by Tara Bond
My eyes travelled to the picture on his desk. It was of him embracing a tall, beautiful young man, who looked like a male model.
He followed my eye line, and grimaced. “My ex. Broke my heart six months ago, but I can’t bear to take that picture down. He just looks too yummy in it.”
Helena rolled her eyes. “After what he did to you, I’d be using that thing for target practice.”
“Really?” Rex arched an eyebrow. “For someone who hasn’t been on a date in over a year, I’m surprised you feel able to hand out love-life advice.”
“I told you before, I’m too busy for a man in my life right now.”
“Maybe that’s why you’re such a bitch all the time.”
Helena glared at him, and then gave up and shrugged. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Rex turned to me. “So, as you can see, this is us. A workaholic career woman and a camp-as-Christmas gay man. And your first task can be getting Helena here laid.”
She elbowed him in his ample stomach, and they grinned at each other before looking over at me. I just stared back, refusing to crack a smile. This affectionate teasing between them was clearly their “bit,” and I got that I was supposed to laugh, but I refused to join in. I wanted to make it clear to everyone that I was here under sufferance.
Richard cleared his throat, to remind us he was there. When I looked over, his eyes were on me. “You’ll be in good hands with these guys. And any problems, just let Jean know and she’ll find a slot in my diary for you to come up.”
With that, he disappeared. Once he was gone, Helena sat down, while Rex perched on his desk. Their focus was on me.
“So what are you hoping to get out of this placement?” Helena said.
I thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “To learn how to make good coffee.”
Rex laughed a little at this, and Helena gave a brief, tight smile. I got the feeling a sense of humour was in short supply for her.
“No—seriously,” she said. “What part of advertising interests you?”
“Well . . . none of it, really.” I decided it was best to be honest. They were probably used to keen bean graduates, who were looking to impress them. Hopefully if they saw how little interest I had, they might tell Richard they didn’t want me working with them. “Richard’s an old family friend. He wants me to work here for three months. So here I am.”
There was silence. Helena and Rex exchanged looks, as though they were trying to work out how serious I was.
“Well, all right.” It was Helena who spoke again, and I got the feeling she generally took the lead. “I’m guessing you don’t know too much about advertising, then. So perhaps it’d be best if I explain a little about our role in the business. As you know, we’re the creative team, and our job is basically about story-telling—”
It was obvious she still wasn’t getting it, so I cut her off. “Look, honestly, you don’t have to go into all this. Just let me make coffee, or do some filing or whatever.”
There was another silence. I could see the genuine disbelief on both Helena and Rex’s faces. Helena studied me for a moment, and then her eyes narrowed.
“Fine.” Her voice was clipped, and I could tell she’d finally got it. “If that’s what you want, then I guess you can get us some coffee.” Rex looked like he wanted to say something more, but she silenced him with a look. “Kitchen’s down the corridor, fourth door on the right. I take my coffee black, no sugar. Rex is a tea drinker—Earl Grey in the morning, but after midday he won’t go near caffeine, so he switches to jasmine.”
She turned to Rex, and resumed whatever conversation they’d been having before I walked in the room. I was clearly dismissed.
I sloped off to the kitchen, and spent some time making their drinks. I wasn’t in any rush to get back—after all, it wasn’t like I was trying to impress them with the speed of my tea- and coffee-making abilities.
Ten minutes later, I set the drinks on their desks, and then stood awkwardly, waiting for instructions. This was what I hated most about starting new jobs—not knowing what I was doing or how the company worked. I felt a bit like a spare part.
“So is there anything else you want me to do?” I said.
I was hoping they’d say no, and that I could spend the day on the Internet or texting my friends. But Helena clearly had other ideas.
“I’ve got something you can help with,” she said. “We’ve been asked to pitch ideas for a new celebrity perfume. It’s for Willow Wynter.” I tried not to roll my eyes as Helena named the latest manufactured pop princess. She had a pile of magazines on her desk, and now she nodded at them. “I want an idea of what’s out there already. So go through these and pick out anything you think might be relevant.”
I picked up the prototype of the perfume bottle—a pale pink plastic container, shaped like a mini version of the singer, with WW in raised silver lettering on the base. “I never get what drives celebrities to launch these perfumes. Why don’t they just stick to their music instead? It’s not like she couldn’t use the practise.”
Helena didn’t crack so much as a smile. “It’s not up to us to judge. Whatever we may think of the product, our job is just to come up with the best way to sell it.”
With that she resumed talking to Rex. I was officially dismissed. So I picked up a handful of the magazines and headed outside to my desk to get started.
The day dragged by. There was a lot of laughter and debate coming from the office, but I wasn’t involved. I sat outside at my little desk, like a mistress at a funeral. Everyone else seemed to be rushing round, busy and important. I couldn’t help feeling isolated and alone.
At five on the dot, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I poked my head into the office to ask if there was anything else I needed to do before I left.
Helena glanced up from some sketches she was working on. “Have you finished going through those magazines?”
“About half of them. I thought I’d do the rest tomorrow.”
Rex looked up. “Actually, Charlotte—”
“It’s Charlie.”
I could see him take a breath, trying to be patient with me.
“Actually, Charlie, it would be good if you—”
“Did it first thing,” Helena broke in. It seemed like Rex was going to say something more, but a look from her silenced him. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
* * *
I stood crushed between commuters on the Tube home, feeling fed up. The first day had been as bad as I’d anticipated, and I wanted someone to complain to. I knew it was Lindsay’s night off, and I wondered if she’d be up for doing something. I missed my friend, and I suddenly longed for everything to go back to normal between us. While I still thought she was wrong for not supporting me, I wondered if it was time to forgive her. I just hoped she’d be at the flat when I got back.
I hurried home from the station, spurred on by the thought of making up with my friend. As I opened the front door, I was greeted with the sound of running water coming from the kitchen—a sure sign that Lindsay was home. My cheeks lifted into a smile, as I dropped my bag and jacket on the hallway floor.
“Hey, Linds!” I called out, as I made my way towards the sound. “What do you think about heading out later—”
The words died on my lips as I walked into the kitchen and saw a big, hulking figure standing in front of the sink. My heart sank as I realised my mistake. It wasn’t Lindsay I’d heard—it was Adrian.
He switched off the tap, and turned towards me. “Hi, Charlie.” He smiled shyly at me. That was the funny thing about Adrian—his looks were completely at odds with his personality. He was about six foot six, solidly built, and sported a shaved head—courtesy of premature balding. The whole effect made him look like some kind of neo-Nazi skinhead, when in actual fact I’d have to grudgingly admit he was probably one of the nicest guys I’d met. He was the archetypal gentle giant.
“How are you?” he asked tentatively, wring
ing the dishcloth between his hands.
“What’re you doing here?” I demanded, ignoring his polite question.
He blinked, looking a little taken aback by the abruptness of my tone. “I . . . uh . . . came over to cook dinner for Lindsay. I thought it might cheer her up . . .”
It was then I noticed that the worktops were covered with the makings of a romantic night in. On the counters were ingredients for a pasta dish: a packet of fusilli and a jar of tomato-and-garlic sauce—nothing fancy, but still . . . it was more cooking than either Lindsay or I ever did. My eyes lingered over a plate of grated cheese and a bottle of red wine. Adrian had obviously thought of everything. I felt a stab of irritation and something else—a feeling akin to envy mixed with wistfulness.
I swallowed hard, and focused back on the present. “Cheer her up?” I seized on what he’d said. “Why does Lindsay need cheering up?”
“Well, uh . . .”
“Because I didn’t get that job I went for.”
We both looked over to see Lindsay standing in the doorway. She regarded me with cool eyes, and I drew back a little. Maybe I’d been willing to forgive and forget, but it seemed she was still annoyed.
“So how did your day go?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Not great.”
She snorted. “Well, that’s hardly surprising.”
I guessed that she meant it wasn’t surprising given the fact I’d gone in with such a poor attitude. I was going to retaliate, but Adrian cleared his throat, so we both looked over at him.
“I was just about to start cooking.” He was addressing his comments to me. “There’s loads of food, if you’d like to join us.”
I could tell Adrian’s offer was genuine, and I had to commend him for playing the peacemaker. My gaze moved to Lindsay. She stared back at me, challenging me to swallow my pride and join them. Maybe I would have, but then my eyes alighted on something else resting on the kitchen counter—a bunch of flowers, which Adrian had obviously brought round for my friend. Suddenly I realised just how much I didn’t belong here. This was going to be an evening of cosy conversations and sweet domesticity. I wanted to get wasted and laid.
“Thanks for the offer,” I said to Adrian. “But I think I’ll skip it.” I looked meaningfully at Lindsay. “I’m going to head over to the Nick.”
“Of course you are.” I flashed her a glare, and headed out of the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.
It didn’t take me long to get ready. All I needed to do was quickly brush my teeth and touch up my make-up. There was no need to change, as the outfit I’d worn to the office was outrageous enough for a night at the Nick. I might not be working at the bar anymore, but that wasn’t going to stop me hanging out in the place. As I stood in the hallway, slipping on my jacket, I heard Lindsay and Adrian laughing together in the kitchen. I felt a flash of loneliness and regret, but I pushed it aside, and pulled open the door to head back out.
The usual crowd was at the Nick that night. As soon as I walked in I spotted Gavin. I headed over to where he was sitting, and slid into a seat next to him.
He did a theatrical double-take when he saw me. “I didn’t expect to catch you here, girl. I heard you’d gone all corporate on us.”
“Yeah, well. That’s during the day. I can do what I like at night.” To prove my point, I grabbed the shot glass in front of Gavin, and downed the tequila.
He nodded approvingly. “That’s my girl.”
I felt a surge of power. I was so fed up with everyone criticising me—this was my way of flipping them all off. Richard might think he could control my life, but I was going to show him otherwise.
I pushed my glass forwards. “Line up another shot,” I said. “Let’s start the night as we mean to go on.”
Chapter 8
I got into work the next morning just after nine. I’d stayed out until nearly three, and I was feeling pretty hung-over. Once I’d settled at my desk, I looked for the magazines that I’d been going through yesterday. Someone had removed them. I wondered if it was the cleaners. Assuming that Helena and Rex would know, I went through to the office. They were already hard at work, and looked like they’d been there for hours.
“Morning, my lovely!” Rex sang out when he saw me, while Helena didn’t even look up as she clipped out a greeting.
“I was just looking for those magazines you had me go through yesterday. I thought I’d finish finding the perfume ads.”
“No need. I’ve already done it.” Helena still didn’t look up as she spoke.
I frowned. “What?” I glanced over at Rex, who gave me a sheepish smile. “Why didn’t you wait for me to do it today?”
“Because we needed it done yesterday, so we could start brainstorming ideas for the advert.” Helena glanced up at me then and frowned. “God, what happened to you last night?” Before I could answer, she held up a hand. “On second thought, don’t tell me. Look, I think you made it clear yesterday that you see this as a job rather than a career. That’s fine. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to. There’s no point. It’s a shame that you aren’t interested in advertising, as there are a lot of people out there who’d have loved to have this opportunity. But obviously you’re not one of them, am I right?”
Helena had got the measure of me very quickly, which was what I’d wanted. But somehow when she put it that baldly, it didn’t make me sound so good. All I could do was nod.
“Fine,” she said brusquely. “Now, between the hours of nine and five we will give you work to do, and I expect you to do it to the best of your ability, because that’s what you’re paid for. After that, you’re free to do whatever you want.” She paused to let this sink in a moment, and then said, “Do we understand each other?”
I nodded again.
“Excellent. Then your first task of the day is to go down to the canteen and get us both breakfast. Neither of us has had time to eat yet, and we’re starving.”
She reached into her handbag to get some money, as I dutifully took down their food orders. As I went down to the canteen, I realised this was the exact treatment I’d asked for. So why then did I have a strange nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach?
* * *
The rest of the week continued pretty much like that. I came in at nine on the dot, took an hour for lunch and left at five, and during that time I did exactly what was asked of me, but no more. Then as soon as the workday ended, I headed out to meet friends. I turned up at the office bleary-eyed and with a hangover each day, which I was sure the astute Helena knew. In short, I got through the week with doing the bare minimum, while not completely acting out.
The following Monday afternoon, I got a call from Richard’s PA, Jean, saying that he wanted to see me in his office. It was hard to keep the smile off my face as I went up to see him. This was it—after a week of working with the sullen, lethargic me, I was sure Helena and Rex had told Richard that they wanted me gone.
Richard was on the phone again when I got to his office. He indicated for me to take a seat, while he finished his call.
Finally, he turned his attention to me. “So, Charlotte.” He sat back in his chair. “How are things going so far?”
It wasn’t quite the opening I’d been expecting. I thought he’d tell me straight off that he wanted me out. Well, if he wanted to take his time, then I was happy to play along . . . I assumed a bored face, and studied my nails. “All right, I suppose. Why? Has someone complained?”
“Why?” he fired back. “Have you given them something to complain about?”
I shrugged. “I suppose you could say that I’m probably not the most enthusiastic employee Helena and Rex have ever had. So I assumed they’d probably told you that, and you’d called me up here to say that you’d finally come to your senses, and realised what a stupid idea your little experiment is—”
“Oh, no,” he cut in. “As I said before, you’re not going to get out of it that easily.” He planted his forearms on th
e desk, and leaned forwards, so I could see how serious he was. “But I have to confess that I am a little disappointed that you haven’t been making more of an effort. I had hoped that once you’d started working with Helena and Rex you’d find what they did interesting.”
“And I’d hoped that you’d have decided by now that it was a waste of everyone’s time having me work here. So I guess we’re both coming away from this meeting feeling disappointed.” I made to stand up. “Now if that’s all, I should get going. I’m sure someone somewhere needs coffee fetched—”
“Not so fast,” he cut me off again. I flopped back down in the chair. “There’s one more thing before you go.” He opened the top drawer of his desk, pulled out a business card and handed it to me. There was a name and address of a Dr. Margaret Milton printed in black type.
“Who the hell’s this?”
“Dr. Milton is a highly recommended psychologist. I’ve made an appointment for you to meet with her this evening at six thirty.”
I groaned. “Are you serious? I thought you were joking about that!”
“Well, I wasn’t. It’s all part of our deal. And you should count yourself lucky. She’s very good at what she does, and usually impossible to get an appointment with. It was just fortunate that she had a cancellation.”
“Lucky me,” I muttered.
I glared at the business card in my hand, as though it might disappear if I scowled at it hard enough. I hated that Richard had control over me like this. I wanted to pay him back, but at the moment he seemed to hold all the cards. Then an idea occurred to me. If he wanted to play games, then I was happy to oblige.
He was undoubtedly waiting for me to storm out of his office in a huff. Instead, I forced my body to relax. Pushing a lock of hair behind my ear, I looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes.
“You know,” I drawled softly, making my voice deliberately throaty, “I’ve never seen much point in therapy.”
Richard’s eyes narrowed, clearly catching the change in my tone. “Oh?”
