‘Don’t let me stop what you’re doing,’ he said, waving their attention away.
‘Mr Drummond, if this is about the Globe then I can assure you—’ Peter started.
He shook his head. ‘No, it isn’t about the Globe. In fact, the Globe is fine. I need to have more faith in your months of testing and extensive research and not believe everything that’s served to me on the internet.’ He cleared his throat as a picture of Hayley from last night, dressed in her woollen festive nightwear, came to mind. ‘Could I have a moment with Dean?’
Oliver looked to the rear of the room. Dean was already out of his chair and heading towards them.
‘Take my office,’ Peter said, indicating the side room to the open-plan section they were standing in.
‘After you,’ Oliver said to Dean.
He followed Hayley’s brother into Peter’s office and, once they were both inside, he closed the door.
‘Mr Drummond, I just want to say—’ Dean began.
Oliver held his hand up to stop him talking. He was nervous enough as it was. He just needed to do some straight-talking and get what he came for.
‘It’s Oliver, please.’ He loosened his tie a little more and began to pace the carpet. ‘So, the thing is, Dean. Last night, after I met your sister… Lois… not Lois, not at all Lois.’ He blushed and felt his resolve crumbling under Dean’s scrutiny. Why was this woman getting under his skin so much? This had never happened before and it scared the crap out of him. ‘Hayley,’ he corrected. ‘Hayley.’
Dean was just looking at him like he was the biggest jerk he’d ever met. And at the moment, he was filling that role beautifully.
He let out a frustrated noise and swept a hand over a pile of papers on Peter’s desk, making them flutter up, some falling fromthe desk to the floor. He was making such a mess of this, he was just going to have to come right out with it.
‘I’ve asked Hayley on a date and I need your help.’ There, it was out.
Dean started to cough and it was so vigorous and breath-impairing that Oliver feared he was having some sort of attack.
‘Are you OK?’ Oliver asked, moving from behind the desk to beside Dean.
Dean shook his head in a confirming way. ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ he said, coughing some more but straightening up. ‘I just… I just thought you said you’d asked my sister out on a date.’
Oliver nodded. ‘I did.’
Dean’s pallor turned mortuary white. He choked out a response. ‘You did?’
‘Yes. Do I have to ask permission?’
‘No, of course not, I… I’m just surprised, that’s all.’
‘Surprised why?’
‘Well…’ Dean began.
He got it then. Dean had read yesterday’s news. He, along with the entire rest of the population of the city, thought he was a serial philanderer who behaved like an Aladdin character. He really needed to get his public relations people onto damage control. He’d ignored all their messages yesterday.
‘She has Angel,’ Dean filled in.
Oliver tried to compute what Dean meant. He ended up just furrowing his brow as he looked back at him. ‘I realise that.’
‘Well, with all due respect, she has quite a lot going on right now.’
‘She said yes,’ Oliver said, in case there was any doubt.
‘She did?’
He nodded. ‘And I know about her ex. Angel’s father. The so-called painter with the artistic hair.’
‘You do? Wow, you must have drunk a lot of coffee together before we got home.’
