The Paler Shade Of Autumn

by Underdown, Jacquie

  She picks it up and answers. “Hello, Autumn speaking.”

  “Good morning. It’s Scott Majors.”

  “Hi, Scott.”

  “Jethro asked me to call you this morning. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “Um, no. I was awake.”

  “Good. First of all he wanted me to let you know that he enjoyed your company last night and he is sorry to have kept you up so late.”

  “Oh, ok,” she says. Why couldn’t Jet have called and said that himself?

  “I will organise the hotel to bring up some clothing for you to wear today, along with all the other necessities.”

  “Um, ok, but…”

  “Good. I will also let them know to organise breakfast. You prefer coffee?”

  “Yes.”

  “You will find all the toiletries you need in the bathroom. I’ll drop by in an hour to collect you and drive you to the office. Is there anything else you need, Miss Leone?”

  Autumn gapes like a fish before she can find words. “Um, a couple of Panadol?”

  “No problem. See you soon.”

  “Scott,” she said quickly. “Where is Jet?”

  “He has an engagement with Blossom Banks, interstate. He will back in the office late this afternoon.”

  Blossom Banks, of course. She is the woman Autumn saw in Jet’s mental pictures, a popular Australian actress. It crushes her to hear that he has gone to be with her today.

  “Last night, so you know, Jet and I, we didn’t, you know, I fell asleep and…”

  “It’s none of my business either way, Miss Leone.”

  “Please, it’s Autumn.”

  “Autumn,” Scott says. “Jethro’s personal life is none of my business.”

  “I know, I just don’t want you thinking I’m trying to intrude on anyone’s property.”

  “I’m paid a lot of money to keep my eyes and ears closed. I’ll see you in an hour.”

  “Ok.”

  “Bye, Autumn.” And then the phone disconnects.

  She peers around the silent room, at the crumpled sheets where she slept. How could I let myself fall asleep? She knows the answer—she drank too much and ate too much and talked too much.

  Autumn turns her mind back to last night, vague memories returning. She remembers she spilt port on her blouse, lying with Jet on his bed and hearing about the fate of Darshan, and hearing the grief in his voice and witnessing the pain in his eyes as he spoke. They talked for hours about everything and nothing, their childhoods, their goals, their families. Then Jet excused himself to use the bathroom and she closed her eyes, heavy and burning from need for sleep, for a second; a second that turned into an entire night.

  In retrospect, she had the most perfect evening with Jet. If it had been a date, she would be swooning now, her belly tightening as she anticipates their next contact. But it wasn’t a date. She had woken in a man’s hotel room with him not even there. The phone call that would come after a date letting her know he enjoyed her company was made by his assistant. And now, when she should be thinking about the possibility of a second date, she is thinking about how Jet has flown interstate to see his girlfriend. She groans, angry for allowing herself to be swept up in the pleasure of the evening; the pleasure of simply being with Jet. Once, briefly, a lover, now her boss, and in a relationship with one of the highest profiled actresses in Australia.

  Autumn takes her time in the shower, allowing the warm water to wash away the subtle nausea that accompanies the morning following an afternoon of heavy drinking. The mere thought of Guinness is enough to churn her stomach. When finished she wraps a towel around her head, envelops her body in a fresh bathrobe and meanders out to the lounge to await her clothes.

  Already in the lounge, hanging on a line of racks, are six outfits of various designs and sizes. She hadn’t even heard anyone come in. She runs her fingers along them, feeling the different textures of material, admiring one outfit in particular. From the racks, she lifts a sleeveless, fitted dress, in a thick, grey material with a thin black belt. Her fingers fish for the tag; it’s in her size.

  She notes an array of underwear and stockings on the shelves below the racks along with small sample-sized cosmetics and a few hair clips and baubles. Autumn shakes her head, bemused that anyone could be taken care of so entirely, at the drop of a hat, by complete strangers.

  Behind her on the coffee table sits a tray of foods: coffee and Burcher muesli and fresh sliced fruits. She pours a mug of coffee and eats her breakfast alone, hoping the presence of food in her stomach will reduce her hangover symptoms, if that is what they are. Her wretchedness, more likely, as much as she denies it, has been caused by something entirely different. If she were to be truly honest, she would admit that this nausea and dull ache in her heart has nothing to do with pints of Guinness and glasses of whisky and flutes of champagne, and everything to do with allowing herself to fall, just a little last night, again, for Jet.

  Choosing a pair of knickers and sheer, black, thigh-high stockings, along with cosmetics to match her colouring, she heads back to the bathroom. Autumn blow-dries her hair, applies makeup and dresses. She finds her high heels near the couch where she left them, slips them on her feet and waits for Scott while trying not to stew in her discontent.

  He arrives in the foyer of the hotel room and smiles when he sees Autumn ready and waiting for him.

  “All ready?”

  Autumn nods and stands, throwing her handbag over her shoulder. She strains a smile. “Yes. All ready.”

  Strolling through the halls of the office, trailing Scott, Autumn anticipates ogling eyes from her knowing and equally judgemental staff. But no such thing occurs; they are all pleasantly indifferent as they greet her at this unusually late hour, none the wiser that she spent the entire night in the hotel suite of their boss. Scott leaves her at the door of her office and Autumn settles into her work as though no such evening ever existed.

  The day rolls by, no word from Jethro Stark but, then again, she hasn’t had time to give him a second thought; not many anyway. At four in the afternoon, Autumn heads to Michael’s office, three doors down from hers.

  Michael has been one of her closer friends at Stark Consulting. He is a head taller than she, and proportionately stocky, with light blond, curly hair. He’s an attractive man, early thirties and always dressed incredibly well; owner of the most stylish ties and suits.

  She catches him at the tail end of a phone call. Noticing her at the door, he says his goodbyes and hangs up; smiles. “Hi, Boss.”

  Autumn rolls her eyes and grins. “Acting boss.”

  Michael gestures towards the chair opposite him. Autumn sits, smoothing the skirt of her dress.

  “You look very elegant today. New dress?”

  Autumn looks down to her dress. “Yeah. It is actually.”

  “Burberry, no less!”

  Autumn’s eyes widen. “It is?”

  Michael bursts into laughter. “You should know the finer details.”

  Autumn strains a smile. “I should and yes, it is a Burberry.”

  “I guess with a bigger paycheque you can afford such luxuries.”

  She scoffs. “Hardly. Hey, do you want to come downstairs and grab a coffee with me?”

  Michael glances to his watch and smiles. “Your shout.”

  They order lattes in takeaway cups, chatting about inconsequential topics that interest and distract concurrently; exactly as Autumn hopes they will. On their way back to the office, at the lifts, they are interrupted.

  “Miss Leone.”

  She spins to see Jet. If she thought he appeared tired yesterday, he exceeds that today.

  “Hi,” she says coyly.

  He looks to Michael and thrusts his hand towards him. “Jethro Stark. And you are?”

  “Michael. Michael Richards.” He takes Jet’s hand and shakes it effusively. “It’s great to meet you, Mr Stark. I work in accounts.”

  Jet nods. “If I’d known you’d be getting
coffees, I would have called earlier to put in my order.”

  “Well, Sir, I’d be happy to go and get you one if you like?”

  “I would like that, Michael. Thank you. A flat white. Just tell them it’s for me.”

  “Sure thing, Mr Stark,” says Michael, like an eager-to-please puppy dog as he spins and paces back towards the cafe.

  Jet smiles at Autumn. “And then there were two.”

  But Autumn can’t smile. She knows she should, but not when she is aware that he has only now arrived back from Melbourne, from seeing Blossom Banks, from sharing her bed.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke this morning. I hope Scott took care of everything,” he says walking beside her towards the lifts.

  She presses the up button and nods. “The hotel was very fastidious.”

  He laughs. “Yes. That’s what they’re paid for.”

  The elevator dings and the doors open. They step inside; wait for the doors to close.

  “I sense you’re upset?” he asks.

  “You sense that do you?”

  He laughs. “Loud and clear, I’m just not sure what you’re upset about.”

  Autumn’s shoulders slump. I am being absurd. Jet doesn’t owe her any explanations, she doesn’t require any apologies. He has, as a boss, taken care of everything an employee could require. She strains a smile. “Don’t worry. Everything’s fine.”

  He narrows his brows. “Are you sure?”

  Her smile comes more naturally this time. “It’s fine. I’m a little tired. Late night, that’s all.”

  He laughs. “I did manage to keep you well past your bedtime. That was obvious when I found you sound asleep on my bed. I didn’t think I was that boring.”

  She laughs now. “You were perfect company last night.”

  “But you would have preferred I be there this morning?”

  Autumn lowers her eyes to elevator floor. Yes. But what right does she have to demand his time? It’s not like they slept together, or are in a relationship. He’s her boss, nothing more. “No. I understand you have business to attend to.”

  Jet pales on hearing the implication. “Some business is unavoidable. Not always pleasant, but unavoidable.”

  She narrows her eyes, completely at a loss as to what he even means by that comment and, either way, it’s none of her business. The elevator stops at their floor, dings, and the doors open.

  “Come to my office. I want to let you know about a client who will be here,” he glances to his watch and frowns, “now.”

  She nods and follows him down the hall.

  He turns and grins at her. “Do you need me to carry that coffee for you?”

  She feigns reproach, but her smile reduces the severity. “Very funny, Mr Stark.”

  “It’s the lack of sleep you see. Makes me deliriously humorous.”

  She nods. “More like, plain ol’ delirious.”

  “Now, now,” he says, laughing. “That’s no way to speak to your boss.

  She smiles, shrugs. “No it’s not. I’d better keep a lid on such cheek.”

  “Jethro,” comes Scott’s voice as they round the corner. “Your four-thirty appointment is here.”

  “Can you offer him a…?”

  “He’s waiting in the boardroom with a coffee. He understands you will be with him as soon as you can.”

  Jet nods and pushes through his office door, strides to his desk. He sits and lets out an audible sigh, deep frown lines creasing his forehead.

  Autumn sits across from him. “Is everything ok, Jet?”

  He strains a smile and nods, not elucidating any. Leaning across the table he says, “This next client, Mr George Randal, is the CEO of a multi-national company that sells parts for heavy mining machinery. He has offices in South Africa, Brazil, Australia and China, and, in such an affluent time for the mining industry in Australia, he is recording falling profits. We are the ideal consulting company for him and for us, he is worth a lot of money over the next five years. This meeting is a sales-pitch, letting him know why we are what he needs.”

  “You want me to join you?”

  He smiles. “Yes. I’ve seen your past results. You are as good as I am with selling Stark Consulting.”

  “It’s easy when you believe in the product.”

  “That’s exactly what I want to hear today.” He stands and concurrently Michael knocks on the door, Jet’s coffee in hand. “Ah, Michael.”

  “Your coffee, Mr Stark.”

  “Excellent. If you could just leave it on my desk, I’ll get to it in a few minutes. Thanks.”

  When Michael leaves and his footsteps can no longer be heard down the hall, Autumn looks at Jet with one eyebrow raised. “You didn’t even want a coffee did you?”

  Jet smiles. “No. I wanted time alone with you.”

  Autumn’s chest rises with her full breath in. “That can be dangerous. Besides, what would Blossom think about me and you spending time alone together?”

  “I suspect she would be most upset. But she no longer has any say or bearing in my life. I went to Melbourne today to finish it with her once and for all.”

  Autumn is aghast, points to her chest. “Because of me?”

  “I’ve wanted to end our relationship for months now, but it’s a very complicated situation and with Blossom comes the media and I fucking hate the media. But yes, Autumn. You were the final nail in the coffin.”

  “How did she take it?”

  He breathes deeply. “That’s my problem. I won’t concern you with it.”

  A palpable silence fills the space between them until Jet brings up what is so heavily hanging between them. “So what of us now, Autumn? Do you want to start again where we left off in India?”

  She ponders his question for a time and eventually says, “That’s impossible, Jet. You’re not the same man I met back then. I wonder if I even really know you anymore, if I knew you at all to begin with.”

  Jet frowns deeply. “So, that’s a no?”

  She shakes her head. “It’s not a no. It’s just a recognition that we’ll have to start afresh, not from where it ended in India. It means we have to take it slower and get to know each other properly.”

  “I can do that. I’m happy to start afresh.”

  She smiles. “So am I.”

  He leans across the table and peers into her pale blue eyes. “Can you still feel it?”

  Autumn knows what he is referring to, that undeniable attraction that cuts deeper than the physical. The undeniable attraction and connection she felt as soon as she peered into his eyes yesterday morning in the lift. “Yes. I still feel it.”

  His shoulders relax and he grins. “Have dinner with me tonight?”

  “I, um.” She smiles. “Sure.”

  Jet leans back against his chair and places his hands on his head. “Are you feeling social or reclusive?”

  She laughs. “Both.”

  He nods. “Let me handle this meeting. You go home and I’ll pick you up,” he looks at his watch, “at eight.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “How should I dress?”

  “Casual.”

  Chapter 12

  Tae is in the kitchen preparing spaghetti bolognaise; onion peel, tins of tomato and various herbs are scattered across the bench top.

  “I wasn’t sure if you would be home,” she says, raising her head from the pan of heavy sauce as Autumn strolls in. “I thought you may be spending the night with your boss again. I assume that’s where you were all night.”

  Autumn had texted Tae late last night, when she finally gave her a thought, that she was with her boss having dinner and drinks. She hadn’t filled her in on any of the particulars though, like who her boss is.

  “I’m curious. How is it exactly that one finds themselves sleeping at their boss’s place after innocently having dinner and drinks.”

  Autumn smiles. “It is very innocent. I assure you.”<
br />
  Tae places two bowls on the counter and starts dishing spaghetti onto the first. Autumn waves her hand over the second bowl. “Um, I won’t be eating here tonight.”

  “Are you out with the boss again?”

  Autumn nods. “You’ll understand when you know who he is.”

  Tae shrugs. “So who is he?”

  Autumn sits on a stool lining the bench. “Jet.”

  Tae’s eyes widen, her eyebrows ending halfway up her forehead. “Jet? As in, the Jet, from India. He’s your boss?”

  She nods.

  “And you slept with him? Last night?”

  “No,” she says, shaking her head. “We didn’t sleep together. I mean, I slept in his bed, but I was the only one in it and I didn’t mean to. I accidentally fell asleep.”

  “You accidentally fell asleep, in Jet’s bed, in his hotel room. Oh, please. I’m not your mother; I’m your best friend.’

  “It’s the truth. I promise it is.”

  “How does that even happen?” asks Tae, spooning the meat sauce on the spaghetti.

  Autumn scoffs. “I’ve been asking myself the exact same question. But how bizarre is it to run into him after all these years?”

  “I know. It’s kind of like that movie …” she clicks her fingers, thinking. “Serendipity,” she says eventually. “Except real life. You honestly didn’t sleep with him?”

  “I assure you nothing happened last night. He has a, or should I say he had,” she swallows hard, “a girlfriend.”

  “Had a girlfriend?’

  “They’ve broken up. Today. He broke up with her today.”

  Tae’s eyes narrow. “He broke up with her today? Are you sure about that?”

  Autumn nods. “I trust him.”

  “Really, Autumn? You don’t know this guy. He’s probably got you both on the fly.”

  “Oh, don’t be so cynical.”

  “I’m not cynical. I’m just not sure about this. It took you so long to get this man out of your system, are you sure you want to go through that again? Every movie I’ve ever watched indicates that getting into a relationship with your boss to start with is dangerous, regardless of your past with him. You could jeopardise all your hard work getting where you are. Any advancement you make will no longer be respected. People will only assume you’ve been successful at anything because you slept with the boss.”