Courtesy of Trish and I found a table, and we ate lunch together, talking, laughing, just a guy and a pretty girl, and I was struck by how down to earth she seemed. Three times as we ate, people came over and asked for autographs. Even so, Trish didn’t seem big-headed, and she apologised for the interruption each time.
“It’s really nice to talk to a normal person for a while,” she said as we sat there after we finished our lunch.
“Don’t you meet any normal guys in your line of work?” I asked.
“Not many,” Trish started, “Most guys I meet are so far up themselves, it’s not funny.” She sat back, becoming serious again. “The last three years have been crazy. My boyfriend couldn’t take it, and he dumped me.”
“It never occurred to me that someone like you’d get dumped,” I said.
“Shit happens,” Trish answered. Then she looked at her watch and said, “They’re having drinks tonight in the upstairs lounge. You know, network people and a few of the performers. Why don’t you come and meet me there? It’ll be really boring,” she said, smiling again.
“You’re not really selling it,” I said.
“That’s the thing,” she said, “If you come, I’ll have someone interesting to talk to.”
“Okay,” I said, unable to keep the smile off my face, “It’s not every day a girl like you asks me to have drink with her after work.”
“You’ll need this,” Trish said, handing me her entry pass. “Just show it to the security guys, and they’ll let you in.”
“Won’t you need it?” I asked.
Trish leaned over and whispered with a mock-serious face, “They all know who I am.” Then she got up and headed back to work. I thought to myself, I can’t believe Trish Collett just asked me to have a drink with her after work.
The day ended in time. I finished my shift, went home, and after a shower, I put on some jeans and a polo shirt. It wasn’t until the taxi pulled away from outside my apartment that the reality sank in: I’m going to meet Trish Collett for a drink. It’s practically a date.
I walked into the hotel and to the upstairs lounge, but there was a huge guy dressed in black blocking the doorway. “Sorry,” he said, his arms folded like a eunuch guarding a harem. “Invite only.”
“I’ve got an invitation,” I said. “Trish Collett invited me.”
“Yeah, right,” he said.
I reached in my pocket and pulled out the security pass. “She gave me this.”
The security guy looked at the pass, and immediately he offered me a handshake and said, “Sorry, I was just doing my job.” He moved aside.
I looked around, but I couldn’t see Trish anywhere. I wondered for a moment if I should have come here in the first place as I looked at all the TV and media types, speaking loudly with exaggerated gestures. To say I felt a little out of place would be a major understatement. I looked around again, trying to spot that red dress, and then I heard, “Boo!”
I turned to see Trish, jumping out from behind a pillar with a delighted smile on her face. She was wearing a short denim skirt and a sleeveless mauve top, and her dark hair was now in a ponytail that bobbed when she moved. “You’re here,” she said.
“Would you like a drink?” Trish asked. “It’s all paid for by the network.”
“Beer’s fine,” I answered, as we started walking over. We got a beer each and stood in a corner, drinking as we talked. Everywhere you looked, there were people in weird clothes speaking loudly, each trying to look more important than the others, and I began to understand what Trish meant about people being love with themselves.
“You’re a cop, right?” Trish said after awhile, turning to look at me.
“Last time I looked,” I said.
“So you rescue people, right?” she asked.
“Well, not recently,” I said. “But it’s in the job description.”
“Well, rescue me from this bullshit,” she said. “Let’s go somewhere else.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Just one thing,” Trish said. “If you and I walk out the door together, you’ll be on the front cover of the Daily Telegraph tomorrow.” She nodded towards a sign in the far corner. “That one over there leads to an alleyway. We can sneak away, and nobody will know.”
“You scoped out all the exits?” I said. “Now I’m impressed.”
Trish and I walked towards the door like we weren’t going anywhere in particular, and after a quick look around, we ducked outside into the lane. It was like something out of a movie. Once we got outside, it was almost pitch black, with the only light coming in from the end of the laneway. “Where does it lead to?” Trish said.
“Down to the quay,” I said. “You can see the city lights and the headland across the bay.”
“Sounds good,” Trish said. As we walked along the laneway, she took my hand, pulling me closer. It was hard to believe I was walking along a dark alley with Trish Collett holding my hand.
For a Saturday night, there was hardly anyone around. We walked across the street to look out over the water. It was late summer, but there was a cool breeze coming off the water. “It’s really pretty,” Trish said, looking out over the water.
I looked down at her sleeveless top and realised I could see her pink lace bra. I said, “Your top wouldn’t be keeping much body heat in.”
“Well, maybe you should offer me some of yours, then,” Trish said, putting her arms around me and resting the side of her face on my chest.
A continuation of Two Officers, by Taverner
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