Trying to Throw my Arms Around the World

Gasoline

Gasoline

“Yes, I believe it could be,” I said to Claire and the pout of her lips, that disturbing, distracting fold in her mouth that always threw me off guard.

“How do you know?” She sipped from her wine and slumped her body forwards, her hands inches away from my knees. I tried to bury myself a bit deeper into the couch.

“I just do.” She nodded and I had no idea how to interpret it.

“Like you did with me?” 

“Yeah, I guess, but differently. I’ve changed a lot since then.”

“Was she the reason you didn’t go home with me at Theresa’s party?”

“One of the reasons.” Some kind of amusement twinkled in Claire’s eyes, danced in the saturated brown of them, that autumnal colour I would never forget.

“This is a business decision, Lee, pure and simple. I understand your apprehension, but our company needs Lou and Alex. This has absolutely nothing to do with you.” I attempted to gauge her level of honesty by scanning her face, but, as ever, due to years of Botox abuse, it was void of indications.

“I wish I could believe you, but there are just no guarantees. Especially when Claire Burns is involved.”

“I’m not going to try anything with your girlfriend, Lee. Because that’s what you’re really worried about, isn’t it? I would never do that to you and I also wouldn’t be so stupid to risk everything, because my business is everything to me now, to somehow get back at you. I didn’t even know she was your girlfriend until you told Theresa.”

“What a fabulous declaration of intentions, Claire. The only problem is that your words mean so little to me now. And I just can’t get over the irony of finally meeting someone I’m really interested in, only to have her end up working for you. It just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Well,” she said while jumping out of the couch with the vigour of a fifteen-year-old, “it looks like you’ll just have to get used to it anyway, baby.” She walked to the kitchen. “Time to eat.”

While she rummaged through some drawers I wondered what was normal about this situation and I decided I needed an outsider’s take on it − I needed Roz. 

“I can pull off a decent carbonara now,” Claire said, as she planted a large pan on the table. It didn’t even look half-bad. “Please, help yourself.” 

“Who taught you?”

“Marco, a friend from New York.” She sat down opposite me and the sudden cosiness of the scene struck me as very odd. I wasn’t supposed to be sitting in Claire’s house eating pasta. Or was this how it happened? Was this how we would become friends? I definitely needed Roz.

“A friend?” I cocked up my eye-brows to assure her I wasn’t exactly born yesterday either.

“A good friend.” The smirk with which she stated the obvious caused a pang of something unpleasant, something cold and bitter, to jitter through me. I shoved some spaghetti in my mouth to hide my discomfort.

“The bottom line is that if you try anything funny with Lou, I will set your bloody house on fire.” She laughed then. Long, loud giggles spurted out of her open mouth.

“It is serious then.” She poured us some more wine. “I will douse it in Gasoline and wait for you on the doorstep, Lee. I promise you that.”

“I’m glad we can agree on something.”

“Me too, baby, me too.”

To be continued…