A Brit Complicated

by Brenda St John Brown

  So I start with the thing I can comprehend. “Is my position here up for discussion?”

  “If your question is about luxury accounts, I’ll say I’m willing to consider accelerating the timeframe. I’d be a fool not to try to keep you in the company.” Bradley smiles and it’s one of his off-the-clock smiles. “After we spent all that time getting you up to speed, it would be asinine to let another company reap the benefits.”

  I smile in reply. “Very funny. And what about Kincaid?”

  “I can’t speak for James, but he’s aware of your background and he’s seen your work.” Bradley leans a little further forward. “It will be good to hear what he’s offering so you’re comparing apples to apples.”

  Apples to apples.

  Hell no. If ever there was an apples to oranges situation, this is it.

  “Thank you. I appreciate you telling me about the offer.” My voice is stiff and formal and I push my chair back.

  “Of course.” Bradley nods once and right before I pull the door he says, “Scarlett?”

  “Yes?” I turn, but just halfway so he can’t see my expression. I don’t know what it might be, but I have a feeling it’s at least two parts confused, one part wary.

  “If you want to discuss anything after you meet with James, I’m happy to review his offer with you.”

  Bradley’s voice is sincere and I have no doubt he means it. “Thank you. I’ll let you know.”

  But I already know I won’t. Depending on my conversation with James, I’ll have other things to discuss with Bradley Waring-Smith. And if he says, “No, sorry. Not interested in anything but a hook up.” I’m not sure I’ll ever want to speak to him again.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  “So, the short story is that James’ offer is amazing, but my position at WS is more money and more immediate gains.” I point to the stack of documents on the table and take a sip of wine. Current contract and new job offer.

  Claire and Greyson both stare at me, but it’s Greyson who says, “Let’s start with the basics. Which one do you want more?”

  I level my gaze at him. Greyson Vaughn or not, what the hell kind of question is that? “If I could answer that, do you think I’d be in this quandary?”

  Claire puts her hand on Greyson’s knee and says to me, “Tell me about James.”

  “He’s…” I had lunch with James today and six hours later, I’m still trying to figure out how to describe him. “Energetic, creative, bigger than life. The first question he asked me was what was the last thing I did that challenged me creatively, physically, and emotionally. And all his questions were like that. He believes you can’t push yourself creatively unless you push yourself in other areas of your life just as hard. It’s equal parts intimidating and energizing.”

  Greyson nods. “A lot of directors are like that. It’s a great theory, but it can be hard to live day-to-day when you still have to do things like go the grocery store and do your laundry.”

  “You go to the grocery store? Well, look at that. Stars are just like us.” I grin and Claire laughs.

  “Do you feel like you could sustain that? That level of expectation can be hard to deal with on a day-to-day basis,” Claire gives Greyson a pointed look as she says this.

  He nods. “There will be a trade off in your personal life, for sure.”

  Well, that’s the other thing.

  “I don’t expect to have much of a personal life, to be honest. I mean, it’s not like I have much of one now.”

  “That’s bollocks,” Claire says. “You have to think long term. One of these days you’re going to want a life.”

  Despite my best intentions, my mind goes there. I’ve been trying to view it as apples to apples and keep it professional, but bringing my so-called personal life into it changes the equation to something like apples and grapefruits. “Well, that’s the other thing.”

  Claire and Greyson don’t know about Bradley and Claire raises her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  I have a feeling they’re both going to have an opinion, but that’s why I’m here, right? I take a deep breath. “If I accept James’ offer, it opens up some options in my personal life.”

  Claire frowns at me. “What kind of options?”

  Another deep breath because saying it out loud makes it real. “If I take James’ offer, I can pursue the possibility of a relationship with Bradley Waring-Smith.”

  “Bradley Waring-Smith, as in your boss?” Understanding dawns on Claire’s face. “Christ on a bike. He’s the guy, isn’t he?”

  Greyson looks from me to Claire and back. “I’m missing something here.”

  To him, Claire says, “Scarlett was seeing someone, but she broke it off because he did something stupid. Her boss was the someone.” She turns to me. “You like him.”

  “I do. But it’s an impossible situation.”

  “Not if you’re working for someone else.” Greyson offers.

  There’s a beat of silence and Claire’s voice is soft when she says, “And there’s the problem.”

  “It’s not. Not like that, anyway.” My words tumble out. “I don’t want to base my professional choices on a guy.”

  “Because you’re not sure how you feel about him?” Greyson asks.

  “Or you’re not sure how he feels about you,” says Claire.

  I skirt both of their questions by saying, “I’ve learned a lot at WS and I like the company. I like the people, what it stands for, and I think I have a great opportunity there. On the other hand, Kincaid is an industry leader and James Townsend would be an amazing mentor. The fact that he’s more or less hand-picked me to join his team is flattering as hell. But I’d be starting at the bottom and I think it would be quite a while before I got even close to the level of responsibility I have now.”

  “But you have to look at how much you benefit in the long term from each position as well,” says Greyson. “I’ve taken supporting roles because I knew working with the lead would be an amazing learning experience. At the same time, I’ve turned down lead roles because they’re not the kind of projects I want to get pigeon-holed into. Once a vampire, always a vampire.”

  “I’m not sure that’s helpful.” Claire rolls her eyes and then her focus turns to me. “I think you need to ask yourself what’s holding you back from taking one offer over the other.”

  Easy question. Not so easy answer. Bradley’s grin pops into my head, though. Which is at least part of the answer. “Like I said, I don’t want to base my professional decisions on a guy. What if I take Kincaid’s offer and realize WS is a better opportunity?”

  Claire looks at me for a long few seconds, then turns to Greyson and says, “Would you mind giving us a few minutes, love?”

  “Sure, no problem.” Greyson rises from the sofa. “How about I go get a pizza?”

  “Perfect.” Claire beams. As you do when your boyfriend is a Hollywood heart throb, yet keen to do your bidding. She waits until Greyson’s shut the door to the flat before turning back to me. “Okay, enough with the bullshit.”

  I lean back. “What the hell?”

  “You don’t want to base your professional decisions on your personal life. I get it, but I’m not sure you do. So spell it out for me. What happens if you take the job at WS?” Claire’s tone is almost strident.

  “I take the job. That’s it.”

  “Right. And if you take the job at Kincaid?”

  “Everything changes. I’m in a new job, a new industry with a new set of expectations and challenges.” I stop there because that by itself is overwhelming.

  “And you have the possibility of a new relationship, with a guy you already know you like.” Claire nods and takes a sip of her wine. “Scary stuff.”

  “I’m not scared of a relationship with Bradley. And it’s not like taking Kincaid’s offer necessarily even leads to Bradley and me dating.”

  “But accepting the offer at WS means you never get to find out because a relationship is off the table, rig
ht?” Claire takes another sip of wine, but it doesn’t hide the smug look on her face.

  “Yeah. I guess. He’s the boss and, even though it’s his company and he makes the rules, he’s a bit of a stickler for them.” I smile a little, but it fades. “And, of course, that’s the heart of the issue.”

  Claire shrugs. “Greyson and I had the same conversation, if that helps at all. When I had that job offer in Manchester, he was supportive until I admitted I didn’t want to have a weekend relationship and live at the other end of the country from him. Then it was okay for him to say he didn’t want that either, but he felt it was important for me to make that choice rather than him ask me to be closer.”

  “Bradley would never ask me to choose based on him, but we were a just hook up. Even if I left tomorrow, I’m not sure it would ever go beyond that.” Despite believing I’d ask him out, lay all my cards on the table, faced with the prospect of doing it? Different. Story.

  Scary story, too.

  “And taking the job at WS means you never have to find out.”

  Exactly.

  “It would be fine. I’d get over him.”

  “Of course you would,” Claire says. “Whereas if you went all in and it didn’t work out, you might not get over him. Ever.”

  My heart sinks like Claire hit it with a hammer, but I say, “I’m sure I would.”

  “Really? Because I can tell you right now if things with Greyson don’t work out, I’m boarding the spinster train with a houseful of cats and not looking back.” Claire grins, but then her expression turns serious. “It takes a lot of courage to put yourself on the line like that. Especially at first.”

  “Greyson adores you. I, of course, take full responsibility.” I force a smile.

  “As you should. I’m sure my grandmother would fight you for the bragging rights, though.” Claire glances at the door. “The pizza place is fast and Greyson’s going to be back soon, so let’s rank Bradley. Sex appeal?”

  Ranking is an old game Claire and I used to play when we were teens working summers at Castle Calder. When a good-looking guy showed up, we’d rank him on a scale of one to ten by sex appeal, manners, style, and overall potential. Potential for what was always unclear, but it meant he was at least worth chatting up if the opportunity presented itself.

  “Wait. You want to rank Bradley? Why didn’t we do this with Greyson?”

  “Uh, hello. He’s Greyson Vaughn, for fuck’s sake. On a scale of one to ten, he’s a twelve across the board.” Claire grins. “So, come on. Sex appeal?”

  “Well, we don’t call him Bradley Walking-Sex for nothing, so I’d say ten.”

  “Manners?”

  I blow out a breath. “He can be a real knob sometimes, so six?”

  Claire scowls. “Okay. Style?”

  “Ten.” Hello, yellow tie.

  “And overall potential?”

  It’s the one I don’t know how to answer. Having shagged him – several times – I know his potential to be a great hook up is fab. But beyond that? “Seven? Maybe more. I don’t know.”

  “So thirty-three out of forty.” Claire bites her lip. “Well, you’ve gone for less. Remember that guy Richard? He was in the low twenties and you not only snogged him in the club house, you emailed him for weeks afterwards.”

  “I think you mean he emailed me. I just replied to be polite.” I smile. “I haven’t thought of Richard in years. God, he could play the guitar, though. You know that’s why I liked him.”

  “Don’t you mean you liked him because he liked you, but not enough to ask for anything of substance from you?” Claire covers her mouth with her hand. “Oops, did I just say that?”

  “And your point is?”

  “You know what my point is. You’re backing away from it faster than you would a guy with a man bun.”

  I stick my tongue out at Claire. “I went out with a guy with a man bun earlier this year, you know. It was as bad as I thought it would be.”

  “Stop changing the subject,” Claire yells. “The sooner you say it, the sooner I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

  Maybe it’s the yelling. Maybe it’s Claire’s insistence that I face this thing I’ve been dancing around all evening. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve had two glasses of wine and so little food today it’s a wonder I’m not catatonic.

  “Bradley’s driven and successful. He’s smart and funny and sexy as fuck. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Someday. Later. When I’m successful in my own right.” I yank at my hair for emphasis. “I want him, but dammit, I’m not ready for him yet.”

  Claire puts a hand on my knee and her voice is soft as she says, “What if you are?”

  What I say: “I don’t know.”

  What I think: That might be worse.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Tom’s party is tomorrow and Tara’s got a list a mile long. She’s perched on the corner of my desk with a photocopy of her original to-do list, circling tasks. For me.

  “If you could make sure they’re going to deliver the keg tomorrow, and it might be worthwhile checking with Bess about the cake, too? You could call the beer place, but I think showing up in person is always better.” Tara circles the two items before she looks up.

  I nod. I’ll agree to just about anything if it keeps me occupied until my call with James Townsend at four. “I’ll do it on my way over to the new office building. I need lunch anyway, so stopping to see Bess is perfect.”

  “You’re going to turn into a chocolate brownie,” Tom says.

  I push my chair back. “Can you make that happen before four o’clock? Pretty please with chocolate chips on top?”

  Tom glances over my shoulder to the glass castle, which has been empty all day. “I can’t believe you’re not going to give us a clue about what you’ve decided.”

  “That’s because I haven’t decided yet.” I swing my bag over my shoulder. “It’s kind of like when you’re in a restaurant and you’re not sure whether you’re going to order chicken or fish, so you go with whatever comes out of your mouth when the server comes. That’s what I’m doing.”

  “I question your sanity if that’s true,” Tom says.

  I shrug. “You question my sanity anyway, so that doesn’t bother me as much as you think it should.”

  “What time are you going to be done at the new offices?” Tara asks. “We’re staying at Tom’s tonight, but we should all meet for dinner to celebrate.”

  “I don’t know. Nicola’s coming by at five and dropping off the canvases for the last meeting room, so I’ll see how long I’m with her. I’ll text you.” Or not. I’ve been so tied up in knots over this call with James Townsend that I’m pretty sure once it’s done I might collapse into a heap on the floor.

  Note to self: buy a bottle of wine at the liquor store. With a screw top. Just in case.

  It’s not that I haven’t decided. I have. I may leave my restaurant meals to chance, but not this. It’s a big decision and weighing of the pros and cons has done my head in. So, the last thing I want to do is verbalize my decision and have someone try to change my mind.

  Nope. Nope. Nope.

  Not that I haven’t talked it through. I’ve FaceTime’d my parents, as well as Bea and Jasper. Had another drink with Claire. Eaten a curry with Tom and Tara. I’ve weighed the particulars of each job and listened to all of the opinions. Of which there have been many. Too many, if I’m being truthful. Even though I asked. Funny how everyone has a strong opinion about something that won’t impact them one way or another.

  No wonder I need a brownie. I arrive at Bess’ stall – a bottle of red wine stashed in my bag – and I can’t help inhaling the rich chocolate air. I bend to pet Mr. Fred while she waits on the customer in front of me and don’t straighten until she says, “Scarlett St Julien. I’ve been dying to see you.”

  I straighten, my eyes wide. “Why’s that?”

  “That whole thing that you did at your office? And the regular order for brownies? I’m not sur
e which is more amazing.” Bess laughs. “Oh, who am I kidding? The portrait is more amazing, by far. I didn’t know you were so talented.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” I hesitate on my next question, but ask it anyway. “When did you see it?”

  “Your friend, Brad, invited me by earlier this week. He said he thought I’d like to see what you’d done.” Bess grins. “And he placed a regular order for brownies to be delivered every Tuesday, starting in two weeks.”

  “Wow. That’s great. I had no idea.” Because I’ve only seen Bradley in passing all week. Any conversations we’ve had have been friendly but fleeting. To the point where I asked Tom in a roundabout way if he thought Bradley was avoiding me for some reason. Tom looked at me like I had three heads.

  Much like Bess is looking at me now. “He said it was your idea.”

  “He did? I mean, it was. But I didn’t know he was going to go for it.” I think I must look vacant. I feel that way.

  “He mentioned it a few weeks ago, but he set up an account this week and made it official.” Bess looks down at the brownies and back at me. “So, what will it be for you today?”

  Wait. I want to go back to the fact that Bradley’s become a regular at Bess’ Brownies, but I don’t know how to bring it up without being awkward, so I say, “Um, chili chocolate and a butterscotch brownie, please.”

  “Brad always gets a chili chocolate. He said I’m responsible for him maintaining his gym habit.” Bess laughs.

  It’s the opening I need. “How often does Brad come by?”

  Bess shrugs. “The past couple of weeks, he’s been coming by almost every day I’m open.”

  “Oh. Wow.”

  It’s obvious to Bess that I had no idea, but she’s nice enough to pretend not to notice. Instead, she hands me the bag with the brownies inside and says, “Also, I’m under strict instructions that your brownies are paid for, so you can thank Brad when you see him.”

  “My brownies are paid for?” God, Bess must think I’m thick. Even I’m starting to wonder.

  “Brad set up an account and he asked me to make sure to include your brownies on it.” Bless her, Bess doesn’t act like I’m thick at all. “And it’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”