* * *
Faye hadn’t hesitated. She knew what she wanted to order here. Fresh mussels and swordfish, pasta and salad. And Kostas hadn’t flinched, hadn’t added to the order, hadn’t taken away, hadn’t asked if they definitely had mustard like Matthew would have…
And the guy ate with passion. She watched him, snapping open the shells of the mussels, forking spaghetti into his mouth and not caring about sucking up the strands, talking as he ate, topping up her water glass without asking or waiting for permission. They were still eating now, but slower, grazing over what was left.
‘So, you think now I have explained to you the rules of basketball you would watch a game?’ he asked her, tearing a piece of bread and dipping it in olive oil.
‘There are many rules. I’m not sure I understand them all.’
‘It is easier to pick up when you watch so… would you?’
‘On TV or in an arena?’ Faye asked.
‘Oh, OK, Faye, you want to watch it live now? I must have explained it very well.’
‘I might just about be able to figure out when to clap,’ she admitted. ‘So, do you still play? Is that your full-time job?’
She swallowed. She knew he didn’t play. Had heard everything Katerina had said about his injury and the attack, but she wanted to see how Kostas reacted to the question.
‘I still play,’ he answered. ‘With the kids in my neighbourhood. They are the only ones I can still beat. So, no, it is no longer my job but, you know, having had the job for a while there are many opportunities still for me.’
‘Like?’
‘Like I get to still go to arenas and I get paid to make commentary on the matches.’ He ate some more bread. ‘I do some modelling. Do not laugh.’
She wasn’t laughing. She could totally see how his face, his stature, his nature would sell things. Lots of things. Cars. Jewellery. Bedding.
‘But the opportunities I like best,’ he continued, ‘are those that let me meet new people, you know.’
She laughed. ‘I thought you made your feelings about people clear last night.’
‘And I do not take my comments back,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I really mean getting the chance to enter different areas of life through connections.’
‘With talk like that it sounds like you’re hoping to go into politics.’
‘Ha! The people that really know politics are the guys sitting in thecafeneonevery night, you know this.’
‘That’s true,’ she answered, nodding.
‘So, Faye, tell me, what are you hoping to get into?’
She looked up from her plate and met his straight expression.
‘What?’ he asked. ‘I mean, you like your job working at the hotel dealing with people like me?’
‘I love my job,’ Faye said straightaway. ‘And I don’t “deal” with people. I hope that I take care of them.’ The sentence had come out strong, heartfelt. Perhaps a little too emotional. She needed to say something else. ‘Well, you know, I try. But sometimes there are customers who really push my buttons.’
Not that. Why had she said that?
‘The twenty-four-hour demands for fruit,’ he said.
‘The alleged near drowning of Gregory,’ Faye said with a sigh. She took a sip of white wine she definitely shouldn’t be drinking when she was working.
‘But don’t you have bigger ambitions?’ Kostas asked.
‘Like what? World domination? Being besties with Kris Jenner? Olympic gold medal for customer service?’
‘I don’t know,’ Kostas said. ‘You tell me.’
