She snorted. ‘Gav, sensitive? Do me a favour.’
Gavin might have looked like a hard man – shaved head, beefy build and earring through one eyebrow – but he’d lost his mother at a young age and had been devastated when his grandmother passed away a couple of years ago. Lucy hadn’t started with us yet, but I remember more than one evening staying in the office late with him, letting him sob quietly because his live-in girlfriend thought it outrageous that a twenty-seven-year-old man might visibly mourn the death of a grandparent. Needless to say, that relationship hadn’t lasted, and he’d been single ever since. Gav never talked about girls, but recently I’d noticed that he held himself differently around Lucy – his shoulders seemed to un-hunch and his back straightened.
Or maybe he’d just watched a YouTube video about posture.
Thankfully, the rest of the afternoon passed without name-calling or mickey-taking, then at 3 p.m. I got a text from Dawn that made me jump out of my skin:
It’s your lucky day – Marcie will be at the Steinway shop tonight at 6.30!
Holy shit. I had a chance with Marcietoday? I was about to announce it to the team, but stopped myself. Dawn had sent a second text, warning me that the shop was to close early and that Marcie would be travelling with security.How on earth was I going to get even remotely close to her?
My phone rang – unknown caller – but I grabbed it on the second ring in case it was Marcie-related.
‘Zoë Frixos,’ I answered.
‘I’m sorry, I must have the wrong number.’
Something stopped me putting the phone down, something familiar in the vowels. ‘You’re through toRe:Sound. Can I help you?’
‘I hope so,’ came the male voice. ‘I’m looking for a Miss Zoë Frixiepants.’
It had been a long time since anyone had called me that. And there was only one person who ever did.
‘...Simon?’
‘How the hell are you, Zoë?’
A warmth oozed through me that had nothing to do with the stuffy office. ‘I’m really well, Si. Zak tells me you’re coming to London.’
‘He’s right – I landed this morning.’
‘That’s brilliant! Where are you staying?’
‘At The Halson in Soho. I’m there now.’
‘That’s round the corner from my office.’
‘I know.’ There was a pause and I could hear muffled voices in the background. ‘I’m in the bar and I’ve just seen a knickerbocker glory a foot high. Wanna play hooky and share one with me?’
‘Now?’
‘Now.’
Air-conditioning and ice-cream sounded like bliss. I swallowed. Was the extra saliva due to the prospect of ice-cream or Simon?
‘I’ll order extra whipped cream...’ came his voice, low and tempting.
‘I’ll be there in ten minutes.’
