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“No. No, I don’t have plans,” Denmark said, shaking his head. “I tend to stay focused when I’m on<br />
assignment. This place, this Laventille, where is it, exactly?”<br />
“What!” she turned towards Denmark. “You mean you might come?”<br />
Denmark shrugged. “I can’t promise anything.”<br />
“It’s in a place called Picton, Laventille. Some folks call it Fort Picton. The house is at the top of<br />
the hill. Just ask for the place where the Northwest Laventille Cultural Association rehearses<br />
sometimes. Everybody knows where eh ‘tis. Yuh really might come?”<br />
“I’ll play it by ear.”<br />
She knew that she should give the man her personal phone number. But that wasn’t part of the<br />
deal.<br />
“Listen! You can catch a taxi at Duke and Charlotte Streets. Any driver can take you there.” She<br />
shook her head. “Don’t you think that you should write down the directions that I just gave you.”<br />
Denmark chuckled. “No, I have them here.” Denmark pointed to his head. “I multi-task quite<br />
well.”<br />
Petra glared at him. Denmark acted quickly. He really wasn’t in the mood for a war.<br />
“Ms. Eddington, thank you for the information and please thank your cousin for me, for the<br />
invitation.”<br />
Information. Invitation. Petra knew that Denmark had chosen his words carefully. She glanced at<br />
Denmark. If he isn’t the painted up fool on Ariapita Avenue, then who is he?<br />
“Was that all, Miss Eddington?” said Denmark.<br />
Petra nodded. “Yes, that’s it. Just that.”<br />
“Okay, then. I’ll just get back to double-checking these reports.” Denmark swiveled away from<br />
Petra an leaned into his computer screen.<br />
Petra glanced around the empty floor. There was only the soft hum of the company’s mainframe<br />
computer and the soft whirr of its cooling fans. There was no screech, no bang, no crunch. Petra only<br />
felt like she had been smacked by an 18-wheeler.<br />
“Have a good evening, Denmark.” She turned and headed towards her office, cursing herself.<br />
Damn it! Did I just use his first name? As she walked across the floor she found herself selfconsciously<br />
smoothing her hair.<br />
Denmark’s soft eyes followed her the entire way. She’s a strange woman, he thought. She keeps<br />
looking at me like she knows me. It took an effort for him to pull his eyes away from her. That wasn’t<br />
good. Denmark stared at his computer screen. Damn it! I have to start all over again.
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