The Perfect Girlfriend(68)
Back in the Report Centre, we have a team photo taken; side by side, we grin. As far as I can make out, the main benefit of the role is that we have an office space – albeit shared – for our own use. This means a gateway to potentially confidential information about others, because my new password offers greater access to the company systems. As well as regular meetings, it is our responsibility to provide regular, positive updates for the magazine, encouraging our colleagues to be more safety conscious, more self-aware health-wise, and to show greater care and concern for each other.
We are informed, by the keen-bean manager, that the team photo will be on the cover and the worst one – of me – will be used on the third page. It is hideous. I am standing in the cockpit, to the side of the centre pedestal, holding an empty mug, with a concerned expression on my face. I will be alongside a warning issued about taking care when serving drinks to the flight crew. The article will include engineering statistics – something dull about defects and new components, or suchlike.
It is such a relief to return to my new home. I kick off my heels, switch on the radio, select a channel that plays non-stop chart hits and temporarily remove my pinboards from their hiding place to hang them inside a kitchen cupboard. It won’t do for them to be on show whilst Nate is an occasional visitor. Even though he’s not as regular as I’d like him to be, he at least shows willing, I’ll give him that.
I also have one other box which will need to remain out of sight; the one which contains my most private possessions. I’ll share some of them with Nate when I decide he’s in the right frame of mind.
My phone vibrates. Miles.
Can we take a rain check? Work. :( Have to visit a client in Tokyo, will be gone for a week.
That’s frustrating. He’s not bad company, and I enjoyed my time with him. Even though Bella doesn’t yet know, it is still satisfying. I’m due to operate to Singapore in three days’ time. I check the swap lists. There are two Tokyos available in my work grade, but one person specifically wants to swap with a Stateside trip only. I mail the other one.
Whilst waiting for a reply, I text Miles back.
No way! What a coincidence! I was told today that I might need to go to Tokyo too! There’s a new hotel to check out. I’ll contact you if it comes off :) It must be fate.
An email comes through agreeing to the trip swap at the same time as I receive a keen reply from Miles. Like I said to him – it’s fate. I’m looking forward to spending a longer period of time with him; innocently, gently probing to find out Bella’s vulnerabilities and fears.
Everything comes to she who waits.
23
On the twenty-eighth floor of a skyscraper hotel, renowned for its view of the city’s Rainbow Bridge, I wait for Miles. The bar is dimly lit. Little candles flicker on the slate-grey tables, intermingling with the city lights outside the giant floor-to-ceiling windowpanes. Red, white and blue illuminate the bridge below, reflections bobbing in the water. The tinkling of a piano provides a discreet backdrop to the various conversations held by the local, designer-clad clientele, separated by scattered clusters of Westerners.
I am bored.
The rest of my crew went off to a fun-sounding karaoke bar, and there was one woman who seems like a good laugh. If I had the time, I would like to have hung out with her. I need a replacement friend after my falling-out with Amy.
‘So, so sorry,’ Miles says, appearing at my side. ‘My meeting overran.’
There is an awkward moment as he seems unsure about how to greet me. Even though we’re far away from home, Miles appears uncharacteristically hyper-aware that we’re in public. We kiss once on each cheek, then he sits down next to me.
‘What would you like to drink?’ he asks.
I pick up the cocktail menu and read the English names helpfully written alongside the Japanese symbols. I select a Green Destiny: a blend of vodka, cucumber, kiwi and apple juice. Miles decides on a margarita.
‘My hotel is quite far away from here,’ I say. ‘So I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve taken the liberty of bringing a small overnight bag with me.’
He shifts in his seat a little. ‘I guess it makes sense. Will Nick be in touch, do you think?’
‘I doubt it.’ I put my hand over his. ‘Don’t worry, if Bella calls, I’ll make myself scarce. I’ll lock myself away in the bathroom and block my ears.’
He laughs. ‘She probably won’t call.’
‘Does she keep busy whilst you’re away?’
‘Bella is always busy.’
I stay silent, waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t bite.
Miles loosens his tie and relaxes back into his chair.
After our second drink, he invites me to his room. The moment the door closes behind us, we reach for each other.
I revel in each and every moment that I am stealing him from Bella.
Miles has fallen asleep.
The room smells of stale smoke – which is such an alien smell, as smoking is now banned in so many hotels around the world. I force myself to wait a good twenty minutes before taking a nose around. His tablet and phone are password-protected. I try a few times – Bella’s birthday and then Miles’ date of birth, which I learn by flicking through his passport – but it is of no use. His briefcase is open. I sift through client papers, but they are dull. His wallet contains nothing of great interest apart from a dog-eared photo of her.