Kookaburra Gambit
Page 19
Fran, snarling, marched off in one direction, Melodie, peeved, marched off in the other.
"I'd say Fran will blow her foofer valve if she doesn't look out," I said.
"Her what?" said Harriet.
"Foofer valve. It's just a saying, like you might remark that someone's gone berkers, and to watch out, because they're likely to blow a gasket…or a foofer valve."
Harriet looked at me dubiously. "If you say so," she said. She walked off, shaking her head.
Actually, there was something that wasn't back to normal at Kendall & Creeling. It was the way Ariana was treating me, as if I might suddenly embarrass her with some outpouring of inappropriate emotion.
I'd have to set her straight, so we could go back to the way we were before we'd made love. I tried not to think of that night too much, but images of us together in her bed jolted me when I least expected them.
I gave it some thought and decided it would be best to be direct. I'd approach this logically. After everyone had gone, I collected a writing pad and pen, and I took them into the kitchen where Julia Roberts was dining on chicken.
"How's this, Jules?" I said. I read out: "Ariana, I hope you don't think I took that night with you too seriously. It was lovely, but just a one-night stand."
Julia Roberts stopped eating and looked at me.
"You're right, Jules. That makes Ariana seem cheap, as if she's just in it for sex. But then again, what's wrong with that? Sex is a good thing, don't you think?"
Julia Roberts went back to her chicken. I went back to my writing pad.
"OK, how about this: Ariana, we're business partners. I don't want to imperil that relationship."
Imperil wasn't the right word. Endanger? Put at risk?
I tried again. "Ariana, we're business partners. I don't want to put that relationship at risk." I looked to Julia Roberts for help. "Professional relationship would read better, do you think?"
I altered it. Tried it out on Julia Roberts again. She was tough to please. Back to the drawing board.
In the morning I practiced in my bathroom, watching my facial expressions carefully. The Complete Handbook did say that practiced liars could fool almost anybody, and I was nothing if not practiced at this point.
Ariana came in early. I waited until she had her coffee and had disappeared into her office. I put my head around the door and said, "Could I have a word with you?"
"Of course. Come in."
She was wearing the outfit I liked best on her-tailored black top, black pants, and high-heeled boots.
I shut the door behind me, sat down opposite her and said, before I could chicken out, "Ariana, we're business partners. I want you to know there's no way I'd put that professional relationship at risk."
So far, so good. At this point in my mental rehearsals of our conversation, she was supposed to respond with some remark, but Ariana remained silent, looking at me with what seemed sadness in her eyes.
She was sorry for me. I hated that. OK, I'd get out of this with as much dignity as I could.
I had my next line ready. This would reassure her. I saw the words as if printed in the air: Ariana, as far as I'm concerned, the other night never happened.
She was waiting for me to speak. I heard myself say, "Ariana, I adore you."
"I know," she said.
Claire McNab
***
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