"Oh, so there is a Mrs. Donaldson?" I said without thinking.

"Bel's been asking that question all day," Dianne teased.

---

 

5. Plenty of Fishermen in the Sea
 

Carole ran down to tell the others that we were coming, but mainly to see what Gillian and Cathy were wearing. Dianne locked up and quickly clip-clopped down the stairs and out. I followed a little more slowly. I'd never worn heels before, but I think I did pretty well. Thank goodness for handrails, though!

When I got outside, a long, shiny, black limo was waiting. For sure, Roger Donaldson was doing very well for himself! To be able to toss out so much coin for what was really a small celebration... well. It must be nice! I didn't exactly count my pennies, but I was no Roger Donaldson.

Carole and the driver were standing near the limo. She was waiting to see us off; he was waiting to hand me in. Cathy and Dianne were sitting inside, facing Gillian, who sat alone in the back seat. She had her hand on the seat next to her, and I realized that she was saving it for me!

That heady moment was broken by Dianne, who bawled out, "Bel! Move yer blooming arse!" Gillian shot her a look, but then bit her lip.

"I'm coming as fast as I can," I protested. "The walkway's really steep here, going down to the car."

"It isn't a minefield, Bel," Gillian said. "Just put one foot in front of the other and you'll be fine, my girl."

"You have to be patient with our Bel," Dianne told the driver. "She grew up in the Bush and she's not used to wearing shoes, let alone heels."

I was about to protest when my left foot set to wobbling. I tried to steady it, but a dip in the ground or a bump or something threw me off balance. I found myself leaning dangerously backward and threw my arms out to keep from falling. The driver extended his arm, and I clutched it gratefully.

He handed me inside, and I dropped into the seat, losing a shoe in the process.

"Aside from that last bit," I said, as the driver handed me my shoe, "I think I did rather well."

"Oh my lord!" Gillian groaned. "It's a lucky thing we won't be doing any walking, Bel!"

I frowned and asked, "Am I really that bad?"

"No," Dianne replied, "You're much worse."

"Just don't move around any more than you have to," Gillian said.

"And don't look at your feet when you walk," Cath offered.

"And don't make a face like you're sucking something through a straw," Dianne said, pursing her lips and making a pop-eyed expression.

"I did not look like that," I scoffed.

Dianne chuckled.

"Anyway, it takes a lot of concentration," I said.

"Just relax," Gillian said.

"And stay behind us," Dianne laughed.

Cathy's eyes roved all round the limo's rich interior. "So fancy," she commented. "Exy, isn't it?"

Dianne agreed, and affecting a silly "posh" accent added, "Oh, I say, we are grand, aren't we?"

A light went on in my head, and I replied, "Oh, no more buttered scones for me, mater. I'm off to play the grand piano!" Then, after a pause (since no one else said it), "Pardon me while I fly my aeroplane."

The car fell into complete silence.

"What in the world are you going on about?" Gillian demanded.

"Monty Python," I said. "I thought we were doing Monty Python."

The driver let out a guffaw, which he quickly stifled. At least one person got it.

I tried to explain. "When Dianne said, we are grand—" but Gillian cut me off, waving her hand impatiently.

"I hope you're not planning to go off like that at dinner," she cautioned me.

"Might be a good idea," Dianne said, smiling. "It could clear the stardust out of Roger's eyes, leastways as far as Bel's concerned."

"It could put him off all of us entirely," Gillian countered.

"You never know, he might lap it up," Cathy opined. "Boys do go for strange things."

"Yes, they do, don't they?" Dianne said, giving me a pointed, mischievous look.

Gillian's eyes scanned Dianne up and down. "And what are you hoping to catch in that dress?" she asked.

"A cold!" I supplied. I could tell by the way the driver shifted around that he thought it was funny, but Gillian regarded me in surprise.

"Bel! What's gotten into you? What happened to our shy wallflower?"

"I don't know," I replied with a shrug. But I realized she was right: from the moment I stepped into the the car I felt positively giddy.

"It's probably nerves," Cathy said. "All the pent-up tension finally released."

"The blood's drained from her head," Dianne joked. "Let's hope that Roger likes cute, skinny airheads."

I shook my head and ignored the teasing.

"What were you saying about my dress?" Dianne asked, returning to Gillian's earlier question. "Don't you think it's appropriate?"

"Just barely," Gillian replied.

"I think it's fine," Cathy said, just as I was saying, "I think it's great!"

In fact, it was a lovely dress: a kind of steely blue, all the fabric gathered into vertical ribs, so the dress had lots of texture. It made you want to touch it. And the fact that it was strapless and ended above her knees certainly told all and sundry that here was a party girl, ready to... well, ready to party! You had to wonder how the dress, and the girl inside it, would look while dancing.

"It's quite classy, in fact," I added, and Dianne smiled in appreciation, but didn't look convinced.

"A couple hours as a girl, and you're already a fashion expert?" Gillian muttered, but somehow her jibe didn't affect my mood.

Cathy wore a beige dress with a big black bow at her waist, in front. I would have liked it better without the bow, but then it would have been distressingly plain. She topped it off with a matching short jacket.

Gillian wore a golden brown silk dress that flowed to her ankles, and a dark brown embroidered silk jacket. I knew they were silk because she told me and had me feel the material. The general effect was of a dragon lady: it was immediately clear that she was the boss; she was in charge of us all.

As we looked each other over and complimented one another's dresses, Gillian nudged Cathy, who began to giggle. I understood it somehow had to do with me, so I asked what the joke was.

"It's not a joke, Bel," Cathy laughed.

"Let me put it this way, Bel," Gillian told me, with a little smile. "You need to be careful not to leave your front door open. Someone might think you're inviting them in."

"Huh?" I said, and then got it. I brought my knees together.

"Here's a little sign for you," Gillian said, as she lifted a loose fist, palm down. She raised her first two knuckles, so they looked like a pair of legs, sitting. "If you don't get it, I'll go like this," she opened and closed the knuckles of the first and second finger, so it looked like the seated person was opening and closing her legs.

"I get it," I said, embarrassed.

"Hopefully I won't need to remind you," she said in a dry tone.

"Oh!" I said, remembering suddenly, and wanting to change the subject, "There's something I can't figure out. How is it that Roger has a reservation for tonight? I was told that Tetsuya's books months in advance."

"I don't know," said Gillian with a shrug. "Probably he knows someone. But don't ask. It's poor form."

"I wouldn't," I replied.

 

---

 

When we arrived in front of the restaurant on Kent Street, Dianne wrapped herself in her deep black shawl and clutched her purse. I copied her by wrapping myself in my shawl, which was also black, but of a rougher weave, and colored with spots of red and blue.

"Don't you have a purse, Bel?" Cathy asked.

"No," Dianne replied for me. "I didn't have anything that suited, and he wouldn't know what to do with it anyway."

"She," Gillian corrected in a firm undertone. "She. We can't slip up there, people. Pay attention, and keep your heads. Especially if you drink." She paused a moment, when something occurred to her. "Oh, and by the way, have fun tonight, but don't overdo. We have a possible new client and we need to brainstorm tomorrow AM. I'll need your wits sharp."

Dianne twisted her mouth in disappointment, but wisely said nothing.

"It's an online dating service," Gillian added quietly. "Radio, print ads, SEO, the works."

 

The driver gave us each a hand out of the car, which was nice, and we stood before the huge gated entrance to Tetsuya's. "Remember, ladies," Gillian said, still in an undertone, "Tetsuya's is one of the best restaurants in the world. This little celebration is going to cost our Roger more than two thousand dollars, so don't take it for granted and don't turn up your nose at anything."

"Is this the restaurant?" Cathy asked. The driver had left us on the sidewalk outside a security gate. Inside we could see a rather elegant, somewhat imposing building. "It looks like a foreign embassy."

"Yes, this is it," Gillian replied, and as she walked to the gate, it swung open. We followed her up the short driveway.

"I think I'm getting the hang of these heels," I confided to Dianne.

She watched me for a moment and said, "You look as though you're climbing a mountain, Bel. Relax."

"I *am* relaxed!"

"Your head is sticking out in front of you and your bum is sticking out behind. Look, this is you." She stuck her butt out and pushed her head forward, so she looked like a pigeon. Then she pursed her lips and bent her head to look at her feet.

"I do NOT walk like that!"

"Head up, chin back, pull in your bum, let your shoulders drop. Forget what's on your feet... okay, that's a little better. Take smaller steps, that's the ticket."

Gillian shook her head and once more I wished I'd stayed in bed this morning.

The men were waiting inside, smiling, and greeted us with many compliments. Roger took Gillian's arm, Paul took mine, and Roger's nameless associates escorted Cathy and Dianne. We sat at a long table, covered in spotless white cloth, and the service began with crisp sourdough rolls and butter with truffles in it.

In all, it was a ten-course meal, one dish after another, with no rush and no delay. It was absolutely the most extraordinary dining experience I've ever had. Even though the servings were what you might call small, each was so intensely flavored, it made me feel I'd never tasted my food before, but only eaten it.

At one point, Roger said something about favorite movies, and Dianne piped up, "Bel was telling us earlier how much she liked The Full Monty, weren't you, Bel?" Gillian gave Dianne a dangerous look and a stern warning look to me. Don't talk too much, I told myself.

Roger laughed, "Oh yes, that's film where the blokes take their clothes off, isn't it?"

I blushed and said, "No, not The Full Monty. I was talking about Monty Python."

"Oh, that," Roger replied. "They're a bit too contrived for my taste. Benny Hill was more my speed. But I could give 'em another go. Who knows?" He shrugged and sipped his wine.

The table was silent for a moment, then Roger sniffed and said, "Oh, my wife rather likes the slogan, the campaign. She was quite enthusiastic, in fact."

"Oh, so there is a Mrs. Donaldson?" I said without thinking.

"Bel's been asking that question all day," Dianne teased.

Roger chuckled, and entering the spirit of Dianne's tease said, "Bel, my dear, it pains me to say this, but one should never mix business with pleasure."

Then he smiled a bit grimly and continued, "And though I probably shouldn't say this, the missus and I are on the outs. Have been for some time." He fell silent for a few moments. "In fact, tonight would have been our wedding anniversary... or it is... but it's not... in fact, this was going to be a celebration of that, but..." Then, collecting himself, he signalled the servers to fill up our already-full glasses. "Let's toast to what's ahead. Forward, onward, upward, new friends, new adventures, new business partners." At that last, he looked to Gillian and clinked glasses.

The food continued to be remarkable. Seafood and poultry and meat dishes... my favorites were a medallion of trout covered in caviar, a twice-cooked spatchcock, and some seared veal with wasabi. And the wines were incredible. I've never had such flawless, perfect wine ever.

The dinner was so much fun, and Roger such a wonderful host, that I rather forgot that I was all tarted up and wearing a dress and calling myself Bel.

Until Roger turned to me and said, "Now that you know all about me, tell me something about you, Bel: why hasn't some strapping young fellow snatched you up?"

I blushed and said I didn't know, then muttered something about not having met the right person.

Roger replied, "Don't lose heart, girl. The right man is out there, right now."

One of Roger's men quipped, "And till he finds you, the wrong man will have to do!"

There was general laughter and other comments, and someone repeated the old cliche of "plenty of fish in the sea."

"You mean there's plenty of fishermen," I replied. "And a girl's got to ask herself, Why aren't they catching you?"

Roger laughed and applauded. He turned to Gillian and said, "You've got a slogan-making machine there, that's what you have."

Gillian smiled at him, turned to me and said, "Yes, isn't she? Well, my slogan-making machine, I need to use the ladies. Come with me, Bel. Excuse us for a moment, Roger."

As we rose to go, Roger's man asked Dianne, "Aren't you two going as well?"

"No," Dianne replied, "We're the second shift."

In the ladies, Gillian gave me a short lecture about "giving away work product" and "tossing gems away as if they were candies."

"It's a good slogan," Gillian said, "and I'm telling you now that we'll pitch it to our client, but if someone overhears and repeats it, or worse, uses it as their own, it's totally lost to us. And inspiration isn't always so easy to find."

"Okay," I told her. "I'll watch it."

After dinner, we went down the road to a club where we danced. My feet began to hurt desperately, and I had a few more drinks than I intended, so I was happy and relieved when Roger called for the limos and we all said our good nights.

"You did well, Bel," Gillian told me in the safety of the car. "So did we all. I think we're at the start of a solid relationship with Roger. Cheers."

The driver dropped me first, and as I stood in the street outside my place, I felt drunk with joy and victory and vindication. Not only had I created the centerpiece of Roger's campaign, I'd done the same for our new client, the dating service, a day before it was needed. Add to that victory, my raise. Add to that, the change in how Gillian was treating me. I was definitely on the way up.

I stood there for a few moments, enjoying — loving! — the cool night air, when it hit me: here I was, dressed to the nines as a woman, without a penny in my pocket or the keys to my apartment. What was I going to do?

Oh, lord. I really wished I stayed in bed this morning!

Well, not entirely, but crap! What am I going to do now?

© 2011 by Kaleigh Way

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