by LP Lovell
“Call me Lilly.” I counter. “And all good I hope.” He holds my gaze for a beat too long.
“I was telling Mr. Hardy about the takeover you orchestrated for Ellis on Media Inc.” Simmons gloats.
“Um, well, that was Josh…”
“Nonsense. You worked hard on that. You should take credit where credit is due.” He turns to James. “Such modesty. Ellis doesn’t trust just anybody with these things.” He does if he’s trying to get in your pants. Not going there. I push the thought aside and put my professional face on.
“I’ve read your file James and I have a plan of action for you.”
“Straight in there. I like it.” He smiles at me but I quickly look away. All three of us take a seat at the conference table.
“My aim is simple. I want Wyatt Enterprises.” He meets my gaze. “Can you get it for me?”
I smirk. “Of course.”
He grins. “Great. Show me what you’ve got.”
“Wyatt Enterprises is dying. This morning their stocks dropped by two percent. That’s on top of the five percent drop from last month. The shareholders are ready to bale. Now Wyatt himself only owns thirty five percent of the business. He’s had to sell a large percentage in the last few years to fund the business. So now he’s backed against the wall. This is a prime opportunity. Make him an offer before his stocks fall even more. He’ll be forced to take it.”
“And if he won’t take it?”
I smile. I love this shit. “We go hostile. Start buying shares aggressively. You approach shareholders. Hell, make it known you want shares in Wyatt Enterprises and they will sell them to you faster than you can wire the money. Arthur Wyatt isn’t in a position to go up against you. He’s all out of money, resources and favours.”
“How much?” He smirks. This is the point where I should probably show some moral compass. Pft, get real. I’m a solicitor. I didn’t become a solicitor so I could dance around people’s feelings. If I can take their company I will, and I won’t lose sleep over it. If they lose, it’s because they’re weak. I’m all about winning.
I shrug. “Fifty percent shares you’re looking at twenty five million, so full buyout of fifty million. That’s the current market value. By next week it will be worth less, so that’s a good offer.” He tilts his head, a small smile on his face.
“He still might not take it.” He says leaning forward.
“He would be stupid not to, a fact that I would be happy to inform him of.” I lean forward slightly, gravitating toward him. “In fact, I’m sure I can dig up some leverage.”
Mr Simmons laughs and I jump. I’d almost forgotten he was there. “I told you she was good.”
James touches his index finger to his clean shaven chin and pauses. After a few moments he speaks. “Okay. Make the offer for full buyout. I want everything, the factories, distribution centres, the lot.”
I smile. “Of course. I’ll make an offer and deliver it within the next week.”
“Will you be delivering in person?” He asks with a smirk.
“Of course.” I smile again.
“Well, that ought to sweeten the deal for the old boy.” His eyes drop to my chest briefly. He hands me a card. “Here’s my number. Call me should you need…anything.” He winks before turning away from me to shake Simmons hand. I’m starting to think that perhaps I’m not here for my superior knowledge of the law. Whatever the reasons for this promotion, I can’t deny that it’s great to finally get my teeth into something of my own. Although a fifty million dollar deal as my first case…no pressure. Fuck.
I’m just getting ready to leave when there’s a tap on my office door.
“Come in.” I shout.
A man steps into the office holding what looks like a cellophane wrapped bottle. “Delivery for Miss Lilly Parker.” He says.
I sign for it and he leaves. I smile, I’m betting Molly sent it. She likes to make her grand gestures. There’s a note tied to the neck of the bottle. I read it.
Sugar,
Congratulations on your new job. Nobody is more deserving.
Love always.
Theo. X
My chest tightens as my heart throbs painfully. Its things like this that make me miss him. The small gestures that only someone who cares would make. Why does it have to be him that makes me feel like a stupid fucking school girl? Why is it him that does these thoughtful little things? Shit like this just messes with my head, and that’s exactly why he’s doing it. Or maybe he just loves me, and he wanted me to know he cares, a small voice whispers. I quickly shoo it away. I unwrap the cellophane and reveal a bottle of Moet Rose. Damn, but the man has good taste.
I guess I don’t need to buy a bottle of wine after all. I’m still not ready to go home. I change into the gym clothes I brought with me and head straight to the dance studio. This has been my routine since I’ve been back. Work, dance, sleep and repeat. No time to think, and no time to sulk.
I find dancing clears my mind and helps me deal with the general shit that life has to offer. It’s always been my therapy, and that’s why I took to it so enthusiastically when I was a teenager. In discovering dance, I discovered a healthy way to forget before I turned into a sixteen year old alcoholic.
I’ve been hitting it hard recently as my mind tries to work frantically through the rubble that is my imploded life, temporarily imploded I know, but it doesn’t make it any easier. If I wasn’t dancing I’d be drinking, heavily, let me tell you. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with drinking, but I’d rather not add liver failure to my list of problems right now.
People say to me; ‘It will get easier.’ I know it will get easier, but that doesn’t make it easier now. I guess you just have to ride the wave until it fizzles out. I hope that I’ll suddenly wake up one day and realise that I’m over Theodore Ellis, but truth be told; Theo is just one more broken hearted memory to add on the pile.
The dance studio is quiet. It always is on evenings and weekends. It’s used by the performing arts school during the day.
One wall is made up of mirrors, an iPod dock sits in the corner, but other than that it’s just a vast expanse of wooden floor. I pop my iPod on the dock and pick a song. It’s Stay by Rhianna. It was one of my favourite songs, but now it just makes me sad. Emotion is good when dancing though, it’s a form of expression after all.
The music plays with the soothing voices taking over my body. I drift through a contemporary routine, focusing simply on the music and my movements, my mind is blissfully blank.
I don’t notice George come into the studio, as I’m so engrossed in the dance. When I finish in a split plie, he claps, making me jump.
“Jesus George. Don’t you know not to interrupt a girl when she’s in the zone?” He laughs. I pick up my water bottle and walk towards him. “What are you doing here anyway?” I haven’t seen much of Molly and George in the days since I’ve been back. George is still busy with the show. If I’m honest, I think I might be avoiding Molly. Don’t get me wrong, I would never let something a trivial as a man effect our friendship, but from the brief snippets I’ve got from George, she’s still sleeping with Hugo. Trust me, I have no problem with that. I just need space from anything and everything Theo related. I get the feeling she may be avoiding me for the same reason. It will be fine when things settle down, it’s just still a little raw and I can’t hide my hurt right now. I’d hate for Molly or George to see what’s lurking behind my crumbling façade. I’m ashamed that I’ve let myself become this. I was ashamed to let my brother see this, let alone my friends. I’ve missed George though. There’s something about him that’s just warm, and happy.
“Well firstly, that was some really nice work.” He gestures toward the floor where I was just dancing. “Secondly, I’ll have you know this was my dance studio long before you decided to practically live here, and I got so bloody snowed under with the production.” He huffs.
I smile. “Fine, but what are you doing here?”
He rolls his eyes and
then his face breaks into a huge grin. “I told you, to hang out with you. You promised me a date, remember? We’re celebrating whether you like it or not. You can mope through it and watch me get drunk, or you can join in.” He pouts. “Then this weekend we are going out and celebrating my freedom. Tequila and insemination on the dance floor style.” He throws a little hip thrust and I smile.
“Freedom?”
“Yeah, it’s the last day of the show tomorrow…”
“Oh shit, is it?” I interrupt.
“Uh, yeah, I’ve been telling you that for the last week. Although you have resembled a zombie, so perhaps I was silly to think you may still have a listening function.” He tilts his head slightly.
“Okay, I deserve that. God I’m so shit. Can you get me a ticket for tomorrow?” I am the world’s worst friend.
“You are shit.” He winks. “Sure I can get you a ticket, but you know you really don’t have to come. You’ve seen me dance a thousand times, Lill’s.” He waves me off.
“I want to come. It’s not every day that my bestie is in the West End. I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.” I stare at the ground. Seriously, how have I been so wrapped up in myself that I missed this?
“Okay, fine I’ll get you a ticket.” He huffs. “Now let’s roll. I’m hungry bitch and you owe me some wine.”
“Since I got the promotion I think you should be buying.” I raise an eyebrow at him.
He snorts. “Oh hell no. You’re such a car crash you need to pay me in wine just to hang around with you.” He grins devilishly and I punch his arm. “God damn it.” He shakes his arm.
“Lucky for you I have Champagne, courtesy of the arsehole.”
“Um, why did we break up with him again?” He grins.
“Sadly champagne does not make up for a wondering dick, alas.”
He laughs. “Well, I am very happy to take advantage of your pining lover.”
George buys me a pizza on the way home, and we stop and get another bottle of wine. One bottle is not going to be enough, however expensive it may be. I’ve barely spoken to George about Theo. He knows the basics, but he hasn’t tried to push me on it. That’s what I love about George, he listens when you need him to, but waits for me to talk.
“So how are you my little chicken?” He asks absentmindedly as we sit on the sofa. The open pizza box is on the coffee table in front of us. George sits with his back against the arm of the sofa, his knees bent casually as he faces me. He asks me the same question every day. It’s his way of saying; do you want to talk about it?
I shrug. “Standard. No-one tells you how crap break-ups are. That shit should have a warning on the label.” I pick up my glass of wine and take a big gulp.
He nods. “It is a big old pile of wank.” He runs his hands through his messy blonde hair.
“Have you ever even been through a break-up George?” I ask through a smile. I can’t remember George ever having an actual relationship as such. He’s like a puppy with a toy. It’s the best thing since sliced bread, and then you squeak a new toy in his face and he simply has to have it. He has the attention span of a gnat. George sits up and pulls off his hoody, revealing his sleeveless vest underneath. His biceps and shoulders are perfectly cut. No wonder George has so many bloody offers. He leans back casually shoving a slice of pizza in his mouth, his arms bulging with the movement. Jesus, I really need to get some.
“Once.” He says. “His name was Lorenzo. We had five beautiful days together when I went to Sicily on holiday.” I snort. “Hey. It was deep and meaningful.” He smirks. “The boy had a body like fucking god let me tell you.”
I laugh. “Of course. If there is one thing I can say assuredly babe, it’s that you have excellent taste in men.”
“I’ll toast to that.” He says. He clinks his glass to mine. “To our exceptional taste in men.”
“Oh no. I’m going for the ugly ones from now on.” I announce.
He gasps in mock horror. “No. I will say this for Theo. He’s an arsehole, but he knows how to handle you girl. Normally you intimidate the shit out of any guy that looks your way. I kind of imagine them cowering a little, even as you’re riding them.” He laughs as I hit him.
“They do not!”
He tilts his head, grinning. “Come to think of it that’s a little rapey.”
I roll my eyes. ”You think?”
“Anyway, my point is that anyone with anything less than the pure unhindered arrogance, and ridiculous good looks of said arsehole, will be eaten alive by you.”
I sigh. “Maybe you’re right. Rapey it is.”
George snorts as he laughs. “Just go back to fucking around.” He shrugs. “It worked before.”
I frown into my glass of wine as though it holds all the answers. “I don’t know if I can. It’s like…he’s broken me.”
“I’m hoping you mean figuratively rather than physically.” He smirks and raises an eyebrow as he eyes my crotch.
I laugh and swat at him. “No!”
“Just checking.” He smiles. “Seriously though babes, you’re not broken. He pulled down your walls, that’s all. You can’t build a wall in a day, it takes time.”
I nod. “You’re right. Ugh, why do I feel like I got royally fucked over?”
“If it’s any consolation I don’t think he meant to fuck you over.” I scowl at him. “Damn, down girl.” He laughs. “I’m just saying, I think he probably regrets it.”
“Yeah well fuck him, and fuck his regrets…and fuck his wondering fucking penis.” I grumble.
George throws his head back and laughs. “Wow. You have a mouth that would make a sailor proud Lill’s.” He grins wide.
“I hate him.” I say.
He nods and feigns an angry face. “We hate him.” He agrees. He opens his arms and I slip between his knee’s, my body side on to his chest. His muscled arms wrap around me, making me feel safe and whole just for a little while. I rest my head against his chest, and he rests his chin on my head. I prop my wine glass on his knee.
“Do you want me to go find a dog shit and post it through his letter box?” George asks into my hair. His big body vibrates under me as he laughs. George is the best friend a girl could want.
We drink two bottles of wine. I must have fallen asleep on him because I wake up to the sound of the front door closing.
“Hey.” Molly says brightly as she throws her bag and keys down on the coffee table. “You guys look like you had a good night.” She eyes the empty wine bottles.
I pull my head up off George’s chest and see I’ve left make up smudges all over his white top. He laughs at what must be a dazed look on my face. He holds my face on either side and wipes make-up from under my eyes quickly with his thumbs.
“Thanks.” I mumble.
Molly sighs. “Are you okay Lill’s?” She asks, but averts her eyes. She almost looks guilty as she stands behind George.
“I’m fine.” My head spins slightly from the wine. She’s being really weird. George catches my eye and gives me a small head tilt. He doesn’t know either.
“Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been around that much.” It’s true, she hasn’t been around much, but I’ve been so wrapped in my own pity party I haven’t really noticed much.
“Honestly. I haven’t been paying much attention to…well anything lately. I didn’t want to hang out with myself. I don’t expect you guys to.” I shrug.
‘Always’ George mouths at me and I smile.
“How are you anyway?” I ask her, only slurring very slightly.
She nods. “Yeah, fine. Busy you know.”
Oh god, she’s really sulking. I roll my eyes. “Oh god Mole stop with the moping will you. Have some wine.” I indicate towards the bottles but then realise they’re empty. I giggle.
Molly sighs. She pretty much disagrees with any and all of my life’s coping methods. George encourages them vehemently. “I take it the reason you’re drunk in the middle of the week is because of this thing with Theo.�
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I glare at her. “Thing? There is no thing. We are no thing. We are two separate entities.” I say haughtily, but then George smiles and I have to try not to laugh. Damn wine, interrupting my serious flow.
“You know what I mean.”
“A girl has a right to drink on a weekday. I’m not twelve. I am drinking, because I have avoided it with the whole…” I wave my hand around in the air. “…thing, and now I am not avoiding it.” Seems like a good enough explanation.
“Lighten up Mole.” George snorts.
She ignores him. “I just don’t want to see you go off the deep end because of him. You should actually talk to him. It might change some things.” She says softly.
“I’m not going off the deep end, I’m fine.” I declare. “And I am definitely not talking to him.” I scoff. “We hate him.”
George nods. “We hate him.”
“Mature.” She mutters as she rolls her eyes. “Lilly, you need to talk to him. He made a mistake, but he loves you.” She presses her lips together. “And you love him. You guys have something that you don’t find every day. Is it worth throwing away over one mistake?” She has a quietness about her as though she’s waiting for a bomb to go off. I have a feeling the bomb is me.
“Pretty fucking big mistake.” Is my sharp response. “I’m done.”
Molly knows me, and she knows that once burned…well, you can well and truly fuck off.
“Okay, okay. Fine. I tried.” She mutters. “I’m sick of the pair of you. All you do is just bury your heads at the bottom of a glass.”
“Firstly, this is the first drink I’ve had throughout this shit. Which I’d like to add, the arsehole himself sent me.” She eyes the empty bottle of champagne. “Secondly, do not compare me to that…that slut. Thirdly…you’ve been talking to him?!” A small stab of betrayal hits me. It must read on my face because George squeezes my arm in reassurance.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’ve seen him a couple of times with Hugo. That’s all. He’s permanently trashed from what I can gather anyway.”
“I know. I’ve seen the papers. Old habits die hard apparently.” I mumble.