Page 8 of The Chef

Oh my god.

I did not intend for that to happen. It was an automatic response to him practically shouting in my ear, it was like my body was taken over by my primal instinct to defend myself.

I’ve just splashed water over a complete stranger.

And yet I don’t feel regret.

He deserved that. One hundred percent.

Superman glares at me. He’s in shock. His eyes dart from his soaking wet shirt to me, then to the empty glass of water in my hand, and then back to his shirt.

I glance back at the banker, and even he’s expressing emotion on his face. The cold and calculating robot is shocked. His mouth hangs open at the sight before him.

I drop the empty glass onto the carpet, grab my documents in one go, and hastily sprint straight out of the bank before anyone, especially Superman, can react to what I’ve done.

I am out of there before anyone has a chance to stop me.

Holy shit.

I’ve just chucked water over someone. Someone who deserves it, but still.

In the space of a few minutes, I went from applying for a loan to pouring water over the rudest man I’ve ever met. A man who can crush me between his biceps if he wants.

I don’t stop running until I reach my car.

3

CLIFF

“Do you need a towel or something?”

I raise my eyes from my wet shirt to the banker.

“Very funny,” I reply, my voice bristling with anger. What a joker.

My shirt is stuck to my skin and the cold water chills my pecs. I’m freezing and the banker is just laughing at me?

Come on, man.

I’m still in shock over what has just happened. That random girl sprayed water over me? Like, seriously, what the fuck was that all about? She was acting like she was in some kind of film or something, snatching that glass and tipping it over my head. She even had to stand on her toes to reach my hair. That was all just super dramatic.

What a weirdo.

I turn back to the bank’s door and I see no sight of her. Well, she’s left in a hurry. Completely gone. And I don’t blame her, if I ever get my hands on her there’ll be absolute hell for her to pay.

I look down at the form in my hand, the form I’ve just hastily collected from my car. Like my shirt, it’s also wet. The edges of the paper curl up as the water soaks through. The ink’s running.

The form is completely ruined. All my work filling it out literally gone down the drain.

She’s done this, that pale little thing who so cheekily cut in front of me whilst I went to the car. She’s got me all wet.

What a bitch.

I swivel back round to the banker. He blinks at me, also shocked by what’s happened.

But not shocked enough to not utter that silly towel joke.

We stare each other down like it’s a competition, and I win. He nervously looks away and I straighten up my shoulders.