“Because I’ve run out of cash.” She laughed.
“Brooke, please, this is my treat.” Catherine said, straitening up and facing her. She stood as close as she could and let her palms lay flat against Brooke’s shoulders. “I asked you to join me. You can pay next time.” She leant in and took Brooke’s lower lip between her own, sucking gently before releasing it and smiling coyly. “Or you can pay in kind.”
Brooke laughed. “I think that’s a given. I just like to pay my way.”
“Good, because I’d really hate to date a cheapskate.” She grabbed Brooke’s hand and pulled her. “Come on, I want a penguin.” She laughed as they headed towards the shooting stall. “You can show me your skills.”
Chapter Eight
Brooke woke up Monday morning in the best mood she had been in for weeks. Catherine had dropped her off just before midnight and she had slept like a baby. Well, she had done once she had stopped thinking about that good night kiss, the kiss that had led to a lot of over- and under-clothes fumbling. She felt like a teenager again, sitting in a car in the dark, parked along the street away from the streetlamp. When Catherine climbed over the console and sat in her lap, Brooke thought all her birthdays had come at once. When Catherine had unbuttoned her jeans and pushed Brooke’s hand inside, Brooke thought all her Christmases had come at once as well.
She chuckled at the memory of Catherine pushing her out of the car and replacing her in the seat with the giant penguin Brooke had won for her.
“Robin, you up?” she called out, banging on her sister’s door. “You’ve got 5 minutes or a bucket of cold water is coming in to say good morning,” she warned playfully.
“You wouldn’t dare,” came the sleepy reply from behind the door.
She chuckled. No, she wouldn’t dare, but only because she wouldn’t be able to dry the mattress. “Wanna find out? Come on, you’ve got school and I need to get ready for this interview.”
The door opened and a messy-haired teenager with one eye closed frowned at her. “Good luck,” she said as she passed by her and shuffled into the bathroom.
“I’ll do some breakfast then,” Brooke shouted after her.
~FI~
Being in the army had taught her early on in life to be confident in her abilities, and she knew that this was a job she could do with her eyes closed. Pollards would be stupid to turn down someone with Brooke’s experience and know-how.
She arrived early. She was perfectly presentable in clean white shirt and navy trousers, pressed impeccably, and she had not a hair out of place. Her shoes were shined so well that the sun reflected off of them as she walked.
The waiting room wasn’t that large. Just enough room for a handful of chairs, a small coffee table, and a coffee machine. A man in his fifties had already taken the seat in the corner. He was obviously the next candidate, and she smiled at him as she poured a small cup of coffee. He nodded and went back to reading his paper.
The door opened and another man, this time a lot younger, maybe in his thirties, came out. His face was red, and he didn’t look happy.
“What a bitch,” he muttered as he left the room. Brooke and the older man raised eyebrows at each other, but before either of them could speak, his name was called.
“Good luck,” Brooke said as he stood up and adjusted his tie.
“Thanks.”
~FI~
His interview barely lasted ten minutes before the door opened and he two came out looking flushed. “Blimey, I’ve never been interrogated like that before. Good luck.” He smiled, but made a hasty retreat, leaving Brooke alone in the room again. She swallowed and took a deep breath. “You can do this,” she said to herself. “You have to do this, Robin is counting on you.”
The door opened. “Ms Chambers?”
She stood up and tried to smile, confident in her own abilities. She followed the woman into the room. It was bright and airy; it smelt freshly painted and clean.
A lonely chair sat by itself in the centre of the room, and in front of it was a long table with three people sitting behind it, all three looking at her. Two were smiling; one looked as though she might faint.
~FI~
Catherine Blake, Head of Human Resources, was sitting right opposite her – back ramrod straight, chin up, and eyes wide. A perfect reflection of Brooke’s initial reaction. Catherine, her Catherine, was the same woman who would decide whether or not she got this job.
How was it possible that the woman, who was cavorting naked in her bed just two nights earlier, was now the person to decide if she would be employed or not? It had to be a sign, right? It was fate, kismet! She tried not to appear overly confident, but she had this in the bag. Apart from Catherine, she really could do this job with her eyes shut. It was a walk in the park compared to the streets of Kabul. All she had to do was sit tight, think straight, and give them no option but to hire her.
They threw all of their questions at her, and she batted them back with the right answers, and enough charm and wit to definitely secure the older woman’s vote.
The older guy, Paul something (she couldn’t remember, as introductions were done at the same time that she was gulping in air at seeing Catherine), seemed more intent on catching her out, occasionally asking the same question but in a different way. So, she answered with the same answer, only in a different way. The small smirk on Catherine’s face didn’t escape her notice. She was impressed too.
Twenty minutes she had been in there when Catherine told her it was “lovely to meet you” and “we will be in touch as soon as possible.”
They held eye contact for as long as was polite, but Brooke found it difficult to look away.
She left the building feeling pretty upbeat. Things seemed to be looking up, with the potential job and Catherine – well, she definitely wanted to see where they went.
The bus stop was right outside the store, and she waited in line with everyone else. She was pretty much the only one not laden down with shopping bags. Her phone buzzed inside her pocket. A text message had come through now that she had turned the phone back on. It was from Robin, wishing her all the best. She grinned and was putting the phone back into her pocket when it beeped again.
Catherine: Can we meet tonight to discuss this new development? Catherine.
Brooke grinned. Seeing Catherine tonight would just be the icing on the cake. The bus was pulling in, and everyone lurched forward in order to keep their space in the queue.
She checked her watch. It was already 3 o’clock, just enough time to head home, grab a shower, and get changed into something more comfortable before meeting Catherine at Art for 7 p.m.
Chapter Nine
Art was beginning to feel like home, and in Brooke’s mind, it was starting to feel like their bar. The place was definitely growing on Brooke as she sat at a small booth and waited. She could feel butterflies, her tummy fluttering with those telltale signs of nervous anticipation and arousal.
Checking her watch for the fourth time, she saw it had only been a minute since she had last looked. She glanced over at the door and watched. Each time the door opened and Catherine failed to enter, she found her foot started tapping. She had never been this eager to see someone previously, not even with Gabby. She closed her eyes and relaxed her shoulders. She needed to get a grip. Opening her eyes, she was pleasantly surprised to find Catherine was standing in front of her. She jumped her feet instantly, smiling as she leant in to kiss her. Catherine turned her cheek just enough that the kiss just caught the corner of her mouth. Unperturbed, Brooke sat back down, patting the seat beside her.
Catherine placed her briefcase on the bench seat opposite Brooke and slid in alongside it. Now, Brooke was intrigued. Narrowing her eyes at the other woman, she noted the look of uncertainty, and then, as though Catherine had made a decision in that moment, she looked away, swallowing hard. Brooke’s earlier exuberance was now replaced with a different kind of nervousness.
Turning back, Catherine smiled briefly at the glass of w
ine. “Thank you,” she said, taking a sip.
Brooke felt her heart beating faster in her chest. Her gut instinct was already firing early warning signals, but she wasn’t quite sure why. She trusted it though; it had never let her down before.
Catherine placed the glass down gently and pushed it away with her fingertips. “Very thoughtful of you.” She smiled again, but this time her eyes didn’t quite smile along. “Firstly, I’d like to say that I had no idea you would be interviewing today. We don’t get given names until the day we interview.” When Brooke looked confused, she continued. “In case we make up a preconceived judgement about someone, I never look at the list. The candidate either is or isn’t perfect for the job, so I didn’t know it would be you until you walked through that door.”
“Okay, it doesn’t matter,” Brooke offered. She reached across the table with her hand, hoping that Catherine would take it. She didn’t.
“You’ll be pleased to know that you got the job. Kim and Paul were very impressed – as was I,” she added quickly. “Official confirmation will come in the post, but we’d like you to start as soon as possible.”
“That’s great, I can’t wait to start.” She grinned, but Catherine’s face remained passive.
“Yes, and that’s why I want to make it very clear that this can go no further,” she said, waving her hand between them both.
Brooke felt it like a punch to the gut, or a swift kick to the solar plexus that would leave a man down, winded and vomiting. “What? Why?”
“I’m sure you can understand my dilemma. In giving you the job, I cannot then be seen to be seeing you outside of work. That would be extremely unprofessional and not to mention, unfair on yourself. People would make assumptions about how you got the job. It’s also against Pollards policy for staff to fraternise,” she said, clarifying her decision.
The long swallow of her lager felt like molasses pouring down her throat, smothering the emotional lump that wanted to scream out loud like a toddler in a tantrum about the unfairness of it all.
“So, I thought it only fair to do this face to face,” Catherine continued. She took another sip of her drink, but it left a bitter taste in her mouth and she promptly stood up, reaching for her briefcase. Pursed lips frowned. “Monday, 9 a.m. on the dot.”
When she turned to leave, Brooke reached out and gripped her wrist. “Catherine, wait.”
She stopped, but didn’t turn around, and Brooke released her grip. Standing quickly, she moved around and into her personal space to face her. “Surely we can work around this? I know we just met but, don’t you feel it? This connection we have?” Catherine remained silent, her eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but her. “I won’t take the job. I can work anywhere.” But in her heart, she knew that it wasn’t an option right now. Robin needed her to be working. Her little sister needed stability and a school trip to be paid for.
“No.” Catherine shook her head slowly, her teeth worrying her lower lip. “Take the job, you need it. This was just…fun.” She shrugged and walked away, calling over her shoulder as she lifted her phone to her ear, “9 a.m. Ms Chambers, my office.”
Slumping back into her seat, Brooke picked up her bottle to drink, but as it hit her lip she frowned and placed it back down on the table. “Fuck!”
Chapter Ten
The cold air hit Catherine’s face just as the first tear slid down her cheek. Holding the phone tightly to her ear, she walked with purpose towards her car and listened as the call rang out and went to voicemail.
“Ronnie, I need…get back to me when you can.”
Disconnecting the call, she put the phone into the console and wiped her face. She needed to get a grip. From the moment that Brooke stepped into the interview room, she knew this would be the outcome. No matter how much she liked her, she couldn’t and wouldn’t put herself through that again. She liked working at Pollards and had built a reputation based on respect and her work values. Nobody would ever have the opportunity to ruin that again. Penny had been a big lesson, one she had learnt from. It was better to nip this in the bud right now than risk it all again.
Walking into Art, she had it all planned out in her head, what she would say and how she would react. A cool, detached demeanour would work. She hadn’t planned on Brooke being so distraught. She hadn’t allowed herself to really believe that Brooke was seeing this as anything more than fun. That thought had made it easier to end things, but now, as she sat in her car and watched Brooke walk out of Art and away – hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, shoulders slumped, looking lost – she felt like she had made a big mistake.
Starting the engine, she checked her mirrors and pulled out onto the street. When she drove past Brooke, it took all she had not to pull over, wind the window down, and offer her a lift. She shook her head. This was for the best; she knew that.
Her phone rang through the speaker system and nudged her from her thoughts. She pressed the button to answer the call hands-free.
“Hello.”
“Hey, it’s me…sounded pretty urgent so I figured I’d call right back,” Ronnie said through the speakers.
“Yes, I…”
“Cat, what’s wrong?!” She smiled wryly; only Ronnie got away with calling her Cat. “You wanna come over?”
“Already on my way,” she replied, indicating to turn left.
~FI~
Ronnie lived in an affluent part of town. The houses there were oversized and underpopulated in Catherine’s opinion, but Ronnie hadn’t cared and bought the home of her dreams regardless of Catherine’s indifference to it.
They had been best friends since meeting at University all those years ago. What had started off as a brief sexual liaison had quickly turned into the best friendship either of them could have hoped for. Ronnie was probably Catherine’s only real friend. She tended to keep herself guarded; walls went up around strangers. It wasn’t that Catherine was unsocial, because she wasn’t; she often tagged along with Ronnie and her friends to Art or other bars and events, and she joined in with conversations and looked to most people like she was having a great time, but Ronnie could tell when she was uncomfortable. It had been that way the other week when Catherine had met them in Art. Carl and John were celebrating their engagement, and Ronnie had invited Catherine and another friend, Petra, to join them for a few drinks. It had been fun, but Catherine hadn’t really settled. Not until her head had been turned by the brunette across the bar.
“So, what’s the drama?” Ronnie said, smiling as she held the wide door open for her best friend. The smile dropped when she realised that Catherine had been crying.
Catherine shook her head, unable to hold off the tears any longer, and fell into Ronnie’s arms.
“Oh, hey come on, let’s get you inside, and a wee dram I think.” She guided Catherine into the familiar home and got her seated on the couch while she poured a couple of glasses of Scotch. “Here, get that down ya neck and tell me what’s happened?”
Catherine was reminded of the first night they had really talked, when she had opened up about her life at school, at the hands of bullies. She was always the butt of someone else’s jokes. Ronnie had been there; a boy from her village had caused her nothing but problems until she punched him square in the face. Catherine had initially been shocked, but then laughter bubbled up and broke free. From then on, they had a bond that went deeper than any friends with benefits relationship could ever have been.
Catherine downed the Scotch in one mouthful and then grimaced at the heat of it as it rushed down her throat, burning away the bile of frustration. “I ended things with Brooke,” she stated, wiping her face with a tissue.
Ronnie frowned. “The hot baby dyke that just yesterday you were smitten with?”
Catherine nodded. “Can I have another?” she asked, holding the empty glass up. Ronnie raised a brow. Catherine didn’t usually drink on a work night, but she stood up and brought the bottle over.
Refilling their glass
es, she asked, “So, why?”
Catherine sighed, her hand running through her hair in frustration. “Because,” she began, slipping her heels off and pulling her legs up under her on the couch, “she was interviewed today for a position at Pollards and I could find no reason to turn her down.”
Realisation hit Ronnie in an instance. “Oh…and of course you can’t possibly work with someone you’re fucking.” It wasn’t a question; she already knew the answer.
“I…you know what Penny did.” Catherine closed her eyes and tried not think back to that time.
“Yes, and I also know that Penny was a bitch and you should have dumped her long before she managed to—”
“Ruin my life? Yes, I know, and that’s why I can’t risk that again.” She picked up the glass and this time sipped at the drink, shaking her head. “You of all people know what I was like after that.”
Ronnie did indeed know what she was like after Penny and it wasn’t pretty, but she also knew that Catherine had a tendency to revert back into her teenage shell the moment anyone came close to climbing those walls she had built. “Well, you could…but you won’t, and that is a travesty, because you deserve to be happy, Cat. And yesterday, you were happy with her, and today you’re unhappy…without her. Doesn’t that say something?”
“I barely know her. It was a lot of fun, and this is for the best,” Catherine insisted, trying to convince herself. Ronnie wasn’t so sure. “Plus, let’s face it, she’s 26.”
Ronnie laughed. “And so what?”
“I’m 42, how long before that becomes an issue? When her friends find out and the jokes start?”
“Oh Catherine, you know at some point you’re going to have to just trust someone and grow a thicker skin. You’re going to walk away from someone, the first person in a long time that has seriously turned your head, because she’s younger than you?”
“And works at Pollards,” Catherine added, sipping her drink some more.
“Age isn’t an issue nowadays; all the kids are doing it.” She laughed and poured another drink.
The Meant to Be Collection Page 29
