Just As You Are

by Kate Mathieson

  ‘OK, so I’m in geek-friendly territory?’

  ‘A little. But I never watched sci-fi movies.’ I held up my hands to plead my case, as he looked at me, completely astonished. ‘Guilty as charged.’

  ‘So, what movie did you watch over and over when you were young?’

  I cringed a little ‘This is going to tell you a lot. Anne of Green Gables. Little Women. And My Best Friend’s Wedding.’

  ‘Well, you’ve lost me on the first two, but the last one, I agree. It’s a pretty good movie.’

  I absolutely loved movies, and I couldn’t help myself. Professional Emma had flown the coop. Left the building. And it was just me, Everyday Emma, getting excited about rom-coms.

  ‘Except for the ending! I watch it until twenty minutes before the end and then, boom.’ I clicked my fingers. ‘I have to turn it off.’ I thought about my favourite scene, and my heart beat faster. ‘Remember the scene where they’re on the boat—’

  ‘And he’s singing Frank Sinatra like a boss?’ Nick nodded.

  I laughed. ‘And Julia Roberts is so into it, then she’s about to tell him she loves him, but then the moment passes them by. Urgh! It gets me right here.’ I clutch at my heart, laughing. ‘I feel like crying every time.’

  ‘I never took you for a romantic.’ He said it lightly, but I wasn’t sure if he meant it was a good thing or not.

  His phone started ringing on the table. Being a little nosy (OK, a lot), I glanced at it. Chloe calling. He said sorry, and excused himself to step outside the room and take the call. I wondered if Chloe was someone from work. Once I’d checked that he’d left the room, I quickly clicked onto Maker’s people directory and searched for a Chloe. There was a Chloe Maxwell in Printing and a Chloe Gerrard in Human Resources. It could be either. Or it could be someone else entirely.

  I was hoping Chloe was no one, because Nick and I seemed to be getting on really well; our conversation flowed and I was enjoying being with him. On a professional basis, of course.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Nick apologised, his tone back to professional. ‘OK, where were we, before I think we got slightly off track?’ And just like that Fiji Nick and Fiji Emma left the room and the work versions of both of us reappeared.

  ‘Unfortunately, your idea is good, but it’s been done before.’ I told him what Donna had said about the garden of good and evil.

  We both lapsed into silence as we thought about other possibilities. I stared at my watch, and looked out of the window at the blue sky. In the distance, I could just make out the shape of the moon.

  ‘Wait, I think I have something!’ I said excitedly.

  ‘Cityscape?’ he asked, walking over to where I was sitting, and staring out of the window. ‘Traffic?’

  ‘Shhhh,’ I told him as my brain chugged around.

  ‘Isn’t it career limiting to shush your boss?’ He smiled so I knew he was joking.

  But I didn’t respond, because something was formulating. I stared out of the window as the idea started connecting in my mind. But then I realised that he was standing near me. And I made the mistake of looking up at him and into his eyes. And just like that – the chemistry between us was palpable. I was jolted back to that night, my hand on his neck, his muscly neck, kissing him. Warm suds.

  ‘Earth to Emma.’ He broke the spell. ‘What did you have in mind?’

  ‘Yes, um, so I was thinking … stars. Heaven,’ I said, looking back out at the sky. Focus, Emma, focus. ‘Then we can segue into glitter, planets, cosmos, ethereal – anything really.’

  ‘Good one.’ He wrote it on the board. But then he stood back and shook his head. ‘Heaven, it’s a little religious, isn’t it? And we’re trying to have an event of collaboration, not religious divisions.’

  ‘Oh.’ I felt deflated. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Death, death, death.’ He pondered. ‘You know, this is the most I’ve thought about death – especially in a work context.’

  ‘Me too.’ I opened up my laptop and busied myself with searching. ‘OK, I’m going to try searching it. Again. For the millionth time.’

  I typed in death and word association. ‘Oh, God, there’s an app that reminds you five times a week that you’re going to die.’

  ‘What?’ Nick said incredulously.

  I read out from my screen. ‘It’s called WeCroak and it’s meant to remind you to keep living. You get text messages every day and it’s meant to encourage “contemplation, conscious breathing or meditation”.’

  He raised his eyebrows in shock. ‘Why would anyone want that? Hold on. Maybe that’s an idea – doing a take on carpe diem, seizing the day and living!’

  But when he got to the board, he didn’t write anything. ‘Living isn’t really the same as death, though, is it?’

  ‘Nope,’ I said glumly, drumming my fingers on the table. ‘Do you see the nightmare I’ve been in?’

  ‘Why would Donna—?’

  ‘Do that? I know, right?’ I said, then I thought, maybe she wanted the event to fail. She did say it was a Fever Pitch. I tried to keep to myself what I thought about Donna, but I was eager to know what Nick thought. ‘Did Donna mention anything to you?’

  ‘About this? No,’ Nick muttered. Before I could ask what they had talked about, he checked his calendar and said, ‘At least we have the guests confirmed. They just don’t know what the theme is.’

  ‘Right, which, by the way, I’m getting a load of calls. People want to know what to wear.’ I mused for a second. ‘Is it too late … or do you think we could lose the macabre plan?’

  Nick shook his head. ‘I texted Glenn earlier. Donna, in some way, managed to convince IAH’s CEO and board that this was the way to get attention, and be edgy. God knows how.’

  I knew how – through her pure, tantalising Goddess self. She was stunning. Even when she was coming at me like a predator, she was strikingly beautiful. Part of me wanted to just pop her on my mantelpiece and stare adoringly at her all day. She didn’t even have pores. I knew, because I’d got up close to her one day in a meeting, when we’d almost bumped into each other, and even then, there was just glacial smoothness across her cheeks and nose. I knew the power of beauty (the kind of power I’d never had myself, but had seen countless times). She only had to breathily purr, ‘Let’s do macabre as an event,’ or even, ‘We should kill someone,’ and the IAH people would have been jumping up and down, with their hands up, hoping they’d be chosen.

  For the next hour Nick and I brainstormed further, did more word associations and came up with pretty much nothing. Finally, my stomach started growling. ‘Chocolate biscuits just don’t cut it for lunch.’

  ‘How about we get a pizza delivered?’ Nick replied, clearly hungry too.

  ‘Pizza!’ I said, shocked. I didn’t know if Maker had ever entertained the idea of takeaway pizza inside its walls.

  ‘Yes, it’s this round dough thing with cheese on it.’ He grinned.

  I looked around sneakily. ‘Perfect. Just don’t let anyone see you carry it, or eat it, for that matter. Eating that kind of food around here is one of the cardinal sins.’

  He laughed. ‘I’ll take my chance. What’s your order?’

  ‘This is where it’s going to get weird.’

  ‘Oh, mine too. Go on, then, do your best.’

  ‘Double cheese, double pineapple, pepperoni and triple barbecue sauce.’

  He laughed. ‘You win. Mine’s a supreme with crème fraîche instead of sauce.’

  I wrinkled my nose at the thought.

  Nick laughed. ‘I thought the same about yours. It will be swimming in barbecue sauce – the toppings will probably float away. Shall we do half and half?’

  ***

  By 2 p.m., we had an empty pizza box, and nothing else written on the board.

  Nick yawned from the other side of the table and said, ‘Death. Sleep.’ He paused. ‘I could do with some sleep. Or coffee. I worship coffee. It’s a Godsend on days like today.’

  Deat
h. God. Rivers of barbecue sauce. I held up my hand as an idea started to take hold in my mind. ‘I’ve got something!’

  Nick looked at me expectantly.

  ‘Hades and the Underworld,’ I said excitedly. ‘Picture this. They arrive to a hooded figure on the steps, and perhaps a glowing, gleaming red and black River Styx, maybe to get to their seat and tables they had to travel! Even by boat.’ Now I was just getting carried away. ‘There could be creatures of the Underworld and of course Persephone, Goddess, glowing white and bright. And the meals could be crimson and black and white – or a take on those foods. It will be opulent, and majestic and magical!’

  Nick grinned at me. ‘Emma, I think you’ve got it.’

  And him just saying that made me feel amazing.

  Chapter 15

  ‘You’re still here?’ Nick stuck his head out of the office. ‘It’s 8 p.m.’

  ‘OK, OK, maybe one more little thing?’ I promised. ‘By the way, how do the new logos from Tim look?’

  He pulled them off his desk and brought them over. Tim had done just about next to nothing, except change the angle of the outstretched arms to be more on a diagonal so now the logo looked like a martini glass, and the head was a bouncing olive at the bottom of the glass. He’d also tinted the soft-bleeding pink to a deeper maroon, still in line with their brand colours. ‘Thoughts?’ he asked.

  ‘No longer John the Baptist.’ I nodded, feeling relieved. ‘So that’s a plus.’

  He pointed to a large A3 sheet on my desk. ‘Is that the seating chart?’

  I nodded. ‘Trying to get it to you by the end of today, but I’m just making some final adjustments.’

  I’d been juggling with it all afternoon, trying to seat people who liked each other together, and who hated each other very far apart. We were also expecting some VIP celebrities, including Honey Clark. Honey was a well-known Australian actress that had been in the US for some time where she’d had a little run-in with the law for a DUI and a dodgy boyfriend. But thanks to Maker, she was planning to come to Australia and was perfectly positioned to be the new face of IAH, which was all part of her new do-good image. Even though she’d never done an ounce of charity before. That was what we did at Maker. Celebrity management. Spinning crises in new directions. Basically, we took the seedy underneath and made it look clean and sparkly again.

  ‘Yep. Want to see?’

  ‘Sure.’ He walked behind my desk and leaned over. I could feel his warmth above me, and the hairs on my arms and neck started to stand. He still smelt as fresh as he did in the mornings. How did he do that?

  ‘You’ve put Jessica Cohen next to Brian Jones?’ he queried, running his finger across the chart. Jessica was a newsreader, with a side hobby of spinning the charity circuit, and Brian Jones was a footballer, and spokesperson for IAH.

  ‘I shouldn’t have?’

  ‘They used to date. Ages ago. Maybe years.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ I picked up an eraser and rubbed out Jessica’s name, replacing it with Gwen Herceg, a beautiful silver-haired patron and benefactor, who’d previously been the curator of the NSW Art Gallery. She was always lovely on the phone, and when I called I got to speak to her directly, rather than her assistant, which was the case for most of the other VIPs. ‘Better?’

  ‘Much.’ He looked over it again. ‘Did you want to go through the whole chart? I know we haven’t had much time to discuss it yet.’

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ I said gratefully.

  ‘Now?’ he asked, checking his watch. ‘At this point we may as well sleep here.’ I must have given him a look of shock, because he said quickly, ‘Not together.’

  For a second neither of us moved. I refused to look at him, but, even so, I was sure I could feel something between us. A connection. Even if just for a second. I was sure of it.

  ‘Great.’ I followed him into his office, and he sat on one side of the couch, and I perched on the other side, more than a metre away. Nick took the pencil and made a few more changes, explaining who he was swapping with whom.

  ‘How did you know about Jessica and Brian?’ I watched him work. Trying desperately not to stare at the muscular curve of his neck.

  ‘Experience.’

  ‘Have you always worked in PR?’

  He looked up. ‘I have. It’s been years now.’ He calculated it. ‘About fifteen. No, wait, eighteen. And you?’

  I squirmed a little, then said, ‘It feels like eons. Like a hundred years!’ I said lightly, hoping it sounded believable.

  ‘I know what you mean,’ he said, scribbling on the seating chart. I watched as he swapped Charles and Bryce. ‘Old feud.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, intrigued.

  As he sketched he told me about the business wars and the lines of battle drawn. ‘Yeah, local squabbles. Since you’ve been overseas, you wouldn’t really know much about it.’

  I nodded and tried to take in everything he was teaching me – if the seating chart had gone unnoticed it could have caused some issues on the night. Thank goodness he’d been here to check it.

  ‘Oh! Katrina.’ He’d reached the VIP table that had Gwen and Honey on it. Katrina, I’d learnt, was a top charity strategist who had single-handedly spun many charities into the mainstream attention, with the help of Maker. She’d worked with Maker as far back as a decade, possibly even two.

  I leaned over and watched what he was doing, as he finalised the names across the VIP table.

  He passed the chart back to me. ‘So, I think we’re done here. A perfect seating chart.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said gratefully, meaning it.

  ‘Katrina needs to be next to Honey on VIP. We need as much media attention on Honey as possible. Positive attention. Honey is gorgeous and gets a lot of press. This will be good for her. And good for Maker.’

  Everything Nick said was completely right, but all I could hear in my mind was: Honey is gorgeous. I suddenly felt really frumpy in my dress, because mine was a snug size fourteen, and Honey was a stick size six, and was that what constituted gorgeous?

  I decided not to say anything else, so instead I just nodded and said breezily, ‘Great. Exactly what I was thinking. So, thank you again for your help.’ Professional Emma all the way.

  Nick smiled warmly. ‘You’re welcome. Now, go home. That’s an order.’

  ***

  While I was waiting at the lift, Nick appeared. I felt myself freezing up a little – now work was officially over, what could we talk about? I gave him a quick, awkward smile. He smiled back – but with way more ease – and seemed fine.

  We caught the lift down in polite silence, and I was wondering if he was feeling as strange as I was. When we stepped outside it was warmer than I expected. I took off my jacket. The air conditioning in the office always made it feel freezing, as though icicles were about to start forming on our computers.

  ‘I’ll walk you home?’ Nick offered. ‘Or to the station?’

  I looked at him, surprised. ‘You don’t have to.’

  ‘I do.’ He smiled. ‘It’s almost ten. Can’t have you be taken down by a bus, or Godzilla.’

  I laughed. ‘Or turning into a pumpkin? OK, the train is fine, because I live far, that way.’ I pointed towards the inner west – at least I hoped it was west; being in the centre of the city I lost my bearings a bit being surrounded by so many tall buildings. ‘But wait, first this girl must Clark Kent herself.’ I bent down and took off my heels, and replaced them with ballet flats. ‘Ahhhh, that is good.’

  ‘Why do you bother wearing heels at all?’ He stared at my feet. ‘They look like weapons of mass destruction to me.’

  ‘To all males, I think. Apparently, it’s a Maker thing. Well, a corporate thing. It gets easier after a while just walking on tiles or carpet, but not outside on cobbly pavements.’

  We crossed busy Elizabeth Street and started walking down the wide stretch of path in Hyde Park, right in the middle of the city. The traffic noises were hushed by the large rows of tre
es that bloomed in front of us. Far off in the distance, the Archibald fountain, baroque and beautiful, was being held up by a chorus of bronzed Gods and Goddesses. Twinkling fairy lights lit up the sky like tiny stars as a summer thunderstorm cloud was being blown in by the wind. With any luck, I’d make it home without being drenched.

  We walked side by side, and I was conscious of how close we were to each other, the only people strolling through the gardens at this late hour. Careful, I told myself, I’m a professional, I can’t have an office … Fling. Crush. Distraction. And Nick, I could tell, could become a giant distraction. And he already had been these past few days.

  God, he was walking closer to me. I was sure of it. I stepped away to the right, and walked further away from him – so far that at one point I almost mounted the kerb and went into a garden bed. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice.

  Nick looked over at me. ‘If we are going to dress up for this ball, as Gods and Goddesses, who would you be?’

  ‘Sounds like you have an answer already.’ I looked at him as I almost stepped up on the pavement kerb, now a good two metres from him.

  ‘Apollo, like the statue up there.’ He pointed to the fountain.

  ‘Isn’t he the God of War?’ I said, astonished. ‘That sounds, awful.’

  He ignored my surprise. ‘You mean Ares. No, Apollo is the God of Light, but many people don’t know that. Actually,’ he started, ‘if you want a history lesson—’

  ‘I don’t,’ I interrupted him, then laughed when I saw the pretend look of sadness on his face. ‘Fine, then, show off your geeky knowledge.’

  ‘Well, he’s actually the God of sun, and healing. He’s also known to stop us from repeating our mistakes over and over again. Of course, he’s also immortal, and gets to carry a bow, so what’s not to like?’

  ‘I could do with an Apollo at times,’ I admitted.

  ‘I think we all could,’ he said, and we continued walking down the pathway. ‘So, who would you be?’