by Heleen Kist
Claire fumed. ‘That private security at the event — which we’ve learnt was completely ineffective — was hired by my agency. Remember? We organised it. And that stupid movie star’s publicist has been blabbing to everyone about how we couldn’t keep their star safe. Pure Brilliant now look like fucking idiots.’ The waitress came with the drinks and Claire contained her fury until she’d gone. ‘And right after our joke on Darren. None of the PR publications or social media groups would have done anything, because it isn’t exactly industry news. Except now it is. Both the intruder image and the embarrassing photo of Darren are shown in an article taking the piss out of us. A PR agency that can’t even contain its own publicity.’
‘Ah,’ Suki said.
I clutched my sparking water close to my chest; the ice cubes clinked against glass as my breath quivered. ‘I’m sorry, Claire. I never connected the dots. How was I supposed to know? God, I feel terrible.’
‘I don’t care how you feel,’ Claire said. ‘Darren is in a stinking rage. Plus, I got a call this morning from my smart watch client — the one who sponsored the event — complaining how embarrassing this was for them, and that they were minded to go elsewhere.’ Slim pools of angry tears formed along her lash line. ‘Don’t you see? If I lose them, I’m going to be tufted back to doing handbags and fucking charity gigs. So thanks a lot.’
‘Come on.’ Suki pushed down Claire’s accusatory finger. ‘Calm down. You can’t really blame Laura for this. How was she supposed to know the photo of the trespasser would get a life of its own? You’re also not completely blameless in this: you asked Laura to take that photo of your boss.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. I hadn’t moved an inch since the attack began. ‘It’s Emily... I’ve been trying to find someone to blame for her death. That’s all I cared about; all I could see. Even helping you out with Darren, I partly did for Emily.’
Claire’s incredulous eyes couldn’t have gotten any bigger. ‘What? Why? What’s he got to do with Emily’s death?’ She searched Suki for support, as if to say, ‘are you hearing this?’ but Suki handily stuffed her face with taco. ‘Look. I know she was your best friend. And I liked her too. The abuse she suffered was completely uncalled for, but bloody hell, what was she thinking, making a big stink? She just had a bad date.’
Suki gasped. A small piece of cabbage flew into her windpipe, triggering a coughing fit.
‘How... How can you say that?’ I asked, checking on Suki with a sideways glance.
‘For fucks’ sake, she was in PR. She should have known better than to write about it. Plenty of women believe that it wasn’t that big of a deal what happened with Adam Mooney and that she should’ve kept quiet.’
Suki recovered. ‘Yes, but I didn’t think that included us.’
‘There is no “us”.’ Claire formed a circle with her finger. ‘Whatever we were doing here is over. I’m out.’ She slid to the end of the bench, jumped up and grabbed her stuff. ‘Goodbye.’
After taking two steps towards the door, she turned around again, straightened up, and shook her hair into place. ‘I would be grateful if this didn’t become a problem for our professional relationship, Laura. Pure Brilliant values Empisoft’s business tremendously and I’ll remain one hundred percent focused on making your conference a success.’ She spun on her heels and left.
‘Wow. Are you okay?’ Suki asked.
I pressed my cool fingers to my temples. ‘Not really.’
‘Don’t let it get to you. She’s hot-headed. I’ve seen her lambast someone before.’ Suki rolled her eyes. ‘And she complains about her boss being a bully. She’ll get over it.’
I put on a little fake smile. I rubbed my napkin between my fingers, not sure whether the tears building up behind my eyes would force their way out or not. This all served me right for believing I’d made new friends. You didn’t make friends that easily. God, I missed Emily.
I’d always be better off on my own. No one to hurt me.
Suki snapped her fingers in front of my face. ‘Hello?’
‘I’m fine. I’ll be fine.’
‘Sod her, Laura. We didn’t need her anyway. I haven’t even told you about my chat with Diane.’ Suki leaned over and snatched the napkin from my hand. ‘Don’t mope. Our trio is down to two — big deal. Do you have any idea how many times the Avengers have reformed? That’s never stopped them from their mission.’
I tilted my head.
‘Okay, you got me,’ she said. ‘I have no idea what their mission is. Something to do with five stones?’ She grinned broadly. ‘Come on. Cheer up. Onwards and upwards.’ She grabbed my wrist across the table and forced me to lift my glass while saying with a high-pitched voice, ‘Onwards and upwards.’
It was hard not to smile.
40
ME
‘Did you think I wouldn’t find out?’ Justin’s voice made my heart flip. I’d been so engrossed working on my data model since lunchtime that I hadn’t sensed his presence next to my desk.
Curious heads popped up from nearby monitors. Justin tossed his head in the direction of the meeting rooms, signalling this conversation was better had in private.
It was a silent march past reception and into the boardroom, whose frosty glass matched the atmosphere between us.
He sat at the head of the table, leaning back with his hands behind his head and his legs wide apart. An unreasonably relaxed pose that made me want to kick his exposed nuts.
‘What’s up?’ I asked, crossing my arms.
He hunched forward and laid his palms flat onto the table. ‘What you did was ballsy. I didn’t think you had it in you. What were you hoping to achieve with the board? Did you really think they wouldn’t be on the phone to me within seconds?’
I shrugged. ‘It was worth a shot. You made it perfectly clear to me, after Suki called you out on having the growth options, that I should leave it alone. I figured you weren’t going to share, or champion me, and I took matters into my own hands.’ I sat in the seat opposite, shaking my head with pursed lips. ‘So much for fifty-fifty. Or don’t you remember that? Our promise. Our pinkie-promise in your digs late at night when we’d finished the first draft of the business plan and had finally gotten the demo to work for the investor showcase.’
‘Listen to you. A pinkie-promise. We’re not kids, Laura. This isn’t a game.’ He held his arms out wide, as if to embrace the whole office. His blue Empisoft-logoed polo shirt stretched across his chest. ‘I put everything into this business, working day and night, travelling, endless schmoozing. While you swanned in late morning, did your bit, and buggered off home again to be with your books and feed the cat.’
‘Don’t bring that up as an excuse,’ I spat. ‘You’ve always said the hours don’t matter, it’s the output that does. The output has always been there and it’s my R&D programme that has kept customers loyal and the competitors at bay.’
Justin crossed his arms with a deep sigh. ‘Fine. Even if that’s true. I’m sorry you’re feeling unappreciated or undervalued, or whatever. Why is it important to you all of a sudden? We’re going to be filthy rich. This is what I have worked my tail off for. It’s too bloody late to change anything. And I’m not going to let you cause huge problems all because of some romantic sense of fairness or entitlement.’
I leaned into the table. ‘Why should this cause problems? It’s just the truth. I have been as important as you in the growth and success of this company, and people needed to be aware of that.’
‘Well, you’ve achieved that... but it comes with strings. And you’re not going to like them.’
‘What do you mean, strings?’
Justin nudged towards me. ‘The board were pissed. But they also believed you. Problem is, they now have an obligation to list you as a Key Man and that is what I’d been trying to avoid. To protect you.’
‘I don’t understand.’
He tugged at his collar and sat back. ‘When I negotiated my growth options, it was because I was
frustrated that the investors would get such a big return for all of our hard work if the company did as well as I expected it to. In the grand scheme of things, they’d only put in some money they could stand to lose; and proceeded to give us a hard time for the first year and a half when things weren’t going that well yet. We did all the hard work.’ He rose and started pacing around the room. ‘And I had a vision. I knew we could grow this company well beyond what these investors considered success, to be one of the truly great technology companies to come out of Edinburgh. And I was right. Look at us. But at the time, me claiming I could increase the valuation by tenfold was bold and crazy-sounding. They granted me the options, believing they’d never be worth anything.’ Justin crouched next to me and looked up with a friendly face. ‘And I did think of getting them for you, too. Of course I did. Yes, we had a deal. Fifty-fifty. But my vision also included selling this company quickly, making our millions and riding off into the sunset — or into a library, in your case,’ he said, smiling. ‘And you wouldn’t have been able to do that if I’d explained to them how incredibly important you are. They just saw you as a clever girl, a hard worker, and because you’d opted not to be a director, they didn’t give you much attention. If I had made the case for growth options for you on the basis that so much of Empisoft relies on you, they would have made you a Key Man. Like me.’
I pushed my chair back a bit and shook my head in confusion. My ponytail swung against my shoulders. ‘Stop. What is this Key Man thing you keep mentioning? So what? Why is this a bad thing? You got extra options out of it.’
He rose, his knees creaking, and perched on the side of the table. ‘A Key Man — or woman — is someone who is critical to the operation of a business. Companies take out insurance for them. You know, if you get hit by a bus, at least the company get some cash to ride out the impact. That’s not why it matters here. It matters because in the case of an acquisition — which you need to remember is what I was planning for all along, a big fat exit — contracts will stipulate that the Key Men will need to stay with the acquiring company for a set period of time, usually two years. So you see, I needed to downplay your role. I couldn’t ask for growth options for you because if it all went to plan, I wanted to give you the ability to cash in straight away and go live your life. To give you freedom.’
‘By you getting paid more?’ I gave him a defiant look, quickly tempered by a guilty twinge for challenging him on this again. He seemed genuine and caring, gazing gently down at me. Had he really meant well all along?
He shrugged. ‘I figured that by the time we were looking at a hundred-million-dollar exit, the added cash from the growth options wouldn’t matter anymore. What’s a measly million at that point in exchange for two years of your life?’
‘You should have told me. This wasn’t your decision to make. Besides, I don’t mind working. I love this job. I have no idea what I would be doing with all that money anyway.’
‘Well that’s just as well,’ he said. ‘Because you’ll have to wait two years to get your hands on it.’
‘What do you mean? I thought you said I only had to work for two years.’
He bit his lip and grimaced. ‘No, it’s a lot more complicated than that, and I’m afraid you’ve shot yourself in the foot. I tried to shield you from all the extra obligations and complications that I have, as CEO. But you’ve blindly gone around making your point about how instrumental you’ve been, how you’re the only one who knows how the new projects work. Fact is, because of this, you’re not going to get your money any time soon.’
‘Why not? I own like a third of the company. Aren’t PeopleForce buying all the shares?’
‘Yes, but Key Men are expected to sign warranties. That’s basically promising everything we told them is true. A guarantee that there will be no skeletons in the closet; that we’ve traded like we say we did, and we own the intellectual property we say we do.’
This was all too much. All these new financial constructs I wasn’t used to. I knew what the words meant, just not how they all fit together. There was a reason I’d tried to stay away from the business side. It seemed weird — how could they keep hold of my money?
I rose to my feet to meet his eye line. ‘I haven’t lied. I don’t see the problem.’
‘You don’t lie. The problem is that some people do lie. Companies acquiring others find issues all the time. Months, years later. I know of a founder being sued for actual fraud seven years after his company got acquired. It’s a nightmare. Like every company in their position does, PeopleForce have demanded a way to recoup some of the money, to cover their ass in case they find something wrong later. There are special clauses in the contracts for that. For any Key Man, which you now are, the proceeds of the sale of your shares — your millions — will not be paid out to you at the time the sale goes through.’ Seeing my blank face, he added, ‘The money will be held in a separate bank account, that nobody can touch until certain criteria are met. To give them a way to claw it back. You’re going to have to work for PeopleForce for two years, and you’ll only start to get the money for the share of the business you’ve sold after twelve months, then another bit six months later.’
‘You mean you’re not getting your share of the business paid out for two whole years... and neither am I?’
‘I’m sorry, Laura. I was aware that would be the case from the start. I did my homework early on. And I was willing to be in that position — because someone had to be. This company is my life. I signed up for this. You’ve always valued your home time and I didn’t want to see you tied down if we were successful. Yet here you are.’ His dark eyes suddenly glowed with scorn. ‘But I don’t feel sorry for you. You and your great big need to kick up a self-important fuss. Forcing the board to make last-minute adjustments to the contracts. Angus at Madainn is going apeshit because PeopleForce are getting seriously fed up with us and are threatening to call the whole thing off.’
My heart pounded in my throat. I took a step back. I’d never seen Justin so mad. Had I really messed the whole thing up? If the deal fell through, would it all be my fault? Imagine having to be the one to tell our staff I was the reason they didn’t get a huge bonus; a bonus big enough to pay off mortgages for some.
He barked, ‘Where are we on the due diligence documentation?’ I flinched as his angry words hit me. ‘Because we can’t afford any more delays. No more skulking on Twitter. You’ve not been focused on what matters: getting this deal over the line. No more surprises, Laura. I’ll never forgive you if you screw this up.’
As he turned to leave, he said, ‘I absolutely want to have it announced at the conference. Get on with it.’
So that was it.
My head buzzed. Nearly four years of close partnership, friendship even, reduced to a fight about cash. Cash I wasn’t even going to get my hands on — or cared about.
This reminded me of another relationship gone awry, one I could maybe still fix.
‘About the conference, Justin,’ I said as he held the door open. ‘Claire from Pure Brilliant knows about the acquisition.’ Justin frowned. ‘Don’t ask why. Long story,’ I said. ‘She’s been managing a real and a fake schedule for weeks and it would make her life a hundred times easier if she could talk freely to Marketing about it. Can you make that happen? I promise I’ll dive straight back into the due diligence.’
He nodded. ‘Anything else?’
But he didn’t wait to hear me say ‘no’ and slammed the door.
41
ME
After the embarrassing ‘privacy incident’ weeks before, Sally had joked I should hang a sock on the stationery room’s door handle whenever I was in there reading. But the last thing I wanted to think about was another discarded item of clothing in my sacred space.
Who has sex at work, anyway?
Book in hand, I entered the tiny room. The photocopier was churning out a large batch and I waited for the counter to reach zero. I was careful to keep the papers in order as
I placed them on the floor outside in the corridor. Someone would be coming for them soon and I couldn’t bear the thought of being interrupted.
This was my space. I’d even asked for an internal lock on the door. Refused. Apparently, that represented a health and safety hazard.
It had been a while since I’d sought sanctuary, hardly making the time to read at all lately. Whenever I tried, the words were only words. They no longer drew me deep inside a setting, with its sights and smells and sounds, or incited skipping heartbeats and quickened breaths alongside the characters. I’d thought at first perhaps Emily’s death had caused me to shut off, but as I suffered through my emotional turmoil — with this whole new cast of people; the ups, the downs, the confusion and the misunderstandings — I reckoned it was because my own world was too full already.
Reading brought me peace and I was desperate for it, for the soothing familiarity of its universal stories, for the predictability of characters’ life journeys. How much simpler than real life was it to be swept away by a thriller’s ticking clock and broken hero beating the villain just in time; epic battles between two tribes with the most unexpected warrior being the one to see the truth and vanquish evil; by happily-ever-afters for the local girl and the mysterious visitor in small seaside villages?
I settled into my usual nook and read back a few pages to remind myself of where I’d left off.
It was evening at the concentration camp and the mother wrapped herself around her infant, her emaciated body providing what comfort she could against the freezing temperature. The guards’ shouts echoed between the sick bay’s stone walls.
But this all felt wrong.
My ponytail was caught between my shoulder and the photocopier, tugging at my scalp. The book felt heavy, stretching the tendons in my forearms. The copier’s warmth made me itchy and its humming overpowered the click-clacks of the saviour-nurses’ heels. Only the officer’s bellowed orders made it through to my consciousness.