New Year’s Eve 1999
My Lara Croft costume is small, and I mean small. I’m a size ten, but this costume is more of an eight – I knew I should have tried it on before I bought it. I know some of my old school friends are going to be in the pub later, because there is nowhere else in the village to go and it’s the millennium eve for crying out loud, so I wanted to look good because I haven’t seen them since going away to uni. I don’t really have any proper friends here, so I’ve made a point of staying away from the village. Nobody has really seen the new me without the ‘puppy fat’ as my mum used to call it. This outfit is certainly going to make sure they do tonight. It’s sad really, that I still care what they think of me, but once they see I’m not some loser anymore it will give me closure.
I take the plastic guns out of their holsters and stand outside for a minute debating whether or not I should walk in holding them to frighten the life out of everyone before deciding it would be too much.
‘Woah. Don’t shoot.’ A brown-haired guy around my age is standing outside the pub with his hands in the air. ‘I swear I did not help myself to a vol-au-vent from the buffet.’
I glance down at the guns and laugh. ‘Oh, sorry. I was just sorting my costume out. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
He points his thumb to the door. ‘You do know it’s not a costume party in there, don’t you?’ My heart pounds and my eyes widen.
‘Relax, I’m pulling your leg.’ He flashes a cheeky grin and I get a weird fluttery feeling below my bellybutton. ‘It is dull in there though.’
‘Who are you?’ I ask. I’d have noticed someone as good-looking as him around. ‘I’ve not seen you in the village before.’
‘I’m Kev.’ He holds out a hand which I go to shake, but instead, he takes my hand and kisses it. ‘Love your costume by the way. I was a bit of a Tomb Raider addict back in the day. I think I even wore out the buttons of my PlayStation joy pad.’
‘I hope that’s not a euphemism.’
He raises both eyebrows and I giggle.
‘And why are you at this New Year’s Eve party if it’s so dull?’ I ask, trying to get the conversation back on track.
He leans his head in towards me a little and whispers, ‘I’m sort of on a mission.’
‘Is that right?’ I say, placing one hand on my hip.
‘Top secret.’ His eyes twinkle with mirth under the orange glow of the streetlight.
‘Hmm. And what does this mission entail?’
He glances upwards then rests his eyes on mine. ‘I don’t know if I should be telling you this.’
‘You might have to. You’ve seen I’m armed.’
‘Okay. I’m here to rescue all the pretty girls from the party. I can’t begin to describe the horrifying scenes of carnage in there. There’s an eighty-eight-year-old Elvis dancing with a ninety-year-old Madonna. Every under twenty-five is a St Trinian, and there’s a Catwoman whose costume is made entirely of bin bags. The cheap kind – you know, the ones that tear easily and spill your rubbish out everywhere.’ His brow puckers, and his mouth twists. ‘And they have torn.’
‘Oh dear,’ I say, feeling giddiness rise in my chest. ‘And this rescue mission … where would you have to take the evacuees?’
‘I understand there may be some trust issues here, me being a stranger and all, so I’m happy to sit on that bench there.’ I’m impressed he avoided the more obvious ‘Back to my place’ answer.
‘It’s freezing.’
‘I know, but when I’m undercover, I pose as a beer delivery guy. See.’ He gestures to a Transit van parked next to the pub. ‘I have beer and coats.’
‘Coats plural?’
‘Hey, I have to be two people every day, an undercover agent and a beer delivery guy. I can’t be expected to remember where I’ve left all my coats too.’
I giggle. ‘What about all the other pretty girls who you need to rescue?’
He leans forward so his lips brush my earlobe. It tickles. ‘I’ve only seen one.’ The feel of his warm breath makes me shiver. I should go inside but I don’t want to.
‘Okay, I’ll have a beer.’
My parents are in the pub expecting me to join them, but they’ll be three sheets to the wind by now and unlikely to notice that I haven’t arrived. Still, they’ll have something to say about it tomorrow, no doubt. I sit on the bench and snuggle into the parka jacket that Kev gives me, and we sit and chat. He’s so easy to talk to, I find myself telling him about my school years and how I had no friends, and he can’t believe the other kids could be so cruel. He wasn’t a cool kid either, because he was into playing the guitar and the cool kids played football, but he had friends at least. I’ve never spoken about my school life before, I’ve never met anyone who understood, but with Kev, I find myself wanting to talk.
‘God, it’s almost midnight,’ he says, standing up and pulling me up to face him. ‘My work here is almost done.’
Our eyes meet, and frissons of electricity surge through my chest.
‘Ten, nine, eight …’ He brushes the two Lara Croft hair strands behind my ears. ‘Six, five, four, three, two …’ I swallow hard. ‘One.’ He kisses me tenderly on the lips. His are warm and soft, whereas mine are like ice from the beer bottle. ‘Happy New Year.’
‘Happy New Year,’ I say. People start to tumble out of the pub, and I realise I never actually set a foot in there. I got so lost in Kev’s upbeat personality I just didn’t care about seeing any of them. Proving myself seems so irrelevant now.
I knew this night was the night that was going to change everything.
This night was supposed to be the start of a new me, and it is.
I just didn’t have the right plan.
Chapter 14
‘Hey, you disappeared last night.’
I turn to see Ethan jogging up the main street behind me when I come out of the coffee shop on the street near the pier. Is that disappointment I sense in his tone?
‘Oh, I got tired and left.’
He raises his eyebrows. ‘That’s a shame – the guitars came out and we had an acoustic Red Hot Chili Peppers set, courtesy of Billy the Biker.’
Billy the Biker? ‘Sounds like fun.’
‘What are you doing for the rest of the day?’ he asks.
I point my reusable coffee cup towards my wheelie case behind me. ‘Early ferry back to Boston.’ I booked it thinking I should spend some time there, maybe do some shopping. Now I’ve been paid, some more clothes would come in handy.
‘Oh.’ His eyes flick to the floor and back to meet mine. ‘I was going to see if you fancied kayaking.’
‘Kayaking?’
A wide smile erupts on his face. ‘Don’t look so worried. It’s just because we were talking about it last night. I was going to ask you if you wanted to come down to try it, but you’d vanished. Another time maybe?’
I look at the solid outline of his jaw. The left side of his mouth curves upwards, decorated with light brown scruff, and I have a compelling urge to reach out and trace a line down it with my finger. I clench my cup tighter. I’m not sure whether it’s to guarantee that I won’t or the frustration of wanting to.
‘Okay. I’m probably going to be back next weekend, if that works?’ The thought of spending the weekend in the apartment with the blokes is far from appealing. I’d most likely be holed up in my room as I have been for the past two weeks.
‘Saturday morning?’
I pause for a moment and can’t think of a reason to say no. ‘Saturday morning it is,’ I reply, not quite sure what I’ve signed up for.
‘Okay. It will be fun, I promise,’ he says and my stomach dances.
The ferry has pulled into the dock, and Ethan notices too. ‘I’d better let you go, but come down to the boat rental place on the beach about nine next week.’
I nod. ‘See you next week.’ I turn to leave.
‘Oh, and wear something you don’t mind getting wet,’ he says, and I catch myself smiling.
The next morning I’m filled with optimism as I stroll into the office, coffee in hand. There’s an unusual buzz about the place, and everyone, even the janitor, looks frazzled. ‘What’s going on?’ I ask the receptionist as I scan my ID badge.
‘The chief execs from Rocks have turned up unannounced for a progress meeting.’
I give her a look of horror and she just shrugs but then, she doesn’t have to deal with the situation. I make my way to the boardroom. Through the glass, I see Patrick is already sitting around the table with two men I haven’t seen before. One of the men is black and wearing a red T-shirt with indigo jeans. He has chin-length braided hair and on his wrist is a diamond-encrusted watch that looks like it cost the same as a three-bed detached on the outskirts of London. The other man is white with fair hair, dressed similarly but with a green T-shirt and the addition of a huge blingy gold necklace. As the rest of the team filter in, I reel with horror at the fact I haven’t had time to show Patrick my new ideas for the campaign. This is going to be a disaster. I feel like I’ve swallowed a lead weight as I clutch the handle, but because they spot me hovering outside, I walk in holding my head high.
‘Good morning,’ Patrick says tersely as I slip into the only vacant chair.
‘Morning.’ I mimic his dry tone and begin to shuffle the papers that have been set out.
‘Okay.’ Red-T-shirt-Rocks-guy clasps his hands together. ‘I’m just gonna come right out and say it. We ain’t feelin’ this project, man.’
Patrick’s jaw slackens, and I can practically see the bravado oozing out of the black cavernous hole.
Green-T-shirt-Rocks-guy slams his right foot on the desk, and several of us jump. ‘Look at my feet. I am wearing Rocks. Do I look like a sweet little girl to you?’
‘No, sir,’ Patrick says.
‘My man Karma over there is wearing Rocks too. Does he look like a sweet little girl?’ He gestures to red-T-shirt guy.
Patrick shakes his head vehemently. ‘No, sir.’
‘Good, cos that ain’t the look I was going for when I got dressed and put my kicks on this morning and that image ain’t Rocks.’
‘We just felt that for the teen line—’
Green T-shirt guy holds a hand up. ‘Just show us what else you got?’
A sheen has formed on Patrick’s brow, and the rest of the team members’ behaviour ranges from staring at the papers on the desk in front of themselves to glancing blankly at one another. The silence is thick, almost tangible, and I know for a fact they have nothing else. Patrick was so sure he had this nailed that the team put everything into this one idea.
It’s now or never. My pulse races, pounding in my ears. Should I play them my video? It could save the day, and I could be hailed as a heroine. Or it could be career suicide and a one-way ticket back to Blighty?
My hand trembles as I take out my phone. I clear my throat. The sound cuts through the air, and everyone turns to face me.
‘The … er … other idea is in its very early stages,’ I say, trying and failing to sound confident. I glare pointedly at Patrick and the others, willing them to stay quiet. Nobody speaks, so I continue. ‘It’s just a prototype video, nothing flashy. Think of it as a mood board or brainstorm.’
I hand my phone to red T-shirt guy, or Karma, as I now know he’s called. His blank expression gives nothing away, whereas Patrick’s fixed glare speaks volumes. I ignore him.
The bass from the music I added last night starts pumping, and I sit on eggshells watching Karma. Green T-shirt guy is leaning over too. Soon, both of their heads start nodding with the beat. I’m hoping that’s a good sign. A few of the guys around the table start nodding along too and I have to fight the urge not to slap them round their heads.
Patrick’s fixed glare has softened to a look of hope as he takes in the scene.
When the music finishes, Karma slams the phone on the desk, and I wince – it’s new and uninsured and if I’m fired, I won’t be able to afford a replacement. ‘Now that is more like it. What you thinkin’, Peace?’
‘I get why they tried two different approaches, it makes sense, but you get us,’ Peace says, pointing at me.
They both stand. ‘We’ll be back next week to see the ideas for this campaign in full.’
As they leave, the palpable tension wafts out with them, and there are sighs of relief from around the table.
‘What the hell was that?’ Patrick asks as the door closes. His face is red.
‘Me saving your arse,’ I say sharply, though my English accent alone would have added the necessary edge.
‘Not exactly a team player, are you, missy?’ His jaw is hard-set. ‘What, did you sit on this waiting to undermine us and make us look stupid in front of our clients?’
In for a penny … ‘Patrick,’ I reason, ‘I’ve been trying to be part of this team since I arrived here, but you keep sending me on pointless errands and ignoring my suggestions. I tried to tell you on day one that the ideas weren’t in keeping with the brand, and you dressed me down and sent me for coffee and doughnuts.’
He stares at me for a moment. I’m painfully aware that all eyes in the room are on me.
Then he exhales and throws his hands up in the air. ‘Show me what you’ve got.’
***
A few days later, Patrick and I have come up with a whole campaign of ideas together, using my video as the basis. We’ve talked about activities, style, fashion and using a diverse range of models and actors to represent real people. My voice and body are jittery with excitement, and I’m not ashamed of myself for smirking when Carl is sent out for coffee and doughnuts on Tuesday and Wednesday. They taste so much better when someone else fetches them for you.
On Friday, the mock-ups come back from the art department.
‘Wow’ is the general consensus when we present the finished prototype adverts to the team.
We have a range of online ads, including stills and snippets of my video for Facebook and YouTube, thumbnails and stills for online remarketing and a range of glossy, printed stills for in-store displays and magazine adverts. A still shot of Kayla’s trainer-clad foot in the air with the fire glowing behind it has provided the basis. If the people from Rocks are happy, we can go ahead and start organising shoots with actors and models.
‘Let’s grab a celebratory drink.’ Patrick is addressing the boardroom but looks at me pointedly. I chew on my lip for a second. I have a ferry booked to Provincetown tonight and Ethan had mentioned that kayaking trip, but this is my career. Ethan will understand, it was only a casual invite anyway, nothing was set in stone.
I smile. ‘Sounds good.’
I tap out an email to cancel the hotel for the weekend and book it for next weekend instead. The mood these guys are in makes me think I’ll be in no fit state for a boat trip tomorrow either.
Chapter 15
Karma and Peace from Rocks loved the designs, and now our people are working with their people to get the project off the ground and I’m enveloped in dreams of attending the Grammys with Peace and Karma as their ‘good friend’. They haven’t invited me yet, but Patrick has bumped me up to project leader, much to the dismay of the previous leader, Frank, who, as far as I could tell, didn’t have anything to contribute anyway. Patrick took us to a baseball match on Thursday night to celebrate the success of the project. I’m not usually a sports fan, but something about eating a hotdog in that electric environment gave me a huge buzz, even though I didn’t have a clue about what was going on. I’ve come to realise, Patrick isn’t as bad as I first thought. He can even be quite funny at times, though not always intentionally; he has a knack for muddling up his sayings when he’s trying to make a point and sometimes his body language doesn’t fit what he’s trying to say. Since things are going so well, I haven’t confronted him about his attitude when I first arrived. I will, but I want to make sure that this project gets the attention it deserves, and that means us both working together at our best.
By the following Friday evening, I’m very much looking forward to my weekend slice of R&R in Provincetown. Harry and Barney have invited me to their house for a small friendly gathering tomorrow, and I can’t wait to tell them all about work.
When I arrive at the hotel, I’m worn out from the week. I grab a snack from the bar and eat it by the pool, watching the sunset, then have an early night. The following morning, I head to Ethan’s boat hire place to apologise for not showing up last week.
‘If you’re here to go kayaking you’re about a week too late.’ He’s racking up some kayaks and doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge me. He must be able to sense my guilt.
‘Ahh, about that. I’m so sorry. A work thing came up. I was so wrapped up in the project I didn’t think.’
Silence.
‘I’m here this weekend though, if you want to take one out?’ I try to ignore the building tension. I hadn’t expected him to be so frosty about it. I thought it was just a polite invite. We hadn’t even set a time. Ethan is just being, well, Ethan, I suppose – ninety-five per cent grouch.
‘I’m working, but you can go out.’ He points to a kayak on the sand.
‘Oh, I …’ I think for a minute. Perhaps I could try it out. I don’t need Ethan to go out in a one-man boat anyway, and how hard can it be? Besides that, I can hardly come marching down here saying I’m free to go out kayaking and then turn down the opportunity.
‘Okay,’ I say defiantly.
‘Okay?’ His eyebrows shoot up.
I jut out my chin. ‘Yes. How long is it for? An hour?’
He rubs his jaw and looks amused. ‘Go for it. I tell you what – no charge.’
‘I don’t need your charity.’
‘Oh, I know, it’s just that I wasn’t going to charge you last week because it was, you know …’
What? What do I know?
‘A friends hanging out thing, I guess,’ he finishes, glancing away.
‘Friends, yes, I see. Okay, thank you.’ Is that what we are? I hadn’t given much thought to it, and now having a label feels a little weird.
A Summer to Remember Page 8
