Syrup by Maxx Barry

Author:Maxx Barry [Barry, Maxx]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Humorous, Topic, Business & Professional, Humor, Fiction
ISBN: 9780140291872
Google: SHbnxp_mCtIC
Amazon: 0140291873
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2000-07-01T05:00:00+00:00

scat stays

I even get a bedroom.

the morning after

I wake to the sound of 6 in the shower, which is so much like a dream that it takes me long minutes to work out I’m actually awake. Then I start thinking about what I’m doing here.

I’m not completely sure how I feel about 6. And even if I was, I have no idea what I’d do about it. I mean, sure, she’s intriguing, gorgeous and treats me like shit, but despite these attractive qualities I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship based on manipulation.

It’s all too hard for this time of the morning, so I drag myself out of bed and start dressing. Since I have exactly two outfits—the clothes I was wearing when I met 6 at the Saville and the suit I bought yesterday—there’s not a whole lot of decision making required. I toy briefly with the idea of walking out in only underwear, then realize I never want to be that vulnerable around 6.

There’s not much space behind the office: just two tiny bedrooms (although 6’s is bigger than mine), a kitchen from the 1960s, and a bathroom so small you have to stand in the bath to brush your teeth. I head into the kitchen, vaguely hoping 6 has some good toasting bread, and become locked in a struggle with one of the cupboards. I don’t realize that 6 has come up behind me until she speaks.

“It’s fake.”

I start. 6 is standing in the doorway, one fluffy white towel around her torso and one around her head. Her calves coyly call out to me, naked and dripping. “What?”

“That. It’s not a cupboard.”

“Oh,” I say. “Well, I’ll quit trying to open it, then.”

6 gives me a searching look and vanishes into her bedroom.

I make a decent attempt at a plate of toast, given that the toaster appears to be powered by a single cigarette lighter wedged down the bottom, and when 6 emerges in a figure-hugging sweater and stretch pants, I have food waiting for her. She takes a piece without speaking and pulls up a chair at the counter. I join her and we munch together for a few moments in what I would like to call a companionable silence, but is, in fact, more of a wary silence.

“You know,” I say eventually, “I think I’m going to have to become a partner in Synergy.”

6 finishes her mouthful before replying, even teasingly sucking some errant crumbs from one finger. I studiously ignore her tactics. “Partner?”

“Sure. After all, Brennan’s probably going to write checks to the firm, not us personally. So it would make sense for me to have equal control over how we spend that money.”

6 is silent.

“6,” I say gently, “you can’t change my mind on this.”

“Fine,” she says irritably.

I bite into the toast to hide my grin, and we sign ten minutes later.

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