Model Guy (18 page)

 
I take a deep breath.

 
"It's obviously ironic,"
I say. Around me there is silent but noticeable feeling of relief as the others
realise that I'm going to play ball. "Pornography is now in the mainstream
- it's all around us, part of the consumer experience. You've got to remember that
the 2cool audience is one of the most sophisticated on the net, they appreciate
this kind of stuff for its, er..." Before I can turn to him for help and immediately
Guy mouths "cultural significance" at me. "Cultural significance.
They can put it into context."

 
"Uh huh? Really,"
says Nora, obviously scribbling away.

 
"Yeah, of course.
It's not there for a bunch of adolescent boys to wa- I mean, drool over." I
look meaningfully at Zac but he is tapping at his keyboard and checking something
on the screen.

 
"So you don't think
this is offensive?"

 
"No, because our
audience gets the joke," I explain. "It's taking the piss, I mean it's
poking fun at porn itself."

 
"Okay, ironic porn.
Interesting concept."

 
"Interesting concepts
are what 2cool is all about," I tell her. Guy gives me a thumbs up and I begin
to feel that I have finally managed to beat Nora and him in one go. I decide to
quit while I'm ahead. "OK, hope that all makes sense."

 
"Sure. If that's
what you want to say".

 
"Yep, that's about
it," I tell her.

 
"Okay, thanks very
much, Charlie. Speak soon. Bye."

 
"Bye." I put
the phone down.

 
Piers immediately gives
me a round of applause.

 
"Well done"
says Scarlett. "Wheatgrass?"

 
I'd prefer a drink.

When I see the piece in the paper the next day while sitting
on the tube with my quote in it, I feel relieved but quite removed from the whole
thing, detached, neutral.

"Designer website 2cool2btrue.com was branded 'sleazy and
degrading' yesterday following revelations that it contains blatantly pornographic
images. Women's groups and morality campaigners condemned the recently launched
website which described itself as the coolest thing in cyberspace for featuring
full frontal images of nude women and men.

 
Mary Fairfax of NetWatch
said: "It's basically just a porn site. Children who are looking for things
to buy could easily stumble across these pictures. They're also highly offensive
to women."

 
But Charlie Barrett, the
former top male model heading up the site defended the use of nudity. "Pornography
is now in the mainstream - it's all around us, part of the consumer experience.
These pictures are poking fun at porn itself. Our audience gets the joke."

I can't help smiling at the idea that I was 'heading up the site'.
Guy and Piers will love that. But why am I still a former male model? On the other
hand they can't complain about the quote. It sounds pretty good. I quite like being
a spokesman. At least there are no pictures of me in it this time.

In the office I'm greeted as something of a hero. Everyone has
a copy of The Post.

 
"Excellent publicity,"
says Piers, tapping the article.

 
"Perfect positioning,"
Guy tells me. "You got the message across beautifully."

 
"Mate of mine in
the City says all the traders are already looking at the site" says Piers.
"It's all part of the marketing mix along with the Ferrari Testarossa and the
Armani suits."

 
"I see," I say,
sitting down at my desk. "Well you guys know what you're doing."

 
"Oh, Zac, tell him,"
says Piers.

 
The perpetually horizontal
Zac, who has just got to, please God, got to fall off his chair on to his authentically
distressed antique 501-clad arse, takes the floor.

 
"Some company IT
systems have filters these days that can, like you know, sense excessive areas of
skin tone in an incoming emails or websites and block them so that people at their
desks can't check out porno pics at work," he explains. "But I've included
this little gizmo in the 2cool site protocol to override them."

 
"Incredible, eh?"
says Piers. "Ours is the only T & A that most of my pals on the trading
floors can actually look at while they're at work."

 
"I'm so proud,"
I tell him.

 
"Zac, you're a genius"
says Scarlett. "A gentleman, a scholar - and a pornographer."

 
"I revel in your
laudatory portraiture," says Zac finishing off a Dr Pepper and stamping on
the tin rather unnecessarily.

 
Did he detect her sarcasm?
Was he being sarcastic in return? Perhaps she wasn't being sarcastic after all?
Perhaps it was just ironic? Perhaps he was being ironic too? Perhaps she was being
sarcastic and he was being ironic in return? Perhaps I've ODed on irony so much
recently that I just can't recognise it any more.

Later that morning Guy tells me that he wants me to develop my
relationship with Nora.

 
"What relationship?"

 
He looks slightly startled.

 
"Well, you've established
a good working relationship with her, haven't you?"

 
"Erm, well I suppose
so. Yes, she's a useful contact isn't she?"

 
"Yes, exactly. Anyway,
apparently she also freelances for Esquire and various other magazines, you know,
like High Life and Elle and things so we need to cultivate her a bit."

 
"Oh, okay."

 
"We've done a deal
with this new bar in Clerkenwell," says Guy in his silky smooth sales voice.
"Take her there one evening this week. It'll be a nice contrast to the 'Extra
Curricula' section, make the point that the pictures are just one part of the package
and that whatever those moral crusaders say, we're the coolest, smartest thing in
cyberspace."

 
"Evening?"

 
"Yes, you don't mind
working the occasional evening do you? Come in later the next day, if you want,"
he says as if I'm being a 'job's worth' about it.

 
"No, evenings are
fine," I tell him. What is wrong with an evening, anyway? Just a quiet bottle
of wine, bit of a chat...cosy bar, settee in the corner. Oh, for God's sake. It's
just a drink for work. Like Lauren and Peter do every now and then. Somehow that
doesn't make it any better. "Yes, okay," I say. "It's useful for
coverage isn't it? I mean if we can get her to write articles for some other magazines
it might be helpful, especially High Life, that's the British Airways in-flight
mag, isn't it?" But I'm gabbling, chattering away, protesting too much.

 
"Just take her there
for a drink at this place and you know..."

 
"Show her a good
time," says Scarlett lecherously from the other side of the room.

Chapter Thirteen

As it happens Nora's packed diary means that she can only make
that evening so we arrange to meet at 7pm at the bar Guy has suggested. She manages
to make it sound like a bit of a drag. I'm tempted to say that I'm only doing it
because I've been asked to but I don't. I ring Lauren and let her know that I won't
be home till late. Well, not that late, quite early in fact.

 
"It's a work thing,"
I say. "Very boring. I've got to charm this reporter. Guy and Piers want her
to write something else about us in another magazine or something."

 
"Oh, OK. I see."

 
"Sorry about this."

 
"Don't worry. If
they want you to meet her you'd better do it."

 
"You out with Peter?"
I ask, trying to change the subject but sounding like I'm making a point.

 
"Peter? No, he's
in New York at the moment. Make sure you keep the receipt - and charge them for
a taxi home."

 
"Will do. What're
you doing tonight, then?" I'm pleased that just for once she's not seeing that
twat but I'm disappointed that we won't be able to enjoy a quiet evening alone together.

 
"Nothing."

 
"Oh, okay. Why don't
you give Sarah a ring or something - have a girls’ night out."

 
"Why would I want
a girls' night out?" She laughs.

 
"I don't know - might
be fun." Why is this developing into a row?

 
"No, I'll just potter
round the flat. I've got to sort out paperwork, actually."

 
"Oh, OK, good idea."

 
There is a pause and I'm
about to check again that she doesn't mind about tonight but then I hear her talking
to someone else.

 
"OK, babe, listen
gotta go, they're ready to shoot again."

 
"OK, love you."

 
"You too." She
ends the call.

Nora is late. I'm waiting at the bar, talking to the owner who
is struggling to explain the concept behind it.

 
"It's very now,"
he says.

 
"Yeah," I say,
encouragingly.

 
"Its look is very
much of its time, very fin de siècle."

 
"Yeah, looks like
it."

 
"But it doesn't take
itself too seriously. See this bar - pure antique aluminium. Came from an old brasserie
in Paris - so it's fin de siècle, well the last siècle."

 
"Really? I love it,"
I say rubbing my fingers over it. He does the same. We both caress the cold, smeary
metal as he tries to think of something else to say about the place and I wish to
God Nora would hurry up and get here.

 
I listen to the music
on the sound system for a while. It's a boy band:

"Babe, there's one thing you must do,

 
If you want to get to
heaven above,

 
Don't ask what your love
can do for you,

 
Ask what you can do for
your love,

they sing.

 
The guy who owns the joint
is just telling me about the colour scheme when she walks in. No apology.

 
"Couldn't you have
chosen somewhere more inconvenient?" She smiles. "I know a bar in Aberdeen
that's slightly nearer."

 
I ignore her remark, mainly
because the bar owner looks rather upset about the idea that his place is so off
the beaten track.

 
"This is Jim, the
owner," I say pointedly. "He was just telling me about the decor."

 
"I was just saying
it's very now," begins Jim again. I'm actually slightly relieved when Nora
slams her bag down on the floor and says: "I'm sure it is. Can I have a G&T
- a large one."

 
"Okay," says
Jim slightly miffed that he won't get a chance to do his spiel. "What can I
get you, Charlie?"

 
"I'll have a beer,"
I say.

 
He offers me some new
Thai beer that is exclusive to the place.

 
"Very '2cool',"
says Nora cleaning her glasses on her silk scarf and looking round her.

 
"Yeah, we've done
a deal with them. A sort of synergy thing," I explain, hoping she won't press
me on this as I've no idea what I'm talking about. What did Guy say again? Oh, yes.
"Even though we're a virtual concept we know that we also need to have a real
dimension, a physical presence." Or something like that.

 
Nora is looking up at
me, nodding her head, slightly and giving me that knowing, piss-taking look.

 
"You see?" I
say as Jim hands us our drinks.

 
"Not really,"
she says, taking a large mouthful.

 
"Well..."

 
"Oh, don't bother.
I'm used to hearing things I don't understand and just nodding and looking interested.
Anyway, I'm bored with 2cool, aren't you?"

 
"Er, no, not really."

 
"Oh, perhaps I've
just a got a short attention span."

 
"Wouldn't surprise
me. Anyway, why did you come if you don't want to talk about the site?" I ask,
fool that I am.

 
Nora swallows a mouthful
of G&T and raises her eyebrows at me.

 
"OK, how was your
day at work? Any more embarrassing emails?" I say quickly.

 
"No thank goodness.
I managed to go a whole day without embarrassing myself - apart from a little incident
with a cup of coffee which wasn't my fault. If people will leave them lying around
on their desks...."

 
"What are you writing
about at the moment?"

 
"Erm, I've been interviewing
Lara Trewin, you know, that actress. She's set up a homeopathic hospital for animals
at her farm in Sussex. Went down there that's why I'm a bit late."

 
"Oh, interesting."

 
"No. Ludicrous. I
so ripped the piss out of her," says Nora taking a large gulp of G&T. "Mmm.
I needed that."

 
We talk a bit more her
writing and 2cool and I pepper the conversation with references to Lauren and our
flat and how long we've been going out together and the surprise trip to Venice
I'm organising for her birthday.