Blake clearly didn’t get that. Because here he was fielding his wicked, ‘you can’t deny me anything’ grin, and assuming she’d salivate at the opportunity to be his lackey again.
She wasn’t sure what hurt more; that she’d expected better from him, the insult, or the knowledge he might be right.
Perhaps it was the best she was going to do in this economy. Taking his offer was a smart way to lick her wounds and stay sane and solvent while she waited for the rest of her contracts to come on board later in the year.
But no. It didn’t matter how right he was. She’d find another way to manage, because there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell she could be Blake’s fame agenda administrator ever again.
“What’re you thinking, Bails?”
He was still in her face, still so close she could feel his breath on her cheeks. For a fleeting second she thought about what it would be like to kiss him right now. An electric shock for both of them. She might enjoy it; she’d imagined it often enough. His lips soft and clever, his hands in her hair, holding her close, nipping and licking and making her blood burn. But it might give Blake a heart attack.
He knew how to dish the flirting out, but so much as blink in a way that suggested you might take him up on his offer, and he ran a mile. His particular brand of magic was to make you think he wouldn’t. And it worked with women on mass, with the exception of Olivia who’d made Blake her slave. It even worked in a modified ‘hey mate’ form with men.
But it wasn’t going to work with her anymore, and maybe kissing him off was the best way to show him. She breathed deep, moistened her lips. Blake’s eyes flared wide, and he sat back in his chair with a laugh.
“Ah Bails, don’t be mad I can’t give you what you want. Please come and do this for me. It’ll be fun, I promise.”
“What do you mean, you can’t give me what I want?” Blake would never be brave or stupid enough to say, ‘Me,’ to acknowledge the sexual tension that had always been an undercurrent in their relationship, but it was fun to tease him back.
“You want me to give you a referral or to offer you the perfect job as a Director, but I can’t do that. I would if I could, but I don’t have anything that’s right for you.”
“Do you even know what I want?”
“You want to be me, Bails.”
And didn’t that make her sit up straight and stare.
It wasn’t an answer she’d expected and wasn’t the bastard right again. She did want to be Blake. Have her own industry fame and be secure in her own empire—not just her home office. Have the personal power he had, and be able to use it to make her life a success. She wanted the loving partner and the House & Garden perfect home. She’d even take the slobbering dog. But at best she was a pale imitation of Blake.
They shared the same basic skills and abilities, but she’d never have his charisma, his ability to persuade people to his own ends. She could think like him, but she’d always have a second X chromosome where a Y would have been more potent. She’d always be second best to Blake, and that was more than enough of a reason to love him for their history, but keep him as a bit part player in her future.
“I don’t think so.” What! Why did she soften that? Why didn’t she just say no, loud and hard and firm, so he’d know how she felt?
“If you’re worried it might look bad on your CV? We’ll give you a fancy title. Chief Operating Officer.”
“I don’t need a fancy title.”
“Well, what then?”
“Blake, it’s not what I do.”
He shifted, impatiently, rolling his shoulders.
“It’s not what I want to do. But thank you anyway.”
“Don’t say no right now—think about it.”
“I’m saying no.” No ambiguity now. About time.
“I’m leaving the door open. I can’t think of anyone else I can get to do this for me.”
“So if I was fully contracted right now what would you do?”
Blake brows dropped low, tiny wrinkles at the edges of his eyes deepening. “Good question. I don’t know, Bails. If you don’t take me up on this, I don’t know how I’m going to go about it.”
Now it was Bailey’s turn to sit forward. “Oh God, Blake, you’ve invented this job for me, haven’t you? It’s not real.”
“Do you think I’ve gone stupid in the years since we were a team? Of course it’s real. But I did invent it with you in mind, because I know you can ace it. And now you don’t want it, I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.”
“Is that true?”
Blake waved his hand in a priest-like gesture. “Cross my deviant heart and hope the damn dog dies.”
“Don’t let Olivia hear you say that.”
He rocked his chair back on its hind legs, and balanced it there. “She knows I have a deviant heart and quit dodging.”
“I’m not dodging. I gave you my answer.” She raised her brows at him. “You’ll break that chair.”
He obediently lowered the chair back to its four legs and grinned at her, all devil, all master manipulator with a gooey centre. “No. You got annoyed with me. You think I’m insulting you with a job that’s beneath you. And worse, you think I’m inventing jobs out of pity for you. And now I’ve worked that out—you can’t be thinking both those things at the same time—can you?”
As well as Bailey knew Blake; he knew her. There was no real way to hide her thoughts from him. He could untangle them as soon as look at her. And of course that was part of the attraction for both of them—a kind of mind meld that gave them super sensory capabilities around each other.
“I miss you, Bails.”
It wasn’t possible Blake’s eyeteeth glistened, but it felt like it might be. “Oh no. You are so not starting on the emotional blackmail.”
“Why not? It usually works with you.”
“Not this time. No. No and No again. Blake, I don’t need your job but thank you. If nothing else turns up I’m going to have the summer off. Can we talk about something else?”
“I’m not rocking a no on this.”
“You’re not rocking a choice.”
He made a ‘hah’ sound that came from deep in his chest to signal he wasn’t done with this. When he lifted his eyes, a waitress appeared at his left elbow. “She’ll have the smoked salmon salad, no olives, extra capers, and another cappuccino and I’ll have the roast beef sandwich and another long black. Thanks.”
Bailey could’ve objected to him ordering for her without consultation, but what would be the point? He could read her mind and that’s exactly what she would’ve ordered.
“It’s still no.”
He reached across the table and gave her earlobe a tug. “Who’re you trying convince Bails? I’m not sure it’s me.”
11: Expelled
Things were looking up. At least now he wasn’t sleeping his life away.
He’d spent hours last night looking into the darkness of the bedroom with no thought in his head other than how tired he was, and how much he wanted the drug of sleep. He felt as though he’d been asleep about fifteen minutes when the alarm went off. That it was more like three hours was irrelevant to the sand paper wedged under his eyelids.
He tried to focus on White Balance’s pic of the day. A sunrise. In all likelihood the same sunrise he’d witnessed from inside the house, but this one was vastly improved by the use of glorious reds and golds over the deep blue of the sea. It hurt to look at. It helped to get him out of bed.
He did the morning stumble. A daredevil motion that took him from horizontal to vertical when his head was screaming at him to stay pillowed. Funny how that wobbly, half alive moment of getting out of bed and on his legs felt the same kind of bad juju whether he’d had too much or too little sleep. That was a pathetic joke. You’d think those extremes would surely produce a different effect.
Shower, dress, shoes that slide on, roust Chauncey from the top of the dresser and introduce him to some sunshine; then out
to meet with an urban menace in the making.
He figured it was because he was bordering on a Saturday morning regular that the blonde waitress, Willow—gave him a big smile with her, “Hi, just coffee?”
Another thing that’d changed since Blake’s offer, since the discovery he could wipe himself out at the gym—he got hungry and felt like eating. “And the scrambled eggs with tomatoes and mushrooms, please.”
Willow said, “No problem,” and he scored a flutter of eyelashes to top up her smile.
This time the urban menace didn’t go through the pre-arrival bus stop surveillance routine. He appeared and sat without a word, while Aiden was doing the crossword.
“Hello Cody, fancy seeing you here.” He got a grunted, “Hi,” with a side order of trademark scowl. He folded the paper and looked at Cody who was fascinated by his own lap.
“Whose idea was it to come to my office?”
“Your office is totes cool.”
Aiden barked a laugh. “Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not my office anymore.” And there was no way Happi-Anne was getting his new office address.
“Did you get in trouble ‘cause we came?”
“No. I was already in trouble.”
Cody found his lap momentarily less fascinating, no doubt conjuring all manner of punishments suitable for Aiden. “What trouble?”
“Never mind. Whose idea was it?”
“Do I get to eat?”
“Is that the reason you want to meet, for food?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did Happi-Anne and your mum say you wanted to spend time with me?”
Now it was back to lap vision. “Ask them.”
“I’m asking you.”
“I dunno, dude.”
Aiden gave Willow a wave. Getting to nowhere with Cody had taken less than a minute. The next fifty-nine were going to be excruciating. When Cody ordered, he tried again.
“Why do you want to meet with me?” He got a shrug and no eye contact. “Ok, so it won’t matter if I sit here and do the crossword?”
“Whatever.”
“Actually I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t I start an account with the cafe and you can come in and have a meal every Saturday and I’ll pay for it.”
“Ok.”
Aiden shook his head. “I bet you’d like me to lose another mobile phone and buy you new clothes as well.”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve got game kid, I’ll give you that.”
“So will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Do the account thing?”
“No.”
“Why’d you say you would?”
Aiden said, “I dunno, dude,” and Cody’s jerked eyebrow told him the kid understood sarcasm. He picked up the paper and used it to block Cody from his vision. Maybe the kid would leave. That’d make things easier. He really had no idea what he was doing here.
“I have to have a big brother or I might get expelled again.”
Aiden lowered his newsprint shield. “Why should I believe that? That’s not what Happi said.”
“She was too scared to tell you.”
“Why would she be too scared?”
“‘Cause.”
Aiden blocked Cody again. This kid was trouble, and the whole circus at the office was about trying to get help, but if it relied on him, they were scraping the bottom of the barrel.
“‘Cause no one will do it.”
From behind the paper Aiden said, “Do what?” But he already knew the answer was going to cost him.
“No one will be my big brother and if I don’t have one to bring to Guardian Day at school I’ll get expelled.”
He put the paper aside. “Truth?” Cody unfolded a grubby page bearing a blue and yellow school crest and passed it across the table. Guardian day was this Friday. Principal Smyth stressed to Cody’s Mum the presence of a Big Brother would go a long way to retaining Cody’s place in the school. The kid was trouble, but he didn’t need another expulsion, and showing up at his school was at least something Aiden could do without being out of his depth.
“So Cody, you need me.”
“I don’t care.”
“I think you do. We’ll have to make a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“I’ll come to Guardian Day for you if you bring back my mobile phones.”
The kid Cyclopsed him with the one eyeball not covered by fringe. “Can’t.”
“Because you didn’t take them?”
More Cyclops, with an extra menu item fringe flick. “’Cause I sold them.”
Aiden almost laughed, “You sold them, why?”
“You wouldn’t get it.”
“Try me.”
In full on scowl, Cody scraped back his chair and stood, “Nah. See ya,” but catching sight of Willow with his burger he hesitated.
“You might as well eat it.”
Aiden watched pride and hunger war in Cody’s body. The kid wanted the burger, but he didn’t want to sit. He rocked on his feet, his glance going from Willow holding the plate, to the street outside.
“It’s a good burger,” Willow said, and that was enough for hunger to claim victory. Cody sat and virtually breathed in the food. He watched Willow work her way between the tables to take another order. Around a mouthful he said, “I sold ‘em to get stuff for my sister.”
“What stuff?
“Ballet shoes.”
Aiden wasn’t sure what he expected to hear but ballet shoes wasn’t it and the surprise on his face must’ve tickled Cody’s vocal capabilities. “She wants to dance in videos.”
“How old is your sister?”
Cody flashed the five fingers of his left hand, not wrapped around the burger.
“Five.” Fuck. The kid was a problem. The was a thief and a liar and God knows what else, and Aiden was doing his own impersonation of night of the living dead, and wasn’t packing a fork full of positive influence. But Cody had a little sister and if he really had stolen and sold the phones to get her shoes, then the least Aiden could do was front up at Guardian Day.
“Where’s your school, Cody?”
Cody pointed to the top of the letter where the address was written, and head jerked to flick his fringe back. “That waitress chick likes you.”
●
Fortified by breakfast, and feeling less out of his depth for the moment with Cody now there was something specific he could do for the kid, Aiden hit the supermarket then belted home to meet Olivia.
She said it was time and she was probably right, but it still felt like a wrench, like a form of abandonment. She was waiting on the front verandah. For a moment Aiden’s guts clenched as a memory of Shannon sitting on the same step in a similar cool summer dress, waiting for him to come home, speared through him. He wanted to plant his foot on the accelerator and plough down the street away from the image. He steeled himself to pull into the driveway, get out of the car and accept Olivia’s hug. He held her too hard and he kept his sunglasses on.
“It’s the right thing, Aid. She would’ve wanted it.”
She let him get away with not answering her.
Inside the house, he said, “How do we do this?”
“You make coffee and I do this. You don’t have to be in the room.”
“I should help.”
“Do you want to help?”
He wanted none of this. But it made no sense to try to hang on to Shannon this way and Olivia was right. Shannon’s clothes could make a difference to someone else. It’s just that they were hers and they belonged here.
“I’ll make coffee and do the bathroom.”
“Great. Is there anything she wore you want to keep?”
Yes. All of it. The whole wardrobe full of dresses and skirts, shirts and pants. He wanted every stained t-shirt and ratty pair of shorts. He wanted the silky negligees she’d worn to tease him, the baggy t-shirts she preferred to sleep in, and the rippe
d overalls she wore in the garden. He wanted her sleek yoga clothes and her lacy underwear. The special dresses she wore out to dinner and the sexy jeans she rocked on the weekend. He wanted her chic work suits. He wanted every shoe from her Imelda Marcos sized collection. He wanted every necklace that’d graced her pretty neck and every earring that’d grazed her stunning cheek.
He had a moment of panic. What could he choose to keep? What if he couldn’t do this? Live with an empty wardrobe, with no physical evidence that she’d been in the house with him?
“Aid, we don’t have to do this today.”
“Yeah, we do. I’m finding it a bit...”
“I know. Me too. I could really do with a coffee.”
“Got it. Coming right up.”
He hit the kitchen while Olivia started on the wardrobe. There was a kind of pleasure in having the house back in order. It was one of the benefits of being bounced out of CAT the moment he’d resigned. His three month employment restraint would give him time to get his life in proper order before he started with Blake.
Already the house was starting to look like Shannon’s house again. The way she’d wanted it. Most of the surfaces were pristine again. The fridge didn’t reek of decay, the bathroom sparkled and there was an unadulterated view of the TV. Once the bedroom and the bathroom were cleaned out, there was just her office, the guest bedroom, the room he referred to as ‘the other room’ and the back and front yards to straighten out. The guest room and yards would be a cinch. The office and the other room, not so much. But they could wait. There was no prize for getting this done.
“Shannon had beautiful clothes. They’re almost too good to give to Vinnies.” Olivia had following the scent of coffee, and joined him in the kitchen.
“She could wear a garbage bag and she’d have looked good to me.” She could wear anything or nothing, be anything or nothing, and she was still his everything. “You should take what you like for yourself.”
Olivia looked out the big glass doors to the deck and Aiden noticed the strain around her eyes. This was hard for her too.
“You know I’ve worked out what I want to keep.” Apart from the t-shirt he kept under his pillow that’d started life as one of his well washed and faded LA Film School ts, before Shannon had taken it over to wear to bed. It no longer smelled of her, despite the fact he’d never dreamed of washing it. “She had this bright coloured sarong, all vivid greens and blues. I bought it for her in Bali. It’s only cotton, nothing special and it was dirt cheap. It’s only a square of fabric, but she used to wear it in summer, when she was all tanned and smelling of coco butter. She’d put her hair up off her neck, and tie the sarong under her arms. It was so simple and she looked so beautiful to me. Is that weird that I want to keep something simple like that?”
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