Perfect Chaos

“Hmmm,” I hum, wondering when Sal might stop being so fussy and hire one of the thousand candidates we’ve interviewed together. Teresa, his long-serving PA, retired three months ago. He’s drowning. And I’m getting tired of constantly loaning him Gina.

I look across the desk at my partner. His head is dropped back on his chair, his eyes closed. I need to get him to the pub to wind down for a few hours—get him away from our crazy work day and away from his crazy home life. “Anyway,” I go on, getting back to the matter at hand—Sal’s reclamation. “I’ve just come out of a meeting with a potential new client, and I wanted to check with you before I asked Sal.”

“Check what?” Moya asks, just as Sal’s eyes spring open, interested.

“They want to meet tonight at eight. You know, a more casual get-to-know-us kinda thing, but I didn’t want to confirm until I knew my right-hand man is available. Thought I’d come straight to the boss.”

Sal gives me two thumbs up on an excited smile. “Oh, Ty,” Moya sighs. “Tonight we have my parents around for dinner so Mia can show them her new bicycle.”

“The parents for dinner,” I parrot, watching as Sal starts to bash his forehead on his desk.

“Yes. Can’t you arrange for a lunch meeting tomorrow?”

“Can I arrange a lunch tomorrow?” I mimic again, trying to keep Sal abreast of how this conversation is developing, which isn’t very well. His forehead starts to roll on the desk from side to side. He’s given up. I, however, never give up. Not ever. “One of the partners is leaving for the States in the morning,” I say off the cuff, resurrecting Sal’s hopes. His head lifts, and his thumbs are back up.

There’s a long pause down the line, and Sal and I wait with bated breath for what obstacle his lovely wife might put in our way next. Holy good lord, a drink, that’s all. He hardly ever comes out to play anymore, since Moya got him down the aisle and Mia popped out swiftly after. Don’t get me wrong, I love Sal’s wife dearly—have done since they started dating in college—but, boy, she knows how to nail down that ball and chain when she feels like it.

“But don’t worry,” I go on. “Family is more important than business. I get that.” I don’t get that, since I have no wife and kids, and don’t plan on it, either. I’m just being tactical. Some might call it hitting below the belt. But I’m not gonna beat myself up too much. A little reminder that Moya’s living the dream—at least, her dream—because of this firm and the blood, sweat, and tears we’ve put into building it, isn’t going to hurt.

She eventually sighs. “I’ll see if Mum and Dad can do tomorrow.”

“You’re a total babe, Moya.” I grin as Sal jumps up from his chair and starts thrusting his groin unattractively. “I owe you.”

“Yes, you can come for dinner.”

My smile soon drops away. “So you can try and fix me up with one of your single friends?” I’m not game. Forgive me, but all of Moya’s single friends are at that stage in a woman’s life—usually mid-thirties—when they’re obsessed with nailing down a man and making him impregnate her. Any man. It doesn’t matter who they nail down as long as they have strong swimmers.

“You’re pushing forty, Ty,” Moya points out, stinging me. “You need to find a woman closer to your own age and settle down.”

“I’m thirty-seven,” I say. “And women closer to my age want more than my selective mind can grasp. Besides, Sal’s settled down enough for the both of us.”

Moya laughs and Sal scowls, flipping me the finger. “Fine, no matchmaking,” Moya agrees. “But you’ll come for dinner?”

“Just let me know when.” I hang up and stuff my phone in my pocket. “That was harder than it should have been.”

Sal chuckles his agreement. “Thanks, man.”

“No sweat.” I kick my feet up on his desk. “Gina said you wanted to see me.”

“Yeah.” He starts faffing with some paperwork on the side of his desk. “I hired a PA.”

My head retracts quickly. “Huh?”

“I figured since this was a replacement for my PA, it wouldn’t hurt for me to go it alone on this one occasion.”

I couldn’t have heard him right. We hire together. Always have, ever since we set up our advertising agency seven years ago. Every member of staff at Christianson Walker Limited is here because Sal and I carefully selected them together. That’s why we’re so successful. We complement each other perfectly. Sal covers my blind spots, not that I have many, and I cover his. “I get the feeling you’re not talking about any of the candidates we short-listed together.”

Sal coughs, avoiding my eyes. “Not exactly.”