Page 49 of Start With A Slap

“Best things in life start with a slap,” he continued. “If you let them.”

Heartbeat thudding in her throat, Ivy realized she was touching her earlobe.

A quick eye-smile at her, and he turned to the audience. “This one sent me out into the big wide world, age sixteen, twenty-three quid to my name. That night, I sat in a pub, inking out a plan.” He held up the napkin. “On a cocktail napkin. Ten months later I’m running a record label. Three years on, I’m a millionaire. Twenty, ...well, you know the rest. How did I get here? Was it the napkin? Or the slap?” He let that question hang for a moment, then added offhandedly, “Tell you one thing, it wasn’t the twenty-three quid. Spent that at the pub.”

The audience — and Ivy — disarmed with laughter, Sever launched into an engaging discourse on instinct versus strategy, and how they each served his career. Building a brand, he said, was a lot like courting a woman, only a “hell of a lot easier.”

But just as Ivy was about to take offense over being reduced to an exact science, he redeemed himself with a rousing conclusion.

“I’ll simple it down to a formula,” he said, eyes resting on her again as he pulled a pen out of his breast pocket. “Desire.” He wrote that down on the napkin, “plus dedication. Multiplied by persistence, perseverance... subtracted, divided, nth power... Oh, to hell with it.” He crumpled up the napkin. “There is no formula, people! Because strategy cannotsurvivewithout spontaneity. Truth is, we got into this travel racket for one thing: the excitement, right?” He gazed at Ivy and said, “Makes us feel alive.”

Her breath caught in an inaudible gasp, and she had to look away. It was too powerful. Too emotional. Tooraw.

“So let’s bin the strategy,” he tossed the napkin over his shoulder, “and let’s come alive again.”

Light-headed, Ivy could barely stand for the ovation.

CHAPTER 15

Come Alive

Ivy couldn’t believe it:Sever did have friends, and they were amazing.

Brilliant bohemian expats who’d sampled just about everything life had to offer, they made her laugh, made her think… and made her look at Sever in a whole new way. She couldn’t figure out what it was that made this Sever so appealing, until he laughed boisterously, genuinely, at a joke: he wasn’t playing a part. He wasn’t calculating or reading or controlling the rotation of the earth. This was him at his most relaxed, his mosthim. This, it occurred to her, was Sever’s natural element.

If she really thought about it, it was hers, too. But that would require a level of truth she wasn’t ready for yet.

Avoiding the dread strike three, Ivy sat snugly between the evening’s hosts, a barrel-chested Irish artist by the name of Aidan, and Max, a jazz guitarist from the States. They were flanked by a cast of characters who, though at least fifteen years her senior, were as interested in her views as she was in theirs.

While she, Aidan, Max and a statuesque Kenyan-French actress named Zalika chatted, Aidan turned to Sever. “You’reslipping, Mark. This living masterpiece shacks up with your son — how long ago?”

“Six months,” Sever supplied gamely.

“Six months ago! And you haven’t stolen her away yet! Or have you?”

“Has not and will not,” Ivy proclaimed.

“The girl has spurned my every advance,” Sever said. “It’s disheartening, really.”

“The world’s gone topsy-turvy,” said Max. “Honey, you’re a babe in the woods, why settle for just one guy yet?”

“Why settle for just one guy at all?” Zalika put forth saucily.

“Exactement,” Max said. “Adishis a terrible thing to waste.”

Sever pointed at Ivy with his chin. “She’s got principles, this one.”

“She’s got whatnow?” asked Max.

“That’s a bleedin’ shame.” Aidan clucked his tongue. “Nasty disease, Principles. Never had it meself.”

Sever said, “I’m working on a cure.”

“Work harder, Mark,” Aidan said, winking at Ivy, “or I’ll make a go of it.”

Zalika said to Ivy, “These men are brutes,mpenzi. Whatever you do, don’t let them get you alone.”

As Ivy promised she wouldn’t dare, Aidan raised his shot glass in toast. “To the elusive Sever Mark showin’ his dumb ugly mug ‘round these parts again, and bringin’ a lovely, intelligent young lass to make up for it.”

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