Getting Even

by Sarah Rayner

  Meanwhile I’ve got a big hard-on by now, and I’m positive he sees, and clearly he doesn’t know what to do, so he just grabs his T-shirt and trainers and says he’ll see me next week and runs out of the staff room.

  I AM MORTIFIED!

  But I do reckon he could be a closet job, really. Consider all this evidence. Feedback please—pronto!!

  Rob

  xxx

  22. Is’t lost? Is’t gone?

  Orianna and Dan were snuggled up under a blanket on the sofa. Orianna had her legs slung over Dan’s; Dan was enjoying a sci-fi film full of laser missiles and planetary battles. It was one of the things he liked about his girlfriend—she didn’t pester him to watch profound movies. Meanwhile Orianna was reading a romantic novel; from the corseted bosom on the cover, Dan guessed she was deep in the nineteenth century. She had her book in one hand, in the other she held Dan’s and was stroking his fingers absentmindedly when a particularly loud intergalactic explosion forced her to lift her eyes from the page.

  “Where’s your watch?” she asked suddenly.

  Dan removed his hand, and checked his wrist. He pushed up his shirtsleeve just to be sure. Oh Lord, she was right. Had the buckle come undone? When? Where?

  He cast his mind back. Taking a long lunch meant he’d been more frantic than usual that afternoon. He’d been so busy typing up purchase orders he’d barely looked up from his PC. When at his computer he used the onscreen clock—this was the first time he’d noticed the watch was gone. It could have been missing for hours.

  “Shit.”

  “You’ve lost it!”

  “No, no, I haven’t,” said Dan hurriedly.

  “Where is it then?” Her voice rose. She put down her book, pulled her feet from his lap, and sat up.

  Dan racked his brain. It could be at work, on the train, anywhere. Surely he’d have noticed if it had slipped from his wrist? Heard it fall? The buckle seemed secure. Though compared to his old Swatch, it was slim enough to slide under his shirt cuff.

  “Er…” He glanced at her.

  “Oh, Dan!” Her eyes filled with tears.

  You idiot, he said to himself. You stupid, clumsy oaf. She’ll never forgive you.

  “I’ve only just bought it for you!”

  He bit his nails, distress mounting.

  “Think,” she ordered. “What have you done today?”

  Desperately he retraced his movements again. Perhaps he hadn’t even put it on? Maybe he’d left it on the bedside table.

  He got up, hurried into Orianna’s bedroom—but the table was bare. He sat on the edge of the bed, thoughts hurtling. He’d had it that morning, surely. An illustrator had come in with her portfolio—hadn’t he checked his watch when she’d gone? He’d been worried he’d be late for Rob … Ah! That was it. He returned to the living room.

  “I must have left it at the gym.”

  “The gym?! Where in the gym?”

  “I’m not certain … In the changing room, probably.”

  “But someone could have nicked it! Oh, Dan!” Tears began to fall.

  “I’m sure they wouldn’t,” said Dan, though he wasn’t sure at all. The gym had hundreds of members. No doubt most were honest, but it only took one …

  “Call them.”

  Dan consulted his wrist. Doh! He checked the LCD on the DVD player. It was 10:05 p.m.

  “They’ll be closed.” He winced.

  “Oh no!”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s OK.” Orianna sniffed. “Are you sure you left it in the changing room? Would you have put it down on one of the benches? Wouldn’t you have put it in your locker?” Her voice was hopeful, her eyes wide, expectant.

  Dan thought long and hard. “Mm … I tend to keep it on when I’m exercising, because it’s waterproof.” He scratched his head ferociously, maybe it would help clarify. Then all at once he remembered. “Maybe…”

  “Yes?” Orianna sat forward.

  In an instant, Dan envisaged Rob’s erection, his own hurried exit. He could feel himself flush at the memory, but was too embarrassed to tell Orianna. How on earth could he confess he was so conscious of his weight he’d taken his watch off? How ridiculously vain was that? If he explained about Rob and the erection, she might just think he’d provoked Rob in some way. She’d muttered stuff about him fancying men before. Though he found this a bit odd, Dan didn’t wish to stir trouble—he got along with Rob very well; he was almost a friend. So …

  “Oh nothing,” he muttered, cheeks burning.

  “What do you mean, nothing?”

  “I think I remember where I left it.”

  “Where?”

  “Um, er … In the staff room.”

  “In the staff room?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “I took it off. I’ll call in the morning, first thing.”

  “Well, at least that means no one will nick it.” She sat back, relieved, then peered at him more closely. “Why have you gone all red?”

  * * *

  The next morning Rob was heading to the changing room when Jane, the receptionist, waylaid him.

  “Hey, Rob! Hang on a minute.”

  He stopped in his tracks.

  “This was found in the staff room last night. Is it yours?” She held out what appeared to be an item of jewelry.

  He went over. In her palm was a rather elegant man’s watch, with a white face and a purple leather strap.

  He frowned. He was sure he recognized it. He took the watch from her, examining the logo. Paul Smith. He’d seen someone wearing it but couldn’t recall who.

  “Apparently it was by the weighing scales.”

  That was it. Dan. He’d been in the staff room and had removed some of his clothes to be weighed. Rob remembered noticing he’d taken off his watch, thought it odd at the time. And—Rob’s toes curled at the memory—Dan had left in an awful hurry.

  “Yeah, it belongs to a client of mine,” he said. “He’s not due in till next week so I’ll give him a call.” Then he had a better idea—his next client could pass it on. He plucked the watch from Jane’s palm. “Not to worry, I’ll take it to give to him.”

  * * *

  At 7:58 a.m., Ivy arrived. No time for niceties with the receptionist—she flew into the changing room, slung the bag containing her work clothes and toiletries into a locker, and turned the key. She attached the safety pin to her sports top, pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, checked herself in the mirror—yes, she looked better than most of the other girls scrambling into or out of their clothes around her—and bounded out of the room.

  “Ah, Rob!” He was by the stretch mats waiting, dressed in his uniform of trainers, navy tracksuit bottoms, and a white vest.

  “Ivy, hi.”

  Mwah. Mwah. “So, what today?”

  “Actually, before I forget, I wonder if you could do me a favor?”

  Ivy never agreed to favors before finding out what they were. “What?”

  “Are you going to see Dan today?”

  “I expect so. Why?”

  Rob reached into his trouser pocket. “He left this.” Ivy recognized it at once as the watch Orianna had given him for his birthday. “Oh?”

  “I’m not seeing him till next week, so I wondered if you’d return it.”

  “Sure.” Ivy didn’t hesitate. “I’ll wear it, that’s simplest.” She pulled it around her slender wrist.

  “Great.”

  Careless of Dan, thought Ivy. He should take more care of his possessions. “He left it in the changing room I suppose?”

  “In the staff room.”

  How odd, Ivy reflected. “What was he doing taking it off there?”

  “I gave him a fitness assessment. So I weighed him and stuff.”

  Ivy looked at him sideways, the same persuasive gesture she’d used on Cassie. “Yeeess…?” To her delight, Rob blushed. God, it was so easy to make some people color up! She had a true gift for it. “What on earth wou
ld make Dan take off his watch to have a fitness assessment?”

  “Don’t ask me.” Rob shrugged.

  “Are you sure that was the only reason?” Ivy gave him a nudge. Goodness, she thought. Did I really hit on something with my suggestions of Dan’s bisexuality after all? What fun!

  “Quite sure.” Then he gushed, “Though it was weird. He took all his clothes off for me to weigh him!”

  “All his clothes?”

  “Well, he kept on his shorts, but otherwise, yeah.”

  “No!” Ivy clapped her hands. “How scandalous!”

  “Do you think?”

  “Of course. He must have been coming on to you, I reckon.”

  “Honestly?”

  She could detect hope in his voice. “Take it from me.”

  “I’m not so sure…”

  Nor was Ivy, in truth. She liked to weigh herself when she came out of the shower—it gave a more accurate reading—but this wasn’t about honesty. “It seems a mite suspicious.”

  “Mm.”

  “Who asked for the assessment?”

  “He did.”

  “He must have known that would mean you two got to be alone.”

  “I suppose…”

  “I’ll give it to him later.” She coaxed one last time, “But, really, nothing happened?”

  Rob blushed some more. How quaint, thought Ivy, he has a major crush. “No.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “I believe you,” said Ivy. “But thousands wouldn’t.”

  * * *

  Dan phoned the gym the moment he got out of Tottenham Court Road station. Orianna had gone ahead to pick up a coffee.

  It seemed to take ages for anyone to answer and his heart was thumping by the time a girl picked up the phone.

  “Who am I speaking to?” he asked.

  “Jane.”

  “Ah, Jane.” He always said hi to her. She seemed efficient, good. “It’s Dan Cohen. I wondered, has a watch been handed in at all?”

  “What’s it like?”

  “It’s a Paul Smith one.”

  “With a purple strap?”

  “Yes.”

  “One of the instructors found it in the staff room last night.”

  “Oh, thank God!” Dan could feel his heart slow in relief. “Can I come and collect it?”

  “Actually, I’ve already given it to Rob.”

  Dan stopped outside Green’s offices. “Ah.”

  “He said he’d give it to you.”

  “But I’m not seeing him till next week.” Oh help, he thought, heartbeat quickening again. Maybe Rob’s going to use it as a ruse to meet up.

  “I’m sure he’ll call you. Hang on a sec, I’ll check his appointments…” There was a pause. “He’s booked up all morning, but if I catch him, I’ll tell him you called.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you want his mobile number? I doubt he’ll answer when he’s training but you could leave him a message.”

  “I’ve got it,” said Dan, and called Rob straight away. As he stood waiting for Rob to pick up, several colleagues passed him on the steps to the office. I’d better hurry, he thought. Rob’s voice mail clicked on—that was a blessing—he could avoid a conversation. He was about to begin speaking, when Earl nudged him to say hello. Thrown, he blurted his message, “Er, Rob, hi mate, it’s Dan here. Give me a call, please?” Then he leaped up the stairs into work, happy that his watch was in safe hands.

  23. I have a thing for you

  When Ivy arrived at Green, Cassie was not around, but evidently she was already in the agency; her stuff lay strewn on the sofa by their desks.

  Perhaps she’s nipped to the ladies’ room, thought Ivy. She was poised to get on with her copy, when she did a double take.

  A zip-up rectangle of shiny red leather, with a pert little handle, like a schoolgirl’s lunch box lay open on the cushions, its jaws wide, hungry: a patent invitation.

  Ivy stood on tiptoe and checked left, right, over the partition walls.

  Then she pushed up the sleeve of her jumper, unbuckled Dan’s watch from her wrist, and swiftly dropped it into Cassie’s handbag, between her mobile and purse. She stood back and examined her handiwork. No; not obvious enough. She glanced about again and pulled the strap out a little, so it protruded from the top of the bag. The bright red leather offset the purple strap brilliantly.

  Now what?

  Few thought faster than Ivy when opportunity called.

  First, she located Cassie. Sure enough, she found her in the loo, combing her hair. Little surprise; Cassie spent a lot of time grooming since she’d started seeing Leon—she couldn’t go half an hour without checking her appearance.

  “Ah, Cassie, there you are.” Ivy stepped alongside her in front of the mirror.

  “Ivy, hi. How are you?”

  “I’m OK, thanks, I suppose…” She halted, adopted a pained expression, and sighed. “Though, I wonder if you could do me a favor?”

  “Sure,” said Cassie.

  How amenable she is, Ivy observed, agreeing to a request without knowing its nature. “Only I’ve got terrible period pains.”

  “You poor thing.”

  Ivy clutched her abdomen. “I’ll live.” She leaned against the sink, as if she could scarcely keep herself upright. “It’s one of those things,” she said bravely. “Some months are worse than others. If I didn’t have to get those damn headlines done, I’d have come in later…” Menstruation was such a handy excuse. Even in this day and age, most people were too embarrassed to question symptoms.

  Cassie peered at her. “You don’t look great.”

  Cheeky cow! “I don’t feel great.”

  “You’re ever so pale.”

  “I was wondering…”

  “Did you want me to get you something?”

  “Ooh, yes, if you don’t mind.”

  “Hang on—I might have some aspirin in my bag.”

  Blast—that wouldn’t do at all. “Oh no,” Ivy said rapidly. “Not painkillers. I avoid drugs whenever possible—they’re not good for you.” She calculated at the speed of light. “I was hoping you might get me some Rescue Remedy. It’s much more natural—made from flowers—I swear by it.” Did she hell. She wasn’t even sure what it was for, though she seemed to remember Ursula saying it helped her calm down.

  “Right.” But Cassie appeared worried. “Where can I buy that?”

  “I think they have it at the pharmacy on Broadwick Street,” said Ivy.

  “Not at Boots?”

  Boots was nearer. “No, I’m pretty sure they don’t.”

  “Oh.”

  “The shop’s called Zest.” Ivy flinched in pain. “It’s on the corner, with a bright front. You’ll find the herbal remedies at the back.”

  “I haven’t got any money…”

  “I do.” Ivy let go of her stomach to hand Cassie the fiver she’d been clutching. “That should be plenty.”

  “OK.” Cassie took the bill and put away her comb. “I’ll just get my jacket.”

  “No!” Ivy snapped, and hastily added, “I wouldn’t bother—it makes it obvious you’re going out of the office.”

  “I suppose.” Cassie didn’t think to argue that getting medicine for a colleague might qualify as a good reason. “All right then, I’ll see you in a minute.”

  More like ten, thought Ivy, and returned to her desk.

  * * *

  Orianna was about to tuck into a breakfast muffin when she had a call on her internal line. Her swish new phone declared who was calling.

  “Ivy, hi.”

  “Am I interrupting? It won’t take a sec.”

  “What is it?”

  Ivy sighed. “It’s just I’m having some problems with the headlines for those travel offers, Orianna, and I wondered if you could spare me a moment of your wonderful brain—it’s the kind of thing you’re so fantastic at.”

  Orianna was surprised, yet flattered—it wasn’t often Ivy as
ked for help. “Sure, do you want to come by?”

  “Can you come to me? Cassie’s nipped out, but they’re all up on my screen and the printer’s jammed.”

  Funny, thought Orianna, the printer looks to be working from here—she could see Leon waiting for his run-outs to emerge as they spoke.

  Ivy added, “It’s some problem with my machine. The guys from tech support are coming to fix it but I need to e-mail these off as soon as possible.”

  “Ah, right.” Orianna got to her feet and headed over.

  Ivy was sitting at her desk. “Hi.” She smiled.

  “Hi.”

  Orianna was about to plop herself down on her old chair at Cassie’s desk when Ivy said, “Oh, Cassie will be back in a tick, but feel free to clear a space on the sofa.”

  Orianna duly turned to take a seat. But just as she was lifting Cassie’s jacket to make room, something caught her eye.

  She looked at it more closely, heart thumping.

  There was a watch, very like Dan’s, protruding from a handbag. The bag wasn’t Ivy’s—Orianna recognized the large Louis Vuitton purse on the floor as the one Ivy always took to the gym—so it must belong to Cassie.

  She picked up the watch, examined it. She scrutinized the face. Paul Smith, jeered the logo. She started to tremble. She had her back to Ivy, but she could feel her cheeks burning up, her hands going clammy. She could tell Ivy was watching her, eyes boring into her.

  Sure enough: “Something the matter?”

  “Nothing,” said Orianna quickly. She slipped the watch into Cassie’s bag again—and sat down on the sofa, struggling to remain calm.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, well.” Ivy was chirpy. “These are the lines I was thinking of. What d’you reckon? They’re for holiday discounts. There’s this one: ‘One hundred percent Ireland for ten percent less.’ And this one: ‘Going Dutch—Holland at half price.’ Or how about, ‘A top-dollar US trip for next to nothing’?” She read out several more, but Orianna couldn’t think straight, let alone listen.

  It’s not as if Paul Smith is a common make of watch, she thought. There can’t possibly be two of the same in such a small agency. But what on earth is Dan’s watch doing in Cassie’s handbag? Cassie doesn’t go to the gym.