In one camp were the Tony Jones supporters who’d all bought the line Aiden was the God of Destruction. In the other, were the people Tony had stolen credit from, denigrated, put down, trounced over or manipulated for his own gain. The first camp was small in number but vocal in dissent. The second camp was nervous and quietly hopeful. Aiden decided whistling would infuriate camp Tony and amuse camp hopeful.
He whistled the appropriately war like theme from Apocalypse Now, Ride of the Valkyries, felt the enemy eyes on his back, and thought about the expression on Bailey’s face when he’d monstered her in the conference room.
He was desperate to find her and apologise, tell her how watching Jones touch her made him feel—made him inconsiderate and sharp with her, but what did it matter? He’d wanted to keep Bailey at arms distance. Mission accomplished.
He’d only just managed to sit at his desk when there was a delegation at his shoulder. Joanne, Monique and Roberta. Roberta, the art department manager said, “Are you going to be another arsehole or can we trust you?”
Joanne said, “Rob, as if he’ll answer that honestly.”
“Do we need to go to a meeting room?” Aiden wished his workspace had walls and a door like Blake’s. Anyone who hadn’t directly heard Roberta would be hearing her colourful question repeated quicker than it took to cook instant porridge.
Roberta led the way and once they were in the glass walled meeting room they couldn’t be heard, but the eyes of the office were still busy watching them. Those belonging to camp Tony in particular.
The three women remained standing, so he stood as well. This might be quick and brutal. Roberta said, “We know about Nigel.”
“Ah. I can’t talk about that without it affecting someone else.”
“We know about Kathryn too. We’re ok with what you did.” Roberta looked at Joanne and Monique. “More than ok. Nigel won’t be missed by a large portion of the office. It’s only a select few, let’s say a select one, who’ll try to turn him into a martyr.”
Aiden nodded. This wasn’t technically a breach of the confidentiality agreement they’d made Nigel sign, but he needed to stay quiet on the subject to respect Kathryn’s wishes.
“You’re on to Tony, aren’t you?” Roberta said, still standing, though Joanne and Monique had taken seats. Aiden sat as well. This was tricky too. He couldn’t come out and slam Tony, but he wanted to give these women, all talented, all valuable to Heed, some assurances.
“He can’t answer that,” said Joanne. If Joanne kept this up he might not need to say anything.
“He can try,” said Monique and the three of them gave him hard stares, crossed arms, and ‘waiting to be disappointed’ frowns.
“Everything I said at the staff meeting about the need to change the way we work, it stands.”
“And Blake is with you on that?” said Monique.
“He stood beside me and said he was.” This got raised eyebrows, exchanged glances and shifting about. Roberta finally sat. “Blake is making you be bad guy, isn’t he?”
“He can’t answer that,” said Joanne.
“Blake is leaving the creative and client management to me,” Aiden said.
“Not Tony?” said Roberta.
“Not Tony,” he repeated.
“Thank Christ for that,” said Monique. “Are you going to control all the creative like Tony does?”
“No. I’ll supervise, I’ll help. But account directors are responsible for their own creative, and keeping their clients happy. I should only need to get involved when something is difficult.”
The women exchanged looks. Joanne said, “Are you a ‘my way or the highway’ guy?”
“Tony says you are,” said Monique. “And yes, we do know that’s the pot calling the kettle black.”
“For a little while, until we make the changes Blake and I want to make, I may be a road hog, but that’s not the way I want us to work in the long term.”
“We’re trying to work out if we can trust you,” said Roberta.
“I kinda figured that.” He felt the skin crawl again and turned to Joanne who was studying him aggressively. “Do you enjoy sacking people?”
“I don’t enjoy it, but sometimes people are in the wrong jobs. It’s often not their fault, but the whole business shouldn’t be made suffer as a result.”
“What do you think about working with women?” said Roberta.
“What sort of a question is that?” said Monique.
“One he can answer.” said Joanne with a chin flick to Roberta who said, “Look we know about Karen Ho. You promoted her at CAT but she quit and took clients. She’s saying you didn’t support her. What happened?”
Aiden sighed. As large as the industry was, it was still a tight community. Information flowed, not all of it accurate. “She’s probably right. I promoted Karen into my old job and she was great at it, but she did want more support than I gave her.”
Roberta had one of those voices that came with too many cigarettes. She said, “Well that’s crappy,” and made it sound like Aiden had given Karen lung cancer.
“Yep. I blew it. What do you want me to say?”
“God, an honest man. What are we supposed to do with you?”
“You’re too good looking to be trustworthy,” said Monique.
Joanne said, “He can’t agree to that,” and the three of them laughed, leaving him unsure how to react. They were teasing him, so that had to be good. “If I untuck my shirt and don’t brush my hair, will that help?”
“Oh honey, you can be untucked, unbrushed and still beautiful,” rasped Roberta.
Ok, they were really teasing him. He looked from Roberta’s bleached blonde crop to Monique’s red bob and fixed on Joanne’s messy bun. They were three very different women with different roles, but they were united in their concern about how things were going to work out. “Are you guys harassing me?”
“That’s not allowed in most workplaces,” said Monique. “You can get sacked,” she winked.
“But I know it’s been going on here and Blake’s sorry he didn’t know it was so bad. We’re going to stop it. We’ve already made a start. Will you give me a chance to prove I can make things better?”
More exchanged looks and more shuffling about in their seats. Roberta scrubbed her fingers through her hair, Monique played with a bracelet, Joanne crossed and uncrossed her legs. Roberta said, “What do you want from us?”
He leaned forward, spread both hands on the table and got their full attention. “I need two things.”
“We’re listening,” said Joanne.
“Time.”
“And,” she said.
He grinned, “Please don’t call me, honey.”
●
Cody was already at the cafe when Aiden arrived to pick him up. And for a kid who could give off the vibes of a bronze statue, he couldn’t sit still.
“It won’t be that bad,” he said, taking a seat at the table Cody had chosen. He caught the waitress’ eye. Not Willow, she was visiting her mother in Port Macquarie.
“You’ll be done in a couple of hours and we’ll go via the shop, pay Mr Demelian what you owe for the Gameboy and I’ll take you home. I know it’s not rock climbing, but it’s not jail either.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Aiden blinked in shock. A full sentence and a request to speak more, he didn’t know whether to be happy or suspicious. “Sure.”
“Can Jas come too?”
“Your sister? To my place, to sweep up leaves and pull weeds?”
Cody nodded and looked over his shoulder, then back to Aiden. “Yeah.”
“Why would she want to do that?”
Cody did the over the shoulder thing again. “She likes to help.”
“It’s not meant to be fun.”
Another over the shoulder and it dawned on him. “Is she outside?” and when Cody dipped his head in the approximation of a nod, he said, “You’d better bring her in.”
Jasmine
George was a dark haired pixie with bright sparkling eyes and a crooked toothed smile. She wore denim shorts with diamantes around the pockets and a pink t-shirt with sequins and bits of ribbon on it. She was a bright summer day to Cody’s dark stormy night. Aiden was utterly entranced by her from the moment she slid in beside him, said, “Hello, Mr Riley,” and put her hand in his.
“Does your mum know where you are?”
Cody answered, “Yeah. I’m looking after Jas.” He wondered how often that happened. This was the little girl Cody stole things for. The little girl who wanted to dance on television.
“Do you have any pets, Mr Riley?”
Jas had big brown eyes with lush lashes and a cute button nose. Cody was a dirty blonde like mum, but there was no telling who his sister favoured. “You can call me Aiden.”
“Our Mum says we should call you Mr Riley.”
Aiden looked at Cody, “He calls me dumbass so you can call me Aiden.”
Jas’ hand flew to her giggle spilling mouth, “You said a rude word.” Cody was head down, hair over eyes, trying hard not to laugh.
“Yes, I’m sorry I did, Jas. I’m not used to being around kids.”
“That’s ok. I’ll teach you.” She squeezed his hand and Aiden was in love for the second time in his life. “I have a cat. A big old tabby cat called Chauncey.”
Jas repeated the unfamiliar name then said, “Is that a boy or a girl?”
“A boy.”
“Does he scratch?””
Aiden shook his head. “He’s too lazy. He hides a lot.”
“Will he play with me?”
“I doubt it, but we can see, while Cody is earning his keep.” Jas bounced on the bench seat beside him. “Are you hungry?”
“Can I have what Code has?”
“If you like. Will I help you pick something?”
“I’ll do it.” Cody gave Aiden his best scowl, grabbing Jas’ other hand and pulling her off the seat and to his side. Fair enough, she was Cody’s best girl and he’d been flirting with her. Not something he’d managed to do successfully with Willow despite some crash and burn attempts she’d been polite enough not to laugh at.
The week finished in a better state than it started. No dead bodies, Kathryn safe. Nigel gone. Tony Jones’ cage severely rattled and at least three Heedonists prepared to give him a chance. But the sacrifice was Bailey. She’d kept her distance, avoiding the ground floor area altogether. And on the occasions he’d gone to see Blake, he could’ve sworn she was deliberately ignoring him.
Well, he’d started it. It’s what he’d wanted, but it was a bitter dish, and he’d lost his appetite for it.
24: Floss
What was the point of walls and a door if everything that got said was broadcast in the office next door? Bailey could hear Aiden throwing his weight around in Blake’s office like the seal she’d snapped at the beach that morning.
She’d never seen a seal before, but there it was sunning itself on a rock ledge, a great lump of grey flesh with beady eyes and big whiskers. She’d framed and shot him right before he heaved himself up and threw himself back into the sea with a great splosh.
In Blake’s office, Aiden was doing the heaving and Blake was sploshing. They were arguing about money and specifically about Dominic who was Heed’s Chief Financial Officer. Tellingly, Bailey could only hear Aiden and Blake. Dominic was in there too but being a quiet fish.
“Blake, you can’t second guess Dominic. He knows precisely what the financial position is. You can’t make it up as you go along.”
“I don’t make it up.” That was Blake, then there was silence and Bailey prepared to find the inside of a drawer fascinating so she could avoid making eye contact with Aiden as he left Blake’s office, but there was Blake again so they weren’t finished.
“Ok, so I’m not good with numbers. You win, Aid. From here on Dominic is the man on the finances.”
“If you make numbers up again, we’re both going to sit on you till you suffocate.” That was Aiden and a low muffled grunting was probably Dominic.
Blake said, “Isn’t it illegal to sit on someone in the workplace?” but he was laughing. A moment later, Aiden and Dominic were outside and Bailey was counting paper clips inside her desk drawer as if her life depended on it.
“Thanks Aiden. I go through this about once a month with Blake, but if we’re both on his case, he might behave himself.”
“That was my thought too,” said Aiden. “It’s up to us both to haul him into line when we have to.”
“We’re lucky he’s got a great sense of humour,” said Dominic, “And I’m lucky you arrived. I’m feeling more confident about things now.”
Bailey thought the pile of paper clips had received more than enough attention and was surprised her to hear Dominic’s comment about Aiden. It almost made her lift her head to look at them. She liked Dominic, and rated him as a smart operator, so what was he seeing about Aiden she didn’t?
Since the first time Tony pulled her aside he’d been in her ear twice more. Aiden was dictatorial, took credit for the ideas of others and was dismissive of the female employees. Bailey was grateful to learn he wasn’t threatening them. It appeared he’d reserved that special behaviour for her. But he clearly wasn’t reserving any of his baser instincts.
According to Tony he was living out his mid-life crisis for everyone to see. He’d bought his feral kid to the staff meeting, turned up with a new BMW convertible that even had Blake going gaga and was flaunting a girlfriend. Bailey had seen her come to have lunch with Aiden, all tiny skirt, tight top, baby blue eyes, and half his age.
Since that first day spent with Aiden she’d resolved her reaction to him must’ve been something to do with the pain killers. He’d obviously been trying to manipulate her so had been on his best behaviour. It all got jumbled up in her head because of what happened with David Millar.
She couldn’t fathom why Blake was so wrapped up in Aiden, and figured he had a huge blind spot about the guy, but hearing Dominic puzzled her. It didn’t fit with what Tony was saying. But it did fit with something Evan said.
Evan had been invited to attend brainstorms for clients and to interview with Roberta’s team if any jobs became available. He was beside himself excited. He’d made a special point of coming to thank Blake. Bailey had been about to congratulate Blake on the initiative until she’d heard him tell Evan it was all Aiden’s idea, and he’d only wished he’d thought of it first.
The best she could say was Aiden made himself scarce around her. He hadn’t approached her once since the day he’d trapped her in the conference room. She only had to worry about running into him coming and going from Blake’s office where there was now a new commotion going on, Blake and Aiden’s voices and over the top of them Cara saying, “Oh my God, you’ll cut off his finger! Bailey make them stop!”
In the seconds before she was out of her office and in the doorway of Blake’s she imagined he’d finally had an epiphany about Aiden and was doing him physical harm. She wasn’t sure she was in the mood to stop it, unless there was actual blood involved.
She wasn’t ready for the hacksaw and it made Cara’s comment suddenly sensible. Blake did look to be about to cut Aiden’s finger off. “What the hell are you doing?” She might not like Aiden, but he didn’t deserve to be mutilated by Blake.
“Hello Bails, right on time. Any good with a hacksaw?” said Blake.
“Put the saw down, Blake.”
He roared with laughter. “Did you think I was going to... Oh that’s good. Aid, she thought I was going to cut you up.”
They were both grinning at her and Cara started laughing too.
“We’re trying to get this off,” said Aiden, holding up his left hand and waggling his puffy wedding ring finger at her. He turned back to Blake. “I knew this was a bad idea. There must be another way.”
“This will work, we just have to get the angle right,” said Blake.
“Angle my whole finger off.�
�
“Have you tried moisturiser?” said Cara. She was standing over Aiden, her hand on his shoulder.
“Yes.”
“Oil”
“Yes.”
Bailey said, “Dental floss?” and they all turned to look at her.
Blake said to Aiden. “See, told you she can do anything.”
“Dental floss. How does that work?” said Aiden.
She should’ve left him there with his strangled finger, Cara’s predatory sympathy and Blake’s blood lust, instead she had him come to her office where she fished a roll of dental floss from her bag along with a needle from a hotel sewing kit.
“If you tell me what to do, I can do it myself,” he said. The first words they’d spoken alone since the argument in Blake’s office over Tony.
She busied herself threading the floss through a needle and didn’t look at him. “You need two hands.”
“Right, sorry. What do I do?”
“Sit still and give me your hand.”
He was watching her cautiously, as though he thought she might stab his eyes out with the needle. Can’t say he wasn’t good at reading people. He held his left hand out. “Thanks Bailey. It felt stupid having to go to casualty to get this cut off. I’ll be grateful if you can do this.”
She took his hand and avoided his eyes. She passed the needle under the ring pulling the floss with it, taking care not to spike him, more because she didn’t want him to bleed on her than out of any compassion. She took the needle away. Now she had a length of floss lying under the ring across Aiden’s palm and along his finger. She wrapped his finger, in the floss, winding it around and around, pulling tight, compressing his finger all the way from the edge of the ring to his knuckle.
He didn’t complain, he didn’t move, though the top of his finger was rapidly turning a red-purple colour.
When his finger was wrapped tight, she took the string of floss that lay along his palm and began to unwrap it, pulling the floss under the ring and moving it by increments along the floss encased finger towards his knuckle.
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