July 11, 2015 by helenwaldron
“You call them WHAT?”
Deborah was shocked.
Speakeasy sighed. Deborah was easily shocked these days.
He glanced at Writewell, who was smiling and looking perfectly relaxed.
It was really great to have Writewell back from her three month tour of Australia and New Zealand. He couldn’t help noticing that since she had spent time with the rock group, leaving him to take care of business at home, their roles had been reversed a little. Now Writewell seemed to be the laid-back one, while he, Speakeasy, was the one who worried about business matters.
Every year Speakeasy and Writewell shut up their shop and spent a week or so in an exotic destination teaching the AB group. They looked forward to it every year and were talking about it in the taxi taking Writewell to the airport just before she left him for three months.
“AB stands for Absolute Beginners! I think that’s being disrespectful to your students.”
“You should hear what they call themselves,” answered Writewell.
“So you meet them every year, charge them huge amounts of money and don’t teach them anything!”
“We certainly try,” said Writewell. “They’re really gifted men, but they’re not great in class.”
“Well, maybe you’re teaching them wrong,” protested Deborah.
Writewell stopped smiling. She turned around and looked Deborah slowly in the eye.
Deborah knew she had gone too far.
“We’re running a business,” said Writewell.
That’s my girl, thought Speakeasy.