‘I own it. Russell Radcliffe.’ He shakes my hand.
Is everyone here a business tycoon? I always imagined that wealthy, successful people would be like they are in movies, likeWolf of Wall Street, but this guy acts like he couldn’t run a bath, never mind a clothing empire.
‘So, you’re going to write good things about me, then?’ he asks, peering over at the folder sheet of paper on my lap.
‘Well, you’re friendly!’ I reply. ‘And honest. I guess those are plus points.’
He beams. ‘Thanks. You too! Older women are better at this shit, though. You ain’t got to impress anyone. Eyebrows over there straight up asked me what my house is worth.’
He motions over to Allison who is now sitting silently with Tim. I laugh. I think I underestimated Russell. He might be a fedora wanker, but I’m worse; I’m a judgemental wanker.
‘So why are you here?’ I ask him. ‘You don’t seem like you need the universe to help you with your life.’
‘Between you and me, the Law of Attraction got me to where I am in business,’ he replies. ‘But my relationships, man, they’re going nowhere. I’m twenty-nine, I don’t want to be forty and end up…’
‘Like me?’
‘I didn’t mean it like that. Look, women don’t need men, but we need women. It’s a fact that when a man reaches a certain age and he’s never been married – well, women stay away from that shit, like we’re serial killers or obsessed with our mothers or something.’
‘I’m going to addinsightfulto your notes.’
Russell laughs. ‘I like you, Nora. I see why wild boy Will got in there first.’
‘Time, gentlemen! Move to the right.’
I don’t have time to argue my case again before Russell is gone and I’m left facing Nish. Just him, Paul andwild boyWill to go before we can break for coffee. God, I need coffee.
Nish sits and scribbles on his paper before we begin, like he’s taking notes for a big test. From what I can see, he’s written a lot about the last two women, whereas I’ve mainly scrawled random words and an angry face after Tim’s name.
‘Tell me about yourself, Nora,’ he says mechanically, clicking the lid back on to his pen.
‘Well, I run a small business in Edinburgh,’ I reply. ‘I also have a daughter and—’
‘Great. Good start. And do you have any hobbies?’
Has he made a list of questions? ‘Um, just the usual. Cinema, reading, seeing friends. I work long hours and—’
‘What’s your biggest pet peeve?’
He’s most definitely working from a list.
‘Not being allowed to finish sentences.’
‘Great. OK, so where do you see yourself in ten years?’
In prison for murdering Tim. And possibly you. Double murder stretch.
‘Nish, slow down!’ I plead. ‘We’re supposed to be chatting, not interviewing!’
He shakes his head. ‘I think you’ll find we’re supposed to be collecting information from the other person, to assess compatibility and relationship potential.’
‘Are you always this efficient?’ I ask, trying to not laugh. ‘It’s a bit methodical. How about allowing me to ask questions too? I read somewhere that conversations require a back-and-forth element.’
He looks annoyed. ‘We only have three minutes, being methodical saves time.’
What an absolute virgin.
‘You have very nice eyes when they’re not rolling back in frustration, you know.’
