putting wet spoons in it.Clumped sugar was unacceptable to the senior partners,and packets of sugar looked“common,”according to Mrs Barstow.
The kettle clicked off,and he filled the French press.The amazing aroma of fresh coffee rose up.He placed the lid on carefully,picked up the tray,and headed for the conference room.The door was slightly ajar when he approached.He heard the voices of Mr Bell and Mr Pringle in there.He stopped by the door,trying to arrange things so he could hang onto the tray and knock,heard them speaking.
“Hart says we should take both of them on,”Mr Pringle said.“That there’s enough work for two.”
“Loves spending the firm’s money,doesn’t he?”Mr Bell replied.“Do we have to take either of them?”
“We do need one new solicitor.”