by Zoe May
‘You were trying to make it as a rock star?’ I raise an eyebrow, although the records on display around the room, keyboard and box of sheet music are now making sense.
‘Oh yeah! I wanted to be the next Jim Morrison. I spent years trying to make it with my band,’ Olly reminisces, with a look that’s more wistful than bitter or resentful at having never made it.
‘Oh, what happened?’ I asked.
‘We were no good,’ Olly admits bluntly. ‘We were all style and no substance. I wanted the lifestyle of a rock star, but sadly didn’t quite have the talent.’
I can’t help laughing. Fortunately, Olly joins in.
‘It’s a bit tragic, isn’t it?’ he jokes.
‘A bit! Is that where the tattoos came from?’ I gesture at his arms.
‘Yeah, exactly. I considered getting them lasered off at one point, but I’ve grown to accept them. There’ll always be a part of me that’s a wannabe rock star,’ he laughs.
‘So, you went from rock star to businessman?’
‘Exactly,’ Olly replies, taking a sip of his wine.
‘And your wife? Is she still in business?’ I ask, hoping I don’t sound too nosy.
‘No, she got tired of it after a while. She wanted a different life – the country life. A big garden. A nice peaceful community. She wanted to have kids and leave Manhattan,’ Olly says, smiling sadly.
‘And you didn’t?’
‘Not really. But by the time she got to that point, we were already done. We’d gone from being friends, to lovers, to business partners, and for a while, we managed to be all three to one another, but as the years went on, we were just business partners. We just totally grew apart,’ Olly admits.
I take a sip of wine as I let Olly’s words sink in. Suddenly his tick-box approach to dating is beginning to make a bit more sense. If Olly’s marriage was more of a business partnership than perhaps his prescriptive approach to running a dating agency is an extension of that.
‘What’s she doing now?’ I ask.
‘Oh, she got the life she wanted. She remarried. She lives in a big house with a sprawling garden in Idaho. Two kids. Rosie and Jake,’ Olly says, smiling fondly. ‘We’ve stayed in touch. She still has a stake in the business, so we catch up from time to time, but now it’s strictly business!’
‘You sound fine with it,’ I observe.
‘I am,’ Olly insists. ‘We had a good marriage. We were always good to each other, but you can’t build a long-term marriage on just mutual business interests.’ Olly smiles.
‘I guess. What about a mutual love of antiques?’ I joke, glancing towards the lamp.
‘Even that couldn’t sustain us.’ Olly laughs.
We sit there, chatting about everything, from my relationship history, which Olly asks about (not a lot to tell), to our hopes and dreams. We even end up debating which band was better: The Doors or Pink Floyd. Eventually, we go from the sofa to Olly’s bedroom, but even though there’s tension between us, I know that he’s not going to try anything. Instead, we just lie in bed, under Olly’s soft duvet, and continue our conversation. Sex would be nice, but for now, the only intimacy I crave with him is the intimacy of getting to know him and allowing myself to open up to him. I’ve met tons of cool people in New York, but it’s been a long time since I connected with a guy like I’m connecting with Olly, and I don’t feel the need to instantly have sex with him. I’d rather build up to it and savour the connection we seem to have.
At some point, we fall asleep and I’m woken hours later by light streaming in through Olly’s tall bedroom windows. Late last night, I draped my clothes over a chair by Olly’s bed, but I’m still wearing my underwear and a camisole. Olly’s still fast asleep and for a moment, I watch him, taking in his eyelashes, resting delicately on his cheeks, the crow’s feet emerging from the corners of his eyes and his lips, which are wide and soft-looking, a muted pink. Even after an incredible date and staying up all night talking, we still haven’t kissed. Just as I’m having that thought, Olly opens his eyes, blinking sleepily and squinting as the sunlight streaming through the window hits his eyes. I quickly look away, as though I haven’t been staring.
‘Morning!’ I say chirpily.
‘Morning,’ Olly grumbles through his sleepy fog. He yawns loudly and I suddenly get the feeling that maybe I should go. What if he’s not a morning person and I’m overstaying my welcome?
‘I should probably head off,’ I say, sitting up.
‘What?’ Olly looks taken aback. He’s only wearing his boxers and in the light of day, the sight of his naked chest is oddly distracting. ‘Why? How come? Are you busy?’
‘Umm, no. I just thought you might want some space.’
‘No!’ Olly insists. ‘I thought we could hang out today, if you want?’
I look at him, taking in his upbeat, cheerful expression. He clearly doesn’t want me to leave.
‘Sure!’ I lie back down next to him. ‘What shall we do?’
‘Let’s go to Central Park and take one of those ridiculous horse-drawn carriages?’ Olly suggest, with a twinkle in his eye.
I laugh, thinking of the horse-drawn carriages that tourists take through central park. They’re like something from a fairy tale and they’re totally over-the-top. I see them all the time, but I’ve never considered going on one. The idea of taking one with Olly is ridiculously romantic and totally cheesy, but I kind of love it.
‘Let’s do it!’ I reply cosying up to Olly and wrapping my arm around his warm chest.
‘Have you seen ‘Starry Night’ by Van Gogh?’ Olly asks, referring to the iconic painting, which is on display in the Museum of Modern Art.
‘No, I haven’t,’ I admit, having never gotten around to it.
‘Let’s go see that too!’ Olly suggests, smiling sweetly at me.
‘You’re such a romantic, aren’t you?’ I tease, although underneath my jokey bravado, I’m actually incredibly touched. Not only does Olly want to spend the day with me, but he seems to want to turn it into the most lovely, romantic day imaginable.
‘Well, I am a matchmaker, after all,’ Olly jokes.
Chapter 25
‘Hi Derek,’ I say, breezing into the office.
Derek is sitting at his desk with a steaming mug of black coffee, crunching through an Oreo.
‘Hi Polly,’ he says, his voice muffled by the biscuit. He takes a sip of coffee and sits up a little straighter.
‘Great party on Friday!’ I say as I pull off my jacket and sit down at my desk. Strangely enough, Friday feels like a lifetime ago. It was a brilliant party, but so much has happened since. My date with Olly still hasn’t properly sunk in. It was the perfect night, having a romantic dinner, getting to know each other at The Fifth, followed by staying up late talking at his place. Not to mention the day after, which was just incredible. I felt like I was starring in my own Hollywood rom com sitting in the back of a horse-drawn carriage in Central Park, snuggled close to Olly. And then if that wasn’t enough, we saw ‘Starry Night’, taking in Van Gogh’s swaying trees and swirling ocean-like sky full of bright stars. It was the perfect, most majestic way to round off what was without doubt, the best date of my life.
‘Yes, it was a great party, wasn’t it?’ Derek says, eyeing me curiously as though he can sense something’s different. And the truth is, I feel different. I feel brighter and more alive than I’ve felt in weeks. It feels a bit strange to be back at work.
‘Really great! It was such fun. Everyone seemed to be having a brilliant time,’ I say. By the time Derek and I went home, we were both pretty wasted. My last memory of the night is of Derek hugging each of the waiters to say thanks, before drunkenly stuffing a load of dollar bills into the palm of a cab driver and telling him to get me home safe.
‘Oh yes, what a night!’ Derek says with a laugh. ‘So, you had a good time then, Polly?’
‘Yes, I had an amazing time!’ I reply, with an awkward laugh. I can tell he’s getting at something.
I turn on my computer and try to ignore his piercing gaze.
‘Okay, look. I’m just going to come out and say it,’ Derek says, after popping his last piece of Oreo into his mouth. He wipes the crumbs from his shirt. He clears his throat. ‘Are you dating Olly Corrigan?’ he asks.
Oh God, he went there. He really went there. Right for the jugular. I swallow hard.
‘Erm… I wasn’t, before Friday, but umm…’ Derek’s looking at me with a piercing look and I can feel my cheeks burning up. ‘We, umm, went on a date this weekend though,’ I admit sheepishly.
Derek smiles tightly. ‘Look, it’s none of my business and I don’t mean to pry or pass judgement, I’m sure you know what you’re getting involved in, but I just needed to know. If you two are going to get serious, all I ask is that you’re discreet about the business.’
‘Of course, Derek. I get it. Of course, I’d be discreet,’ I insist, but I can’t help feeling a twinge of unease. What does he mean pass judgement? Why’s he making dating Olly seem so ominous?
‘Derek, what was that about me knowing what I’m getting involved in? I’m just dating a guy. It’s not that big a deal, as far as I’m aware.’
‘Oh…’ Derek frowns and scratches his head. ‘It’s just, you know, his reputation,’ Derek grumbles, glancing at an incoming email popping up on his screen.
My stomach sinks. His reputation? Derek reaches for his mouse. He edges his chair closer to his screen as though the conversation is over, and he needs to get on with work.
‘What reputation?’ I ask. Derek’s eyes are fixed on his monitor and he’s clearly pretending to be engaged. He no doubt wants me to crack on with work now too, but I need to know what his issue with Olly is first.
‘Derek? What are you talking about? What reputation?’
Derek turns to look at me.
‘Do you not know?’ he sighs.
‘No! Know what?’ I groan. I’m getting exasperated now. I really need to know what the hell he’s on about.
‘Olly’s a bit of a ladies’ man,’ Derek explains.
‘Well yeah, he’s gorgeous. Most gorgeous, successful men have had their fair share of female attention. I wasn’t planning on holding that against him,’ I insist, a little defensively.
‘Well, fine. That’s not quite what I meant about his reputation, but never mind. If you’re happy, I’m happy.’ Derek turns his attention back to his computer screen.
‘Derek!’ I snap. ‘Can you stop being so vague. What do you mean about his reputation then? If you’re going to say something, say it. Stop mincing your words.’
Derek’s eyes widen. He looks a little taken aback at my outspokenness and for a moment, I wonder whether I should have just suppressed my irritation and not said anything. Perhaps having cosy intimates chats with Olly all weekend has made me too vocal.
‘Okay fine,’ Derek sighs. ‘I honestly thought you’d have heard about him on the grapevine or something. I assumed if was common knowledge. If I tell you about Olly’s past and you don’t like what you hear, he’s going to hold it against me. He could really stir things up. It could be bad for business.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ I yelp. ‘I get that you care about your business, but could you stop thinking just about the business for five minutes? If there’s something dodgy about Olly, then I need to know about it. Please just tell me,’ I huff, feeling quite exasperated.
‘Okay, look…’ Derek says. ‘I’ll tell you but just don’t tell him it came from me, okay?’
‘Okay fine, I won’t,’ I insist.
‘I know a few of Olly’s former clients – you remember Leila from the party?’
I nod, thinking back to the dark-haired woman he introduced me to at the party who features on the website as one of the agency’s success stories.
‘Well, she originally signed up with Elite Love Match. She was in her late thirties. All her friends were married, and she’d really got to her wit’s end. She’d tried all the dating sites. Dated high and low. Outside her type. Older, younger, richer, poorer. Nothing was clicking, and the biological clock was ticking. Loudly. She wanted to settle down and have kids, so she decided to try out a dating agency.’
‘Understandable,’ I comment.
‘Exactly,’ Derek agrees. ‘Well anyway, she originally signed up with Elite Love Match. She totally broke the bank to pay the fees. She sold jewellery, furniture. It was her last hope.’
‘Uh-huh…’
‘Well, things started off professionally enough. Olly set her up on dates with a few guys who on paper met her criteria, but she didn’t feel a spark. Then he set her up with this guy she really liked – a super successful banker, family focused, a good catch – and Leila was really into him, but he wasn’t into her. She was devastated. Apparently, they’d had a few dates, a few kisses, she really thought it was going somewhere and then he just changed his mind, decided he wasn’t into her and told her it wasn’t going to work. She broke down in Olly’s office and he comforted her.’
‘Right,’ I say, struggling to see why any of this is so bad for Olly’s reputation. So far, it seems like he did exactly what was expected of him as a matchmaker. He arranged dates for his client and he comforted her when they didn’t work out.
‘It was the end of the day, so he offered to take her out for dinner. They went to a fancy restaurant. Somewhere super impressive, apparently. Low lighting. A sexy vibe. Opposite the Empire State Building.’
I gulp. ‘It wasn’t The Fifth, was it?’
‘Yeah, I think that’s what it was called,’ Derek muses. ‘Yeah, that’s the one.’
‘Okay…’ I murmur.
‘Read about it, have you?’ Derek asks.
‘Yeah,’ I reply weakly, leaving out the fact that I was there on Saturday night with Olly. Is The Fifth just where he takes all his conquests?
‘So they had this romantic meal and apparently they went back to his and spent the whole night talking. She poured her heart out to him, naturally. She was in a vulnerable place. And then one thing led to another and they were in bed together.’
I look down at my lap, trying to breathe evenly. This is all too familiar. All too bloody familiar.
‘They had a passionate night together, then the next day he took her on a horse-drawn carriage in Central Park and they went to see Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ at the MOMA. She said it was the best date she’d ever had.
‘Oh God,’ I utter, feeling my stomach flip. No. This cannot be happening.
‘What?’ Derek asks, taking in my aghast expression.
‘No, it’s just…’ I trail off, unable to meet his gaze. I swallow, embarrassed. ‘Never mind, just carry on.’
‘Okay, well that’s it really. They had a brilliant weekend. She thought she was onto something. Leila thought in a funny twist of fate, she might actually end up with her dating coach.’
I nod. Not only was the date routine exactly the same but to add salt to the wound, the funny twist of fate element was there too. Maybe Olly likes that – dating someone in the context of an unconventional twist. Maybe that’s why he wanted to date me after chatting to me as Eve for so long.
‘What’s wrong?’ Derek asks, interrupting my thoughts.
‘Nothing,’ I insist, even though everything is wrong. ‘I just want to hear the rest.’ My heart is sinking, but I need to hear it. I need to know the truth, however painful, before I get sucked any deeper into this thing I have with Olly.
‘Well, there isn’t much more. At least not where Olly’s concerned. He never called her. He just cut Leila off. She was absolutely devastated. Two rejections in a week. The first one had been bad enough but then she was left high and dry by a so-called relationship expert. And to make matters worse, he terminated her contract with the agency.’
‘What? Seriously?’ I utter.
‘Yes,’ Derek says sadly.
‘Isn’t that against the rules?’
‘He refunded her, but that wasn’t the point. He beh
aved terribly. He just cut her off. He used her and then never spoke to her again. He got his assistant to handle her termination from the agency. It was just brutal.’
‘That’s awful.’
‘It is. She was still fuming when she came to see us a few months later. She’d pretty much sworn off men but her sister-in-law’s colleague, Jess, insisted we were different, so she figured she’d come in for a chat. I couldn’t believe her story. I felt so sorry for her that I gave her a month free,’ Derek says.
‘Wow,’ I utter, in total shock. I cannot believe Olly could have behaved in such a cold, callous way, and yet I’m forced to believe it’s true. All the other details of the story are spot on, it clearly isn’t just made up. And to be fair, I don’t really know Olly. I mean, most of the time I’ve been speaking to him, I thought he was someone else entirely. I thought he was Eve. I didn’t even know him properly back then. And I’ve only spent about twenty-four hours with him in the flesh. That’s not enough to truly know someone.
‘It was pretty messed up,’ Derek continues. ‘Trust me, I had my work cut out for me trying to rebuild Leila’s trust in men. She was really hurt after Olly.’
‘Is this why you hate him so much?’
‘Kind of. Yeah, it’s part of it.’ Derek reaches for another Oreo. ‘Olly just goes after everything with such ruthless determination – women, clients, money. He has the charm, but essentially, he only really cares about himself,’ Derek sighs. ‘I like you, Polly. We’ve spent a lot of time together the past month or so and I know you’re still finding your feet in New York. I just don’t want to see you being taken advantage of. I don’t want Olly to mess you around and leave you as bitter and hurt as Leila was.’
‘Oh God. I understand.’ I turn away and stare blankly at my keyboard.’ Are you sure there isn’t more to the story?’ I ask, in a last-ditch attempt to salvage something – a morsel of doubt – over what Derek’s told me.