Page 17 of The Second Ending
He made a note on his computer to talk to the agents once again and find out what the snag was. Bloody hell. It would be so much easier if he just knew who actually owned the place, so they could talk face-to-face and iron out any remaining wrinkles. This really wasn’t professional. If he didn’t have so much at stake, he’d just pull out of the whole deal.
But his investors wouldn’t hear of it, and so he had no choice but to nag the agents yet again. Damn it all.
And then there was Ashleigh. What was going on between her and that ass from city hall? It could hardly be a coincidence that he’d shown up to her concert, but they’d also just met. Was it a date? Or was it just another case of similar interests? Ashwas quiet and reserved, even more now than before, and it was impossible to figure out her true thoughts unless you knew her very well indeed. Like he did once.
It was only the email that stopped him from throwing up his hands in complete resignation.
It had arrived in his inbox the Monday after the show. Short, sweet, but very welcome.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Concert
Marcus,
Thanks so much for coming to our concert, and for looking for me afterwards. It would have been nice to talk. Next time, perhaps.
Ashleigh
That was it. No weeping or wailing, no painful confessions of regret, no recriminations. But it hadn’t been dismissive or curt, and it wasn’t theFuck Offhe probably deserved. It offered something precious, a magical thread of hope, and he was going to grab it and hold on for dear life.
Now for the tricky part: How to respond. He’d have to think about that. He wished he had someone to talk to, someone who understood women better than he did. Because, his past history proved, he didn’t understand them at all.
“What was that?”
Shelley’s voice interrupted his reverie. He must have said something out loud.
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “Just musing about how I don’t understand women at all.”
His EA rolled her eyes at him. “Not understand women. What an outdated thought. What’s not to understand? We’re people. Thinking, rational people. Are you…? No! Marcus, in love? Say it’s not so! No, no,” she tutted, “don’t get into a tizzy.It happens to the best of us. Just treat her with the dignity and respect you’d like to get. And be nice. You’re not always nice.”
“I am so bloody always nice!” Marcus shouted. Then, “Okay, maybe not always as nice as I might be. And I never asked your opinion.”
Shelley finished dealing with the paperwork she’d come in to do. “Fine. Whatever. Do it your way. And be nice.” She left the room with a chuckle, closing the door behind her.
Thinking… rational… Those encapsulated Ashleigh. She was brilliant. Considerate, caring, helpful, and smarter than he could ever hope to be.
With Shelley’s words resonating in his ears, he realised there was, indeed, something he could do. Ash had written to him, so he could write back. In a sensible, rational,niceway. Emphasis on the nice.
And he’d have to see what happened.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Concert
Hi Ash,
Next time would be great. Your show was fabulous. I forgot how much I enjoyed live music. I really loved that new piece on the program, the one by the local composer. What do you know about it? The program notes didn’t tell me enough.
Marcus
He read his message again, finger hovering over the Send button. Was it engaging enough? Not too sappy? Not too dismissive? He hoped the question about the new composition would encourage her to reply.
He couldn’t think of anything else to say, and so, with a deep breath, he committed his hopes to the universe and clicked Send.
