‘C’mon, let’s find you something classy elsewhere.’
Once we were out on the street, I did say: ‘You know, there was no real need to—’
‘Say what I think? Why the hell not? I didn’t insult anyone back there. I just made a comment.’
‘A very loud comment.’
‘So? I talk loud. It’s how I deal with the world.’
She insisted on dragging me into Armani. ‘The sale’s on, and we might find you something to help you lose the Crunchy Granola look.’
By the end of the afternoon, I had acquired three suits, two pairs of shoes and assorted separates – all stylish, yet simple – and even had $200 left over to blow on underwear. Trish might have had the manners of a stevedore, but she did have an eye for clothes and she certainly knew how to shop – which, as she correctly surmised, was an activity that held little interest for me.
‘Brad circulated your résumé, like he does everybody’s he’s thinking of hiring,’ she told me after directing us into the bar of the Four Seasons Hotel and ordering Martinis – two for herself, the first of which she downed almost at once. ‘We all had you sized up pretty quickly: the smart girl raised in strained circumstances. Your father must be some class of creep, by the way.’
‘What makes you say that?’ I asked.
‘Stop sounding tetchy. It is just a simple deduction . Daddy’s in the copper business, but has jettisoned you and your mother for a new life with a string of South American bimbas , right?’
‘There’ve only been two—’
‘To the best of your knowledge. All men are putzes at heart – even the good ones. But you know that by now, don’t you?’
I looked at her carefully.
‘What do you mean by that?’ I asked.
‘Oh, come on, you don’t think Brad – Mr Micro-Manager – didn’t dig a little bit into your past and find out about you and the Professor?’
I looked at her, appalled.
‘When I applied for a job as a trainee, I didn’t think my past private life would be vetted.’
‘There are three of us in the company who form the vetting committee to make certain we hire someone who will fit into the Freedom Mutual culture. Do you know what we all liked about you – besides the Harvard doctorate and pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and not being a snot . . . ?’
‘Enlighten me.’
‘The fact that you had a four-year thing with your thesis advisor and kept it completely out of the public view.’
‘Who told you this?’
‘Do you honestly think I’d reveal our sources? I mean, puleeze . But, between ourselves, Brad was also super-impressed about how you never showed your hand, never stirred the pot, and kept a dignified silence in the wake of his death. What a business, by the way. I really felt for you . . . especially with all the ambiguity surrounding—’
‘I’m leaving now,’ I heard myself saying.
‘Have I said the wrong thing?’
‘Actually you have. Just as I find it completely abhorrent that you and your colleagues have dug into my past and—’
‘We all know each other’s stuff in the office,’ she said. ‘I’m aware that Brad is cheating on his wife with a bond dealer named Samantha who has a nasty temper and frequently scratches his back during sex, causing him to wear a T-shirt in bed with his wife for a few days. Everyone knows that Brad should break it off with her, but he’s addicted to trouble. Just as Brad knows that I’ve been in a relationship with a cop named Pauline for the past two years.’
‘I see,’ I said, trying to sound nonplussed.
‘Go on, act all blasé and inclusive. Pretend you’re not shocked to discover I’m a dyke . . .’
‘It really is your own business.’
‘Not at Freedom Mutual. Brad insists on total transparency. No secrets, no hidden baggage. Everything out in the open. So . . . goon, ask me any question about myself. Anything . You ask, I’ll tell.’
‘I’d rather not.’
‘Loosen up.’
‘All right. Why do you
Once we were out on the street, I did say: ‘You know, there was no real need to—’
‘Say what I think? Why the hell not? I didn’t insult anyone back there. I just made a comment.’
‘A very loud comment.’
‘So? I talk loud. It’s how I deal with the world.’
She insisted on dragging me into Armani. ‘The sale’s on, and we might find you something to help you lose the Crunchy Granola look.’
By the end of the afternoon, I had acquired three suits, two pairs of shoes and assorted separates – all stylish, yet simple – and even had $200 left over to blow on underwear. Trish might have had the manners of a stevedore, but she did have an eye for clothes and she certainly knew how to shop – which, as she correctly surmised, was an activity that held little interest for me.
‘Brad circulated your résumé, like he does everybody’s he’s thinking of hiring,’ she told me after directing us into the bar of the Four Seasons Hotel and ordering Martinis – two for herself, the first of which she downed almost at once. ‘We all had you sized up pretty quickly: the smart girl raised in strained circumstances. Your father must be some class of creep, by the way.’
‘What makes you say that?’ I asked.
‘Stop sounding tetchy. It is just a simple deduction . Daddy’s in the copper business, but has jettisoned you and your mother for a new life with a string of South American bimbas , right?’
‘There’ve only been two—’
‘To the best of your knowledge. All men are putzes at heart – even the good ones. But you know that by now, don’t you?’
I looked at her carefully.
‘What do you mean by that?’ I asked.
‘Oh, come on, you don’t think Brad – Mr Micro-Manager – didn’t dig a little bit into your past and find out about you and the Professor?’
I looked at her, appalled.
‘When I applied for a job as a trainee, I didn’t think my past private life would be vetted.’
‘There are three of us in the company who form the vetting committee to make certain we hire someone who will fit into the Freedom Mutual culture. Do you know what we all liked about you – besides the Harvard doctorate and pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and not being a snot . . . ?’
‘Enlighten me.’
‘The fact that you had a four-year thing with your thesis advisor and kept it completely out of the public view.’
‘Who told you this?’
‘Do you honestly think I’d reveal our sources? I mean, puleeze . But, between ourselves, Brad was also super-impressed about how you never showed your hand, never stirred the pot, and kept a dignified silence in the wake of his death. What a business, by the way. I really felt for you . . . especially with all the ambiguity surrounding—’
‘I’m leaving now,’ I heard myself saying.
‘Have I said the wrong thing?’
‘Actually you have. Just as I find it completely abhorrent that you and your colleagues have dug into my past and—’
‘We all know each other’s stuff in the office,’ she said. ‘I’m aware that Brad is cheating on his wife with a bond dealer named Samantha who has a nasty temper and frequently scratches his back during sex, causing him to wear a T-shirt in bed with his wife for a few days. Everyone knows that Brad should break it off with her, but he’s addicted to trouble. Just as Brad knows that I’ve been in a relationship with a cop named Pauline for the past two years.’
‘I see,’ I said, trying to sound nonplussed.
‘Go on, act all blasé and inclusive. Pretend you’re not shocked to discover I’m a dyke . . .’
‘It really is your own business.’
‘Not at Freedom Mutual. Brad insists on total transparency. No secrets, no hidden baggage. Everything out in the open. So . . . goon, ask me any question about myself. Anything . You ask, I’ll tell.’
‘I’d rather not.’
‘Loosen up.’
‘All right. Why do you
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