Supersonic

by Anouschka Zagorski

  Jacob and I turned left.

  “Are you really going to take me home?” Jacob whispered.

  “Of course! I have been waiting the entire journey for an opportunity to kiss you.”

  “I came along to the office on a pretext. I actually don’t need anything from here.” We grinned at each other. “Me neither. Let’s go then.”

  We turned around and got into the lift. When the doors closed behind us Jacob took me into his arms straightaway and kissed me. I nestled up against his neck. Oh that was so nice.

  Ping. The doors opened. We had arrived in the underground car park.

  “Careful, there are CCTV cameras everywhere,” I warned him as we walked to my car.

  As soon as we had gotten into the car he put his hand on my leg. “There are no cameras here.”

  I pressed his hand happily and selected the reverse gear. We left the garage and I took the turning towards the Westend, which was the opposite direction to where I lived.

  “Having a parking space here really can be useful. I don’t live far but if I have to take lots of files - well, I guess I will get one as well soon,” Jacob announced.

  “How come? Aren’t they only for counsel and partners?”

  “Yes, exactly. I’ve got my counsel interview this week.”

  “Really? I did not know that! Good for you! Isn’t it too late for this financial year?”

  “Yes and no. White missed the May deadline but it’s still possible for the second half year starting 1st November. I told him if he doesn’t manage to push it through now I’m going to leave.”

  “Jacob, that’s great! I’m really happy for you - after all, you’ve been there for over six years.”

  He attempted to make a nonchalant face but was not entirely able to conceal his pride. “It’s not done yet, but thanks.”

  “But it will be done! If you want I can give you a hand with the presentation - as you know I had to do it six months ago.”

  “That’s so sweet of you. Yes, perhaps. We’ll see. Here we are - if possible, please stop on the right here.”

  I steered the car to the right hand curb. “Are you able to reach your bag?”

  “Yes I am. Chloé-” He hesitated.

  “Hm?”

  I waited for him to come out with it. What was it going to be? A rebuff? It was great but let’s stay friends? Actually, what did I want to hear?

  “Oh, nothing. Have a lovely Sunday with your girls.” He took my face between his hands and kissed me.

  Suddenly it occurred to me that Claudia might be waiting for him. I felt a pang of guilt. “Oh dear - I’d forgotten about your girlfriend, Jacob. I - I honestly don’t usually do this sort of thing. This is really bad.”

  “Don’t worry. We discussed this quite a while ago. Take care - see you tomorrow.”

  He got out of the car, closed the passenger door and walked towards his front door. I switched the engine on and engaged a gear. If he turns around now, then he does really like me. Please turn around. Please.

  At that moment Jacob stopped at the front door, keys in his hand. I held my breath.

  He turned around and smiled at me.

  * * *

  The memory of that moment made me smile again. My heart beat faster, not simply because of the memory but also because I could hear noises from the neighbouring office. I froze. What was it again that I had decided to say and how to behave - cool, wasn’t it? At that precise moment he appeared in the doorway.

  “Hi.”

  It was the same smile from the day before. Thank God. I exhaled and relaxed a little.

  “Hi,” I replied equally gently.

  “May I?” He pulled my door shut and sat down on the chair across the table. I said nothing. What was going on now?

  “I split up with my girlfriend,” he announced calmly.

  My heart skipped a beat but I tried not to sound too happy. “What? Yesterday?”

  “Last night,” he confirmed.

  “Oh, Jacob, are you sure? I’m so sorry. For her, I mean.”

  “Of course I’m sure. I should have done this months ago. She immediately asked me whether there was somebody else.”

  “Oh, and what did you say?” My heart was skipping again. Several beats.

  “Well - I didn’t lie. I told her there was a colleague I liked, and then she said I bet it’s Chloé!”

  I stared at him aghast and open mouthed. “Really? Why would she say that?”

  “Well, maybe in the last few months I have been talking about you more often than I had realised. When you joined us last year, of course, I spoke about you and also after the office family party, where she met you and your ex. I also told her that you two had split up.”

  These revelations had shut me up. It had to all sink in first.

  “If I’m honest,” he continued, “I liked you from the very first day. I just would have never thought that you might be interested in me.” He waited. I couldn’t help but be honest.

  “Me neither, Jacob. Colleagues are taboo. Normally. But this is somehow different. We have a lot in common. As you said a while ago, it could really work. I really like you too.”

  He beamed. “Then can I ask you on an official date? On Saturday I will cook dinner for a few friends at my brother’s house. Would you like to come?”

  “Yes. I would like that.” I had to laugh. “That’s new for me - having the first date after we spent the night together.”

  His answer was interrupted by the telephone. He got up. “I’ll leave you to it,” he whispered as I was lifting the receiver, I winked at him.

  “Krakowski?”

  “Can I speak to Chloé Krakowski please?” a male voice answered.

  “Speaking.”

  That happened a lot. Non-Germans become irritated by the German habit of answering the telephone stating one’s last name. It does have something of a military tone about it and might sound, to the other people, like an order. The Anglo-Saxons usually state their full name or just say “hello” or - more common with stressed stockbrokers or lawyers - “yep”. Italians stick to the universal pronto, the French limit it to oui allo or just oui (which may well remain the only affirmative statement in that telephone call).

  “Oh. Hi Chloé. This is Luke Miller from Francobank.” There it was, the slight irritation as if I had feigned something.

  “Hello Luke. How are you?”

  “Fine. I’m calling about that new deal, where your colleague sent the fee quote.”

  “Sure, what can I do for you?”

  “We need to send a draft of the financial covenants section of the credit agreement ASAP.”

  “Oh right? We have only just about started the draft credit agreement.”

  I was astonished. The provisions in the credit agreement dealing with the financial covenants were deadly complicated and had to be negotiated individually - either in the term sheet (which had not happened in this case) or in the context of the otherwise ready draft agreement.

  “That can wait. We need the provisions by 3 p.m. today. Your time. I’ll send you some bullet points.”

  “Uhm. OK. Fine, sure.”

  We hung up. I got a bad feeling in my stomach. I wasn’t sure at all. OK, calm down and wait for his email. I would manage somehow. Ping. The email arrived. Hm. Oh God. I understood nothing. It made little sense to me - it looked nothing like anything I had seen before. I took a know-how file from my shelf and researched some examples. Nothing. I logged on to the internal know how system and started a search. 289 hits. That could take a while. I hesitated. Considering my charge-out rate I should not spend too much time with research - that was too expensive. On the other hand we had agreed a low cap with Francobank anyway. I clicked on ‘show all results’ and called our loca
l know-how lawyer. Damn. I got her voicemail: “I’m not in the office today. I will be back next week on...” I hung up before the message had finished. Next week would not be good enough. I had to at least manage a first draft. I checked my watch. If I skipped lunch I would be able to send something by 3 p.m. Unfortunately he said our time, not London time. Whatever, I would have to do my best.

  The next five hours flew past while I was hammering out ten pages of complex provisions for an agreement that only existed in rudimentary form. Ten minutes after I had sent the email to Luke, Tracey appeared in my office. Whilst the air temperature seemed to have gone down by a few degrees I felt hot in my stomach and my ears when I saw her angry face.

  “Luke just called me. He complained about your draft.”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “I did all I could with the little information provided and in such a short timeframe. It was just a first draft,” I defended myself.

  “He also complained about your correspondence style. Apparently you sent him a rude email.”

  “What? Me? Rude? I have no idea what he is talking about!”

  “Well he must have a good reason. Think!”

  “Wait - the only thing - no, that cannot possibly be it.”

  “What? What is it?” Her voice acquired a menacing tone.

  “I mistakenly sent him a draft of the email before I finished the first sentence, so it finished after the words ‘please find attached’. But I noticed my mistake and sent the proper email afterwards.”

  “No, that can’t be it. It must be something else.”

  “I really don’t understand! Especially when his email style is like he is shooting short orders, no hello or goodbye, no please or thank you.”

  “That’s very London investment banker style. Anyway! He is the client. He can do what he wants. I’ve gotten you another chance with him but beware, they expect you to do this properly.” She left my office without any further word.

  I felt like a chastised schoolgirl. Tracey, Michael Stone, Richard Keel, Francis Mayer; even Frank Smith (whom I had turned down elegantly) and David Byrd - they all had this ostentatiously patronising style, which I had never encountered in so many people in one place before. Amongst lawyers in big law firms there were (male) prima ballerinas, divas, megalomaniacs, workaholics, schemers or simply the emotionally juvenile, reckless and greedy people without scruples. My friends, who worked in investment banks or in advertising, told me it was the same in their world. Maybe that was due to the money, the power and the prestige you can gain in these worlds. I had always been, more or less, aware of that but played the game anyway, as long as, overall, I had a positive experience and met a sufficient number of people who were not that way - which had been my experience so far. Although here, in the banking department of P&W, the abovementioned characteristics were to be found in an astonishing concentration. I realised that this extended, also, to the clients. In my previous firms I had always encountered nice clients. No client ever verbally abused me. My colleagues and partners never made me feel like a complete loser. Until now! Here you got criticised all the time. No matter how much you worked or how good your work was, it was never enough or good enough. Jacob had told me at the weekend that this was the way it was. One got used to not taking it to heart. He should know - he had already spent over six years in this firm. Perhaps men were more thick-skinned than women. For sure, Jessica and the other female lawyers (of which there were but a few) didn’t seem to be immune to it. However, they seemed to be resigned to putting up with it. Would I be able to do that? If so, for how long?

  * * *

  “Chloé, this is my brother Luke and these are Lisa, Wayne, Annabel, Christian and Sabine.”

  We were standing in Lucas’ kitchen that was big enough to have room for a table for eight at which five people were already sitting. I shook Lucas’ hand. He looked like a blonde version of Jacob.

  “I can see that you two are brothers,” I declared.

  “We are only a year apart, but I am, of course, the much better looking brother!” Lucas replied in that smug Don Corleone tone of voice that I already knew from Jacob.

  “Ey bro’, don’t you dare hit on my chick!” Jacob laughed.

  I went to join him at the stove. “You really are cooking? I’m impressed. Cooking isn’t one of my strengths.”

  He waved nonchalantly with a wooden spoon. “Of course! I told you I’m going to cook. I’m a fantastic cook.”

  “For a change, this is not an exaggeration,” Lisa confirmed and waved for me to sit next to her. “Come, Chloé, why don’t you sit here. Jacob mentioned you have two daughters? Where are they now?”

  “That’s right - they are at home. I have a nanny,” I explained.

  Lisa had managed to break the ice immediately. I sat on the chair she had shown me and gratefully accepted the glass of red wine that Jacob handed me with an encouraging smile.

  “That’s handy! Tell me - is it still so awful at P&W? I worked for Francis Mayer for four years and it was a complete nightmare. By the way, Christian and Wayne also used to be at P&W.”

  “Oh! So there is a life afterwards!”

  “A much better one,” Wayne confirmed. “It is amazing how the partners, who have treated you like an idiot, all of a sudden start courting you when you go and work for a client.”

  “I’m not surprised. Have you already mandated P&W?”

  Wayne chuckled. “Hell, no! But every time I have a deal I let them pitch for it and then reject them!”

  Christian shook his head. “They are so stupid. If they treated their associates a little better they would get work from them once those associates - like Wayne, Lisa and I - are, one day, post-P&W, in a position to give mandates.”

  “That’s a bit like in Pretty Woman, when Julia Roberts goes with all her shopping bags into the boutique she went to on the first day and says: you wouldn’t serve me yesterday - that was a mistake. A BIG mistake,” I quoted one of my favourite movie scenes.

  Lisa, Anabel and Sabine understood and laughed. Wayne looked blank. Christian rolled his eyes. “Girls!” But Jacob threw a glance at me over his shoulder and smiled proudly.

  Three courses, many bottles of red wine - with which we celebrated Jacob’s counsel promotion - and two bottles of vodka later we were all more than tipsy. Suddenly Jacob got up from his chair, pulled my arm and declared: “Let’s dance the tango, Chloé!”

  I let him drag me off my chair, protesting weakly “but I don’t know how to dance the tango and there’s not enough space in here!” I laughed when he started twirling me, and bending my upper body backwards in a dramatic movement.

  After the second twirl I lost balance and fell, Jacob on top of me, against the radiator under the window. It broke off the wall with a loud bang. The tray with the glasses that had been sitting on the wide windowsill fell on to the marble floor, causing the glasses to break into a thousand pieces. For a moment the others stared at us in shock, then they started roaring with laughter. Lucas helped us to get up from the floor. I rubbed my painful backside that had hit the radiator.

  “Careful! Don’t cut yourself on the pieces, are you hurt?” Jacob asked worriedly.

  “I didn’t know that my bum is a match for a radiator!” I beheld the chaos with horror.

  “That was already wobbly and anyway it doesn’t work,” Lucas explained calmly. He had already grabbed a broom and dustpan and started to sweep up the pieces of broken glass. “I think Jacob needs to go home.”

  Jacob sat on a chair and held his head in his hands. “I actually don’t feel so great. Chloé, could you take me home?”

  I had sobered up, a little, due to the fall but I certainly had had too much to drink beforehand. “Sure. We should call a cab though.”

  “At this hour? Forget it. I need to go home now. Please. It’s not far.”r />
  I hesitated. He was as white as a sheet. “OK, come on. Let’s go.” I offered him my arm.

  “You gorgeous, wonderful woman. Thank you.” He took my arm and got up from his chair. “Lucas, I’ll come over tomorrow to help you tidy up,” he told his brother.

  “Don’t worry about it, bro’. You just go and get some sleep. Chloé, nice to have met you.”

  I quickly said goodbye to the others. Lisa hugged me. “I don’t understand why Jacob always has to drink so much! You’ll have to watch him in the future,” she whispered to me.

  We left Lucas’ house. I led Jacob to my car.

  “I feel sick,” he moaned.

  Oh shit. I wasn’t sure I was ready to see vomit on the first date. “We will be at your place shortly. I’ll hurry.”

  It was Saturday night, we were in the centre of town and I was drunk. Not a good idea at all, but taxis were indeed rare at this time. One look at him and I pulled myself together. It really was not far to his apartment. We got into the car and I pulled out of the driveway and onto the street. Luckily it was empty. After several minutes’ drive Jacob opened the window, leaned out and threw up. I just continued to drive, stroked his left leg to comfort him and concentrated on the road with all my might. We arrived safely at his house. After I had parked the car, more or less in an orderly fashion, we stumbled to the front door.

  “Uhh - I am quite embarrassed,” he mumbled sheepishly. “I think I have to lie down and go to sleep straightaway. Will you come in anyway?”

  “Of course.” I pressed his hand. “Give me the keys.” I unlocked the door. We took the lift to the second floor where he showed me his apartment door and waited until I had unlocked that too. We went in. One bedroom, a living room - a little bare but furnished with taste.

  “Where is your kitchen? I’ll get you some water.”

  “Thanks. It’s through the living room. I’ll disappear to the bathroom.”

  I went to the kitchen to find glasses and mineral water. A short while later he joined me, wearing brown tortoiseshell glasses, a white t-shirt and striped pyjama bottoms. He looked like a little schoolboy.