A - Rich Pickings

Rich Pickings

"Ooh, you've got a tattoo!" slurred Sheridan, blasting whisky fumes
down Tara's graceful young neck as he teetered objectionably close
behind her in the buffet queue.

Tara peered sardonically at the ginger cat on her right shoulder. "So I
have!" she sneered with mock amazement. What a flop this party was
turning out to be! That nice archaeology student Richard with the
tousled hair, who she'd had her eye on for months, had not shown up -
and now this appalling old lech had affixed himself to her.

"It's jolly pretty. Miaow! Ha ha. Did it hurt?"

"Not really."

"What a big brave girl you must be! I faint at the sight of needles. I
do! I faint dead away...!

"Oh dear."

"Can I fetch you a drink?"

"No, thank you."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure, thank you!"

"Well you look jolly thirsty to me. Oh well. Sshplendid party, isn't
it?"

"Yeah (!)"

"Sshplendid! I'm Ssheridan, incidentally. And you are?"

"Starving." Tara, finally at the table, reached for a plate and roamed
appreciative eyes over chicken drumsticks and glorious
sandwiches.

"Oh very droll! Very droll! Come on, darling - what's your
handle!"

"Tara."

"Tara! As in Gone with the Wind? That's a beautiful name. Beautiful!"
He chuckled to himself. "Gone with the wind! That's a sshtunning outfit
you're wearing, Tara! Gucci, is it?"

"No, Top Shop."

Tara levered a huge wedge of pork pie on to her plate.

"You're a delightful sight, Tara - a wench who's fond of her food. I
sshupplied this little lot, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"My firm, Better Banquets, supplied this 'ere buffet!"

"You own Better Banquets?"

"For my sshins."

"But they're one of the biggest catering firms around."

"Made my first million by my thirtieth birthday."

"Your first million, did you say?" Tara, for the first time during this
discourse, was agog.

"Made my second by the time I was forty. Hey, isn't that that Richard
chap over there? Looks like he's waving at you. Trying to attract your
attention. Not that I can blame him!"

Tara followed Sheridan's eyes to the handsome, tousle-haired young man
entering the room - then recalled how meagre student grants were these
days, and looked more favourably back at her shambling
millionaire.

"Never mind him," she purred, "come on, Sheridan, tell me more about
the food business. I might just have that drink now too!"