by Helly Acton
‘Please. We were on a work trip and decided to see some sights while we had the chance. You’re making something out of nothing.’
‘If you say so,’ Sasha coos. ‘But if you ask me, you two seem very close. You might want to be careful about the vibe you’re throwing out. Weekend trips, little private messages, tea for two. People will start to talk.’
They’ll start to talk because you’re gossiping to them, Millie thinks mutinously. First June, now Sasha! Though maybe she does need to be careful. Is it that obvious?
‘So, the summer party,’ Millie says, ignoring her. ‘Anything I can do to help?’
‘It’s all under control, hon. But thanks for the last-minute offer. It’s been such a struggle to organise it with the pitch. I guess I’m lucky that I’m a multitasker and don’t panic easily.’
‘Outfit ready?’ Millie asks. ‘Got all your bondage gear here?’
‘Oh, I’m not going in bondage anymore. I’m going as Adrian!’ She laughs. ‘What can I say? I’m kinky for bald guys.’
‘He’s going to love it,’ Millie replies, sickened by Sasha’s game playing.
Twenty-Six
Ben pauses and frowns as he approaches Millie at the roof terrace bar in his clown suit that night.
‘I can’t tell if your sexual fetish is a ghost or an Ancient Greek,’ he says, leaning against the bar next to her. Millie has wrapped herself in a white sheet from her laundry basket.
‘Funny guy!’ she replies, reaching over and squeezing his nose, sending fake blood spurting across the floor. ‘Ew!’
‘I warned you,’ Ben says.
‘No, you didn’t!’ Millie replies, laughing and wiping her hands on a paper napkin.
‘My bad. So, explain yourself, Belle.’
‘Egyptian cotton bed sheets,’ she answers. ‘It was all I had.’
‘Ah,’ he mouths. ‘Drink?’ he asks.
Millie has been nursing a near-empty champagne glass for the last half hour, taking it slow in case she needs to say a few words on stage later. But she nods to his offer. One more won’t hurt. Her stomach has been in knots since she arrived, and it might help her loosen up a bit. She hasn’t told Ben about the photo, and she can’t decide if she should. One side of her is questioning the point of bringing it up again, the other side is demanding he has a right to know. If she tells him, she might have to explain why Sasha felt the need to confront her – and why it rattled Millie.
Ben hands her a glass of champagne and turns round to rest his back on the bar, bringing a neat whisky up to his lips. He must be the only person in the world who can make a clown suit look sexy. He catches her staring at his lips, and she glances away.
‘A whisky is a bit heavy for 6 p.m., isn’t it?’ Millie jokes.
Ben takes a sip, draws his breath in sharply through his teeth and splutters.
‘Yeah, I thought it would make me look sexy and mysterious,’ he says, lowering the glass and wiping his mouth. ‘But who am I kidding? Barman! A cold bottle of your most neon-coloured alcopop, please! I can’t live this lie any longer,’ he says, and laughs, putting the whisky on the bar behind him before squeezing Millie’s arm and leaning into her ear.
‘So, how are you feeling, Millie Jones, Chief Creative Officer?’ he whispers loudly.
‘No! Don’t jinx it!’ she cries, smiling.
‘Well, it’d better not be Sasha,’ Ben mutters. ‘I did not sign up for that. Ruth told me that Slide has a “no twats” hiring policy, but what about a “massive twats” firing policy?’
‘Talking about twats,’ Millie says, nodding towards Adrian, who’s on the dance floor attempting to do The Belt with some of the creative interns. The Belt is a new dance craze that isn’t safe for anyone over twenty and isn’t cool for anyone over ten. When the interns move away, he limps off.
Millie and Ben turn their heads at the same time when they hear screeching laughter from the other side of the garden. It’s Sasha, who’s doing an impression of Adrian doing The Belt, in front of the board. Cue the selfies, kisses and hysterical laughter.
‘To be honest, her outfit is uncanny,’ Ben replies. ‘Dressing up as a penis for a sexual fetish party is pretty meta. Although let’s be honest, she didn’t have to dress up as one at all.’
‘Because she’s a huge knob already?’ Millie says.
They catch each other’s eyes.
‘She showed me the photo,’ Ben says. ‘I’m guessing she did you, too?’
‘Ah,’ Millie answers. ‘Yep, that was the topic of Yoghurt Yap this morning.’
‘I hope you’re choosing to ignore it, like I am?’
‘I totally am,’ Millie nods.
A brief but uncomfortable silence falls between them.
‘Good evening, Sliders!’ Adrian shouts into the mic he’s holding, handcuffed as he paces up and down in front of the crowd in his prisoner fantasy outfit. ‘I hope you’re all having a good time tonight. Before we get started, let’s give it up for Sasha! I think we can all agree that she’s done a brilliant job at dressing as the best-looking Slider here!’ The crowd applauds as Sasha puts her hand up, looks around and blows kisses across the terrace.
‘I’d like to take a few moments now,’ Adrian continues, ‘to talk about what a remarkable year it’s been for Slide. We’re financially fit, we’re getting more global recognition, and we can be truly proud of what we have achieved in the last twelve months. I don’t have to remind you of the success of The Slidies, the first awards programme of its kind in the world that rewards our highest-rated users. Thank you, Millie!’
The audience turns and cheers, while Ben grabs hold of her right hand and lifts her arm in the air like a boxing champion. Millie covers her face with her left hand and looks into his eyes through a gap between her fingers. Suddenly, everyone else is out of focus, and he is all that she sees.
‘Our platform is changing people’s lives for the better,’ Adrian booms, bringing them back. ‘Our community is liberated, in control, and can celebrate being proud sexual beings!’
Ben gently lowers her arm and squeezes her hand before he lets go. Remembering her earlier conversation with Sasha, Millie darts her eyes around the crowd to see who’s watching. To her relief, everyone’s eyes are on Adrian.
‘And every single one of you here in this room has had a part to play in our phenomenal success,’ Adrian continues. ‘So, you can all give yourselves a pat on the back. But, like every year, there are some people who have gone above and beyond. Some people who deserve recognition for their dedication, for putting in the hours and having flashes of pure genius.’ Adrian pauses and pans the room.
Millie looks down at her feet.
‘As you’re all aware by now,’ Adrian says, his face switching to serious mode, ‘Ruth Clarke has left Slide to pursue personal interests. We were sorry to see her go, but we wish her all the best. She was an inspiration and a visionary to many of us here, and her important role as chief creative officer will be a tricky position to fill. But, as it turns out, not impossible. Because we’ve found someone right under our noses. A creative force with the kind of commercial smarts that can send us global. She’s been here for a while. She’s a team player. She’s a fighter. She’s a winner. And she’s won the vote of the board as of 4 p.m. this afternoon. Please welcome to the stage our new chief creative officer!’ Adrian pauses for effect.
Millie takes a deep breath and looks up, smiling, her stomach on fire with nerves.
‘Sasha Hunter!’
Millie smiles widely and claps robotically along with the others. Her eyes glaze over as she watches Sasha throw her hands to her mouth in a nauseating performance of mock surprise.
Ben turns to her, stone-faced and shouts over the applause, ‘Are you OK?’
Millie glances at him and nods furiously, before excusing herself to go to the loo, where she calmly walks into a stall, closes the door behind her and sits on the toilet seat. Waving at her cheeks, she swallows repeatedly in an attempt to di
ssolve the rock in her throat. She mustn’t let anyone see her crushing disappointment. She pictures Vivian advising her on what to do next.
Chin up, back straight, pull yourself together.
Millie hears the door to the loos open and steps approach her cubicle.
‘Millie?’
‘I’m fine,’ Millie shouts, tugging at the loo roll to hide the sound of her shaking voice.
She pats her face, takes a few deep breaths, smiles and opens the door.
‘Thought you might need this,’ Ben says, holding a glass of champagne towards her. ‘And this,’ he continues, handing her the oversized daisy from his clown suit pocket.
‘Thanks.’ She smiles. She chugs the champagne and twirls the daisy in her fingers. ‘What are you doing in here? If anyone catches you, they’ll think—’ Millie starts.
‘I don’t care what they think,’ Ben says, leans against the sink and takes a swig of his alcopop. ‘And you shouldn’t either. Everyone knows you should have got the job. It’s not a reflection on you, it’s a reflection on them. It’s this shit company. The type of company that markets something like Oxytoxin is the type of company to promote someone like Sasha. They’ve made a terrible choice. And I’d like to say they’ll see that soon enough, but I don’t think they will. Do you even want to work at a place like this? If this decision makes you question that, maybe it’s a good thing.’
‘Well, why you do work here then, if you hate it so much?’ Millie asks, feeling indignant that he’d be so dismissive of the eight years she’s dedicated to the company. She turns from the mirror to face him.
‘I think you know why I’m still here,’ he says.
Perhaps it’s the sound of June chanting he luuurves you on repeat in her head. Maybe it’s because Millie’s career-first care factor has just come crashing down after the announcement. Or it could be the fact that she’s just downed her fourth champagne and it’s gone straight to her head. Mostly it’s the way Ben is staring at her. So deeply, it’s like he’s staring into her.
Millie doesn’t take chances.
But right now, she feels confident that this is one chance she can take.
He’s still here because of her.
Millie puts her champagne glass on the counter.
‘It’s because of—’ Ben starts, but Millie doesn’t let him finish.
Instead, she steps forward, takes his face in her hands and brings his lips to hers. She hears the clink of his bottle next to him, and feels his warm arms wrap all the way around her, bringing her so close into him she can barely breathe. They kiss harder, not caring to come up for breath. His hands move up her back and onto her neck, sending shockwaves of shivers down her skin. His fingers run through her hair as they carry on, even harder. They rotate to lean against the wall. The women’s loos. They’re in the work loos. The women’s loos. Do the women’s work loos have cameras? Suddenly Millie starts to feel hot and flustered in his grip. What the fuck is she doing?
Millie quickly pulls away from him.
‘As I was saying,’ Ben says, looking shell-shocked and running his fingers through his hair, ‘it’s because of the corporate benefits and early Fridays.’
Millie smiles half-heartedly.
Suddenly the door bursts open and Skye marches in, looking green and swerving. She does a double take at Ben before shoving open the first stall door, burying her head in the toilet and vomiting loudly.
‘What the hell am I doing?’ Millie whispers, before putting her head in her hands. ‘Could this night get any worse?’
‘Ouch,’ Ben says softly, throwing his bottle in the bin.
‘I don’t mean that,’ Millie mouths. ‘Ben, this could mess—’
A huge retch sounds from Skye’s stall, so loud it’s impossible to hear themselves.
‘Are you OK?’ Ben and Millie shout at the same time.
‘Fine! Sorry!’ Skye gasps in between gags.
‘Let’s not talk about it here, eh?’ Ben whispers, putting his hand on her shoulder and squeezing it gently. ‘I’ll see you outside.’
Millie watches him walk out, a hint of despondency in his gait. A sad clown.
Skye’s stall door swings open and out she steps, wiping her mouth.
‘Oh my god, Millie, I’m so sorry,’ Skye says. ‘Adrian was making us do a shot competition and I can’t handle tequila. Did I interrupt something?’
‘No, don’t be daft!’ Millie chirps. ‘Ben has a ridiculous habit of walking into the wrong toilets.’
‘I love Ben,’ Skye coos. ‘He’s the nicest person here. Apart from you, of course. I wish you two were in charge. You’d make such a great team.’
Millie and Ben are sitting quietly on the rose garden chairs with a bottle of wine, watching the party unfold on the dance floor in front of them. Neither of them has spoken a word in at least ten minutes. All Millie can think of is that kiss. How his lips felt on hers. How much shit she would be in if anyone found out.
‘Do you think we should talk about what just happened?’ Millie finally musters the courage to ask him, not daring to look at him.
‘I think we should,’ Ben takes a sip of his wine. ‘But I don’t think here’s the right place, or now’s the right time. I think it’s a conversation for clear heads.’
They fall silent again. After a few minutes, Ben nudges her with his shoulders.
‘Stop worrying,’ he mouths, and smiles at her.
As the drinks get smaller, the moves get bigger. Outfits are ripped off; outfits are tried on. Sasha’s bald cap is doing the rounds, along with some pretty brutal impersonations.
Millie glances over towards Adrian’s table to see what he makes of it. To her horror, he’s staring directly at her. He wiggles a finger at her and pats the seat next to him.
‘I’m being summoned,’ she shouts at Ben over the music, and stands up.
‘G’luck,’ Ben says, with a tipsy salute.
Millie sits down slowly next to Adrian, feeling sick about what he’ll say, and about how she’ll respond after a bottle of wine and three shots.
‘I just wanted to check in with you,’ Adrian says. ‘Make sure you’re OK. You must be disappointed.’
Millie shakes her head. ‘I’m fine, Adrian, Sasha is brilliant for the role. The team will be in excellent hands.’ She smiles, her stomach rolling when she thinks of Sasha sitting next to her in Ruth’s chair on Monday morning, angling the picture of Lupo the greyhound on her desk.
‘Well, glad to hear you’re taking it well. It was a close call.’
‘Can I ask what gave her the edge?’ Millie says.
‘Ambition, scale, blue-sky thinking. Sasha didn’t limit her ideas to one product, one sector, one campaign. She’s come up with four products, four sectors and four campaigns. An incredible amount of work in just a couple of weeks.’
Perhaps Sasha did deserve this after all.
‘So, what are the four products?’ Millie asks.
‘One’s called Oxytoxin Teens, and targets co-parents with kids acting up at school, and that’s all about securing their future.’
Strange. That’s the exact same angle Millie and Ben had been considering.
‘One’s called Oxytoxin Twos, and targets couples with financial challenges, and that’s all about avoiding the stress.’
So is that.
‘The third is called Oxytoxin Fix, and targets single people who’ve been dumped and are struggling to get over it. A bit like yours, I guess.’
Exactly the same as ours.
‘Then her fourth idea is identical to yours, in fact. So it must be good!’
‘Let me guess,’ Millie says. ‘“Stay focused”?’
‘Right, it’s called Oxytoxin Pros,’ Adrian says. ‘If you both came up with the angle, it seems like a must-do, right?’
Millie doesn’t answer him. She looks over at Ben. When he catches her eye, he offers her a thumbs up and a thumbs down. Millie suddenly feels a surge of warmth towards him. Ben might be the newes
t member of the team, but he feels like her best friend. Maybe more, now that they’ve crossed the line. She looks out on to the dance floor at the rest of the team and realises just how much of an outsider she feels here. Sasha’s at the centre, swinging her bald cap around at an army of admirers.
Millie is seething. It is one thing to lose; it is another to lose to your own ideas that someone stole. That’s what Sasha was doing on her computer on Monday, hacking into her emails. And she had the gall to act like she was doing Millie a favour.
‘Well, thanks for checking in,’ Millie mumbles to Adrian, standing up. Her head spins; she knows she’s drunk. She’s at a work event. She hates scenes. And yet, she marches across the dance floor and up to Sasha.
Twenty-Seven
Millie takes Sasha by the wrist, half dragging, half leading her over to the chair where Ben is waiting, his eyes filled with confusion.
‘Hello, lovebirds,’ Sasha says, panting and taking a seat in between them, oblivious to Millie’s mood. ‘Millie, I don’t know what to say. You played the game well, and someone has to win. Guess I’m just the more ruthless of the two of us.’
‘You’re right, you are ruthless,’ Millie replies, surprised and impressed by how level her voice sounds. ‘Mostly because you hacked into my emails and blatantly stole our work.’
Ben sits up suddenly and turns to them both.
‘Let me break it down for you quickly, Ben,’ Millie says, sobering up. ‘I’ve just heard that Sasha’s idea for Oxytoxin isn’t one idea. It’s four. Oxytoxin Teens, to help parents secure their future. Oxytoxin Twos, to help couples avoid the stress. Oxytoxin Fix, to heal your heartbreak. And Oxytoxin Pros to stay focused. Sound familiar? What were you doing at my computer on Monday, Sasha?’ Millie asks, feeling her voice start to shake with anger.
‘What are you trying to say, Millie? I’ve already told you, I was trying to lock your computer. If anyone’s hiding things around here, it’s you. And you,’ she adds, turning to Ben. ‘Perhaps I should show your “work trip” photos around the party and get a verdict? Maybe put it up on the big screen and ask for a show of hands?’
