by Naomi Joy
Then I moved them to my nose.
Sniffed.
The smell was unmistakable.
My knees gave way and I sank to the floor, my morality in tatters, clutching the toilet bowl. What had I done? A ball of emotion built inside me but I had to try to control it. I couldn’t cry. I had to get out of here.
‘Ava?’ David’s voice. ‘Are you OK in there?’
I stood up, forgetting completely that I needed the loo, and straightened the T-shirt I was in – was this his? – pulling it down at the front over myself. I tentatively opened the door and took a step out.
‘Oh dear,’ he chuckled. ‘Why so shy?’
‘No, I—’He interrupted my stuttering.
‘I don’t want to undermine your attempt at modesty but I can see your lovely little bottom in the mirror behind you, darling. Perhaps some underwear would help?’
My cheeks burned under his scrutiny. He thought this was funny. I shuffled over to the pile of clothes and pulled out the white underwear I’d worn last night. It was miniscule, chosen simply because it was the only piece I owned that wouldn’t have shown under the delicate silk of the gown I’d worn last night.
‘Perhaps you should have worn something a little less, well, see through, if you were planning on being coy this morning?’ He pursed his lips, he was enjoying this. He was one of those people that thought your choice of clothing meant you were fair game.
‘Come back to bed.’
He was lying on his back, his chest bare, super-lean, his lower body covered with the bed sheets. Was he naked under there? One hand supported his head as he watched me struggle with the answer to his question.
‘I was sick,’ I said again.
‘In the bed?’ He looked to his side and saw the puddle of congealed sea bream and boiled new potatoes in a perfect puddle and sprang out from the covers. Which answered my question; he was naked, all right.
‘Oh, God! Revolting. I’m getting in the shower.’
He strode across the floor with the bravado of a matador-slaying bull. ‘Perhaps you need one too, judging by that mess?’
I stayed exactly where I was, shocked, unable to conjure a single memory of how I had got here. I went over the sequence of events once more: we’d been dancing, his breath had smelt like whisky, his hands had been all over me. I could remember that. Then nothing. Nothing. If I could just recall how we’d got to this point then maybe I wouldn’t feel this uneasy. He must have told me something that had changed everything, shifted the entire way we looked at each other, otherwise why would I have done this?
‘Get in here!’ His voice called out, a haunting wail above the splatter of the rain shower in the walk-in cubicle that occupied the breadth of the bathroom. If I’d really wanted this six hours ago then why did I feel so repulsed by this man now?
My mind was slow and I didn’t answer. I sat dejectedly on the floor in my stupid pants and borrowed shirt and went through the situation in my head again: David was my boss. I had an enormous amount of respect and admiration for him. He’d helped me immensely. But he was older than my dad. Up until last night I’d never considered him as someone I’d wanted to sleep with but, for whatever reason – probably alcohol, or guilt, maybe – I’d changed my mind. I couldn’t imagine David had forced himself on me, he was a lot of things but was he really capable of that? Either way, there wasn’t a lot I could do about it now and for the next couple of hours my priorities were to get back to the house, the house David owned, and try a hell of a lot harder to remember what had happened. Then I could think about what to do next.
This man was in charge of my job and the place I called home. I definitely couldn’t accuse him of anything I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure about.
He got out of the shower, annoyed I hadn’t joined him, and gathered our belongings, then we travelled back to London together in his chauffeur-driven Mercedes. I wore one of his dressing gowns over my T-shirt and underwear and counted my blessings that no one else from the office had stayed overnight. How was I supposed to tell David I wasn’t interested in him like this? Why had I let things get to this point? I’d moved into his house, I’d accepted every offer of help, I’d turned up wearing the dress he’d bought for me: it was obvious, wasn’t it, that I’d led him on. This was all my own fault.
As I dove into feelings of shame and self-loathing the car made good progress, the fields and greenery giving way to the skyrise buildings and dusty greys of the city after just half an hour. We made idle chit-chat and I did my best to hide my fear from him. I didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, I’d already rejected him once this morning.
He pressed the intercom button that connected him with the chauffeur.
‘Can you put the shield up?’
A black pane of glass whirred into action and erected itself between us and the driver.
‘I wanted some privacy for a moment,’ he said.
I nodded and evaded his eye contact, staring down into my lap instead.
‘I had a wonderful time last night, darling. Did you?’
I looked from side to side, my eyebrows creased in confusion.
I know what you’ve done.
‘Yes,’ I said shakily, trying to hide the truth.
‘You seem very… quiet.’
‘I – I’m not sure I’m ready for this. I’m sorry.’
I smiled at him, my voice wretched.
‘Ah,’ he said, closing up. Protecting himself.
‘Can I just take the weekend to think about everything? You know my head’s not on straight at the moment, I didn’t really expect all this to happen so quickly’. Or at all. ‘I have so much on my mind.’
He put his hand over mine. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t want to complicate things for you. Take all the time you need.’
We rolled up outside the marbled pillars of Olivia’s home and I started to feel trapped. Not just by him, but by Charlie – whose latest note was probably waiting for me inside – and by all the bad decisions I’d made recently. Perhaps it would just be easier to run away from it all while there was still a chance I could get out unscathed. I’d been so wrong to think David’s help would come without strings attached and it was too late now: I was stuck in them, both arms twisted and tied up against my back, his ropes cutting deep into my neck.
22
Jade
It was Monday morning and I’d spent the weekend studying the picture I’d taken of Ava and David. I knew it basically by heart now, could describe it so perfectly I reckon I could have drawn it from scratch if someone had asked. Red carpet, white door with shiny silver bolts, David’s hands round her body, moving her through the gap, fuzzy shadows in the bedroom beyond. Her dress wasn’t sitting nearly as pretty as it had earlier in the night and had slipped to reveal much more of her cleavage than she’d probably anticipated. Her skin didn’t look human, so full of booze it had turned the colour of old tequila. Her head hung back, mid-cackle perhaps, excited for her night with the boss. David was expressionless.
It was dynamite.
If David offered her the job, I’d leak this picture to the office: let them decide if they wanted to work at a place where you had to sleep with the CEO to get ahead. David would drop Ava in minutes and I’d be ready, then, to take her place. This photo was the perfect insurance policy and it couldn’t have come at a better time.
23
Ava
Wrapped up in one of my oldest and comfiest sweatshirts, I’d spent the weekend thinking long and hard about Friday night. I’d ignored the solitary call I’d had from home and had disconnected myself from strangers on social media. I’d been lonely for the best part of a year now but this weekend had felt the lowest of all: the one person on my side I could no longer trust. The one person who’d been able to help me get out of my mess with Charlie had landed me right in the thick of another. What was I supposed to do now?
On the one hand, I loved my job, had great prospects at W&SP, was being protected and
helped by David, he’d been kind enough to give me somewhere to live, cared about me, listened to my problems; but, on the other, we’d slept together, I hadn’t remembered a second of it, and now he was clearly hoping to make things more serious between us. But did I really want to leave my job over it? I didn’t want to walk away from everything I’d built at W&SP, and I wasn’t ready to give up on being Team Head over a mistake: not yet anyway.
*
Late on Monday I headed up to the fourth floor – David’s office – and knocked on his door. I knew what I needed to do. My thud was heavy, purposeful, and I felt like I was standing at the gates of Mordor. I know what you’ve done. I know what you’ve done. His plastic PA wasn’t on duty, thankfully, so hopefully my visit would remain under wraps. The door swung open and I stepped into the dim light inside, breathing in a heady mix of tequila and black coffee, the entrails of cigarette smoke, the timeless scent of new leather. He sat, as I imagined he always did, at the far, far end of the room. His hair was gelled back in its classic style, his fingers methodically tapping away the burnt-out end of his asbestos-stick, yellowed from years of nicotine abuse. He didn’t often smoke round me and there was something really jarring about watching him do it indoors. Wasn’t it illegal? I supposed laws didn’t really apply to people like David.
He hadn’t looked at me yet, his eyes fixed on something outside the floor-length window next to his desk, the window he used to keep a watchful eye on the city below from the safety of his towering fortress.
‘David?’ I approached him and sat in the spare seat opposite.
‘Ava.’
‘Is now a good time? To talk I mean?’
‘As good as any.’ He smiled to put me at ease. It didn’t.
‘First of all, I want to apologise. I was disgustingly drunk at the party and, honestly, I’m so ashamed of my behaviour, being sick, ending up in bed with you, it’s not how I would ordinarily behave.’
‘Please, don’t apologise, we’ve all been young Ava. Even me.’
I resisted the urge to tell him what happened had nothing to do with being young.
‘Secondly, I wanted to ask if we could try to go back to the way things were. No special treatment, no exceptions because of the other night. Just normal. I think I can do that if you’re open to it as well?’
‘Of course.’ He looked downcast, ominous, then he pressed his hand to his desk phone and punched in a number. ‘You can come through, now.’ There was movement from his bathroom and I turned my head to face the direction of the sound.
‘Do we have company?’ I asked, looking round. ‘Do you want me to leave?’
At that moment a woman with a chest full of silicone emerged from David’s bathroom, her hair tied half-up in a bun, half-down flowing over each of her tiny shoulders. I got up to greet her, feeling incredibly awkward. Why hadn’t he told me there was someone here? What had she overheard?
‘Hi, I’m Ava, David’s err…’ I stuttered over what I was to him.
‘Ava’s a wonderful director here at the agency. Ava, this is Oxana.’
‘Will you be long?’ Her thick accent made me jump to conclusions that she was some sort of mail-order girl and I relaxed a bit, hopeful that perhaps I didn’t mean much to him, after all. Oxana floated, barely disturbing the air round her, and disappeared through a door on the other side of the office.
‘Oxana is a… friend, from Russia. She’s here in London for a few days and has some business to attend to.’
Clearly, I thought.
24
Jade
Sorry for my radio silence. The past week has been crazy. I flew to Monaco and had a tonne of work to do afterwards. Forgive me? And that picture… I’ve been waiting for things to calm down to enjoy it properly. You’re hiding some serious talent beneath those black dresses – you know that, don’t you?
I was practically hyperventilating as I read his message, my nostrils gloriously flared, desperate to suck in as much of the air surrounding me as possible. Maybe he’d spotted the flowers on my desk, or was responding to the fact that I’d barely looked at him since I sent the picture. Either way, my plans had worked.
I couldn’t wait to write back, my head drunk and dizzy from each exceptional word before me. Note to self: Don’t go so bloody crazy when he doesn’t text back in the future. There’s probably just a major work emergency on his hands, that’s all, it’s not that he doesn’t like you. I hit reply. It was a miracle I hadn’t given in and double-texted so I did away with the ‘make him wait an hour rule’ that Georgette had been telling me about and ploughed on.
I totally understand, it sounds like things have been really busy. I’m glad you liked the pic ;-)
I felt pretty silly throwing on my old bikini and taking it straight after work, it was so rushed!
I only had to wait a couple of moments before he replied again. Bloody hell, it’s so easy when people just text back!
If you think you can do better, I’m more than happy to sit back and be your judge.
Bugger. Another photoshoot. I wish I hadn’t thrown away my shiny leg brush.
*
I’d woken to a picture-perfect example of a stunning summer day and the sun, glorious and gold, transformed my usually dreary commute; I whistled as I walked, letting the blossom-scented air fill my lungs, blowing out the cobwebs that had formed from taking the train too often. I stopped to listen to chaffinches sing as they flew from tree to tree, gazed at frantic little squirrels chasing one another up fences and back down again. I sucked in the smell of flowers and grass and life. I shimmied, skipped and clicked my way through a veritable performance of a walk. And I could hardly help it! For I was pumped full with love! Fit to burst with bliss! Wasn’t it just amazing how a bit of sunshine could wake up the world?
Before I took a seat at my desk, I located my phone in the depths of my rucksack and snuck into the far cubicle of the women’s toilets. I sat on the plastic toilet lid and flicked through the messages I’d exchanged with Josh last night after I’d sent him a heavily filtered flurry of sexy selfies. I’d finally hit my stride around pictures 835–850 when I’d discovered if you pulled your flesh to one side with a hand out of shot it could hide all manner of sins. I almost just wanted to check the messages were real, that I hadn’t dozed off and dreamt the whole thing.
You should wear green more often, it would bring out those unreal eyes of yours.
My wardrobe is black, black and black I’m afraid. I like to be professional, you know, it’s an art lost on lots of people in this office.
I think you’d look good in green… why don’t you buy something green for me?
Like what?
Like… underwear?
Right OK. But can I choose? Because I have lots of stipulations to do with the kinds of things I like to wear.
Since when did you set the rules, miss?
Since just now, I guess… handsome.
After that he’d sent me a picture: it was one I’d already seen on his Instagram account – he had his top off, each ab bulging at the camera, his body sweaty and solid from the workout the accompanying caption told me he’d just finished. His hair was wet, blacker than black, and he had a white towel slung haphazardly round his waist. He’d stuck his tongue out and closed one eye as though his face needed to detract from the sheer perfection his body couldn’t hide.
I guess you can get away with sending me an old photo, even if lots of other people have enjoyed it already, but next time I want one for my eyes only!
You’re gonna need to give me a copy of this rule book so I can keep up with your demands. Now where were we…
We’d chatted all night, hot and heavy, sexy and steamy, all the juicy details, everything I’d wanted from him after I’d sent that first picture. If only I was able to float back in time to that night where I’d wept uncontrollably into my pillow and could stroke my hair, rub my back and whisper in my ear that it wasn’t over, that the best was yet to come. Alas, time trave
l was still a few years away and, remember, you couldn’t have the rainbow without the rain… I was almost nauseating myself coming out with stupid phrases like that. I’d have shot someone at point-blank range, gladly, for wheeling out that kind of crap a couple of days ago.
Who am I?
It’s positively ghastly how delirious I have become!
I flushed the loo even though I hadn’t been, in case someone was waiting outside and spread a rumour about me not flushing, and, after playing around pinning my hair back in various updos, decided to start the working day. Josh wasn’t in yet and I took my seat across from Georgette. She looked a little worse for wear.
‘Morning!’ I said, brightly.
‘What’s got into you?’ she croaked.
‘It’s such a beautiful day!’
‘Did you get laid or something? You’re acting so weird.’
I smiled to myself and turned on my computer, rearranging a couple of the picture frames that sat on my desk, I sprayed myself theatrically with a free sample of perfume I’d been offered on my way to work, dousing myself in notes of peach and pearl.
I sensed him before I saw him, the swing of the double doors and a second later his inch-perfect body sauntered through. Did he look a little tired? Ah!
I must have audibly squealed with delight as I watched him take his seat because Georgette was sniggering at me.
‘You’re a freak today, honestly, you’re scaring me.’
It was so thrilling! I hurried to the toilets again to hide my manic grin and wrote Josh another message.
Just had to steal away for a few minutes to calm myself down after seeing you walk in. Who knew it was possible to enjoy a morning at work after no sleep the night before…
You’d best calm down. We have a meeting with Kai soon and I know you want to keep this our dirty little secret.
Kai was coming in today to update Ava, Josh and me on some developments with the launch. How were we going to keep our hands off each other?