Stay Mad, Sweetheart

by Heleen Kist

  ‘Ah, the man of the hour,’ Suki says.

  He stands up straight; looks her up and down. He grins, his swelling ego pushing his chest out. ‘I certainly am. What is it I can do for you sweet Suki?’

  ‘You can pack your bags.’

  He tilts his head ‘Eh?’

  Suki rubs her hands together. ‘Pack your bags. You’re fired.’

  He steps forward and turns into their open office. ‘Piss off.’

  Suki follows him in. ‘I’m not joking.’ She points behind her. ‘I’ve just been in with Angus. Ask him.’

  Robert’s eyes narrow. ‘You’re full of shit, Suki.’ He swivels back toward the door. ‘I’m going to see—’

  ‘Mama?’ Suki smirks. ‘Here’s the thing, Angus also fired Diane. Actually, Angus and I fired Diane — and you. Together. And now you can go.’

  He steps to within a hair of her, looming menacingly, his hot breath in her face. ‘You bitch. I don’t know what you’ve done, but I will k—’

  Doug appears in the doorframe, behind him. ‘Everything alright here?’

  Suki holds up her hand. ‘I got this, Doug.’ He nods and leaves. She slowly kicks off her heels; loses five inches. She lifts her head, her chin reaching no further than his chest. She squints and says, ‘Go on. You were going to...?’

  He searches her face. ‘You’re nuts.’

  ‘Try me.’

  He steps back. His lip curls into a snarl. ‘This isn’t over.’

  ‘I think it is,’ Suki says. She hooks her fingers into her shoes and flips them over her shoulder. She pushes past him to leave.

  ‘I’ll make you pay for this, you cunt,’ he yells behind her.

  She throws him a backward wave. ‘Stay mad, sweetheart.’

  56

  THE NEW ME

  Hot ears.

  That’s the only thing I’m achieving with the hair dryer this morning. I curse the hairdresser who was adamant it would be a cinch to learn how to recreate my new, sleek and flicked style for my conference appearance. I grumble, blowing the hair from across my nose and out of my mouth.

  Not so.

  I briefly consider pulling it all into my usual ponytail, but don’t want to disappoint Claire. How am I meant to roll my locks over the round brush at the back of my head without dislocating a shoulder? I try again, gaining some control over the flow of scorching air. I sniff, the smell of burning not quite at the level to have me worry.

  After a little while, I run my hand through my hair. It’s dry-ish. I check in the mirror. It isn’t sticking outwards. I shrug. It will have to do.

  Atticus peeks around the door post, no doubt checking the big bad noise is truly gone. He hops onto my bed.

  ‘No, you terrible furball. Not on my new blouse.’ I dread to think what his claws would do to silk. And he sheds.

  I’d protested when Claire declared this emerald-green blouse with a super-thin golden stripe the winner. It’s so colourful. I remember how Claire insisted it complemented my eyes and was perfect, and that was that. Plus, she’d said, the stripe was small enough that it wouldn’t impact any photos or videos that would be taken.

  Who knew patterned clothes were a no-no for TV? I’d only ever worn black.

  I sit on the bed and adjust my greying bra. No way would I have let Claire drag me to the lingerie department.

  Atticus climbs onto my lap and purrs. His claws dig rhythmically into my thighs. I lift him up gently. Red dots freckle the skin on my leg. I stroke the soft down behind his ear.

  ‘This is it. It’s finally happening.’ My nail snags onto Atticus’s worn leather collar. ‘Maybe I should get you a new one of these.’ I bring him to my face and rub my nose to his. ‘Would you like some bling? A diamond encrusted choker, perhaps?’ He pulls away, scowling. ‘Quite right. Let’s not let the money change us.’

  My new, navy, wide-legged trousers hang on the back of the chair. I slip them on, over my bare legs. Tights are a step too far. Maybe in time. The tiny golden belt doesn’t do much to keep my blouse in place. What’s the point of it?

  My phone rings.

  The caller display says Mum.

  ‘I wanted to wish you good luck for today, my darling. How are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m great, Mum. A little nervous. I think I’ll lay off the tea today. Not sure my bladder could handle it, with all the stress.’

  Mum lets out a sweet-sounding sigh. ‘I’m so proud of you. Did you say you might be on the news tonight?’

  ‘It’s not guaranteed. Claire is hopeful.’

  ‘Who’s Claire?’

  ‘Oh, she’s the PR... She’s a friend.’

  ‘That’s nice, sweetheart.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ I say, smiling.

  ‘Well, I guess I’d better let you go, Miss Important.’

  I snort. ‘Thanks for calling, Mum. I love you.’

  ‘I love you, too.’

  I turn the mobile to face me, to find the red square with which to hang up, but remember there was one more thing. ‘Did Cringletie House agree to upgrade you the premium wedding package?’

  ‘They did. Thank you. Oliver and I can’t wait to see you again soon.’

  A warm glow fills my chest. Thank God for Suki’s negotiation skills. I button up the blouse and shimmy my hair like I was taught.

  A quick glance in the mirror.

  Weird. But nice.

  Time to go.

  The blue ballerina pumps are by the door, next to my bag. I check its content to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. In the red folder, I find the presentation I’d printed out so I can stand with my back to the screen and look out into the audience. I flick the pages. I almost know it by heart.

  Next to it is the blue folder. Claire secretly shared the PeopleForce CEO’s speech with me. Turns out he isn’t a spontaneous speaker, and they have to load it onto a tele-prompter. Imagine that. For such a senior guy. I skim the three pages again. It’s like holding a stick of dynamite. The surprise acquisition, Justin, everything.

  It will blow people away.

  And I love it all.

  Ready to go, I walk over to my bookcase and gaze at the framed photos. I sigh. I’ve come a long way from the little wellie-wearing, pig-tailed girl in front of Peebles library. I would trade it all in to have Emily by my side again. I kiss two fingers and press them onto my dear friend’s wee face, adding to the multiple fingerprints I’ve not had a chance to clean.

  Convinced I’ll never lose the feeling I failed her, I at least take solace in the possibility others might be saved.

  My mind jumps back to the PeopleForce meeting. They’d showed such excitement about the application of my Network Impact tool for brands and marketing agencies, that I’d suggested another possible market for it. One I only came up with because of Emily’s death: law enforcement and anti-terrorism. I’d explained the models could identify covert agitators with minimal effort. No more need for humans to try to work out who was who. Hours and days of wasted time. Lives at risk. They could possibly even find the elusive Russian influence on politics.

  I still couldn’t believe the beauty of it. They’d be able to simply run my programme on a selection of Twitter data, and job done. Inciters identified with statistically significant certainty. Enough to convince judges to hand out court orders for Twitter to hand over the account’s identity or whereabouts.

  I snicker, remembering Suki jumping up and down after the meeting. ‘Oh my God, Laura. You couldn’t have told me all of this before? What else have you got up your sleeve? We could have milked them dry! Millions left on the table.’

  My silk blouse slithers luxuriously over my arm as I hang my bag over my shoulder. I look down at the suede shoes I’m worried wont’ survive a drop of rain.

  Suki should know by now the money is not important to me. Butterflies stir in my stomach. Not money; but by the end of the meeting, when the Californians were embarrassingly gushing over my ‘innovative intellect’, I did ask for one more thing.r />
  I grab my keys and step out the door.

  On the landing, I check my watch. There’s no time for a detour to St Leonard’s, but soon. Soon I’ll go back to that objectionable policeman, DI Reddy, with his excuses and his limited resources, and I’ll give him the news. I picture his face when I tell him that once the law enforcement version of the software is developed, PeopleForce will license it to Police Scotland for free.

  Forever.

  So that nobody needs to die like Emily again.

  57

  SUKI

  It’s warm in the auditorium. An oppressive amalgamation of coffee breath and body odour hangs in the air. Suki winces, thinking about the four hundred people that have marinated here through six keynote presentations.

  Suki stands by the door, breathing in the occasional whiff of freshness as people pop in and out.

  The speaker is wrapping up.

  It’s been a super interesting day. She’s grateful for Claire remembering to set aside a ticket for her, despite it being sold out. She wouldn’t have missed it for the world — and not just to witness things kick off later. If she’s going to be the partner responsible for building up the technology practice within the firm, she needs to keep abreast of developments in the sector. All the opportunities arising from the use of artificial intelligence. She might even pick up a client or two.

  Claire steps through the door. She holds a clipboard and looks surprisingly sprightly for someone who’s run around all day, making sure everything goes to plan. Suki catches her eye and Claire joins her.

  ‘Hey,’ Suki says. ‘I think he’s nearly finished. You’ve done an excellent job. A great line-up of speakers. And it all seems to have run smoothly.’

  ‘Thanks. I made an extra effort for things to be perfect. Can’t have Rebel Agency regret hiring me,’ Claire says.

  ‘I doubt they would.’ Suki waves her hands up and down Claire’s fabulousness.

  ‘Yeah. You’re right,’ Claire snorts. ‘I suspect I can do no wrong after handing them Empisoft as a client. They’ve been wanting to do their PR for ages. They practically chewed my hand off when I offered it to them. And all I asked for in return was getting to own Culture. Which is a tiny part of what they do.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘I can’t thank Laura enough. She really came through for me.’

  Suki nods. When Claire shared her idea to get back at Darren at the restaurant, Laura hadn’t hesitated; had agreed even before she knew what she’d be expected to do. Because they were a team, she’d said.

  It was such a straightforward plan, with nothing sinister about it, that Suki wonders why Claire ever bothered with the ridiculous Bald-Patch-Gate. Laura said it would be a fairly easy task to instruct Marketing to appoint new PR agency for Empisoft. It was technically Justin’s call, but Justin no longer cares. And why would he? He’s focused on his new, big, important role in California. Bless him.

  ‘How did Darren take it?’ Suki asks.

  Claire laughs loudly. ‘How long have you got? I stole his sexiest client and left him in the lurch staff-wise by resigning. He called me every name under the sun. I thought him calling me an “ungrateful cow” was particularly ironic.’

  Suki chuckles. ‘Any regrets?’

  ‘None.’

  Applause floods the room and the lights come on. The speaker remains on stage. A trickle of attendees climb the stairs to meet him.

  ‘Where is Laura, anyway?’ Suki asks.

  Claire checks her watch. ‘She’ll be having her photos taken with some of the other speakers. I hired that guy Craig to do them. You know, the one who took your photo with Darren in the gym. I felt I owed him something.’ She shrugs. ‘He seemed delighted.’

  An usher opens both the doors and locks them in place to let the audience out. Claire nearly gets carried away in the crowd.

  ‘I’ve got to go take care of some people. See you for a drink later,’ she shouts.

  Suki lifts her thumb and smiles.

  It’s time for the fun part.

  Suki is among the first to enter the bar. The countertop is lined with trays holding champagne glasses. A small jazz band kicks off in the corner of the stage.

  She grabs a drink and positions herself at a cocktail table towards the front of the room, which gives her a great vantage point for the closing session, and for checking out the people who walk in.

  She fondles the small pocket on the side of her blue, tailored suit jacket that she’d had to have sewn in behind the misleading flap of fabric. What was it about designers denying women pockets? She takes a few business cards out for ready access, recognising a few faces of up-and-coming entrepreneurs in the technology scene.

  A flutter of nerves skitters across her stomach as she spots Diane, taking a glass from a waiter walking past. She looks tired and utterly fed up. When Diane sees Suki, hostility drips from every pore. Suki smiles broadly and raises her champagne in a mocking toast. The death stare she receives back feels extra rewarding.

  Suki scans the room. Who else is around? A few investors she’s worked with. Some people from Scottish Enterprise — they’re everywhere. Just like the lawyers and accountants, perpetually on the prowl for business.

  Suki does a double take of the woman who walks in wearing a green silk blouse and navy trousers. She arches an eyebrow. Laura scrubs up well. Suki watches Laura speak to a chunky man in an ill-fitting jacket, who could have made more of an effort with the razor blade. He holds a large camera in his hand and points it around, seemingly explaining its functions.

  Laura twirls her hair. She laughs. She places her hand on his shoulder, lets it sit there for a second and walks away.

  Suki doesn’t know whether to be happy or horrified when she sees him take a sneaky picture of Laura from behind.

  She waves in Laura’s direction.

  58

  ME

  I’m on a high. What a day. And there’s Suki waving.

  I snake my way through the different groupings enjoying their drinks. Not something we’ve ever served at the conference before, but Claire said it was necessary to encourage the kind of celebration she would want captured on camera once the acquisition announcement is made.

  ‘You look nice,’ Suki says, looking me up and down.

  I stroke the wrinkles from my trousers. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘How did your breakout session go? Sorry I missed it. It was full by the time I arrived.’

  ‘It went well. I was a little nervous. But not as nervous as I am now.’

  A waiter walks past. Suki fishes a glass from his tray. ‘Here, you’ll need this.’ She winks.

  A young man with a delegate pass around his neck approaches. ‘Laura? I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed your presentation. I’m working on random forest models, too. Maybe we can grab a coffee sometime?’

  ‘Sure. Um. Call the office, okay?’

  ‘Who was that?’ Suki asks after he correctly gets the message to leave.

  ‘Oh, I met him at a student entrepreneurship competition. He’s planning to start a business. Something to do with education. I can’t remember. I was just helping out. A favour to the Uni.’

  Suki nudges me. ‘You’re too kind. They’ll take advantage. Anyway, please introduce me next time. He could be a future client.’

  ‘Sorry, of course. Would you like me to send you both an email introduction?’

  ‘That would be great. You know, this is going to get a lot worse. Once you have your money, all the little entrepreneurs will come scuttling out of the walls like cockroaches to see if you’re willing to invest in their dream.’

  I shrug. ‘I don’t mind helping them along. Not sure about the money side, though. Maybe you can teach me about that sometime?’

  ‘No probs,’ she says. ‘Could you introduce me to the PhysioMedics founder after the closing speeches? I hear they’re going gangbusters.’

  My heart jumps. I don’t want to let her down, but all the same... I have somewhere to be. ‘Maybe I can sen
d an email introduction for that, too?’

  I see a question flash across Suki’s face. I turn away and say, ‘Look, there’s Claire on stage.’

  Claire is obviously trying to be discreet in placing the lectern onto the centre of the stage. The AV man joins her and attaches the tele-prompter, a nifty, high-tech rectangle of glass that will let the speaker read while the audience can still see his face. I’ve never seen one before. Claire pats her side pockets. For a moment, she looks distressed. She runs offstage and promptly returns holding two silver pens.

  My heart swells; I’m so proud of her. Every detail has been taken care of all day.

  The band completes a song with a series of accentuated chords that leaves no doubt their gig is over. Some people clap.

  Suki grabs my arm. ‘This is it.’

  I wish I’d peed.

  Empisoft’s Chairman steps onto the raised platform, and his mere presence silences the room. He unfolds a square of paper and places it in front of him. The glasses he keeps on the top of his head drop in front of his eyes.

  Suki nods his way. ‘He’ll be out of a job. You won’t need a Chair when Empisoft becomes a subsidiary of PeopleForce.’

  That hadn’t occurred to me before now. My last interaction with him was far from pleasant. This makes up for it.

  ‘But I bet the old boys’ network will have him in a cushy non-executive director job in no time again,’ Suki adds disdainfully.

  A cluster of standing folk line the front of the stage. Large video cameras roll into place on metal frames. Suki and I pull our table a few inches to the side to see better.

  His speech is predictably boring, peppered with the requisite compliments to the guest speakers, and thank-yous to the organisers. After several inane observations on the state of the industry, he clears his throat.

  My stomach contracts.

  He looks intently at the crowd over the top of his glasses. ‘And now we have a wonderful surprise in store for you. I have the distinct honour in welcoming Dr Steve Steele, chief executive of PeopleForce.’