Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [67]
‘How was New York?’ she asked, in one conversation.
‘Rubbish. I hate it.’
‘Oh, really?’ Everyone else seemed to love it, but Oliver never bought into the received wisdom.
‘And did you photo any supermodels while you were there?’
‘Oh, yes. Lots.’
‘Yeah? Dish the dirt then, what’s Naomi like?’
‘Great sense of humour.’
‘And Kate?’
‘Oh, Kate is very special.’
Though Lisa was disappointed that he didn’t share insider stories of tantrums and heroin taking, the fact that he was impressed by no one impressed her very much.
Even before you saw him, you always knew when he was in the office. He was perpetually surrounded by commotion – complaining that they’d screwed up his expenses, protesting that they’d printed his beloved shots on too-cheap paper, arguing and laughing energetically. His voice was deep and would have been chocolatey-seductive, except he was too vibrant. When he laughed in public, people always turned to look. If they weren’t already looking, that is. The beauty of his big hard body coupled so incongruously with his rippling grace was bamboozling. When he used to come into the office, Lisa would study him discreetly. ‘Black’ was the wrong word, she used to think. It was far more complex and subtle than that. Everything gleamed – his skin, his teeth, his hair. Not to mention sweat on the editor’s brow. What sort of fuss was he going to kick up today?
Though he was still making a name for himself, he was honest, opinionated and difficult. He never crawled to anyone and when people pissed him off he let them know. It was this confidence, as much as his beauty, that made Lisa decide she wanted him. That his star was very much in the ascendant didn’t hurt either, of course.
Since she’d first started going out with boys, Lisa had always dated strategically. She just wasn’t the type of girl who went out with an insurance clerk. Not that it ever felt quite that cold-blooded. She never made herself go out with a well-connected man whom she didn’t like. Hardly ever, anyway. But she had to admit there were men whom she’d fancied that she knew she’d never take seriously: a charmingly grave court clerk by the name of Frederick; Dave, the sweetest plumber; and – the most unsuitable of all – a sparky petty criminal called Baz. (At least that was the name he told Lisa, but there was no guarantee it was his real one.)
Occasionally she allowed herself a little treat, and had a quick fling with one of these gorgeous no-hopers, but never made the mistake of thinking there was any future in them. They were human Milky Ways – the man you can eat between meals without ruining your appetite.
Her real relationships were with a different calibre of men. A dynamic magazine executive – it was this romance which led to her getting her first job on Sweet Sixteen. An Angry Young Man novelist, who ditched her rather nastily, and whose novels she subsequently ensured got vitriolic reviews (which made him even angrier than he already was). A controversial music journalist, whom she was mad about until he discovered acid jazz and grew a goatee.
Oliver straddled the two categories of men. He was beautiful enough to belong in the first, but talented and stylish enough to hold his own in the second.
With every visit that Oliver made to Chic, the connection with Lisa intensified. She knew he liked and respected her, that their attraction was much, much more than physical. In those far-off days, not everyone she worked with hated her, but the more she became Oliver’s favourite, the more she became Most Loathed Colleague.
Especially after she began doing special favours for him. When she tracked down four missing transparencies, Oliver had good-humouredly blasted the rest of Chic. ‘Listen up, you lot of useless tossers, this lady here is a genius. Why can’t the