I let Pete order his champagne, which we quickly follow with our lunch choices. I order the slow braised milk fed Suffolk lamb; he has the poached Riverina milk fed veal. ‘N Sync got the hint and begin to leave. Good.
The auburn maitre d' comes back to our table. “I’m very sorry about that gentlemen, let me know if there is anything further I can do for you today.” She is keenly looking me in the eyes as she says this. Perhaps I will ask her for her phone number, she is attractive and seems nice, and there could be some fantastic benefits to being cosy with a beautiful maitre d' at Quay. I have befriended people in jobs like hers all over the country. It’s a huge asset to be able to call somebody like her, work the charm and get a table when they have the fully booked sign out to everyone else. I’ve convinced myself. I softly place my hand on her lower right arm. “I think we’re fine at the moment, thank-you. You’ve been fantastic. Can you join us for a glass of champagne?” I know the answer is no, she is of course working, but I also know, given the looks I’ve been receiving, that she will be flattered and it will raise a smile. “I’d love to but unfortunately I don’t finish my shift for hours. Perhaps another time.” “I hope so.” We leave it there; I’ll carry on that conversation later.
I’m no womaniser. I love females and they respond positively to me. My interest in the fairer sex tends to wane frequently though, due to my fixation with my ex-girlfriend, Juliet. The most beautiful girl I have ever seen and person I give it all up for in an instant and move away to a mountain shack with. Juliet and I were an item once, and I think every day about us being one again. When my head gets into Juliet mode I need to act fast to divert my attention and change my thought process. “What do you think of her Pete?” “Lovely young man, very lovely.”
Women in the city are a tricky bunch. Some are easy to figure out, 1 + 1 = 2; done. Others are more like a rubik’s cube; often these women are the most intriguing, unless they are too hard to figure out, then you let Mrs Rubik go on her merry coulourful way. Beauty and brains are an all important combination; but unfortunately too many of the women I meet only have the former. I’m extremely picky and often only see women I date once. Each and every one has the get over the ‘Juliet bar’ in my mind before I will see them again. Very few have managed this and I’m a frequent user of the tried and tested ‘I’m not looking for anything serious’ line, so much so that I’m considering having it stitched into the inside of my cuff, so that when I role my sleeves up they are fully aware of where I stand. I already know that if I date the maitre d', it will be purely casual and infrequent. I’m sure she’s a great girl, but the fact that she’s a maitre d' means she I could not see anything serious happening with her.
Pete and I finally get down to talking business as we wait for our lunches. I explain to Pete that we are looking to expand the pool of equity in our new fund and I would be delighted if he were to contribute to this. I explain the risk and possible return of our proposed investments. I do not need to sweet talk Pete, he knows all about me and Invest Co. and would be insulted if he thought I was trying to convince him of something that I didn’t believe in. Pete’s chins wobble as he nods continuously. I may be onto a wobbly winner here.
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