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Cupcake Kissin’ 27 – Alex Ankarr
But she edges up closer, and nods out at Mack, where he’s not getting on any better with the course of his conversation. (Is stressily rubbing a hand through his hair, which isn’t doing a whole lot for the smoothness and elegance of his coiffure. And yet somehow it just makes him sexier, the whole tousled and stressed out look, the crumples of his brow as he argues and blows out an exhale with an infuriated look on his lean face.) ‘So, that’s got to be Adam he’s talking to, right?’ she murmurs confidentially in Caspar’s ear.
Caspar turns and looks at her, doubtfully. Is she coming to him for inside info, after all? How is he going to know anything about what’s going on, better than her? She’s Mack’s personal assistant. If anyone has the skinny on Mack, then it’s quite surely going to be Sara. But the question seems serious, so he gives her the only answer he’s got on him. ‘I’ve been working on that assumption, yes. Unless there’s anyone else he calls ‘baby’.’ He gives her a smile, keeps his eyes out of it, impersonal.
And Sara grimaces and groans, quite loud, and sinks back with her head rolling and squashing large pale couch cushions. ‘Oh god, no. No, that’ll be Adam.’ And she rolls her head to the side to take a good look at Caspar, who is busy looking dispassionate and unconcerned. It’s a bit of work. Sara’s examination goes on for a good few moments, and then she says, ‘You’ve met him, right?’
In truth Caspar isn’t all that eager to answer this question. The plain facts could lead on so easily to discussion. And discussion of Adam could lead on, very easily, to his truthful opinion of Adam. Discretion on the subject would take effort, and he feels a little tired and like a lot has been asked of him already this evening. So that, ‘Um yes,’ is as much as he feels like saying, in response to her question.
‘Oh, lucky you,’ Sara says. The voice she says it in says a lot, and it says quite different things to the actual content of her words. Then she adds – in a quietly breathy, confidential tone – ‘If he doesn’t break up with that asshole soon, I’m going to have to smack the bitch, and then I’ll be fired and that’ll be Mack’s career down the drain because I’m telling you, I made that boy and he’d be nowhere without me!’
Caspar is perfectly still for a moment or two upon receiving this confidence, because, hell, what can you say in response to something like that? Then, completely involuntarily – he giggles. And Sara giggles too, and that’s that, both of them are corpsing and shuddering and howling with laughter. And it’s just Caspar’s luck that Mack chooses that moment to slam his phone shut, in what looks a lot like a fit of temper, and stride into the huge living area.
And he pauses, arrested for a moment or two, when he sees Sara cuddling up to Caspar in the seating area. ‘Oh. You,’ he observes, with notable intelligence and observational skills. He doesn’t look all that thrilled to see his closest employee back on the premises. ‘Sara, what are you doing back here?’ He takes a pace or two around the living area, sticking his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, his bare feet rather long and flexing as he rocks from foot to foot.
Sara relaxes perceptibly beside Caspar. And her voice is sweet and calm, when she says, ‘Left a few things behind.’
And Mack isn’t looking at either of them, when he says, ‘Fine. I’m going to finish cooking then. I think the rosti might be burning as we speak. Sorry, Caspar! I’ll try to make it edible.’
It’s as he marches off to the kitchen area, and a banging and a clanging follows as he sets to work, that Sara leans in and puts her head upon Caspar’s shoulder. Her whisper is the utmost in things that are confidential and theatrically secretive. Her loud whisper announces, ‘So, Adam’s away in New York for the next couple of weeks. Now, if you can get Mack to misbehave while he’s gone, I swear I’ll set you up for life. Seriously. Anyone who can detach that creepy-ass limpet, I’ll pay him a bounty that’ll pay anyone’s mortgage off. As long as they live in a dumpster or the sewerage system. So, Caspar boy, you think you’re the man for the job? While the cat’s away, the mice will play, right?’
So that’s how Caspar comes, suddenly, to understand it. He’s here as a matter of machinations and Machiavellian skulduggery, right enough, here for the purpose of… Well, it looks like warming Mack’s bed, distracting him from thinking about a boyfriend who;s out of town and, it seems, unliked by his friends and associates.
But he’s been assuming that the machinations are down to Mack, and now he is by no means quite so sure. He’s beginning to think that maybe it’s Sara who would very much like for Caspar to give Mack a distraction, amongst other things, and to drive a wedge, give Mack a reason to look with disfavour upon a boyfriend she dislikes.
And Caspar shudders. If that’s what she wants, he’s not the man for the job. Who needs that kind of ass-ache? Although somehow it’s a relief to think that it’s not Mack who’s scheming to get him into bed. Sara, Sara, now, she can scheme as much as she likes. Caspar smiles at her complaisantly, and lets her think what she likes, as she grabs her bag, kisses him on the cheek and heads for the door again.
‘I’m out of here, Mack!’ she yells across the length of the (huge) apartment, and gets a nod and a wave, Mack poking his head out of the kitchen, in return. Slipping out the door, Caspar gets a cute evil little pinky wave, with a Machiavellian smirk, and smiles innocently back. Not on your life, baby, he thinks. He likes Sara. He doesn’t like her nearly enough to sacrifice his peace of mind to her schemes.
© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014
No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.