The Persistence of Memory

Chapter Twelve

Suddenly the glass behind is rapped with a set of fingers and both Nicole and I turn. Sasha smiles apologetically before opening the door.

"Sorry to interrupt, Nicole, but Jeff Forbes is here and wondered if you were around and had a minute.  I told him you were with someone but I'd come check." The look she gives me isn't apologetic.

"Jeff Forbes? Seriously? Oh." Immediately she begins to fluster. She brushes her hand through her hair and stands. "Aidan, Jeff is from The New York Times. He called a few days ago and said he may pop in to see the exhibition. Would you like to come out and I can introduce you?"

I stand up from the stupid chair and shake my head. "Couldn't think of anything worse, to be honest. Pat needs to prep me for hours before he lets me talk to normal people. Weeks for newspaper people." I smile hoping it cushions the disappointment for her. Her face falls for a second but then she nods and comes back around the desk. "I might skip out the back way actually if you have one of those?"

"Sure we do, Sasha would you mind showing Aidan to the fire exit? Ok, so we'll see you later tonight? Dinner is at 8 pm so if you arrive anywhere from 7:15 pm onwards that will be just fine. We do aperitifs and cocktails first," she tells me with what I'd call a friendly smile of warning. In other words, don't you dare be late to my vegan extravaganza you fucking philistine.

Nodding, I follow Sasha out of Nicole's office and to the right down a stark white corridor towards the rear of the Gallery. When we reach the high gloss black fire door she pushes down on the handle and opens it out onto a sunny alleyway far cleaner than most alleyways I'd seen.

"I thought only celebrities used backdoors. Is that what you are now?" Sasha smiles at me.

"Apparently in New York, that's exactly what I am," I nod. "Bieber better watch his fucking arse." This makes her laugh. As she smiles and brushes a hand gently through her thick ebony hair the idea hits me. I turn my whole body around to face her and slide my hands into my pockets and smile back. It's as genuine a smile I have without actually being genuine. It's the one I use for social purposes and for asking women out who I didn't particularly want to go out with but needed to for necessity reasons.

"Listen, Sasha, this is probably off the mark a little - maybe even borderline unprofessional - so just say no if you don't fancy it, yeah?" Sasha's eyes widen and her mouth drops open a little. "I don't suppose you'd fancy coming to dinner with me tonight? It's one of those dinner parties where everyone brings someone and the only person I know in this city is my friend Pat and I really hate the noises he makes when he eats. I want to throttle him and I don't think I'd get away with that at this particular dinner party." I give her a knowing look and her mouth tilts up.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" She asks.

"No," I shake my head. "Definitely not. Because I hate that word: 'date'. So no. But I am asking you to accompany me to your boss's dinner party to sit next to me and make me look better."

She giggles and looks down at her feet, shy suddenly. Chances are this is the same game I'm playing. But there's also the chance that it isn't. And it's this that causes a tiny sliver of guilt to crawl up my spine. Using this girl for my own selfish gains is a dick move. I know this.  But it was worth it to at least have a chance at teasing out a reaction from Eloise tonight. Of course, it could all backfire in my fucking face, but my reasoning is that I'll be in no worse a position than I'm in right now. When Sasha looks back up at me she's decided something.

"I'd love to come with you. But I'm not sure that was a compliment you just gave me?" She quirks a brow.

"Oh, it was. Trust me. You will definitely make me look better, by sitting next to me." I nod. "I'll try not to embarrass you but I can't promise anything."