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Authors: Nury Vittachi
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devils, here they come now.’
De Boer put on a corporate smile and raised his eyes to the inlaid double doors, but the new arrival turned out to be a gawky young woman of about eighteen with her shirttail hanging out from under a shapeless sweater.
‘Who . . . ?’
‘My assistant,’ the geomancer explained.
‘Hi guys! Sorry I’m late!’ Joyce said cheerfully. ‘I went through into the gym office instead of the gym and got talking to this guy—Jimmy? He’s one majorly cool dude.’
De Boer’s face twitched at the sound of the name. The corners of his mouth perceptibly turned down.
Wong wondered how to react. Who was Jimmy? One needed the birth dates of the managers of any facility to do a full reading of prospects for the business. ‘Mr Jimmy is who?’
De Boer snorted his breath out through his nostrils. ‘Mr Jimmy is no one. Today is his last day. He was the gym master here, but we feel his part in last week’s, er, incident, was not satisfactory. The reception staff will be running the gym for a while, and we’ll get a new personal trainer/manager as soon as possible. An advertisement goes in the paper tomorrow for a replacement.’
Wong nodded, pleased. So he could probably manage without Mr Jimmy’s birth date. One less thing to think about.
De Boer gave Wong and McQuinnie a short, Teutonic bow and marched off to the shower rooms.
‘Pants,’ whispered Joyce, stamping her right foot.
‘What?’
‘Oh, nothing. It’s just—well, it’s just a shame that that Jimmy guy isn’t going to be sticking around. He’s like really nice! He’s got this dimple—never mind.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said the dimple-chinned young man, wringing his hands. ‘I don’t think I’m going to be a very good lunch companion. I’m too, like, shell-shocked.’ Despite his exaggeratedly masculine body, Jimmy Wegner’s voice was light and somewhere in the alto range.
‘That’s all right!’ said Joyce, a little too cheerfully. I don ’ t mind if you don ’ t say anything. I’ll just sit here and gaze at you.
She suddenly felt her face tingle and wondered whether she had spoken out loud.
Jimmy did not react, so apparently she hadn’t. Phew. ‘Er. No worries! We can just sort of relax, and get into a state of, you know, like, relaxation!’ She seethed inwardly at her inability to utter a half-intelligent sentence in front of this young man.
‘Life stinks,’ Jimmy said.
She gazed at the full lips from which those words emerged, and her eyes lazily travelled down to his jutting chin. ‘Yeah, it really does!’ she breathed. Then she realised that the sunny smile firmly attached to the front of her face was entirely unsuited to the conversation. She abruptly wiped it from her face. ‘It really, really stinks, like totally !’ As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed so deeply that her eyes momentarily closed. Where had her brain gone?
It had been an interesting morning. Immediately after she’d learned that Jimmy was no longer going to be working at The Players’ club, she had found an excuse to go back to the gym office, where he was packing a pitifully small number of possessions into a box.
Astonishing herself with her gall, she thanked him for showing her the way to the fitness room that morning, announced that she didn’t know a soul in Perth, and theatrically shared her bafflement about where she should have lunch.
The personal trainer appeared to be in a daze, but had picked up the signal and quickly agreed to show her the local cafés. He arranged to meet her at the corner of the street at 12:30. Thus, two hours after first meeting, they found themselves in Bev’s Snags and Sarnies sipping cappuccinos and dipping French fries into mayo and sweet chilli sauce.
Her eyes scanned the coffee shop, as she became increasingly desperate to make some sort of comment worthy of an intelligent young woman. ‘These coffee shops are like, really totally amazing. I mean, a couple of years
De Boer put on a corporate smile and raised his eyes to the inlaid double doors, but the new arrival turned out to be a gawky young woman of about eighteen with her shirttail hanging out from under a shapeless sweater.
‘Who . . . ?’
‘My assistant,’ the geomancer explained.
‘Hi guys! Sorry I’m late!’ Joyce said cheerfully. ‘I went through into the gym office instead of the gym and got talking to this guy—Jimmy? He’s one majorly cool dude.’
De Boer’s face twitched at the sound of the name. The corners of his mouth perceptibly turned down.
Wong wondered how to react. Who was Jimmy? One needed the birth dates of the managers of any facility to do a full reading of prospects for the business. ‘Mr Jimmy is who?’
De Boer snorted his breath out through his nostrils. ‘Mr Jimmy is no one. Today is his last day. He was the gym master here, but we feel his part in last week’s, er, incident, was not satisfactory. The reception staff will be running the gym for a while, and we’ll get a new personal trainer/manager as soon as possible. An advertisement goes in the paper tomorrow for a replacement.’
Wong nodded, pleased. So he could probably manage without Mr Jimmy’s birth date. One less thing to think about.
De Boer gave Wong and McQuinnie a short, Teutonic bow and marched off to the shower rooms.
‘Pants,’ whispered Joyce, stamping her right foot.
‘What?’
‘Oh, nothing. It’s just—well, it’s just a shame that that Jimmy guy isn’t going to be sticking around. He’s like really nice! He’s got this dimple—never mind.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said the dimple-chinned young man, wringing his hands. ‘I don’t think I’m going to be a very good lunch companion. I’m too, like, shell-shocked.’ Despite his exaggeratedly masculine body, Jimmy Wegner’s voice was light and somewhere in the alto range.
‘That’s all right!’ said Joyce, a little too cheerfully. I don ’ t mind if you don ’ t say anything. I’ll just sit here and gaze at you.
She suddenly felt her face tingle and wondered whether she had spoken out loud.
Jimmy did not react, so apparently she hadn’t. Phew. ‘Er. No worries! We can just sort of relax, and get into a state of, you know, like, relaxation!’ She seethed inwardly at her inability to utter a half-intelligent sentence in front of this young man.
‘Life stinks,’ Jimmy said.
She gazed at the full lips from which those words emerged, and her eyes lazily travelled down to his jutting chin. ‘Yeah, it really does!’ she breathed. Then she realised that the sunny smile firmly attached to the front of her face was entirely unsuited to the conversation. She abruptly wiped it from her face. ‘It really, really stinks, like totally !’ As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed so deeply that her eyes momentarily closed. Where had her brain gone?
It had been an interesting morning. Immediately after she’d learned that Jimmy was no longer going to be working at The Players’ club, she had found an excuse to go back to the gym office, where he was packing a pitifully small number of possessions into a box.
Astonishing herself with her gall, she thanked him for showing her the way to the fitness room that morning, announced that she didn’t know a soul in Perth, and theatrically shared her bafflement about where she should have lunch.
The personal trainer appeared to be in a daze, but had picked up the signal and quickly agreed to show her the local cafés. He arranged to meet her at the corner of the street at 12:30. Thus, two hours after first meeting, they found themselves in Bev’s Snags and Sarnies sipping cappuccinos and dipping French fries into mayo and sweet chilli sauce.
Her eyes scanned the coffee shop, as she became increasingly desperate to make some sort of comment worthy of an intelligent young woman. ‘These coffee shops are like, really totally amazing. I mean, a couple of years
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