--- original message ---
From: Helman, Lars [mailto: [email protected]]
To: Krakowski, Chloe
Re: Ciao
Heard you’re active in the market again. Nice to have you back. Lunch? Drinks? Dinner?
L
My heart skipped a little beat. Lars and I had been quite close at Solomons, for the entire five years I had been there. He was shrewd with a dirty sense of humour and managed to sell his arrogance as charm, his Prince Albert of Monaco looks being helpful with the ladies. His professional success was based on his deal making rather than technical legal skills, which is why I had not taken him that seriously as a lawyer, being a bit of an intellectual snob myself. He would delegate all the grinding work to junior lawyers who revered him and wanted to be like him. For all those reasons I did not trust him but somehow despite, or maybe because, of everything I felt, sporadically, attracted to him. I had never found myself in any situation in which I would have had to consider this seriously. During our time at Solomons we were both married with children as well as partners in the same firm and the same office. Those were two absolute taboos. At least as far as I had been concerned.
--- original message ---
From: Chloe Krakowski [mailto:[email protected]]
To: [email protected]
Re: RE: Ciao
Lars! How nice to hear from you.
With pleasure. When, where?
Chloé
--- original message ---
From: Helman, Lars [mailto: [email protected]]
To: Krakowski, Chloe
Re: RE: RE: Ciao
Let’s be spontaneous.
Tonight?
Oh dear. I was tempted to see Lars but how was I supposed to squeeze that into my already packed day? Maybe we could meet during the race so that I could still make it to the after party. I didn’t have time to ponder on this - Noëlle called me again. And we had to leave for school.
--- original message ---
From: Chloe Krakowski [mailto:[email protected]]
To: [email protected]
Re: RE: RE: RE: Ciao
8 pm Villa Kennedy Bar.
--- original message ---
From: Helman, Lars [mailto: [email protected]]
To: Krakowski, Chloe
Re: RE: RE: RE: RE: Ciao
Can’t wait.
OK, maybe that was a bit flirtatious but we always did that. Lars was not to get any ideas though, after all, I was with Hugo - even if that relationship had become quite strained in the last months - and as far as I knew Lars was still with a Polish Solomons partner who was based in Warsaw, for whom he had left his wife of twenty years and their four children. So I put on the least spectacular outfit I could think of - black cropped tapered Chloé pants and a black Michael Stars T-shirt, which I made ready for the office with a chunky silver T&Co. necklace, elegant Prada patent sling-backs and a cream Louis Vuitton monogram vernis handbag - and ran downstairs to help the girls. I found the blue dress for Noëlle and brushed Marie’s thick curls. Once I got them both safely seated in the SUV we drove off to school.
* * *
The day passed in no time. Since most of my colleagues either participated in the race - it was an acceptable excuse not to work for a few hours - or went to watch it, and others because of the expected traffic chaos had gone home early to continue work from there, the 25th floor was nearly empty after 6 p.m. The last lawyers who had squeezed their pale legs into running shorts and slipped on the lemon yellow T-shirts had marched off like heroes going to war. I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, I was able to concentrate on drafting the credit agreement, which I had been discussing on the telephone with Laura, a client from Holland Bank, for several hours. My new trainee lawyer from London, Jason, had been busy taking notes and was now preparing the conditions precedent - or CP - list. Since the glass pane, which constituted part of the dividing wall between our offices, had been removed we could talk with each other without having to move from our desks.
“Chloé? Sorry, can I just check,” Jason said with a raised voice. “Did Laura say that they want the land charge registration prior to paying out the loan as well?”
“What she said was we should try to have it as a condition of the drawdown of the loan. But it’s unlikely that the land charge will be registered that quickly. If that’s the case, the bank can think about waiving it as a CP and make it a ‘condition subsequent’.”
“Uhm, right. But then that means if the borrower does not manage to get the land charge registered in time, the loan has to be repaid?”
“Normally, that would be the consequence, although the bank would be likely to grant another time extension. So let’s add it to the list of CPs for now. That increases the pressure on the borrower to register the mortgage as security for the loan as soon as possible.”
“I understand. Thanks.” Jason was learning quickly but he had only recently arrived in the banking department and didn’t yet know very much about security for real estate loans. Actually, neither did I but my learning curve in the last four weeks had been very steep.
I made the amendments in ‘track changes’ mode directly into the document and sent it to Laura, with a copy to Tracey. I checked my watch. 7.45 p.m. Perfect. A quick check in the mirror - fine, nothing special. Lars would notice immediately if I had made more effort with my outfit, and would construe that as an invitation. I definitely wanted to avoid making any such impression. Absolutely definitely.
* * *
Gentle piano music reached my ears as I was crossing the lobby of the hotel. There were only three people sitting at a table in the bar, which was otherwise empty. I chose a bar stool and ordered a champagne cocktail, which arrived shortly thereafter. I took a large sip. It felt good. My blackberry was blinking its peaceful green light. I relaxed.
“Hello darling.”
Lars suddenly appeared at my side and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Typical. Overly intimate and very direct.
“What are you drinking?”
“Champagne cocktail.”
“Looks good. I’ll have a Whiskey Sour.” The last sentence was directed at the barkeeper.
“Lars, how lovely to see you. I am quite surprised that you are not participating in the race for your new firm.”
“I’m not completely bonkers,” he replied dryly. He looked me up and down. “By the way you look tasty. How’s the ear doctor?”
I laughed. I somehow enjoyed not having to beat around the bush. “Actually he has been getting on my nerves lately. I’ve got to work a lot and he is only complaining. I heard enough of that when I was married to Jean.”
“Baby, I always told you we should get together. We would be the dream team.”
“Yeah, sure! And how is dear Magda?” I retorted.
“We are separated again for now. It became all so exhausting. The constant commute between Warsaw and Frankfurt. Besides she insisted on having another baby with me. Really! I already have four, I think I’ve made enough of a contribution to the world’s population.”
“I understand both sides here. I’m sure you’ll work it out.”
He made a discarding gesture. “Whatever. For now I’m actually glad about it.” He grinned and came closer. “You really do look tasty.”
I leaned back a little, almost falling from the stool. My heart was beating fast. “Anyway...why don’t you tell me, how did Howard Hewitt recruit you and how is it going there,” I asked casually.
He stopped in his movement and frowned. “First I’ll order more drinks.”
He waved at the barkeeper and pointed at our glasses. “Same again. And when those are empty as well, same again.” He turned back to me. “Where
were we? Oh yes, right here.” He pulled me towards him and gave me a full kiss on my lips.
“Lars! What are you doing!” I stuttered, still slightly numb, when he let go of me.
“I should have done this ages ago. I’ve been thinking about it for the last six years.” He handed me my glass. “Cheers, darling. And now I will tell you everything you want to know.”
I was stunned. It was like a scene from a James Bond movie. And I was the Bond girl. Cool. Sexy. OK, more like a Bond Lady. I listened to his stories and did not notice that my glass once empty kept being replaced with a full one. I forgot all the negative things from the last weeks - Tracey’s bullying, the hard work, the feeling of being completely left alone with everything. I felt desired, understood, appreciated. By this successful and confident man.
Several hours and drinks later we were in his apartment - with a bottle of champagne, even though I already had had really quite enough to drink - making out on his sofa. When I suddenly realised I was down to my underwear, I sobered up on the spot.
“This is as far as it goes, Lars. I am not going to sleep with you. Not tonight, anyway.”
“Darling, please. I have to have you, please, quickly,” he urged and fumbled with my bra. “You are so gorgeous!”
I jumped up. It was absurd. “No. Stop. I’m sorry, but not like this and not now. I do like you but I am not interested in a one-night-stand. Apart from which I really have to go home.”
I collected my clothes and started to get dressed. He leaned back and grinned. “OK. Shame. But do take your time getting dressed. I love to watch.”
* * *
There was a loud drumming noise in my head. Who, where, what was I?
“Angel, get up. We have to go to the airport.”
I knew that voice - it belonged to Hugo. Hugo? Airport? My memory returned in a flash. Fragmented images of the cocktail bar and Lars and his sofa were shooting through my brain. I opened my eyes in horror - only to close them again. I moaned. There was far too much light and my head was killing me.
“Oh dear, you don’t look too well - I guess you had a hard night?” Hugo asked joyfully.
“You can say that again,” I mumbled into my pillow. Just please leave me alone, I thought. I don’t want to get up. I want to sleep and forget.
I pulled myself together and nearly crawled to the bathroom and into the shower. I let the hot water run down my back for several minutes and slowly started coming back to life. As I emerged I heard someone knocking.
“Just a moment!” I wrapped myself in my bathrobe. When I opened the door, Hugo’s mother Gertrude was outside offering me a steaming cup of coffee.
“Ohhh.” I accepted it gratefully.
“You look dreadful, dear!” she exclaimed.
“I feel absolutely dreadful,” I whispered slowly. “I feel nauseous and dizzy.”
She scrutinised me. “That must have been some office party.”
“Hm, so-so.” I avoided her eyes.
“You have seemed generally rather exhausted since you started that job. But try and have a relaying weekend, darling. You need a bit of time off, what with your work and the children and the household - I don’t know how you manage it all. Hugo could help a bit more. Shall I talk to him?”
“No, thanks. It’s OK. I’m fine. You are already a huge help. I can’t thank you enough for taking the girls this weekend.”
“Are you kidding? Here’s me waiting for grandchildren so you are doing me a favour! Now you just get ready so you get to the airport in time.” She smiled and turned back to descend the stairs.
I got ready as quickly as was possible under the circumstances, threw my make-up bag in the suitcase and zipped it up.
“Are you ready now? The cab’s here.” Hugo came in to take my luggage.
“Yeah. I just want to say goodbye to the girls.”
I went downstairs. They were playing My Little Pony with Gertrude in Noëlle’s room.
“Bye-bye my little darlings.” I went to hug and kiss them.
“Bye, mummy, have fun!”
Bless them. They never complained about any of my absences. The pang of guilt felt just great with my hangover. I pulled myself away and went outside where the taxi was already waiting. Hugo was sitting inside, impatiently drumming his fingers on his knee.
“Where do we have to go?” he asked.
“Terminal 1, Olympic Airways,” I instructed the taxi driver feebly. I was trying to concentrate not to lose control over my stomach.
Twenty minutes later we arrived at the airport. Any more time in the shaking car and I would have lost that control. We found the check-in desk for Olympic and joined the queue. I decided that if I moved slowly it would be better for my head. Eventually it was our turn. A large-busted lady with a huge curly hairdo and an even more hugely made-up face sat behind the counter. I stared with fascination at the amount of big gold jewellery one single person could wear.
I handed her our passports. “To Athens please.”
“Tickets please.” She expectantly held her right hand open.
I asked myself how long she would be able to keep her arm suspended like that, with all the bangles, bracelets and rings she was wearing. I rummaged in my bag. My insides seemed to get even more twisted. “Oh no.”
Hugo looked at me with expectation. “What is it? You did book this, didn’t you?”
“Yes but - I left the tickets at home.” My carefully maintained façade was about to burst and bring me to tears along with it.
“Then I am afraid we can’t take you on this flight,” the lady said and looked behind us. “Next!”
“No, please! You have to take us! We have a connecting flight in Athens, to Santorini! We are going to a wedding!” I pleaded with her.
The lady shrugged her shoulders and began to speak rapid Greek with the couple who had approached behind us. Hugo’s face turned to stone. “Let’s get out of the queue.”
I started to cry. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I’m so stupid!”
“Where are the tickets?”
“In the drawer of my desk at home! They’ve been there since December when I booked - I completely forgot about it!”
“Then call my mother - maybe she can bring them over!” Hugo suggested.
I took my blackberry out of my bag and dialled home. “Nobody is answering! They have probably gone to the playground!”
“Then we can forget about it. That’s just great!”
“Wait - I’ll try Jana! She’s got a key!”
The phone on the other end rang three times, four, five - then the answering machine came on. Oh no. I was just about to hang up when I heard Jana’s hurried voice.
“Yes, hello?”
“Jana! Thank god!”
“Chloé? Did you not just leave for the airport?”
“Yes - but I forgot the tickets! They are in the desk drawer. The plane leaves in less than an hour! Could you maybe help?”
“Gotcha - I’m already on my way! Terminal 1? I’ll call you when I’m there!” She hung up.
I turned to Hugo. “Jana is bringing the tickets. I so hope we will be able to make it! Please don’t be mad at me.”
Hugo took me into his arms impatiently. “Well I can’t help feeling sorry for you - you look like death. Come on, let’s go outside and wait for Jana.”
It seemed like eternity had passed when Jana’s Mini Cooper came to a screeching halt in front of us. I did not ask her how many speed limits she had broken. We grabbed the tickets, ran to the check-in, got the boarding passes and kept running to the gate after we had managed to squeeze past the long queue at security. The gate was already empty but a flight attendant was waiting for us at the door leading to the plane.
“Passengers Walther and Krakowski
?” she called out when she spotted us. “Hurry up please, the plane is waiting for you! We were about to close the doors.”
We ran down the jetty to the airplane and handed our luggage to the purser.
“Row eight, aisle and window,” she instructed us. I ignored the furious faces of our fellow passengers staring at me and walked down the aisle, Hugo following me.
When we had found our seats and fastened the seat belts, I finally exhaled. What a nightmare. Now I just had to survive the two flights. I thought of Lars. He probably would have purchased new tickets in this situation, business class of course. I glanced at Hugo. He was wearing his huge headphones and playing with his PSP whilst chewing gum. He misinterpreted my glance.
“Do you want to play?” He shouted and lifted the playstation towards me.
I placed my finger on my lips and shook my head. I turned back to the window, leaned my forehead against the cool pane and finally closed my eyes as the plane took off.
* * *
I was only really compos mentis when we had arrived at the baggage reclaim on Santorini and somebody called Hugo’s name. An attractive woman with blonde hair reaching down to her waist walked towards us. She wore a tight vest, a denim mini skirt, which emphasised her tanned legs, and khaki coloured mules with a wooden heel. My alarm bells rang automatically. I observed her distantly while she greeted Hugo. Before he could respond she turned enthusiastically towards me.
“Hi! I’m Amelie, a very good old friend of Alexia’s and over there, that’s my husband Tom.”
She pointed at a tall blonde man standing at the lost luggage counter wearing jeans and a white shirt. “And you must be Chloé - I’ve heard so much about you!”
Her charm was disarming. I could not help but smile. “Yes, that’s correct - oh, really? Only good things I hope!”
“Of course, only good things!” she laughed. “I am so glad we finally meet! We’ve been living in Israel for the last two years and only rarely come to Frankfurt so I was hoping to see you here at Alexia’s wedding.”
Tom walked over and she introduced us. At this vicinity he looked older than I thought. I figured both were in their early forties.
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