by Sorell Oates
Her parents weren’t rich. Holidays were infrequent growing up and generally involved visiting relatives to save accommodation costs. Supporting Katy’s dream to be a journalist, they encouraged her to focus on her studies to give her a strong platform to qualify for training as a reporter. Assisting her financially at college on their low bracket incomes, even at twenty-three they continued providing her free board.
They’d bought her up to be independent, understand the value of money and manage finances within the realms of necessities, savings and ensuring a humble disposable income was available to provide essential cheap treats to get through the tough times. They were proud of her. She was proud of them. Had it not been for Oscar’s reaction and appreciation of what her upbringing bestowed on her, she may not have felt such a heel.
Katy knew she should be proud of who she was, how she was raised and what she’d achieved. The pretense that being a high earner made her important, left her cold and empty. Katy knew keeping up with the lies didn’t make her an attractive prospect. It made her a despicable person for placing value on materialistic elements that promised no permanency.
The only high earner to warm and complete her was Oscar. She loved him and knew he loved her. He’d been caught in the crossfire of her profession. Her conduct didn’t reflect the person she was. Explaining the conundrum and misunderstanding to Oscar didn’t inspire confidence in her. Katy hadn’t anticipated where this relationship would go. Looking for love hadn’t been on her agenda. If Oscar was totally honest with himself he’d admit the same.
Prioritizing her career over Oscar at the beginning of the relationship had resulted in errors of judgment on Katy’s part. Even now she couldn’t ignore the discussion on Exclusive Love and Imogen’s revelations. Fate had bought the scoop to her. It was juicy, it was interesting, it was engaging, it was her big break. Her life had turned upside down. Love was rewarding, satisfying, inspiring, and the one part of her life that had been lacking.
Being a top journalist and nabbing an article in the Saturday supplement in the hope a national would pick it up was insignificant when measured against her feelings for Oscar. Decisions had to be made, of this she was sure. Whatever she chose to do, none would guarantee a relationship with Oscar.
Chapter Nineteen
Bellowing her name, demanding her presence in his office, Katy wished she’d gone straight to court to avoid John for as long as possible.
Entering the dusty cluttered space, shifting a stack of newspapers from a chair in order to sit, he was jolly and jokey. Anticipating the question, when asked the words hung in the air as if to embolden what was riding on her answer.
‘What have you gleaned from Exclusive Love.com over the course of the weekend?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What?’
‘I didn’t get anything. It was a waste of time, but at least your credit card wasn’t used.’
Feebly attempting to laugh to demonstrate her own frustration of the results had no effect on John.
‘It’s a shame he won’t pick up on the bill for your wardrobe expenses.’
‘Given his generosity I would’ve been taking liberties asking. The clothes were a negligible amount. I spent shrewdly.’
‘I wasn’t aware you were familiar enough with the company finances to be in a position to declare what sums are negligible to our paper’s accounts.’
‘John, I’m as bummed out about this as you are.’
‘Katy you’re a journalist. You must have something for me.’
‘Honestly, I don’t have a snippet.’
‘He’s a millionaire.’
‘Billionaire actually,’ she corrected.
‘He can buy anything.’
‘I know but he’s an ordinary guy with lots of money.’
‘What did you do over the weekend?’
‘We arrived Friday evening, watched a film and had take-out. He took me to a water-sports park on Saturday to jet ski and go on a banana boat. We went to a barbeque Saturday night. Sunday he made brunch and I sunbathed. Later, we had dinner with his friends on a yacht, which involved Moroccan food, red wine and inane conversation. Yesterday morning, we had brunch with the same set of friends, then drove home. That was it. End of.’
‘Did you wear any of your designer wardrobe?’
‘Of course I did. It may have been bland in terms of content but I had to fit in and dress in accordance with the people I was mingling with. Surely you can see there’s nothing newsworthy I can eke out.’
‘You’re right. There’s nothing in it. Remind me of my exact words?’ he asked slowly.
‘What?’
‘If you blow it and I’ve lost money then you’ve—’
The sentence jogged Katy’s memory to the afternoon she’d pitched the story to John in this very office.
‘Lost my job.’
‘The terms were simple and clear.’
‘John let’s talk when you’ve simmered down. I’ll get out to courts. Let’s pick up this later.’
‘Katy. I’m sure you had a wonderful weekend, lording it over the masses, but your back in Stony Point now. You’re a junior reporter. I’m the editor. You don’t dictate how my office runs and you do not decide and direct my schedule for the day. I call the shots here.’
His piggish face was sweating like a roasting tomato and the vein in his neck was throbbing. Defusing the situation seemed sensible given John’s questionable health.
‘John, that’s not fair. That wasn’t what I was doing and you know it. Everyone’s been through this with you. Even you know what you’re like. I understand you’re angry, but you’ll bounce back. Once you’re in that frame of mind, you’ll be more receptive to ideas and suggestions.’
‘Give me one single idea on how you plan to rescue this.’
The conversation was pointless. Reverting to John’s initial advice could prove an effective pacifier in the awkward situation.
‘We’ll follow your advice. Things didn’t pan out with this guy. I’ve not been in touch with anyone else online. Pass my Exclusive Love profile to Shauna. Let her take over,’ she suggested off-handedly.
‘In this unbearable irrational state I’m in, indulge me. How tall are you, Katy?’ he sneered.
‘Five foot seven.’
‘And dress size?’
‘Six.’
‘How tall is Shauna?’
‘I don’t know. Five foot two?’
‘Stab in the dark. What dress size?’
‘Ten’
‘That’s the wardrobe issue resolved then.’
‘Point taken, John,‘ said Katy sedately.
Exercising enormous self restraint by not slamming the door to his office, she stormed out. No sooner was she at her desk than her phone rang. Like a dog with a bone, familiar with his tendencies she knew it would be John to drive home the point.
‘Turn on your computer and login to the website.’
‘John, if it’s that much of an issue, set a payment plan to deduct the money from my wages. I’ll repay petty cash.’
‘Katy. You’re testing my patience. First you come into my office to dictate how we’ll proceed and when I bawl you out, you flounce out of my office. As for your phone manners...’
‘To be honest, you’re testing my patience John,’ she snapped. ‘I didn’t dictate, I made a suggestion which under normal circumstances, you’d see was sensible. As for my phone manner, I knew it was you. You didn’t introduce yourself formally, your internal number flashed up confirming it was you. You’ll forgive me for completely disregarding the disciplinary warning on my phone manner. I’m as disappointed and frustrated as you. Dragging this out, nagging and harping at me won’t change the fact that I have nothing for you.’
‘Are you logged on?’ his voice was too smooth.
‘Yes,’ she said wishing she’d deleted her profile as Oscar had. She chose not to because she wanted one escape route for work. Katy didn’t completely trust her relationship with
Oscar. It was too sudden, too serious. Unable to separate work and business, her profile remained active.
‘How many messages are in your in-box?’
‘Fourteen.’
‘That’s fourteen millionaires that associate Katherine Morgan as being five foot ten with a size 6 figure. Were Shauna to take over the profile, I can’t help but wonder if they’d be disappointed or report to the website administrator that Katherine Morgan had gained two stone and lost four or five inches in height.’
‘Okay. Shauna is impractical. You were right and I was wrong, but John we have to know when to call it quits,’ protested Katy desperate to lose the job.
‘How much does your job mean to you Katy?’
‘Bullying tactics won’t work. I’m hard working. I deliver. I’m dedicated. I’m excellent at what I do.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re prepared to walk away from this without considering what opportunities might exist. You’re genuinely prepared to throw in the towel. Throw in your job over a wasted weekend. Your on the spot improvised alternate was my suggestion. Nowhere in that scenario do I see a sign of the hungry journalist you were on Friday when you left here.
‘I can date these guys,’ she blurted.
‘What?’
‘Date them. Arrange to meet and interview them. I can see if there’s a way into this Exclusive Love set up by speed-dating the fourteen guys over the remaining week. More accurately it’ll be slow dating. Hitting as many of these British millionaires as I can in as short as time as possible, I might land a lead. That is if there actually is anything to this website and there might not be. If there is though, that’ll be the way for me to do it.’
‘That sounds like my Katy,’ said John reverting to his successful, pompous self.
Chapter Twenty
Grateful for modern technology, the abundance of free time of British millionaires had and their eagerness to accept and travel for a date at short notice, by lunchtime Katy’s week was booked out. Likely to own private helicopters, journeying to Stony Point hadn’t proved problematic when organizing her diary.
She was meeting two men tonight, both named James. To avoid confusion or botched interviews or in the worst case being exposed to Imogen as a reporter, Katy cut corners where possible. After experiencing a hellish day, mixing up names on tonight’s impromptu dates would not boost her already wavering confidence in accomplishing the mission that lay ahead this week.
For Wednesday, Thursday and Friday in between court and writing up articles she would have a breakfast date, lunch date, after work date at 6pm, followed by a dinner date at 8.30pm. Arranging the schedule, she hadn’t fully realized the enormity of the task and demands on her time. John’s return to form and dismissal of Katy’s proposal to reimburse the designer wardrobe, alleviated her stress considerably.
Realizing her covert interviewing and dating British millionaires would rob her of any spare time was a huge blow. When she most needed support, she wouldn’t see Oscar till Saturday at the earliest. Depleted, depressed and desperately missing him, Katy rang rather than respond in kind to his good morning text.
‘Hello, Katherine.’
‘Why are you calling me Katherine?’
‘Because it makes you cross.’
‘Why do you want to make me cross?’
‘Because you’re sexy when you’re cross.’
‘If that’s actually true, had you witnessed the exchange between me and my boss this morning, for you it would have been the equivalent of seeing me in a gentleman’s club performing a complete, full frontal strip.’
‘You’ve given me a very exciting mental image there. I’m eating a sandwich here so would be content to sit with it as I munch. Knowing that description was a metaphor and it relates to what I suspect is an awful morning you’ve had, I can’t pander to the fantasy. Basically my heart is demanding I prioritize nurturing and supporting you rather than attempting to get you to engage in phone sex.’
‘Don’t rule the phone sex out.’
‘I knew I could cheer you up!’
‘Not now. My work schedule for the remainder of the week has me working from 7am till whatever time I finish which at the earliest is 11pm. I won’t be able to see you till Saturday. Phone sex might be all we have.’
‘Oh.’
‘Wishing you hadn’t canceled you Exclusive Love subscription.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ he said tenderly, refusing to make light of the situation. ‘Sounds mad but watching you walk off teary-eyed into your house last night was tough. To not be able to hold you during the night was torturous. I had it in my head you’d feel the same and we’d be back together this evening.’
‘For what it’s worth I do feel the same. I want that, too.’
‘Let’s move in together for the week. Even if I don’t see you, just to be able to cuddle you while you sleep would be nice. What do you say?’
Her hesitation irritated Oscar.
‘Come on, it’ll be fun. Plus I’ve not been to your pad. We can christen the bed. It’d be nice for me to have a separate dining area and lounge room to my bedroom. I get vulnerable, too. I need a little security myself at the moment. Shall we?’ he pleaded.
Oscar shook his head acting the out the answer he knew would come from Katy’s mouth.
‘I can’t. I have to stay at my Mum and Dad’s for the week. It’s where the work is.’
Nothing she said was untrue, but everything she said was veiled. It was a burden she no longer wanted. Oscar’s tone was frosty.
‘Who’d have thought Stony Point would be a journalistic hub? It’s awfully convenient your folks are out that way, as is the story you’re researching. Is this demanding piece one I’ll see on TV with you reporting ‘live and on location’? That’d be nice. To see you on TV. It would make me feel close to you. Which channel do you work for? What do I tune in to, to see Katy Morgan?’
‘I never said I was an anchor. If you want the truth, the job is an undercover investigative exposé. One I know won’t come to fruition.’
A flash of self hatred jolted through Oscar. She wasn’t lying. He wasn’t being supportive. Similar to his behavior on the yacht, rather than listen and understand her side of the argument he reacted impulsively when his feelings were hurt.
‘I’m so sorry, Katy.’
‘Oscar it’s only till Friday night. If you can hang on till then, I swear I will literally be all yours. This is my job. This was my dream as a child. This was going to be my big break. Now it’s fallen through.’
‘Don’t let my immaturity make you defeatist, Katy. Of course I can wait. I was disappointed. At least I know why you’re so clandestine about work. Yet another secret of my Katy solved. I like the idea of spending the rest of my life discovering you.’
His acceptance of every revelation she’d kept from him with warmth and love hurt her unimaginably. Would there come a point where he’d see her as having taken advantage of his good nature?
‘I need to go, Oscar. It hurts too much. You always assume cruelty or tragedy are the main things in life that hurt, but the simple, sweet, sincerity behind what you say is heart breaking. Even when it’s right, love’s wrong.’
She hung up without saying goodbye. Oscar had no idea what head-space Katy was in but it was as if she was retreating from him the more he got to know her. Oscar called back.
‘Hey, you okay?’ she asked.
The worry in her voice was apparent.
‘Yes. It’s only I wanted to reassure you everything will be okay between us. While you work I shall spend my free time planning for your imminent return. I’ll make sure we have a special but stress-free weekend. I can pick you up on Friday night from your folks’ place. We’ll go back to yours for a pizza and black and white movie.’
‘Sounds great. We can confirm it later in the week when I’m feeling less suicidal.’
The forced laugh as she cut him off was to assure him the comment, though despondent, was a sick throwaway rema
rk. He hated himself for pushing the issue. It was a test she could probably do without given the stress she was under. He couldn’t understand himself. That was perhaps Oscar’s biggest frustration. Nauseous at the state he’d abandoned Katy in, he was fully aware of the repercussions of him calling back with that proposition.
Oscar knew his intentional underhanded bullying tactics so cleverly masked by him being a caring boyfriend offering to settle comfortably at Katy’s place on Friday after work, would make her miserable as she continued to keep her residence mysterious. Whatever her reasons, the fact of the matter was, Katy remained non-committal to inviting Oscar to her flat—there had to be a reason why.
Chapter Twenty
Her alarm sounding at an unimaginably early hour on Thursday morning, Katy dragged herself out of bed to prepare for her breakfast date. The entire week had been a joke. Oscar was unreachable via cell phone or land-line at the Four Seasons. He texted twice a day, wishing her a good morning with a single kiss and following it up twelve hours later with a goodnight and a single kiss. His emails were as detached and as brief as his texts. Claiming to be snowed under at work, Oscar apparently had no time to reply properly, making no reference to the proposed weekend plans.
Full of drab banal cases, Katy couldn’t find anything newsworthy in a credible sense or of relevance in respect to town gossip from the court to produce any articles for the paper. Her lack of productivity didn’t go unnoticed. Deciding effective management was demanding all notes taken at court and interview records from the non-stop flow of dates with British millionaires be presented daily to John, was making work a trial in itself for Katy.
Tuesday evening—James, Tuesday night—James, Wednesday morning—Rufus, Wednesday lunch—Stewart, Wednesday evening—Owen, Wednesday night—Geoffrey. Their names were as varied as their personalities, heights, weight, hair and eye colors. The only thing shared was a subscription to Exclusive Love and an enormous bank balance. Some were looking for love, some wanted an American girlfriend when in port, some wanted a girlfriend for appearance’s sake, and some were keen to bed their way through the website’s entire female database.
