by Orla Bailey
“Wonderful,” Lenuta tells Libby. “I go call my cousin. He is good for looking too.”
“Good looking,” I correct her.
She winks at me before going through the door. “I know what I mean.”
Libby and I talk shop during breakfast.
“We have those intern interviews arranged for this morning, Tabitha. Would you mind if I sat in on them? Gain some experience.”
“How many people do we have lined up?”
“Six business and six advertising students to interview.”
“I have a better idea. You and another member of staff can do them. I trust my Business Manager’s decisions, Libby.”
I don’t have to do everything myself. Jack taught me that. Besides, I have somewhere far more important I need to be. My decision about that is already made. Jack has avoided this confrontation long enough.
“You’d trust me to do that by myself?”
“Of course. It’s better if I don’t do it. I was the intern once so my vision is skewed. We’re looking for fresh ideas; new ways of working.”
“If you think I can do it.”
“I know you can. I’ll ask one of the Senior Execs to support you.”
Lenuta peers around the door. “Mr Blackstock is waiting below with the car.”
“Jack sent the car for us?”
Lenuta gives me a knowing look. “When man cares, he cares. No matter what.” She leaves.
“More like keeping an eye on you,” Libby states.
“To prevent me being any more embarrassing. Right?”
Libby stops me leaving the room with a hand on my arm. “Tabitha?” She seems reluctant to say what’s on her mind but I can tell something is bothering her.
“What is it?”
“Did I do anything last night I should be ashamed of?”
“Don’t you remember what happened?”
“Not a bloody thing. But I have this awful feeling.”
I wonder if I should tell her at all and decide it’s only fair. And funny. Seeing as how I’ve had to face up to everything I’ve done. She is, after all, my partner in crime.
“Well you did let Jack and Mr Blackstock see you in your underwear,” I say casually picking up the bag of clothes.
“What?” Her eyes grow like puddles in the rain.
I half-laugh. I’m too embarrassed about my own deeds to find it as funny as I want to. “In the kitchen. We were crawling about on all fours. Don’t you remember anything?”
She shakes her head in disbelief and speaks reluctantly. “What did I do?”
I was hoping she would ask for details. “I said you shouldn’t let them see you in your knickers.” I can’t look her in the face as I throw out the next sentence. “Told you to take them off.”
“Bloody hell, Tabitha. I didn’t, did I?”
“No.”
She sags with relief.
“Mr Blackstock stopped you before you got the chance.” I trot through the door to the elevator.
Libby catches up. Lowering her voice she hisses at me. “Blackstock stopped me removing my knickers? You mean I tried to?” We step inside where I hit the button for underground parking.
I nod vigorously. “He carried you to bed. Orders from above.”
“I was naked in bed this morning!” She stares at me as I slowly return the favour.
“Can’t help you there. Either he undressed you or you did it yourself anyway…” I snigger. “While he watched.”
“Bloody hell.”
Like a coward, I refrain from telling her how much further I may have taken things myself, thinking I was having some beautiful, torrid dream. I wonder for an instant if she’s holding out on me too.
“We were both pretty wasted and hardly responsible for our actions,” I pronounce.
“Absolutely.”
The elevator door opens into the car park. We’re facing straight on to Blackstock, who is leaning against the car staring right back.
“Good morning, Miss Caid. Libby.” He almost succeeds in making his voice sound neutral and dispassionate but I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t detect the faintest trace of humour lacing it.
Last time he saw us we were both crawling round the kitchen floor, unable to stand unaided. Well, that’s the last he saw of me, anyway. He may have seen a whole lot more of Libby.
“Good morning, Mr Blackstock.” I maintain a dead-pan expression. I can’t exactly look him in the eye any more than Libby can and find myself wondering, if I feel like this in front of him, how the hell I’m going to face Jack when I see him.
Libby squeaks something unintelligible, diving through the open door he’s holding for us. Her cheeks are pink.
He wrestles the smile from his face as I follow her inside. I can’t get the hideously funny picture of him stripping her for bed out of my head but she can make up her own mind what happened. He closes us inside.
Before he walks around and gets in the driver’s side Libby and I throw each other a look and dissolve into fits of girlish giggles. It’s like we’re sixteen again. Blackstock may be highly amused but I don’t even pretend that Jack will be similarly entranced by my exploits.
Twenty minutes later I summon up the nerve to tap Blackstock on the shoulder.
“Yes, Miss Caid?” He keeps his eyes discretely on the traffic, for which I feel grateful, even though we’ve stopped at a red light.
“Did Jack ask you to drive us this morning?”
“Yes, Miss Caid.” He pauses. “He was concerned you might not be recovered enough to take a taxi without further mishap.” It’s clear he finds the idea highly entertaining.
“You can tell him we’re both fine.” I play along with the charade. “But thank him for his consideration anyway. I appreciate his thoughtfulness.”
“I’ll be sure and do that.”
I take a deep breath. My opening remarks were only a preliminary to the far more important questions I have on my mind. “Is Jack at Zee-Com this morning?”
“Yes, Miss Caid.” His altered tone tells me he’s instantly wary of my line of questioning.
“Is he alright?”
“No need for you to worry about Mr Keogh.”
Should I read anything into that? I decide not. It’s just meaningless but polite conversation. I get to the point with no mixed messages. “Will he be coming back to Belvedere tonight?”
“He hasn’t given me instructions for later, Miss.” Blackstock tries to be diplomatic.
What if Jack has already decided not to come back until I’ve left? “Where is he staying, Mr Blackstock?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Caid. I’m not at liberty to divulge that.”
“He told you not to tell me?” My voice betrays my deep hurt even though I expected that to be the case. He’s out to punish me and determined to keep his distance. If it wasn’t for me getting so completely plastered last night, I wouldn’t have seen him then, either. A sharp pain pinches the space between my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Miss. He want you to phone me anytime you need anything.”
Not totally abandoned then. Jack’s sense of responsibility? It’s poor compensation for a girl in love. “Not your fault, Mr Blackstock. It seems Jack’s decided to keep right on staying wherever he is, as long as it’s nowhere near me.” I’m thinking out loud. Libby takes my hand in hers as I collapse onto the back seat. She pats me sympathetically.
I hope for all our sakes he’s not staying with Amanda. I can deal with just about anything but that. I wonder if that witch knows where he is. I guess she probably does which breaks my heart. After all, she’s at his disposal twenty-four seven, I scoff silently. She’s very good at this game she’s playing. She warned me at the Commerce Ball not to think I could play with the big boys without getting hurt and she’s made good on that promise. In extra-large shovels.
With Jack’s hurtful comment that Amanda is the one woman he can trust, rattling through my brain, I realise I have a mammoth job on my hands to make him reverse that decis
ion. Whatever it takes, we must talk face to face.
I’m more convinced than ever of my need to confront him.
Whether he agrees to see me or not.
Chapter Four
Libby and I grow wide-eyed simultaneously. It seems Brent Tapper is back. Frankly, I’m more astonished by the fact his Land Rover isn’t sitting in my parking space and feel a little of the instant tension melt from my shoulders.
“Perhaps official warnings were all it took to make him toe the line,” she suggests.
“Perhaps.” I’ve yet to be convinced. He’s always struck me as a why-change-the-habit-of-a-lifetime kind of guy but I know he likes the autonomy he has working here. And the salary. Maybe a week to lick his wounds has been enough to make him see sense. He’d be spoiling a very good thing if he resigned or was dismissed.
“A new beginning?”
“I’m hoping that’s the case with all my problems.”
Blackstock opens the door on my side of the Bentley before I do. Libby neither follows nor waits. She scuttles out her own side, making a dash ahead of me into the building without looking back. I suppress a smile when I see how much pinker her cheeks have become.
“Thank you, Mr Blackstock, as always.”
He reaches behind me and collects the bag of clothing meant for Libby to take home, handing it to me.
“My pleasure, Miss Caid. As always.” We grin at each other. It’s like events of the last few days have made us sort of comrades-in-arms.
At the front entrance I turn, aware that Blackstock appears to be hesitating before getting back into the car. “Mr Blackstock?”
“Will you tell Libby something, for me, Miss Caid? Tell her I didn’t take any liberties.” He doesn’t laugh like it’s some smutty joke and his thoughtful manner when he says it makes me blush.
I pretend there’s something on my shoe. Referring to undressing her for bed last night, perhaps he hoped he might have a discrete word with the woman herself but her dash for the border kind of spoiled any good intentions.
“I will.”
He nods briskly, climbs in and drives off.
Inside, none of the usual nonsense is coming from Brent’s office so I decide to clear the air and go straight in. He looks up from behind his desk.
“Tabitha?”
“Brent. You’re back.” I decide the conversation about his unplanned absence and his formal written warning can both wait until later. I have more pressing matters to deal with. But I’m not willing to allow things to slide back to the way they were before; I’m clear about that. “Thank you for vacating my parking space.”
“Just keeping the wheels running smoothly.”
It’s a vague statement, appropriate to staff parking, I suppose and I understand pride might not allow him to apologise outright. But it’s victory enough for me that he’s followed through.
“Having staff follow protocol is appreciated and expected.”
He taps his fingers on the desk. “Anything else?”
I’m not entirely certain if I’m being dismissed, hearing some sour note of sarcasm or if he’s reluctantly offering his assistance but I decide pressing my advantage sends a clear message and leaves me free to deal with other things. “As a matter of fact, yes. The staff meeting you missed last week. One change I’m implementing immediately is a new internship programme.”
“From intern to CEO in two moves.” Brent mimes moving a chess piece on a board. He topples the imaginary king.
Not too reformed then. He still resents my position. “Do we have a problem with you accepting me as CEO?”
“You used to have a sense of humour, Tabitha.” He stares in open defiance.
“That was when I was the company pawn.” I match fire with fire. Jack would be proud of me yet even the thought opens my wounds anew. “Now I’m responsible for giving orders. And I’m not playing games.”
“Quite so.”
Backing down is most unlike Brent. But either he works with me or he’s out. “I’m interviewing prospective interns this morning from the colleges. Well, rather our new Business Manager is conducting interviews.” I’m sure none of this is news to him. One of his colleagues will already have updated him on any developments he missed.
“Libby?” His mild tone of derision angers me.
“Yes, Libby. Our Business Manager. I’d like you to be the second member of her interviewing panel.” I need to see if he’s prepared to jump on board, both with new ideas and with accepting Libby’s promotion.
“I’d be delighted to offer my services in the interests of progress.”
Such apparent willingness makes me highly suspicious. Either he’s finally grasped his job is at stake or he’s up to something far worse. Should it worry me immediately? Surely he can’t sabotage intern interviews. It will be a small test of his loyalty to the company whilst limiting any potential damage. Libby will be able to report back to me.
“Thank you, Brent. Your experience is invaluable in developing younger members of staff and all positive input into CaidCo’s expansion is welcome.”
I haven’t forgotten he’s been in recent contact with Amanda but perhaps he was simply checking out alternative employment options. Maybe Advance rejected his overtures so he’s back with his tail between his legs. Intuition tells me I’m not quite out of the woods where Brent is concerned but today, I need to focus on matters closer to my heart.
I pop by Libby’s desk.
“Can you phone that courier company and ask them to make a pick up this morning? Seal something in a box, and address it to my apartment.”
“Brent’s head?” she suggests.
I lift my eyebrows in delight at the thought. “Too big. Besides I don’t want that on the doormat when I…” I abandon errant thoughts of finally leaving Belvedere for good. “When they arrive, call me.”
“What are you going to say?”
“Not sure yet.”
“You can’t come straight out with it. He’ll get suspicious and clam up.”
“If I say I have another urgent package to go too, while you’re supposedly preparing it, I can make coffee and try to tease any information out of him.”
“Flirt.”
“Who are you calling a flirt?” I say. “After last night.”
Libby pulls a face. “It’s not an insult, it’s a suggestion. Use your looks to get what you want.”
“Actually you’re the one who’s supposed to be seducing the throbbing motorbike hunk,” I remind her.
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“Tie him up with parcel tape, shove him in the stationery cupboard and stick pencils up his nostrils until he squeals. I don’t know. I’m playing this by ear. If you’ve got any brighter ideas, let me know.”
“You could bribe him. They can’t be that well paid.”
“I have no problem with that, actually. Whatever it takes.” My future with Jack is at stake.
“I’ll make that call.”
I pause in the doorway. “Oh, Libby?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m not going to like this am I?”
“What makes you say that?”
“The way you said my name.”
“No flies on you.” I give her a look of sympathy at which she grimaces. “The intern interviews…”
“Yes? We worked out questions and model responses last week. I have all the emailed profiles. I’m set. What’s the problem?”
“I kind of asked Brent to get involved.”
“Kind of?” She looks horrified.
“I need to make sure he’s still on board. I thought it might be a good test of character.”
“Whose?”
“His!”
“And?”
“He sort of asked if he could help out. I think. I figure this is where he’ll do least damage. And I’ve got you to keep things straight.”
Libby takes a deep restorative breath. “No problem. It might be fun showing Brent Tapper what I’m made of.”
I love that girl. Nothing daunts her. “I knew there was a reason I promoted you. Thanks, Libby. And I’m going out just as soon as we’ve dealt with the courier.”
“Anywhere interesting?”
I set my shoulders. “If Jack won’t come to me, I’m going to him.” And I’m not leaving until I settle a few things between us.
“Storming the castle again?” Libby’s eyes light up at the prospect.
“Unless he’s instructed security to eject me on sight. Then there’s his highly efficient PA to get past.” I picture Dorothy’s face the last time I turned up unannounced. She couldn’t stop me then and she won’t stop me now.
“Tears sometimes work.”
“I’m all cried out.” But I haven’t lost hope. Jack returned to Belvedere to help me last night. That means he’s hurting, not hating. I’m going to make him listen to me if it’s the last thing I do.
* * *
A couple of hours later, as Libby and I discuss a client’s account, the courier arrives on a huge throaty motorcycle, dressed in black leathers.
We look at each other. “Mine, I think,” Libby says with a huge grin on her face.
“Yours,” I agree. We watch from the window.
For some reason known only to the devil, I choose that moment to remember Blackstock’s message and I’m evil enough to deploy it. Or my version of it.
“By the way. Mr Blackstock asked me to tell you that when he stripped your sorry, drunk backside last night to put you to bed, he did his best not to look. Too closely.” I smirk at the shocked expression on her face.
“You have to be kidding me. My sorry, drunk backside?” Her mouth hangs open. “He stripped me?”
“Which one of those are you more interested in?”
“Tabitha! Is that what he said?”
I wave my hand airily. “Words to that effect.”
Her face burns scarlet and I wonder if there’s more riding on this than a woman’s dignity.
“Bloody hell. I’ll never be able to look him in the face again.”
“He wasn’t looking at your face.” I burst out laughing and she abandons professionalism for aggrieved friendship and slaps me on the arm. “Only kidding. He wanted you to know he didn’t take liberties. In other words he didn’t see a thing.”
