Take a Chance (30 page)

Just imagine how fast Cherie would be if you replaced those heels with sneakers.

“Where is she?”
Cherie asked breathlessly.

Her arms laden with bags, Jem nodded in the direction of the hotel.

“She went in there with a man. They looked rather… friendly,” Jem added.

“Oo
h. I have got to know more,” Cherie said.

She slid the shopping bags onto her wrist and stabbed
the pedestrian crossing button repeatedly.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Jem said as the buzzer finally went and they crossed the road.

“Of course it is,” Cherie asserted. “If she’s doing the nasty with someone else
Duh-
boss will probably give you the promotion out of being grateful he found out before she had enough time to spend all his money on her.”

“Wouldn’t he be more likely to kill the m
essenger?” Jem asked as they reached the opposite footpath.

“That’s a good point. Don’t say anything until after the promotion is announced.”

They walked through the hotel’s automatic doors and stopped in the lobby.

“Do you see her or the guy she was with?” Cherie asked as they looked around.
Being short in this situation was a disadvantage and her heels just brought her to just over average height so she couldn’t see over people like Jem could.

“No.
Now what?” Jem asked.

“Now we get information,” she said and marched towards the reception desk.

There was a skinny young man behind the counter and his Adam’s apple bobbed at their approach.

“Hi there,” Cherie said breezily. “I hope you can help us. We’re here for a meeting and I’m embarrassed to say that we’ve forgotten the room number of the people we’re supposed to meet up with. Perhaps you saw them walk past a few moments ago?
A brown haired man and a red haired woman who is about my size?”

“Her name is Celeste Worth,” Cherie added helpfully with a smile.

“I have to ask a manager before I can give that sort of information,” he said nervously then fled into the back room before they could respond.

“If they have a room it’s probably under his name,” Jem suggested the moment they were alone.

“I realise that but I can’t give his name if I never saw him,” Cherie replied with disgust.

“What makes you think
he knows which room they’re in if we can’t even give his name?” Jem asked.

“Have you noticed this place?” Cherie asked and with a sweep of her hand gestured to t
heir elegant surroundings. “These guys are trained to recognise their clients and to know their preferences. They know so much they could probably tell us whether he dresses to the left or to the right.”

“Just what I need in my mind,” Jem muttered.

“No, by now it’s probably in Celeste,” Cherie said, tongue in cheek.

Jem groaned.

“Are you sure you can’t remember who he is?” Cherie asked, ignoring the groan.

“You know him,” Jem said. “We’ve seen him before and it was sometime recently… This is so frustrating. His name is on the tip of my tongue.”

“Well spit it out already,” Cherie said “because here they come.”

A compet
ent looking woman in her late twenties dressed in a forest green suit with a white silk blouse walked towards the counter with the gangly younger man trailing behind her.

“Hello,” she said
politely. “Eric tells me you’re looking for the room of one of our guests.”

“That’s right,” Cherie said. “We’re running late for a meeting.”

“In that case I need to phone him for permission to give the information out,” the woman said. She stepped to the computer beside her and absently flipped her light brown hair over her shoulder before starting to type in a name.

“No, don’t do that,” J
em blurted. “It doesn’t look professional if we forget that sort of detail.”

The woman stopped wh
at she was doing to look at Jem, then without saying anything seemed to reach a decision. She looked over her shoulder at her lanky assistant who was busy watching a teenage girl on her cell phone out on the street.

“You can take a break now Eric.”

The boy didn’t budge.

“The Edge!
You can take a break now,” she repeated firmly.

The boy startled at being caught
not paying attention where he should. He quickly nodded and scuttled through the door to the back room.

“The Edge?”
Cherie mouthed.

“Yes. Amazing what some people will name their kids,”
the woman muttered, having read Cherie’s lips. “He wanted to be called something that sounded professional but is still getting used to it.”

She looked back at Jem
and grinned.

“
It’s great to finally meet the famous Jem. Eben has been talking about you for years,” she said warmly holding out her hand for Jem to shake.

“He has? Why? What? … How do you know who I am?” Jem
stuttered in surprise as she swapped the bags she was carrying to her left hand to return the handshake. As she did so she quickly read the name Georgina Stone on the woman’s name badge.

Eben’s
sister?

“He carries a photo of you in his wallet
,” Georgina said as though it were common knowledge.

“
Since when?” Jem asked, feeling a little dazed about being unaware of Eben’s long term devotion.

Georgina shrugged
while Cherie read her name badge then scrutinised the woman behind the desk.

“
He’s had it for years. I think you’re both at Jase’s wedding.”

“I should have realised
sooner that you’re related to Eben,” Cherie interrupted. “You have the same eyes.”

Jem
waited for Georgina to deny it and point out that Eben was adopted.

“
Our changing eye colour is common on my mother’s side of the family but is a pain when filling in a driver’s licence,” Georgina admitted instead, smiling.

Jem looked a little closer and noticed that Georgina’s eyes were the same shape as Eben’s and were currently a familiar shade of dark grey.

Jem’s mouth firmed. If Eben had been pretending to be adopted then he’d wish he had been after she finished with him.

A short balding middle aged man in a suit strolled up to the desk and Georgina suddenly became businesslike.

“Mr Wright in suite 1205 is booked until the end of the week. I understand his current appointment is a daily one starting around 2pm so your meeting is likely to be delayed until about 5pm,” Georgina informed them with a surreptitious wink.

She dismissed them by turning to the gentleman beside them.

“Mr Stephens I am pleased to be able to tell you that I managed to get the last pair of tickets…”

Jem and Cherie
saw more people line up behind them so took the hint and headed towards the door.

“Why do I know that name?” Cherie asked as
Jem scribbled the room number on the back of her hand.

Jem smacked the hand holding the pen against her forehead and the nib smudged ink over her cheek.

“Of course! It’s Troy Wright from the presentation she’s visiting,” Jem exclaimed in hushed tones. “I knew I recognised him.”

She dropped the pen into one of the carry bags then transferred half of the bags back to her right hand.

“Do you think she’s riding his lap again?” Cherie asked after making the connection as they walked to the corner.

“You can be so crass,” Jem said, then sighed
as she pressed the buzzer at the pedestrian crossing. “Probably.”

“
So what are we going to do about it?” Cherie asked.

“We’ll think of something,”
Jem promised as they crossed the road.

Hours later
Jem had finished work for the day and was huddled under the office building’s awning, clutching her purchases to her so the wind wouldn’t take off with any. Eben had phoned to say he was close by and to meet him out the front so they could avoid the trek to the nearest parking building.

The traffic lights on the corner changed to red and a car behind her tooted. Jem turned around and saw Eben behind the wheel of the Bluebird halfway
down the block. She jogged towards him just as rain started pelting down and she hoped not to get too wet before getting in the car.

Eben leaned over and opened the passenger door.

“I hope those aren’t doggie bags,” he joked as she tossed the bags over into the back seat and slid into the passenger seat.

“No, just the results of retail therapy,” Jem said breathlessly as she shut the door and wiped her wet hair from her face.

“Anything I would find interesting?” Eben asked as he glanced over his shoulder in the hopes of seeing a bag from a lingerie store.

“Yes,” said Jem as she clicked her seatbelt into place and started rummaging through her shoulder bag.

The lights changed to green and the car surged forward.

“I met your sister today,” Jem said conversationally, making contact with the item she
had been seeking in her bag.

“Which one?”
Eben asked as he changed gear and the car picked up speed.

“Georgina,” Jem replied simply. When Eben didn’t comment she added “Her eyes are uncannily like yours.”

“There are a lot of us with the same eyes on Mum’s side of the family,” said Eben.

“That’s what she said,” Jem said.

She turned in her seat and faced him accusingly.

“You told me you were adopted.”

Eben’s hands tightened on the wheel.

“I am,” he
assured her.

Jem drummed her fingers on the side of her le
ather shoulder bag, outlining an object just below the surface which could have been the muzzle of a gun. She waited.

“Mum and my biological father are cousins,” Eben said once the silence became too much. “He and my biological mother were
sixteen when she got pregnant. Her parents were deeply religious and kicked her out when they found out. After I was born she got very depressed and committed suicide when I was three months old. He was grieving for her and didn’t handle being a solo parent very well,” Eben said flatly.

Jem fingers stopped on her bag. She had never expected to hear him say anything like this.

Eben slid his watch back to reveal a couple of faded cigarette burns on the back of his wrist.

“When I wound up in hospital the second time from
accidents
Mum and Dad stepped in and convinced him to let them adopt me.” Eben let out a slow breath. “So here I am.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Jem said quietly.

He glanced at her.

“Having second thoughts about being with someone whose mother had a mental illness and a father who was a child abuser?” he asked harshly.

“No,” Jem asserted quickly. “Nothing like that. I was just thinking how awful it must have been for you.”

“I came to live with Mum and Dad when I was two. I don’t really remember.”

Jem looked at his clenched jaw and knew he was lying. She knew he didn’t want her sympathy.

“I think it must have been hard for them
too,” she said carefully. “They sound like they were too young for the responsibility of being parents and didn’t have enough support. Maybe she had postnatal depression and things would have turned out better with treatment.”

“What about him?” Eben demanded.

Jem swallowed, thinking of the cigarette burns on his arm. When she had seen the others on his back she had thought they were chicken pox scars. Now she knew better. She offered him the nicest thing she could say about his biological father.

“I think he was smart enough to
want the best for you which is why he gave you to your parents,” she said gently. “Do you know where he is now?”

Eben snorted.

“Last I heard he was in Paremoremo. Maximum security.”

Jem sat back in her seat. She couldn’t think of anything positive to say to that
.

Eben changed lanes to join a marginally faster group of cars inching across the Harbour Bridge towards the North Shore. After
finally being able to pick up enough speed to change into third gear, he glanced at Jem. Her hands were resting on the mysterious bulge in her bag.

“Were you planning on shooting me if you didn’t believe what I had to say?” he asked, not completely joking.

“What? No,” she added when Eben gestured towards the lump in her bag sitting on her lap.

“While Cherie and I were out today I thought of you and got you a little something.
Here you are,” she announced, withdrawing a Moro bar and handing it to him. “I didn’t know whether you’d have time to eat anything so I got you this. I wanted to get you a pie but I had no way of keeping it hot.”

“Thanks,” Eben said and accepted the bar. He opened the end of the wrapper and took bites when he didn’t need both hands on the steering wheel.

He was touched by her thoughtfulness and despite being relieved she wasn’t carrying a weapon also strangely a little disappointed the object wasn’t something more exciting.

“And I thought you might also be interested in this,” Jem added and yanked a striped bag from the back seat. She opened it enough to show a sample of
red lace.

Not disappointed anymore
, thought Eben.

He grinned.

Later that evening Jem added a mug of coffee to the pair of hot chocolates she had prepared for their usual evening ritual. She nudged the office door aside and saw the screen of Eben’s computer switch to a game of free cell. Jason appeared amused but was working on a screen filled with gobbledygook which Jem took to mean he was working on the source code.

After distributing the drinks she sat at what she now considered her laptop and turned it on. After logging in she checked her email.

Eben felt her tense beside him. He nudged her.

“What’s up?”

“That scum Mark. I only found out about that meeting I practically missed this morning from Cherie. Mark claimed he had emailed me about it and he had; only he sent it at 7am. I was so busy this morning that this has been the first time I have checked my email today.”

Eben looked thoughtful.

“Do you normally check your email first thing?” he asked.

“No,” Jem answered. “I don’t usually check it until after lunch because sometimes I wind up spending a lot of time replying to things which could be spent doing work that is more urgent. Then I usually clear my email before leaving for the day so I am up to date and can plan the most useful way to spend the following morning.”

“Does anyone at your work know that is how you do things?”

Jem nodded.

“It’s been standard policy ever since a few years ago when Martha found a couple of developers forwarding cute cat pictures when they were on a tight deadline.”

“So the email checking thing in the afternoon is standard for everyone at work,” Eben said, wanting to clarify things.

“Yes. Except for Cherie as a lot of her work requires quick feedback. It works well because if anything important arises she gets emailed and tells the person directly. Why do you ask?”

Eben smiled.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”