Chapter 4

Laura proved herself that first day we met, not because she really knew her stuff, although she did, rather because as we talked she truly “got” me. As nice as being courted by major companies was, it was not, is not, my thing. Success was not something I ever expected, after all it began with a simple summer project inspired by a story that is hardly mainstream. The simple fact was that I was not interested in squeezing every Pound, Dollar, Euro whatever out of people, I just wanted a fair reward.

What I didn’t want was what some people were pushing for, exclusive deals, buying the rights rather than a licence and a few who somehow believed I was naive enough to sign a deal that basically had me working for them.

Laura listened to my mini rant, smiled, suggested I stopped talking to certain people and let her handle it. That was it, no promise, no explanation, just the smile and one sentence. It was so different to most of the lawyers I’d met that I wasn’t going to get my hopes up, just wait and see.

Laura watched me for a moment, then something happened that really got my attention, and no it wasn’t what was revealed when she took her jacket off. It was as if she had flicked a switch and turned off her attorney mode. Suddenly she was just a young woman and that was when we clicked.

A tour was a fairly obvious next step, what surprised me was Laura wanting to start in the workshop, not trying to peek at what I was doing, more asking about me, my passion for engineering, only later did the naked thing come up.

It was a pleasant afternoon and the first time since I’d arrived in the USA that I had talked to a potential friend, yes, I know, my ability to socialise sucks.

I later found out that after Laura left and I retreated to my bedroom for a lengthy session with Cafune, the Whizz had driven back to her office and basically marched into the senior partners office to read him the riot act. Apparently the short version was that if I was not treated as a person rather than a profit centre they were going to lose me as a client and most likely others once the reasons got out, and if my source had it right, she ended with, “so what the fuck are you going to do about it?”

My phone rang. Mirella answered. He was told I was not to be disturbed and she would inform me that he called.

It was late evening before I hit the kitchen for much needed food and a very large mug of tea. I was part way through my second sandwich when Mirella appeared, not the easy going, ever smiling Mirella. The girl was pissed.

Hands on hips, eyes flashing, and that aura some people have that makes me think of alarm bells, klaxons and air raid sirens.

I’m British, I looked straight at her, took a sip of tea and waited. Most of the eruption was in Portuguese and all of it was delivered with lava like heat, it just poured out, not once did she pause for breath.

My father often talked to me as we worked together in the butty boat, not the tech talk, although there was a lot of it, but other stuff, knowledge to be shared, wisdom he thought I should know. One of his maxims was that in the silence after an ultimatum, whoever speaks first loses. Mom told me never to fight wars I didn’t want to win.

I sipped more tea.

Mirella raised one eyebrow.

I tipped the rest of my tea in the sink, spoke one word, turned and walked out.

The word was “OK”.

Mirella followed me up to my bedroom, I unlocked the dressing room door and stepped back. Mirella went inside, there was a pause, a sound I won’t even try to describe. Another longer pause. Then the old, easy going, ever smiling Mirella appeared, eyes a little wider, the smile a lot warmer. She placed her hand on her heart, promised never to speak of it, then offered to work for nothing if only I’d let her use it.

The hussy wanted my Cafune... !!

There is no point my trying to reproduce Mirella’s rant, especially since most of it was in Portuguese so unless you speak (read) it you’d be none the wiser. Much of it detailed her sexual frustration, which my nakedness made worse, she vividly described my frequent “freshly fucked” look and went on to note the way I walked afterwards. Most telling was the reverence in her voice when she stated with conviction that the only other time she had seen all of these signs was when as a small girl she watched her grandmother leaving their stable one night. Nobody would tell her what happened in the stable...