Money For Nothing

by Dom Price

  Dave hit the reply button and just typed.

  “Hey there Maria,

  Any lady who is still online at this time of night is either stupidly busy or stupidly desperate, so there is a 50% chance that we’ll match!

  Obviously I am looking for a lady, but my career will implode and my life will no longer be worth living if I don’t secure one in the next month.

  Good news is that you’ve passed all my initial criteria of being fiscally secure, ambitious and available. If you can pass the final test of being in the same country as me for the next 4 weeks, then we might as well meet up tomorrow night for dinner.

  7.30pm @ Harvey’s Restaurant. Table under the name of Dave Marsdon?”

  Without giving himself a chance of second guessing, proof reading or changing his mind, Dave hit send. It was destined to fail. It was aloof, abrupt, rude, presumptuous, forward, condescending and not remotely flattering or flirty.

  Sipping the last of his Port and topping up his glass for one final tipple, the noise was surprising in its speed. Knowing that Maria was online, Dave had expected a reply, but she couldn’t have written much in that time.

  “8pm.

  I’ll bring my annual accounts, career plan and diary for the next 4 weeks, just in case,

  Maria, x”

  Comforted by his Port, Dave sat partially bamboozled and partially impressed. He’d always lived by the fact that getting it right was more important that understanding, but the deeper he got into the world of women, relationships and companionship, the more fear and uncertainty entered his life. The living proof in front of him was the reply from Maria.

  Strolling to bed, content with his nights work, Dave was amused at how his words and Maria’s response appeared to defy logic, but then he was quickly learning that his business logic didn’t always apply quite so readily to his new world. Still, in his mind he’d done all the ground work now, and just had to place this little project in maintenance mode. Maria was a sure fire thing.

  ***

  Chapter Does Dessert Come After Dinner?

  ***

  “That’s odd. My trousers and shirt seem to have shrunk. I’ll have to have words with Miss Vietnam.”

  Fastening his trousers that morning, Dave was temporarily concerned by the tightness of the fit and the snugness of his pastel shirt. He didn’t mind things being a bit snug, as it gave that hand crafted look, but this was tight. Over analysis at this point would have pointed quickly to the increased consumption of coffee to stay alert through his longer and more stressful days, and the late night drinks required to help settle the coffee infused day into slumber. The double whammy for Dave was that all this flirting and internet use was at the sacrifice of any exercise.

  None of that mattered. It was all mere circumstance that could be rectified with a weekend at the fitness centre and some hours invested with a personal trainer. It could be gone in a tenth of the time it took to acquire. His promotion though couldn’t be retrieved in any fashion. It had to be achieved, and to do that Dave had to exceed all the challenges set. Prioritisation was the key here.

  Dave spent much of the morning with Laura, treading through the quick sand trying to get some leads out at Food United Group. It was highly possible that Dave was worrying about nothing, but with so much of his work for the following year relying on them, he had to doubly make sure everything was OK.

  Bereft of ideas, his desk phone started ringing, and the display indicated that it was his Dad calling.

  “Laura, can you take that. I’m a bit snowed right now and can’t really handle any family stuff. Unless it is urgent, I’ll call him later.”

  Closing the office door behind him, Dave hoped that every cell of Oxygen in there could help provide some insight and break the ice on his plight. Of the streams of concerns that he was juggling, Dave felt quite on top of the lady situation. Maria had been a push over on e-mail, and once she realised how important and impressive Dave was, it was merely a matter of time until that project was resolved. Work was a different issue. The news out at Barker Constructions was good, and he’d fought a few fires there to come out with some glory, but it couldn’t cover the gaps if things went south at Food Group.

  Dave’s peace was disturbed by a flapping Laura at his glass door. The anger displayed in his face should have been a sufficient deterrent, but she stood proud and continued to direct traffic with her arms.

  “WHAT?”

  “It’s your Dad. He is on the phone.”

  “Laura, I might need to re-check your contract but I’m pretty sure your job description doesn’t involve stating the bleeding obvious and informing me of things I clearly already know. Now this better be good?”

  “I think YOU should speak to him, and then you can apologise later!” Laura closed the door with a stubbornness that Dave hadn’t seen before and returned to her desk.

  “Hey Dad, sorry about that, I am just a bit snowed right now. What’s new?”

  “Well son, I know you are snowed. It’s the warmest summer in 25 years according to the met office, and yet you always seem to have snow in that office of yours. So much snow in fact, you missed your mother’s birthday last week. And before you go swearing at that lovely assistant of yours, don’t bother. She remembered and she sent the flowers she always sends, but just maybe one year your Mum would like to hear from you.”

  “Dad I am so sorry. Things have just got a bit...well, busy and frantic and I have a lot on. It will ease soon. I can come over this weekend and we can go out for lunch?”

  “Well we’re out with Anne, Tony and the kids on Saturday. They got your mum a pamper session at the local health spa. Very considerate I thought.”

  “Dad, your guilt trips are world renowned and masterful, but you know I am genuinely sorry. Sunday. Let’s do something Sunday.” Dave frantically examined his diary to check that he had no clashes. There was a client BBQ and a conference that he’d signed up, but they could be missed. “Please Dad. Don’t tell Mum I’m coming up and I’ll surprise her. I’ll book somewhere nice so just have her ready for midday and I’ll swing by to pick you up. Deal?”

  “Deal. And I might have something for you too. Will you be able to stick around for a late afternoon tea on Sunday?”

  “Ermmm. I’ll see what I can do. Like I said, I’ve got a fair bit on and I’ll need to get back, but...”

  “David Arthur Marsdon! Stop it. You’ll stay for afternoon tea. We’ll see you on Sunday.”

  The use of Arthur and the speed with which the phone went down, told Dave all he needed to know. He’d rearrange things. Normally, such persistence and assertiveness weren’t regular attributes of his Dad, but as the years wore on, Dave had gained a new appreciation of Derek. Yes, he was quiet and rarely said ‘Boo’ to a goose, but when he did, boy did that goose listen.

  There was nervousness and curiosity that enveloped the room briefly as Dave replaced the phone. Looking up, Dave could see that Laura was seething outside, so he’d leave her to settle for a while. There was no time for emotion, and work was the order of the day. Work, and progress.

  Approaching his large white board in his room, pen in hand, the words were written in big bold letters and the mission officially upgraded.

  “MUST FIND RONNIE PATEL!”

  The preparation for the dinner date was more convoluted than Dave had imagined. Completing his raft of conference calls and having reviewed a selection of reports from his mignons, Dave had safely left himself an hour to get ready and 15 minute to make it to the restaurant, with a built in contingency of 10 minutes for traffic or other such delays. 7 P’s and all that jazz.

  The problem was that he’d not really dressed for a date before. Gazing worriedly into his vast wardrobe, Dave soon became aware that his clothing fitted 3 distinct genres, which in hindsight was no surprise. He had the work genre well and truly nailed, and that covered the whole of one wardrobe and much of the second. The remainder of the centre wardrobe featured his ‘business ca
sual’ attire, which was barely worthy of a genre. It was made up of 3 pairs of identical beige slacks from Gap, 3 identical Ralph Lauren light blue button down shirts and 3 identical Marks & Spencer’s navy blue v-neck sweaters. These were ideal for conferences where Dave could be pure business in his suit during the day, and then drop down to business casual at night, whilst still retaining the air of formality and focus. Not ideal for a dinner date though.

  The final selection was the riches to rags element, being Dave’s ‘at home’ chill out gear, and the shelves which were adorned with a selection of jogging bottoms, t-shirts and thick sports jumpers.

  Starring blindly into the abyss of clothing, Dave suddenly remembered a Christmas or birthday a few years previous where Anne had invested large amounts of the kid’s inheritance in a pair of trendy jeans for him. He’d never worn the ghastly things, but maybe they’d work perfectly.

  Trying them on, Dave was pleasantly surprised by how well they fitted. And they weren’t nearly as uncomfortable as he’d feared. Grabbing a shirt, he was now on a mission to complement the new apparel, but failure was in sight. At the base of the wardrobe the selection of shiny black work shoes were only interjected by some trainers that Dave used for the gym.

  “That’s why I don’t wear this blasted denim” Dave angrily remarked to himself, trying to rip the jeans off whilst learning that slow and steady wins the race.

  Looking gingerly over to his bedside table and alarm clock, it appeared that Dave had inadvertently eaten into his allotted time and contingency time, so he had to get a wriggle on.

  “Hang on” he muttered to himself, “Tony and Laura both said be yourself. Well instead of trying to dress up as someone else, I think I’ll dress up as Dave Marsdon.”

  Dropping into auto pilot, Dave took his usual glance into the mirror, pretending to be shy but loving what he saw. The outfit made the perfect statement. It spoke volumes about him, yelling classy, affluent, focused, targeted, smart, suave, and successful. Oh, and sexy, of course. Most importantly, it would show Maria that Dave meant business. Checking in the mirror once more, Dave was more than happy with what he saw. After all, if he played to his strengths, this would be a stroll in the park. Maria was the one who’d be the passenger to his journey to partnership and the ultimate title of success. She’d be grateful to just go along for the ride.

  Maria’s punctual arrival was joined with a smile from Dave as she looked every bit as attractive as her profile picture had shown from the website. Dave met her with a firm handshake and a sneaky peak at his smile, which usually worked the trick.

  “Bloody hell, this isn’t an interview is it?” barked Maria in a jovial fashion. Her volume startled Dave slightly.

  “You should have said if you were running late, and I could have given you time to go home and change.”

  This would be harder than Dave imagined. He hadn’t got a word in yet. The temptation was to go on the offensive, like he did when he took on people in the boardrooms of his clients. But looking at Maria, he saw a softening in her eye and realised what he saw in many of his clients; she was nervous. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, and explained the comment about getting changed. Dave had known his wardrobe selection was perfect, but his style, charisma and professionalism had clearly taken Maria’s breath away. Bless her.

  “Before I settle, I might just go and powder my nose.” Maria collected her purse and strolled with heavy legs towards the bathroom, looking from side to side briskly trying to spot the sign. Dave watched in one of the many restaurant mirrors with a smug grin, acknowledging to himself that he was firmly in control.

  “One-nil to me.” Dave began adjusting his tie and rolling his eyes at the thought that he’d nearly entertained wearing anything else. “Why dress up as somebody, when I look amazing as me?”

  In the bathroom Maria had plenty of time to send the message on her blackberry.

  “He’s dressed like it’s an interview and has already winked at me like I’m his PA. Fingers crossed it gets better from here. Chat soon & wish me luck! M,x”

  The conversation flowed as the meal was enjoyed and the fine wine sipped on. Dave used one of his more recent tactics from work. Having spent a lot of time with manufacturing companies, he’d come across many a senior executive who was great at their job, but not necessarily that intelligent to the outside world. Dave therefore decided to dampen down his game slightly and play safer hands in the initial interactions with Maria.

  Dave was trained however, and his mind was permanently switched onto the mission of analysis. But his clients paid him to identify problems and make solutions and in the back of his mind, despite all the wonderfulness of Maria, there was an obvious flaw. She was stunningly attractive, well dressed, spoke confidently and assuredly and seemed a very good all around package. The niggle in the back of Dave’s mind was her avoidance of any topic around work. She’d mentioned her parents and a few things involving them, that he’d really not focused on. His brain was busy trying to decide. Was it that she didn’t talk of her work because she wasn’t that good at it, or did she just feel alienated by Dave’s presence and corporate status? In true millionaire fashion, it was a real 50/50, with no audience to ask.

  Dave had let the conversation flow and could feel the tide turn, but he couldn’t leave his progress to the lap of the gods. There was too much at stake to leave anything to chance or to let things run their course. This required decisive action.

  In his head he had a three stage plan that he’d thought up whilst she was in the loo, which he’d called the ‘then, now, next’ plan. Stage one, ‘then’ was to gently impress her with a few corporate stories of yester-year to demonstrate to her the pedigree that he held and how he’d come up through the ranks, as a boy from a good family, who’d worked hard for what he’d got. The stories would talk about success, ambition and the intelligence of swift decision making that had propelled Dave to these unheralded ranks for one so youthful. Stage two, was the now. Obviously the now couldn’t be entirely truthful, but hey, as Dave often said, “never let the truth get in the way of a good story”. Stage two covered the whole of the main meal, and contained vivid stories of Dave having epiphany moments and realising that there was more to life and wanting a ‘richness from companionship, not just from my bank account’. He silently thanked Tony and Laura for all the clichés that had been included in his story of now.

  Dave was ready to give himself a pat on the back as his stage two stories wrapped up with a gentle chuckle and the placing of his knife and fork on his clean plate. Having listened intently to his description of now, he struggled to think how anyone could resist. He even fancied himself a bit!

  Just as the shoulders relaxed, and the vocal chords prepared themselves for the killer blow of stage three, Maria once again departed the table for another powdering.

  “Hmmm, a little odd as she has only had just over a glass of wine since her last visit.” Dave was thinking to himself and dropping into the over analysis mode that occasionally paralysed his brain. “What does that mean?”

  His brain tumbled and rolled through an eclectic mix of reasons. “There are drugs. That wouldn’t be good. Could be her job? Maybe she is working? Maybe this is her work. That would explain why she hasn’t mentioned work. What did her profile say? Oh no...please no! It’s not that I can’t afford it, but I’m not at that stage. Maybe she has another appointment after me? Even worse, maybe she had one before me which is why she changed the time. Oh lord. What if my mum finds out. Profile, profile, profile.”

  Praying that his mobile could get signal Dave searched the dating website for Maria’s profile.

  “Occupation: Professional; entertainment.”

  Looking at his watch, Dave noticed that it was just approaching 9pm. His brain did the maths, and his decision was made. Assuming that they charged by the half hour, he had no way of getting through this before 9pm, so was aiming for 9.30pm. assuming that includes coffees, they had to order now. Job don
e.

  Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Maria too had her phone out. There had been no reply to her first message, but she provided an update regardless.

  “Well hard to say how it’s going. The interview has turned into a sales pitch, and I feel as if I’m going to be asked to buy a time share in Dave Marsdon. Worst fear confirmed. I think I’m about to get stage three of his three stage plan. Had the past and the present, and think desert will come with the future. Hope he relaxes soon as he’s kinda cute! M,x”

  Before Maria’s elegantly sequined dress had made contact with the seat, Dave was rubbing his belly and gesturing towards to waiter.

  “I’m stuffed after all that food. Fancy a quick coffee?”

  With the drinks ordered, Maria sat expectantly. Dave’s barrage of words were sure to continue, and his pitch would obviously finish with a third phase. She’d heard all about his fetish for all things three. But there was nothing. A bit of silence and even some eye contact, but no words. Maybe she’d got it wrong. A sensation of guilt and pre-judgement hit Maria, and startled her into action.

  “Well, I must say I’ve been really impressed by the food here. I was supposed to be working tonight, but managed to move a few things around to make dinner, and I’m glad I did.” Maria’s smile and words would have radiated through the darkest of rooms, but they hit Dave’s stern face without affect.

  As his eyes slowly closed and opened, his worst fear was unfolding in front of him. He’d said to Tony that those sites were about business and not pleasure, and the ease with which this date had been arranged should have set off the alarm bells. Dave was angry with Tony, but he was also angry with himself. In his world he was perceptive, but in this world of dating, emotions and courtship, he was an apprentice without a mentor. Dave’s only hope now was that this mis-understanding wasn’t going to cost him too dearly in the pocket. Career wise and reputation wise it could be deadly, but he’d safely keep it a secret.

  “I’ve got a really big summer coming up actually. Pretty much fully booked up, which is great news! Although working nights can be a pain in the you know what. Most people shower before work. I have to shower afterwards.”