Just As You Are

by Kate Mathieson

Right, I can do this.

  So I kept watching his office like a hawk, waiting for the perfect moment to descend. But Nick never came back from his meetings, and even though I was at my desk working until 8 p.m. I didn’t see any sign of him. On Tuesday, Nick was at an emergency ‘offsite’ executive meeting for some top-secret celebrity management (read crisis) intervention.

  On Wednesday, I was in at 7 a.m., but Nick’s door was already open, the light on, and he wasn’t inside. He’d beaten me to it. Either that, or he’d camped here overnight (not unheard of in PR). My stomach knotted. I knew we had to speak and soon. But when? How? And how could I do it without anyone else overhearing? This office was a perfect gossip mill; if anyone got a whiff of this it would be across the company in seconds.

  All morning, I kept one eye on Nick’s empty office, on alert for him to return, and one eye on my screen trying to get the hang of setting up a bunch of social media posts and hashtags for the Macabre PR campaign. I was so intent on talking to Nick, I even skipped lunch. So by 3 p.m., I had the most throbbing headache and I still didn’t have any catchy hashtags. Besides, what could I say about a macabre death night?

  #comeandgetkilled

  #bloodthirsty

  #murderisthenewblack

  An hour later, all I’d come up with was an inspirational anti-death slogan #livefortoday and that made me want to vomit motivational fairy dust. And I’d tried the serious factor and got #makeitcount #yourlifeyourchoice paired with #atleastwegetachoice. I disliked them all incredibly.

  I walked into the kitchen for a coffee and caught sight of Nick at the far end, getting himself a drink.

  I knew I’d made a promise to myself to have The Chat, but an open-plan kitchen– anyone could walk in and overhear us. There was a girl I’d never seen before over at the stack of magazines, and a guy coming in to grab an apple. If we talked while other people were around, then it would be gossip mill central. But then he looked up and spotted me, so I couldn’t just leave, could I?

  ‘Do you know how this works?’ Nick was pointing at the coffee machine.

  ‘Say coffee,’ I said quickly, about to make an excuse to leave.

  Nick looked at me strangely. ‘Okaaay,’ he said slowly. ‘Do you know how this coffee thing works?’

  I let out a loud snort-laugh and then flushed bright red. He thought I was telling him to use the right words. As if he were a child. But he wasn’t a child. Not under those clothes. He was a naked man I’d had a shower with – a very, very hot man … ahem, and now he was my boss. And he was looking at me very strangely.

  I licked my lips. ‘No, say the word “coffee” into that little speaker thing there.’ I pointed from way across the kitchen, keeping more than ten feet distance between us.

  ‘Right,’ he said, finally understanding, then he turned and said, ‘Coffee,’ into the microphone, and the machine rattled to life. Suddenly a whoosh of black coffee came out.

  ‘Did you want one?’ He looked over at me and I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just nodded.

  As he put my mug under the machine, I noticed everyone had cleared out of the kitchen. Perhaps this was the perfect time to smooth over what had happened between us in Fiji, because how could we stand here looking at each other and not mention it? But I had no idea what to say. What could you say? Who wanted to discuss in the lunch room that we’d seen each other’s bits? God! Not me! Not at all!

  He held up the coffee to me and I walked gingerly over towards the coffee machine, determined not to faint. Or say hello a thousand times. I will not do anything weird. I will take this coffee, I will have a mature chat and I will return to my desk, and all will be well.

  When I got to the coffee machine, I made the mistake of looking at Nick, right into his chocolate eyes. God, he was really gorgeous this close up. I remembered how it felt to lean against him. His smooth chest underneath this shirt. How it felt to kiss him. My mind was trying to tell me exactly what I should say, but my body wanted to tear off his clothes and touch him. Kiss him. Have a shower with him. Hot sex. HOT SEX WITH NICK.

  ‘So, Emma—’ Nick started to say.

  As I said, ‘Um, Nick, I think …’

  ‘Sorry, after you.’ He grinned, showing his perfect, straight teeth, and it felt like he was happy to see me. This was a good sign.

  ‘Yes, right … well, I just thought we should be mature, you know. And have a little chat.’ For some reason I’d put on a strange voice and was talking as if I were about to do a children’s book reading at the local library. I cleared my throat and tried again. ‘About, um … you know what. I just wanted to clear the air. And say …’ I paused. What did I want to say? ‘I had a good time the other night. Other week … or night. Whenever it was. In Fiji,’ I said quickly.

  I wasn’t sure what to say after that, but Nick was staring at me expectantly, and the corners of his mouth were twitching, as though he was about to smile. So, I just opened my mouth and let the first thing come out, which I hoped was going to be, ‘Let’s be mature about this and professional, and leave it in the past, and maybe we could get a drink some time.’

  I suddenly thought back to that night in Fiji. Us in the shower. Oh his bed. ‘I want you’. Oh, God. A shiver ran through me. Could he ever see me as professional after that?

  What happens when I get nervous, is I become unable to communicate, and say things without a filter, so it ended up as, ‘I’m sorry about saying I wanted you. You know. On your bed. That was uh … uh … not me.’

  A shadow appeared on Nick’s face, and I nervously kept talking. ‘I mean it was me. But not normally what I’d do. You know? I wouldn’t normally … I want you to see me as a professional, and … I mean I don’t want you. Just in case you think I’m standing here thinking that I want you. I’m not. Not at all. Far from it. Not even in the slightest.’ God, stop talking.

  I was interrupted by the loud ringing of Nick’s phone. He pulled it out of his pocket, and I glimpsed the name as he looked at the screen. Chloe calling.

  ‘Sorry, Emma, I need to take this.’ He walked away murmuring into the phone, as my face flushed a deep red of absolute shame. What timing!

  So much for having my mature chat, instead I’d just had the most explosive case of verbal diarrhoea in my life. But it wasn’t over yet, I still needed to tell him about Macabre, so instead of leaving him to his phone call, I busied myself with getting a water. And when he still hadn’t finished his chat, I sipped that water s-l-o-w-l-y, then refilled my glass.

  When Nick walked back over, he seemed different. Brisk. His eyes had darkened but the rest of his face remained completely unreadable. Who was Chloe and what had she said to him?

  ‘So, Emma,’ Nick started.

  ‘Yes?’ I said, wondering what he wanted to say to me about Fiji, or what I’d just garbled at him.

  ‘Can you have the seating chart to me soon?’

  The seating chart? Clearly, Nick wasn’t thinking about Fiji at all. Now I felt really silly.

  ‘Uh, sure,’ I said quickly, standing up straight.

  ‘Great. So, I think we’re good,’ he said completely professionally, handling this situation as I wished I had, rather than being all strange about it. Nick was cool, calm and collected and focused on work. As I should be. God, how embarrassing.

  I opened my mouth to say ‘one more thing …’ when suddenly the room filled with the strongest scent of opium and musk. It took all I had not to cough and choke. And that could only mean one person had entered – Sadie. Sadie had clearly smelt Nick out, as sharks could smell a drop of blood in a thousand miles of ocean. She was wearing a tight-fitting designer dress, and her hair was in a perfect blonde bob, as it always was, sprayed into place with a thousand cans of hairspray. I knew this because she left cans in the bathrooms to spray in-between meetings.

  Phil had told me to avoid her if I could, and I could see why: she had small eyes that darted everywhere and took everything in (sharky) and a very pointy long nose (sharky), and a way of
looking as if she wanted to devour any good-looking man (picky sharky). Once she’d caught me staring at her neck in a divisional meeting, because I was sure if I looked hard enough I’d find gills.

  Her tight white dress ended just above her knees, hugging every inch of her slim self. She was tall, and athletic, with well-defined legs and arms that no doubt she worked out every morning in the gym, before spraying an entire bottle of hairspray to keep her hair in that bob. Holding that hairspray can alone was enough to give her those biceps.

  She slid right past me, as if I didn’t exist, and put her hand out to Nick to introduce herself, literally saving me from the most awkward conversation, and it took every ounce of energy not to scream at her, THANK YOU SHARKY SADIE!

  Instead, I said quickly, ‘Oh, hello, Sadie,’ and then, ‘Have you met Nick?’ I felt like adding, he likes naked walks, and hot shower sex and then turning up in my office place.

  ‘This is Sadie, our Senior Manager of Sales and New Business.’ She likes hairspray, and tight clothes, and men, and more hairspray.

  ‘That’s executive, Emma,’ she said, staring straight at Nick.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘I’m an executive, not a manager.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Anyway, Nick.’ She directed all her attention towards him. ‘I’ve heard of you before, from the old Burleigh days? Five Star PR! Hilarious. Do you know Paul Clark? Matt Palmer. Josh Ng. Katerina Fowler?’

  They were both considerably taller than me, and I felt a bit like their child, craning my neck and looking up to see what the grown-ups were talking about.

  Sadie was tossing her hair around and had a gummy smile on her face that she only ever did in front of clients or men she liked.

  I felt strange about standing between them, so I excused myself in a tiny voice that neither of them heard, and slid away from the coffee corner, vowing to finish The Chat later.

  Even if it meant getting fired, I was going to tell Nick the truth.

  Chapter 13

  ‘OK, Emma.’ Nick was standing at the door to his office, with a smile on his face. ‘You wanted to chat?

  I looked at Nick and wondered how many more days I’d be working here, once he knew the truth. With a deep breath, I picked up the folder that Donna had given me on my first day and stepped inside his office.

  Nick closed the door behind me. ‘Take a seat.’ He motioned to the leather couch, where sitting for even a minute could make your thighs stick to it. I couldn’t imagine how grand and graceful I’d look if I got stuck to his couch and he had to pull me off.

  ‘I’d rather stand, thanks.’

  ‘OK, suit yourself,’ Nick said, looking at me as I teetered over his desk uncomfortably.

  But then, I realised it might be a long meeting and my feet were going to get achy in my heels, so I sat on the sticky couch anyway.

  ‘OK, so …’ he said with a smile as he sat behind the desk. His eyes looked kind, and for a second I had a feeling he was going to take this moment to try and clear the awkwardness between us after Coffeegate, or give me a pity ‘are you still thinking about me after Fiji?’ and that wasn’t something I wanted to revisit, so I thought it best to get the first word in.

  ‘I don’t have an event theme,’ I said quickly, leaning across the desk, handing the manila folder to him.

  ‘What do you mean?’ He flicked through the folder, and then came to a page that made him stop. ‘This says death.’ He raised his eyebrows and pointed to a pencil marking on the front of the file, as though I’d given him the wrong file.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ I nodded. Here it comes. Here it comes.

  ‘This is your event?’ he asked, his face suddenly serious and white.

  ‘This is my event.’ I was nodding blankly, and just repeating everything he was saying, because I knew what was coming.

  ‘What is this?’ Nick said, bewildered. He looked at me as though I had suddenly grown two heads and, even with two brains, I still couldn’t understand what was going on. ‘This is going to be a PR nightmare. You put one word out there, in this current newscape, one word that says you’re mixing death with orphanages, and we’ll be ruined.’

  Finally, someone else who agreed with me. I smiled out of sheer relief, but he thought I was smiling at the theme, because his entire face went white. ‘Emma, what were you thinking?’

  What was I thinking? He thought I came up with this horrible event? His words stung a little. Was that what he thought of me? For a second, I didn’t know what to say. But I couldn’t let him see that I wasn’t professional, especially after Coffeegate. I had to be ultra professional.

  Instead I took a deep breath, gathered myself, and refound my words. ‘Hang on a minute. I didn’t come up with this idea. I’m not simple.’ I shook my head. ‘This was Donna’s idea. And I just walked in and was handed this … this mess!’

  ‘Donna’s idea?’

  ‘Yes, your predecessor, the person who hired me,’ I confirmed.

  ‘You didn’t come up with this?’ He looked genuinely surprised.

  ‘Give me some credit. I may not be a PR bigwig, but I can tell when an idea is a bad one. And yes, this is a car wreck. But when I brought up the idea that mixing death with an orphanage was insane, I was told, by Donna, to make it work. Apparently, Maker is so edgy that this is us pushing the boundaries.’

  ‘Of insanity,’ Nick said, shaking his head and looking strained.

  ‘Agree,’ I said. ‘But we have to make it work.’

  Nick had tensed up and was massaging his temples as if he had a throbbing headache. ‘Hmmm,’ was all he was saying. ‘Why would Donna … and Glenn …? Death … How do we …?’

  ‘You see the turmoil I’ve been in? Trying to think of a creative way to approach this that might actually work.’ I shrugged. ‘And nothing. Nada. Niente.’

  ‘But didn’t you say you had this in hand, Emma?’

  The way he said my name made me feel extra guilty. He was right, I had said that. ‘Ahhh, I, ummm. I’m really sorry about that. I really am. I thought I had something. But if it counts for anything, everything else is on track. The invites. The guests. The press releases. The social media. It’s just the theme that’s missing.’

  Nick put his hands firmly on the desk as if preparing himself for what he was about to say. ‘Well, we are going to have to come up with something. Brainstorm. Get creative. Anything. We need to figure this out.’

  ‘We?’ I asked tentatively.

  ‘Yes, Emma, I’m not going to leave you to do this on your own.’

  ‘Oh, thank God,’ I said, a wave of relief washing over me that I wasn’t in this by myself. But the relief quickly turned to worry. Wait, spending time with Nick? The two of us, alone? I felt a deep unease settle in my stomach. What could be worse than us being in confined spaces, and me trying to come up with ideas that were probably going to sound terrible, given I didn’t actually have any experience in events or PR? God, why had I got myself into this mess?

  Would it get awkward? Or tense? Would I be able to look at him without thinking about our shower? I must have looked worried, because Nick pointed out, ‘It’s probably easier to do it together, rather than coming at it alone.’

  ‘Just like life,’ I said without thinking.

  Nick gave me a strange look. ‘Sure, OK.’

  ‘Not that I’m alone.’ I gave a little laugh, and then felt as if I needed to explain a little more, otherwise Nick might think I was sad and alone and thinking about Fiji every night. ‘It’s just some people are. I’m not … alone, that is. Actually, I’m dating.’

  What was I saying? Oh, my Lord.

  ‘Well, that’s, um …’ Nick looked at a loss for words ‘… nice.’

  I kept nodding. ‘Yes, it’s very nice.’

  I squinted at Nick, trying to figure out what he was thinking. He seemed to be fine, and taking everything in his stride. As if nothing bothered him. He didn’t seem to mind that just a few weeks ago we’d been swimming naked together. He�
�d built us a fire. We’d kissed each other’s slippery skin in the shower. How did you go from having great sex with someone, and then just turn up and be cool, calm and collected and work with them?

  What an unnecessary distraction, I thought. And how annoying that he was even here in the first place. If only the sex had been bad. Or his eyes didn’t do that thing to me – make me act all strange and nervous and just babble like a bit of an idiot. It wasn’t like I liked him or anything; I hardly knew him

  ‘We need to start right now. Clear your diary and meet me in the breakout area.’

  I nodded. Great. Just great, I thought glumly. Me and Nick alone in a room. What could go wrong?

  Chapter 14

  For the next two hours Nick and I brainstormed ideas and came up with absolutely nothing. At 1.30 p.m., he said he needed a break and then came back with a packet of chocolate biscuits in his hand.

  ‘Here you go. Snacks.’ He leaned across offering me one. ‘Found them in the kitchen and thought they were better than apples.’

  ‘Chocolate at Maker? They’re probably a hundred years old.’ I started to check the use-by label, but I could see it was a peace offering for our tense chat before, so I grabbed a Tim Tam and popped it in my mouth.

  ‘What about an evil versus good battle?’ he said, talking aloud. ‘We could have macabre evil side, black and death, and then a saving the world, with light. Light. Light,’ he mused. ‘Maybe even lightsabers. Maybe Star Wars.’

  ‘You want a Star Wars theme?’ I said incredulously. ‘That’s a bit geeky, isn’t it?’

  ‘Totally geeky.’ He grinned like Fiji Nick, and for the first time the tension around us seemed to relax. ‘I thought I was out of the nerd closet, but appears I hide it well.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you like Star Trek too? And playing computer games?’ I said, slightly teasing, forgetting I was being Professional Emma.

  ‘Not a Trekkie.’ He shook his head. ‘Definitely not. But I played a lot of Nintendo when I was younger, and Game Boy.’

  ‘Oh, Game Boy! I was obsessed with Tetris.’ I laughed. ‘I used to play under my blanket at night, trying to hide it from my mum. I think I existed on three hours’ sleep for the entirety of year two.’