He grinned, he’d have picked her as younger. He dug Lauren. She’d gotten over her fan girl moment. “What do you look like?”
“I’m blonde and gorgeous.”
He slapped his thigh. “Of course you are.”
“Okay, I’m a little overweight, but I am blonde and blue-eyed. I did some modelling before I took this job, catalogue stuff, not catwalk.”
“And you’re lying to me, right?”
“No.” Very definite. Slightly outraged. “Ask Georgia when she gets here.”
Oh thank you for that segue, girlfriend. “All right, I will. How old is Georgia? What does she look like?”
“Why’d you want to know what she looks like?”
He put a hand over his eyes. “Why do you think?”
She groaned. “Okay, it’s the blind thing.”
She was a trip. She wasn’t the least bit awed or anxious now. He laughed. “Yeah, it’s the blind thing.”
“She’s older than me. I’ve got the staff birthday list. She’s twenty-nine. She’s got brown hair, it’s shoulder length, curly, lots of it. She’s shorter than me.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Brown eyes.”
“And.”
“Fair skin, like she’s never ever been in the sun.”
“And.”
“I don’t know. She’d kind of ordinary. Not ugly, but nothing special. She could do so much with herself if she put a bit of effort into it.”
He rubbed his face. “Women are so cruel.”
“That’s not cruel, that’s how it is. You can’t expect men to look at you if you don’t put the effort into it.” He shook his head and Lauren said, “Well, you know what I mean.”
“Whatever happened to liking a person for who they are?”
“You would say that, it’s not like you have a choice, but for the rest of us it doesn’t work that way. It’s all about how you look. If you’re fugly you don’t stand a chance.”
He stood. “God, Lauren, you really think that’s how it works?”
“I don’t think it, babe. I know it. Sure, after you’ve hooked up, it’s about the person, if they’re, like, nice to you or a psycho, but you’re not going to get that far if you don’t look right.”
The click of the intercom and Georgia’s voice. “I’m ready to get started again.”
He hel
d a hand up. “One minute, Georgia.” He looked towards Lauren. “It has to be about more than that, you know that don’t you?”
The door swooshed as she opened it. “I only know what I see, and I see if I put on weight, even a little, I get less attention, which means fewer men want to talk to me, which means less dates, less chance to find my Mr Right. I guess if everyone was blind it would be different.” She sighed. “Lunch will be in the lounge.” The door shut and he was alone with the echo of Lauren’s definition of sexual politics.
“Jesus, Georgia, you heard all that?”
“I did.”