He sighed. “Okay, one drink.”
She smiled and Sam escorted her inside. She made her way to a western-style bar near the hotel’s lobby on the 30
th
floor.
“Champagne?” she said.
Sam shook his head. “I’ll have a house beer.”
He ignored Elle’s irritated expression and ordered a glass of champagne for her and a beer from the barman, wincing at the prices. The cost was more than double that of their combined meal earlier in the evening.
Elle kicked off her shoes and snuggled into a large, leather couch. Sam knew that bare feet on the furniture was definitely bad etiquette in Japan, but decided he wasn’t going to be the one to tell her. He wondered if the waiter would be brave – or foolish enough – to point it out.
But clearly the waiter had seen enough appalling gaijin manners because although he pressed his lips together, he remained silent. Sam applauded him internally for his wisdom.
“Bottoms up!” said Elle, as she clinked her glass against his.
“Cheers,” he said, quietly.
“So…” she let the word hang in the air.
Sam stared at his beer, wondering how quickly he could get out of there without appearing too rude.
But she surprised him.
“I’ve been offered a new job,” she said.
Sam blinked. “I thought you said you’d just been promoted to Creative Director for Europe and Asia?”
“Oh, you were listening!” she said, archly. “Yes, that’s true: but I’ve also been offered CEO for Asia and Australasia… I’d be based in Tokyo.”
Sam took a deep breath as she watched him closely.
“So what do you think?” she asked, impatient when he didn’t comment.
“What do I think?” he asked, pretending not to understand. “It’s nothing to do with me – but it sounds like a great opportunity for you.”
She leaned back, her eyes tightening: definitely not the response she’d been looking for.
“We could be together, Sam,” she said, her face stiff with some suppressed emotion. “We could give it another go.” Her expression softened. “I’ve missed you. We were good together. Think about it.”
Instinctively Sam shook his head but before he could reply, they were rudely interrupted.
“Ellie-belly! Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all day!”
Roland Nash bore down on them. His face was red and, if Sam were any judge, he’d spent the better part of his day looking for Elle in a bar. His shirt was damp with sweat and his tie limp. He stared at Sam owlishly.
“Bloody hell! What are
you
doing here? Ellie-belly?”
The second part of his question was directed to Elle, but Roland was still staring at Sam.
Sam stared back, disgust written all over his face.
“Time for me to go,” he said, softly, getting to his feet.
Roland stuck his pugnacious face into Sam’s. “Yes, clear off!”
Sam balled his fists, but with a huge effort restrained himself from squashing the bulbous nose back into the man’s purple face.
“Don’t go, Sam!” said Elle, biting her lip.
“I think I’d better,” he said, tightly.
“Could… could you at least see me up to my room?”
She seemed anxious.
“Are you worried about this moron?” he said in a furious whisper. “Because if you are…”
“No, I can handle him. I’d just rather not have a scene.”
“You’re not going anywhere with this pup!” snorted Roland.
He made the mistake of wrapping his oily fingers around Elle’s arm.
Sam grabbed the drunk by the collar of his shirt and pulled him away from Elle. At the same time, she slapped Roland’s livid face so hard, his eyes bulged.
The waiter looked up anxiously as the whip-crack echoed around the room.
“Get your filthy paws off me,” snarled Elle.
Roland collapsed into a chair.
“Bloody hell!” he whimpered, sounding a shade more sober. “That bloody hurt, Ellie-belly!”
“Good!”
Sam felt the rage ebb away as he saw the fight fade out of the man slumped beneath him.
“God, he’s obnoxious!” said Elle, her voice stiff with annoyance.
Sam couldn’t agree more.
“Do you want me to see you up now, Elle?” he said, quietly.
“Please!”
The doors of the lobby’s lift opened with a whisper and they rode to the 37
th
floor in silence.
When they reached her suite, the angry words that would erupt any second, were still unsaid. Elle slid her key card through the lock and the door swung open.
She turned to Sam, resting one hand on his chest, the other cupped around his cheek. “Come in. Please, Sam.”
Sam stepped back and shook his head, quietly removing her hands. “No. I said I’d see you to your room in case that… moron …” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
She attempted a laugh. “Him! That was nothing!”
“Are you dating him now?” said Sam, almost angrily.
“Do you care?” replied Elle, equally annoyed.
Sam stared at her, then shrugged his shoulders. “Not my business.”
He turned on his heel and walked back down the corridor.
“Sam,” she called after him. “Sam!”
But he kept walking.
After the chilly atmosphere of the air-conditioned building, the sultry night air half suffocated him. He was furious with himself and needed to walk off his frustration. He strode through the busy streets, his face dark with anger at his own stupidity.
It took him over an hour to walk back to the hostel. He felt calmer, his anger giving way to mere irritation, mostly at himself.
Paul heard him come back and tapped on his door.
“Hey, buddy, how’d it go?” He saw the frown on Sam’s face. “That good, huh? Tara was looking for you. I told her you’d run into an old friend. She was cool about it.”
Sam squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed a tired hand across his face. “Thanks, Paul. I’ll see her in the morning.”
Paul left him, alone closing the door quietly.
Sam peeled off his damp shirt and headed for the showers. He wanted peace and quiet; and, more than anything, he wanted to be alone. But Yoshi was in the changing rooms, apparently having just finished a swim.
“Ah, Sam-san! I have been looking for you!”
“Join the queue,” muttered Sam.
Yoshi looked puzzled. “No, there is no queue. Showers are empty, Sam-san. But I have question for you.”
Sam sighed. It wasn’t fair to take out his bad mood on Yoshi.
“Sure, Yoshi, what is it?”
“Soon, day after tomorrow, maybe, I go to visit my family for long holidays. You want to come with me, Sam-san? Visit my family? I have told them very much about you. They look forward to meeting with you. Is very interesting in Hokkaido. You will come?”
Sam was taken aback. Yoshi hadn’t told any of them much about his family. Sam knew he had a younger sister who still lived with Yoshi’s parents, but that was about it. Suddenly the idea of being out of town whilst Elle and Roland Nash trod the streets of Tokyo was very appealing. And if that weren’t reason enough, he also knew that it would hurt Yoshi – be a grave insult in fact – to turn him down. His reply was immediate and sincere.
“Wow! Thanks, Yoshi. I’d love to meet your family. So, yeah, that would be great. Day after tomorrow, huh?”
Yoshi beamed, then made a low bow.
“Thank you, Sam-san. You do great honour for me.”
They arranged to meet the following morning to arrange their travel plans and Yoshi trotted back to his room, talking happily to himself.
Sam took his time with the shower and slowly made his way to his room. His head was pounding and all he wanted to do was sleep. But both Paul and Tara were standing outside his room as he trudged up the stairs. They appeared to be arguing. Tara saw him first. She looked furious. She marched up to Sam and whacked him hard across the face.
“What the hell was that for?” he shouted, rubbing his cheek, anger flaring in him.
“You are such a
player
, Sam!” she yelled and pushed her way past him down the corridor.
He started to follow her but Paul laid a restraining hand on his arm. “Let her calm down a bit first, buddy. What did you
do
to her, anyways?”
“I have absolutely no idea!” said Sam, his voice angry and mystified at the same time.
But when he opened the door to his room he knew exactly what had upset Tara.
Elle.
Lying across his futon.
In her underwear.
Paul glanced in, raised his eyebrows, cast an amused look at Sam and went back to his own room without speaking.
Sam stood in the doorway, glaring at her.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She frowned at the unfamiliar anger in his voice.
“I didn’t like the way we parted, Sam,” she said, almost calmly. “Bloody Roland Nash!” She rolled her eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend; he never was. We’re on a business trip together, that’s all. He’d like to think he has a chance with me, but come on! As if!”
She lowered her voice and stared up at him, a calculated smile on her face. “It’s you I want, Sam. We
are
good together.” She knelt up and began to unhook her bra. “I’m going to remind you just how good together we are.”
Sam hurriedly stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
“For God’s sake, Elle, leave your clothes on!” he said, quickly.
“Why?” she said, fluttering her eyelashes. “Do you want to undress me?”
“No! We’re finished! Remember? You said it. We have been for months. What the hell do you think you’re doing here: in my room, in my bed?”
“Don’t sulk,” she said, pouting. “It doesn’t suit you. And don’t be such a tease. You never used to be. You were always much more… direct!”
She tugged playfully at the hem of his towel still looped around his waist from the shower.
“But it might be fun if you played hard to get… just for a little while.”
“Jesus!” he shouted, and she jumped.
He turned his back on her and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Then in a calmer voice he said,
“I want you to put your clothes on and I want you to go. I can’t be any clearer than that, Elle.”
“Is it that girl?” she said furiously, her façade crumbling. “The one who was at the door just now? Because if it is…”
He spun round.
“That is none of your business.”
He controlled his voice, speaking through clenched teeth, because he so badly wanted to shout at her again.
Elle’s blue eyes blurred with tears.
Oh, God. Not the waterworks: not tears, when he was so furious with her.
He leaned against the door, as far away from her as the tiny room would allow him, giving them both some space.
“Elle, come on. We gave it a good go, but we’re just not right for each other. I’m never going to fit into your world: and, frankly, I’m never going to earn enough money to give you the lifestyle you want.”
“I don’t care about the money,” she said, softly.
He shook his head. “Yeah, you do.”
“You’re wrong, Sam. I can earn enough for both of us. I can…”
“And how long are you going to be happy with that?” he said. “Always looking at me like you can’t understand how I can be satisfied with less; irritated because you’ll be the one who has to pay for the expensive holidays and the expensive cars. You say it doesn’t bother you now, but it will. I can already see that.”
“That’s what you think of me?” she said, the hurt in her eyes turning to anger. “You really think I’m that shallow?”
There was really no easy way to answer that question: ‘Yes, I think you’re that shallow so sod off’; or ‘No, I don’t think you’re that shallow so I’ve just defeated my own argument’. Crap: another no-win situation. How did she do that? Was it special training women got at school? Or maybe it was something to do with the X chromosome.
She sensed his hesitation, although without comprehending the reasons for it.
“We had fun today, didn’t we?” she said, her voice calmer, attempting to be alluring, seductive. “That’s how it could be again.”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“What do you want from me, Elle?” he said, quietly.
“A second chance… a second chance for us,” she said, quickly.
He looked up, meeting her eyes. “I don’t feel the same.”
Elle looked as if Sam had hit her. She looked down, then nodded her head slowly.
“I see. And you’re not going to change your mind?”
He shook his head.
“Well…”
She reached over to the desk chair where her clothes were neatly folded. Sam pulled the door open to wait outside, giving her some privacy, and a chance to pick up the pieces of her shattered pride.
When she came out of his room, she looked composed.
“Do you want me to get you a cab?” he said.
She gave a small smile. “I think I can manage that by myself. Goodbye, Sam.”
“Bye.”
She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.
“Take care of yourself.”
She turned to go, then paused. “The sex was good, wasn’t it?”
He smiled crookedly. “Yeah. The sex was great. Take care, Elle.”
She smiled and walked away.
Chapter 9 – August
Sam was awake for a long time after that. A solitary bottle of beer kept him company.
He felt cursed with a photographic memory, replaying over and over everything he’d said, everything she had done, the day rewinding in slow motion. And then: he kept coming back to the look on Tara’s face – the one just after she’d hit him – the fury and the hurt written in her eyes.
He told himself he’d be able to fix that, that she’d listen to the truth. He wasn’t very good at lying to himself – and he didn’t believe himself either. But still: he hoped.
The result of his disturbed night was that he slept rather later than usual. He was woken by the sound of Paul moving around next door.
Damn. He’d wanted to be up early – maybe catch Tara at the pool before it got too crowded. Well, it was too late for that now. He’d have to do it the hard way.
He threw on some clothes and ran lightly up to the next storey, which was one of the women’s floors. He’d spent half the night deciding what he’d say to her, so he tapped on her door without thinking it through any further.