Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
The Facilitator
by
Tracie Podger
Facilitator noun
UK /fəˈsɪl.ɪ.teɪ.tər/ US /fəˈsɪl.ə.teɪ.t̬ɚ/
Someone who helps a person, or organisation, do something more easily, or find the answer to a problem.
Copyright
Copyright 2016 © Tracie Podger
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents, either, are products of the author’s imagination or they are used factiously. Any reference to actual locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any electronic, or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, to include, by not exclusive to audio or visual recordings of any description without permission from the copyright owner.
Acknowledgements
My heartfelt thanks to the best beta readers a girl could want, Karen Shenton, Alison Parkins, and Rebecca Sherwin—your input is invaluable.
Thank you to Margreet Asselbergs from Rebel Edit & Design for yet another wonderful cover, this makes our tenth collaboration!
I’d also like to give a huge thank you to my editor, Karen Hrdlicka, and proofreader, Joanne Thompson.
A big hug goes to the ladies in my team. These ladies give up their time to support and promote my books. Alison ‘Awesome’ Parkins, Karen Shenton, Karen Atkinson-Lingham, Marina Marinova, Ann Batty, Fran Brisland, Elaine Turner, Kerry-Ann Bell, Louise White and Ellie Aspill – otherwise known as the Twisted Angels.
I’m dedicating this book to Charlie Fenton of The Book Club (TBC) on Facebook. It’s a secret club, full of strange people…I mean, readers. So why am I dedicating it to Charlie? Tracy Fenton gets loads of mentions (she is awesome), whereas Charlie is the quiet, serious one, who doesn't. So I thought it would be nice. In all seriousness, The Book Club #TBConFB is a great place for readers and authors to chat and find out about new releases. Check it out. Oh, you can’t, it’s secret! You’ll have to message me for an ‘in’.
If you wish to keep up to date with information on future releases, and have the chance to enter monthly competitions, feel free to sign up for my newsletter. You can find the details on my web site:
www.TraciePodger.com
My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humour, and some style - Maya Angelou
Cover design – Margreet Asselbergs, Rebel Edit & Design
Model – Burton Hughes
Photographer – Eric Battershell, Eric Battershell Photography
Formatting – Roses & Thorns
Chapter One
It had been six months since my husband left. Six whole months of self-doubt: wondering what I’d done wrong, self-loathing, and many, many bottles of wine.
I sat at my kitchen table, looking at the documents in front of me. I had started divorce proceedings on the grounds of adultery; something my mum had desperately tried to change my mind on. She wanted me to stay married to stop him from moving on. I wasn’t into those kind of games.
There was no going back for me. Scott had been caught red-handed, fucking his assistant over the boardroom table. He’d been filmed, probably with a mobile phone, and someone had kindly decided I needed to be sent that clip.
The video had been sent from an unknown number, although I believed it was sent from the recipient of his cock. It had proven very useful when shown to my solicitor. There was no denying an affair. All I’d received from him was a list of reasons why I was such a terrible wife. Maybe, in his mind, that was his justification.
I worked too much. I was a hard-nosed career bitch. I didn’t pay him enough attention. She understood him.
I’d laughed at the last one. Since the dawn of time, when a man decided it was perfectly okay to be caught balls deep in someone other than his wife, it was that same excuse, ‘she understands me.’
I played with the thin gold band on my wedding finger as I read through the documents. I wondered at what point it would be suitable to remove it, I wondered why I hadn’t already. Maybe I’d save it for when the divorce was finalised. I’d create some sort of event; have the removal of the ring be a symbolic gesture that fifteen years of my life was over.
I sighed. Fifteen years Scott and I had been together. We’d met in school. Now at thirty years old, I was a single woman for the first time ever.
The intercom to my apartment alerted me to the fact my ride had arrived. I shoved the documents into my briefcase, along with my laptop, collected my suit jacket from the back of my chair, picked up my handbag and overnight bag, then left.
“Looking good, Lauren,” Jerry said, as I climbed into the back of his very plush Mercedes.
“Thank you, I could do with a little flattery this morning.”
Jerry was my boss, owner of a media company in the center of London, and a good friend. We hadn’t been friends when I’d agreed to become Head of Marketing at a business he’d just established, that friendship had built over time. He was the most amazing person and a brilliant businessman: a self-made man, who’d stumbled into the online advertising phenomenon before it was even a thing.
He had also been in love with me for years.
“Remember, hold your head up high and keep that smile on your face,” he said.
I took a deep breath as I settled into the soft, grey leather seat and his driver pulled away from the kerb.
“I intend to.”
It was a Friday morning and we were heading to Hampshire for the company’s annual conference, or piss-up, as Jerry liked to call it. But why the need for my chin up and a smile on my face? My husband, soon to be ex-husband, would also be there.
When Scott’s affair had been discovered, Jerry had wanted to ‘boot the fucker out,’ I recalled as his words. Scott was Head of Development, a job I’d secured for him. The woman he was fucking? His assistant.
“We could always pretend to be together, if that makes you feel better,” he said.
I laughed as I patted his leg. “And spoil our wonderful friendship?”
“I can but try,” he said, dramatically.
“So, tell me about this new company about to invade us?”
I wanted to change the direction of a conversation we’d had many times. Jerry had confided in me that he had sold part of his business for a ‘shit-ton of money’, he’d said. I was pleased for him, he worked harder and far longer hours than anyone else I knew. It had been something that had come as a surprise, and the deal was done far quicker that I’d thought it would be.
“Well, as you know, world domination has always been my plan.”
“Be serious,” I said, with a laugh.
“I’m going to introduce them at the conference.”
“And what will they bring to the company?”
“Big in telecommunications, shipping, you name it. Owner likes to invest in successful businesses, sit back, and reap the rewards.”
“Are they going to have a day-to-day input?”
“There’ll be changes, of course, but don’t panic,
you're a keeper.”
“Will you do me a favour? Will you ask reception to leave this for Scott?” I handed him an envelope.
When his affair had been discovered, and I’d gotten over the initial shock, one of the first things I’d done was contact the hotel and ask for my own room. The hotel had been full; we’d taken all the rooms. Jerry had offered me a side of his bed, if I wanted to share the suite I’d booked him. Of course, I declined that generous offer and booked myself into a nearby hotel. It wasn’t ideal, but there was no way in hell I was sharing a room with Jerry.
“What is it?”
“Divorce papers. The last lot I posted to him went missing, funnily enough.”
Scott didn’t want a divorce; neither did he want reconciliation, not that it was on the cards. He’d refused to instruct a solicitor, and I’d been trying to get him to sign the damn papers for weeks.
“I’ll do better than that, I’ll hand them to him myself. So, plans for tonight?” Jerry asked.
“I have to go to the conference hall this afternoon, and you have a dinner arranged with your new partner. I booked you a table for six o’clock, as instructed. Although why you want to eat that early, I don’t know.”
“Because I’m always hungry by then. You can join us if you want,” he said.
“Jerry, you are a great friend, and I get enough shit because of that friendship. Once they know that I knew of this deal before them, my life will be even more lonely than it is now.”
I didn’t have ‘friends’ at work. I’d been working with Jerry since the beginning. He’d asked for my help in marketing his newly formed company, and we became close, with that came the gossip. I’d often wondered if Scott’s affair had been a result of his insane jealousy of the relationship Jerry and I had.
“Fuck them, have dinner with us.”
I laughed. “No, I’ve got too much to do, then I want an early night.”
“Oh well, your loss,” he said, as he took out some papers from his holdall in the footwell and read through them. I did the same.
Chapter Two
“Miss Perry,” I heard.
Jerry’s driver had alerted me that we were nearing my hotel. I’d been engrossed in my work and hadn’t taken notice of the journey.
“I don’t like it that you’re not staying with us,” Jerry said.
“I can’t. I can’t stomach seeing him laughing and joking with his minions. And the hotel was full when I tried to book my own room.”
The car door was opened for me and I stepped out. “I’ll ring you later, but see you in the morning,” I said.
My overnight bag was handed to a porter and I followed him in. I checked in, collected my key, and headed for my room. I enjoyed hotel stays, and it didn’t bother me being on my own. I’d travelled a lot on business; I’d gotten used to eating alone, but as I inserted the key card into the reader, a pang of nervousness hit me.
I’d managed to successfully avoid Scott over the past six months. Whatever communication was needed was done through my assistant and his new one. The previous had left. We sat in meetings, avoiding eye contact, and I’d kept it as professional as possible. But I wasn’t looking forward to the ball on Saturday evening. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him enjoy himself, while I pretended to.
I unpacked my overnight bag, plugged my laptop in to charge, and decided on some lunch from room service before I headed to the conference centre.
****
The conference centre was theatre style, and capable of housing the employees who’d sit through Jerry’s round up of the financial year and plans for the one coming. A large overhead monitor would display his presentation while he stood at a lectern on a small stage. Having been to many of our year end conferences, I knew the employees, those attending for the first time, were in for a treat. Jerry liked to throw in a few jokes, drop the F bomb on a regular basis, and make the experience an overall enjoyable one.
Although the hotel had a room large enough to house us all, it was the theatre style seating that had sold the facility to me. No matter where people sat, they’d be able to see our wonderful leader.
When I was done checking the room, then making sure all the materials I needed were sitting with the front desk, I jumped into a taxi and headed to the other hotel. I made a point of not wringing my hands at the thought of bumping into Scott. I’d been tempted to call ahead and ask if he’d checked in, but didn’t want reception notifying him that someone had enquired. He’d know it was me.
“Hi,” I heard, and saw Jenny, my assistant, make her way over to me as soon as I entered.
I’d texted her to let her know I was on my way.
“How are we doing?” I asked.
“All okay. Seating plan is done, I put you with Jerry,” she said with a wink.
I chuckled. “Thank you. Now, let’s find the catering manager.”
After a brief meeting to confirm food allergies had been taken into consideration, we met with the event planner and confirmed table layout, the entertainment hadn’t pulled out at the last minute, and that they had enough of the wine Jerry had selected for each table.
“Fancy a drink?” Jenny said, once we were done.
“Sure, why not.”
We headed to the bar and I hesitated before entering. “He hasn’t checked in yet,” she said.
I took a deep breath and sighed. “I checked so I could warn you,” she added.
“You’re a star, you know that?”
“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I can tell you this, pretty much every woman in the company has your back.”
That I doubted.
“Jenny, it’s not that I don’t want to talk about it, I mean, I can hardly avoid it since we both work at the same company. It’s more that I want to distance it from work. I don’t want it to encroach into how I do my job.”
We ordered two glasses of wine and found a corner with two low chairs and a coffee table to sit at.
“I was talking to Penelope, Patrick’s assistant. She said that she spat in Scott’s coffee after he’d demanded she make him a cup.” She laughed as she took a sip of her wine. “Not that we were gossiping about you,” she added quickly after.
“It’s okay, I hope the fucker drank it.”
It actually felt good to drop the career woman façade for a few moments. Jenny looked at me, wide-eyed, I think it was probably the first time she’d ever heard me swear.
“Are you okay, though? This has got to be hard,” she said.
“I’m nervous, of course. I haven’t been in the same environment as him, socially, for a while. But it’s just one night. I’ll live.”
It was as I finished my sentence that I saw him. A man with blond hair, wearing a white shirt and black trousers, faced reception. He had his back to me, but I’d know him anywhere. I caught movement beside him and my stomach lurched.
“Oh my God, he fucking brought her,” Jenny said.
Standing beside Scott was the bitch he’d had, correction, was still having, an affair with. Partners had been invited to join us for Saturday evening; most had opted to leave theirs at home. Was he trying to make a statement?
“What a prick,” Jenny said, bringing my attention back to her.
“I think I’ll head to my hotel.”
“Don’t let him drive you out,” she said.
“He isn’t, but you don’t want to see me smack that bitch if she tries to talk to me,” I laughed, a fake laugh.
I placed my glass on the coffee table and waited until they’d headed toward the lift. I heard his laughter as he met his colleagues. I saw her hand on his back. My stomach was in knots, I felt physically sick that he would do that to me. That he would bring her to a company event knowing I would be in attendance. Did he hate me? He must have. Before I allowed those tears, that had caused my throat to constrict, to fall, I snuck out.
****
Babe, I just found out. I’m telling her to fuck off. J x
Jerry’s
text had come through the minute I’d walked through my hotel room door.
It’s fine. Let the fuckers think they have one over on me. I will smile and laugh, I might even get drunk and kiss someone ;) I replied.
Let that be me, please? Think on it, how wonderful would it be if he thought you were fucking the boss? Jerry texted.
He already does ha ha. It’s fine. Go have your dinner. I’ll see you in the morning.
I loved Jerry, as a friend. As much as I knew he was someone I could rely on, someone who would welcome me with open arms, and offer a shoulder to cry on if I needed him, he was still my boss. I loved him, and my job, too much to risk fucking anything up with a drunken kiss, or as Jerry would have it, a night of passion.
I slumped down on the bed and let the tears fall. I was miserable; I thought I’d been doing so well, hiding the anguish, the hurt, and the pain.
I decided to take a long soak in the bath, read a little, and then head down for dinner. I’d booked a table for one; unfortunately it was for seven o’clock. I’d have preferred earlier, there were often less diners looking quizzically at a table for one. I’d done it myself. I’d look and wonder why that person was sitting alone, especially if it was a woman. Had they been stood up?
I dressed in a pair of black trousers and a white shirt. I blow dried my hair and piled it on top of my head. I sat and applied my makeup; although dining on my own, I would still make an effort. I grabbed the very high, patent heels I’d bought to wear with the slinky evening gown at the ball and slipped my feet into them. I would wear them to break them in a little.
I ate a simple meal of steak and salad, only recently having found my appetite again. I guessed the only one good thing to have come out of our break-up was the loss of weight. Nothing like a good drama to help shed the pounds, Mum had told me.
The Facilitator Page 1