White Balance

by Paton, Ainslie

  “I know, Shannon. Her interior design business was here.”

  “And she was earning twice as much as I was.” His wife had been a star, constantly in demand.

  “What if I was to say I think we can make enough money to retire rich, and do what we want?”

  “You want to lie in a hammock, read thrillers and have Olivia rub your feet.”

  Blake scooped up a scallop and shoved it in his mouth whole. He swallowed it in one gulp, his fork stabbing up another before his throat had stopped working. “Yeah, so?” It was almost a metaphor for how he lived. Bite off more than you can fit in your mouth and chew frigging hard.

  Aiden picked up his own fork, broke a sweet scallop in half, swirled it in the honey lime dressing and savoured its exotic taste. He was a connoisseur to Blake’s cannibal. “That doesn’t cost much. You could do that now if you could make Livy sit still.

  Blake’s fork was back on the table, his plate empty. “What if I want to do it on my own island?”

  Aiden swallowed the other half scallop. “Thinking big was never a problem for you was it?”

  Blake paused. A whole body pause. Nothing moved. Not a twitch, not a knee shake, dead man’s eyes, still hands, held breath.

  “Out with it.”

  “You’ll think this is crazy.”

  “Won’t be the first time.” Blake and crazy ideas were ice-cream and chocolate flavouring, made to go together. But Blake admitting to being nervous that was a rare truffle of an event. The only other time that had happened in Aiden’s memory was ten minutes before Olivia walked down the aisle in white organza, trailing rose petals, a full train and Shannon.

  Blake sucked in a lungful. “That’s what I’m worried about. You’re the smart one. You’re the one who can methodically get from A to B and guarantee safe passage. Fix on an outcome and deliver it. I’m the lucky one who relies on skin of the teeth, and so far hasn’t come unstuck. But lucky can run out and lucky only takes you so far before you need real skills.”

  “We both know you have nine lives, you bastard.”

  “We both know you’re the genuine article, you’re the talented one. I’m a bag of wind in comparison. I can talk a good story and I have an evil gift for exploiting other clever people, but I don’t have half your ability. Why do you think Bailey was so important to me? Why do you think I’ve stuck to you? I’m no good without other people who know how to deliver what I dream up.”

  “This better not be illegal.”

  “Not illegal. Risky.”

  “I’ve chucked my career away, haven’t I?”

  “Without you, this thing I want to do is all talk. I can’t pull it off. I barely know where to start.”

  Aiden sat back. This wasn’t Snakes and Ladders anymore. It was Monopoly with its rents and taxes, empire building and money making free chances, and like Monopoly there was bankruptcy and jail on the board.

  “I want to go after the four biggest accounts in the industry. I want to open offices in every state. I want to be the leading agency by revenue in three years and in five sell out to someone like your old employer or go public. Then I’ll buy my own island, and you can make all the straight to rental movies you want.”

  Aiden snapped a breadstick in half. They’d need to be blessed to pull this off. It would be all out war. The chances of success were... He had no idea, but they can’t have been high. There were dozens of other agencies which were stronger, more credentialed and better placed.

  “You are a bag of wind.”

  “Squeeze me and I bleat.”

  “You better have ordered me a steak. I’m going to need the protein.”

  When the steak arrived they were grinning at each other like kids who Santa had spoiled, like penitents from the confessional who’d avoided a whole rosary, like they’d landed on Go and collected two hundred dollars each.

  Blake’s job was to romance the big accounts and source the money to open state offices or buy out smaller state based agencies they could absorb. Aiden’s was to run Heed, making sure it employed the best and brightest and turned out the most creative, effective work. He piled creamy mash on eye-fillet and wondered what the catch was. He knew there’d be one.

  “You’ll have to do some cleaning up.”

  “And why would I be doing that?”

  “This is where I remind you I’m a wiz with the ideas, but a klutz with the follow through. We can win clients but we can’t keep them. Our creative is stale, our people are undisciplined, our systems are broken or non-existent and we’re in no fit state to lead a merged firm.”

  “Are you telling me your luck ran out? What happened to your legendary ability to find clever people to deliver for you? Are you telling me Heed doesn’t have its own version of Bailey or me?” Aiden was half in jest, half in shock. Blake had never said anything to indicate Heed’s performance was an issue, so this was a nasty surprise. This was, ‘Go directly to jail—do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars’.

  “I’m telling you I got in too deep. I don’t have the right team in place. There’s some bad behaviour going down. The plan you need to execute as joint CEO is the same one you used to clean up at CAT.”

  Aiden said, “Same drama, different channel,” with a bitterness that made Blake wince.

  “I shouldn’t have kept that from you, Aid. Obviously it’s up to you how you tackle it.”

  “If I tackle it.”

  “You wouldn’t back out would you?”

  Blake sounded nervous. And so the fuck he should be. Aiden hadn’t expected this. Oh, he knew Blake would have some audacious scheme up his sleeve, and the expansion plan fit that bill. But to keep mum about problems within Heed, and to box him into doing the same tough head kicking, dirt moving job he’d just dumped, on the promise of returning to the work he liked best, that was deceit. Blake’s tongue could be silver but it could also be poison.

  The idea they could work together to become the biggest agency in the industry in a few years, then sell it, to walk away with money enough to pursue personal dreams had shifted from dot com style gold rush, to tech wreck crush, before he’d finished his steak. Everything out of Blake’s mouth was suddenly hot air and dust.

  Aiden pushed his chair back, threw his napkin on the table and stood. He couldn’t believe he’d almost knocked back the job because he’d been worried he wasn’t up to it. He couldn’t believe he’d almost put Blake’s interests ahead of his own. He couldn’t look at the guy. He fished two fifties from his wallet and tucked them under the salt cellar. He did this calmly as though he had no cares in the world, but his jaw was clenched tight, back teeth clamped down hard and his ears were ringing from the sound of his life unravelling again.

  ●

  Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Olivia was going to tear his hide off. He’d screwed Aid over. And he was going to walk.

  “Aid, don’t, please, ah shit, don’t go.” But Aid was ‘so long folks, exit stage right’. He’d even slapped down money for his meal.

  Blake felt sick, like he might hurl scallops and steak; regurgitate his stupidity on the linen tablecloth. He was on his feet and after Aid, leaving his coat on the back of the chair and waving off a startled waiter who didn’t have the cheque ready yet.

  “Aid!”

  Blake was scared of only three things in his life. That his father would hit him hard enough to break his jaw. That Olivia would wake up to the fact he was all veneer and no wood and leave his miserable ass, and that Aiden would despise him for his lack of talent and hollow credibility.

  Dad was dead, his reach from the grave was a soft touch and Olivia was still blissfully asleep, but Aiden had just discovered him for the manipulating fucker he was. It didn’t get much worse than this.

  “Aid!”

  Aiden stopped sharp, but he didn’t turn around. “I can’t talk to you. I have to walk this off.” He took off again.

  “Aid, I’m sorry. I should never have kept the truth about Heed from you.” Aid kept walking and B
lake tailed him, caboose to his engine.

  “But you did. And you think you’re going to talk your way around it, because that’s what you do. And you think I’m going to brush it off, and we’ll be laughing about this in a day or two.”

  “That’d be good.”

  Aid pulled up, and for a moment Blake thought the sound he heard was one of his lives expiring, but it was only a passing taxi. If it got Aid back on side, he’d easy sacrifice a life or two.

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Aid.”

  Aiden looked at him like he was something nasty he’d walked on and couldn’t wait to scrape off his shoe. “If you don’t want a smack in the head, shut the fuck up.”

  Oh shit, he was so fucking screwed.

  He’d finally taken it too far. Finally pushed Aid into a corner he didn’t like. And didn’t have to sit in. Now the guy, one of the few people in the world he trusted, had come out swinging, and without so much as curling a fist, he’d flattened Blake.

  None of this was possible without Aiden. Not maintaining Heed, not going for broke with the expansion plan. And that wasn’t rhetoric, wasn’t spin, juice to keep the world lubricated—it was fact. Yeah sure, Blake knew he owned a certain kind of style, a glamour without being manicured, a flamboyance without being stagey. People were aware when he was in the room. They liked it when he made a fuss over them. It was a show and it was easily done, and it looked like real power and influence. But it was like a card trick, a sleight of hand, amazing for its ability to surprise and delight, but kind of obvious and rehearsed when you thought about it.

  So yeah sure, he had personal influence and he was a first rate ideas man. But that only took you so far and he’d reached the end of that road and it was a barren cul-de-sac. He simply did not have the foresight, the craftsmanship, the clear-sightedness and the capability to consistently lead a team of people to create excellent work. He got bored, he forgot things, he changed his mind too often, and he chased every rabbit down every hole, because that was more fun than being disciplined and reliable.

  Aid was disciplined and reliable and he knew which rabbits were worth chasing—the ones that turned into magic out of a hat. Aid had the unwavering focus, the quiet attention, the deep insight Blake only dreamed of. And he had the chameleon’s way of reading the environment and knowing how best to fit in to it, how best to influence it. Blake only had one way of being: up front, noisy and occasionally blundering. Aid was a man for all seasons. Wintry and cold when something needed a hard cutting, and warm summer air to encourage flowers blooming. He could insist and demand, inspire and cajole. He had more ways of making things happen and people want to work with him than Blake had skin cells.

  Blake had charisma but Aiden had true charm. People backslapped Blake, called him a good guy and bought him beer. They became Aid’s long-term disciples, fell in love with him, and celebrated his achievements.

  They were foreground and background, loud and soft, overt and covert, good-humoured bluster and heartfelt finesse. And now Aid was walking away, and Blake was nothing but dog shit on the pavement.

  15: Recognition

  That hunk was Aiden. Blake’s Aiden. Best mate. Creative idol. New partner.

  Mr Tall, Dark and Mysteriously Wounded Looking.

  He’d called up to her from reception, ignoring Blake’s attempt to push him out the door and she felt like they’d already met.

  It made no sense.

  And really she knew very little about him. She knew he was clever because Blake was envious. He went to film school which Blake was inspired by. He was married because Blake was best man at his wedding. And he was joining the business because Blake had asked her to draw up his employment contract and that was it. Not a whole lot of anything and all of it a reflection of his relationship with Blake.

  But then he’d spoken to her, and she felt like she recognised him, and wasn’t that a head-shaking weird-out.

  If she’d thought about Aiden at all it was as a kind of imitation Blake. She’d imagined them as Tweedledee and Tweedledum. They’d have the same blonde hair and big bone structure, the same bluster and bombast, and they’d compete with each other in the personal presence stakes with menacing efficiency.

  This man with the trim, muscular frame, handsome face and shock of dark hair was nothing like Blake. He had an interior calmness about him that hinted at depth of character. He had a quirk-lipped smile that promised humour, and a voice that implied he knew secrets and he wasn’t telling, with a look in his eyes that said he knew about pain.

  She got all of that out of a two second chance meeting, separated by a whole floor of the building, the staircase and the reception area. So it had to be bogus.

  Then there was the fact he was gorgeous to look at. Now that was spot on; accurate. Hell yeah!

  When Blake came back from lunch he had a thundercloud raining on his head, and a pinched looked that made Bailey think of old women who used tea cosies and antimacassars. She stayed out of his way and got on with things, watching Cara nanna him, bringing him headache pills and holding his calls.

  It was the next day before she got the chance to speak with him. She’d mastered the coffee machine and brought them both cappuccinos along with a bunch of forms that needed his signature. The coffee was a softener.

  All last night she’d been inexplicably annoyed with Blake. For no good reason she felt he’d let her down. He was up to something. The work he had her doing was more than the left over administration he’d presented it as. It was the kind of work you’d do if you were looking to sell the business. If that was the case then it would be better that she knew what was going on so she could quit guessing what the end game was.

  Then there was the thing about Aiden. If Blake was thinking of selling, why employ Aiden? Blake had explained what an opportunity it was for Aiden to join Heed, but she wondered if it was a smart business decision. On the surface of it Heed didn’t have the revenue to justify the salary Aiden was getting, which would make him a liability, not an asset to a buyer.

  It’s not like it was in Blake’s nature to make sure she understood the big picture strategy about Aiden, but it felt like it should’ve been. It seemed like she should’ve known more about Aiden, and what he was going to bring to the business. While they were on the subject, Blake could fill her in on other Aiden facts. Like why she’d walked away from meeting him with the distinct impression they’d met before, and a feeling he was sad.

  It felt whacked-out silly to feel that way.

  What was Aiden to her anyway? At best a friend of a colleague. At worst someone she would work alongside and have a passing acquaintance with. But she couldn’t shake it, this feeling she was supposed to know about Aiden and why he carried sadness. It remained a niggling annoyance she took out on Blake the minute he acknowledged her.

  “What else haven’t you told me, Blake?”

  Blake squinted. She wondered if he genuinely had a headache or a hangover, or wanted her to think either one of those things so she’d back off.

  “About what?”

  She put his coffee down in front of him and sat. “Aiden.”

  “What about him?”

  “Why you hired him?”

  “Haven’t we had this discussion? Went like this. He’s shit hot. We’re fucking lucky to have him.”

  Bailey sighed. How daft could she be? Whatever Blake’s big plan was, it was obviously going to remain off limits to her. She had nowhere to go with this, but she wasn’t ready to give Blake a free pass either.

  “You could at least have told me he’s sensationally good looking. You never thought to mention that over all the years I’ve heard about your best mate Aiden.” That wasn’t what she’d meant to say. She’d meant to ask why Aiden hurt, but that was psychotic. Even if her baseless premonition was right, it was no business of hers, and that meant it was fair Blake was looking at her like she’d tripped a switch.

  “Ah, how is that relevant?”


  She’d not only tripped a switch, she’d blown a fuse, and was part way to burning down the house. “It’s colour, it’s backstory, it’s relevant.”

  “Ok, so I left out the fact he’s a handsome bastard. I never told you I once had a triple rooted tooth removed either did I?”

  Bailey felt stupidity form a sticky fibrous knot in her gut. The kind of knot she used to get as a kid when her father started in on how she should behave and why she disappointed him. She’d been dumb to start this conversation, and now had no graceful way out of it. Blake was giving her pinched eyes and narrowed lips. She gave him pugnacious head tilt and wry expression as a form of self defence, while all around the flames licked and her gut churned.

  “Is there anything else I should know about him?”

  “Like what, his star sign, his shoe size?”

  Exasperation thy name is Blake. He had a point. “Nothing?”

  “Why are you pissed off with me, Bails?”

  “I’m having a moment where I don’t trust you.”

  “Because I didn’t tell you Aid was a looker?”

  Was that really her problem? If it was, she had a screw loose. “Because you’re up to something?

  “And women wonder why men think they’re irrational. Bails, you want to start this conversation again? Tell me what’s really going on.”

  Bailey wondered how deep she could dig this hole before she could find a way to tunnel out the other side. She filled her shovel. “Everything I’m doing for you feels like preparation for something else.”

  She watched Blake carefully, looking for signs she’d pushed him past his natural tolerance for fencing about. He did this thing where he pulled his chin down and lengthened his neck at the same time. It was one of his tells. She was in the tunnel and there was light at its end. He was up to something.

  “Everything you’re doing is something I should’ve done months, if not years ago. It’s stupid business not to have our policy and procedures sorted out.”