Heller

by JD Nixon

  I had no choice but to continue my original plan unless I wanted to appear cowardly and that helped me make up my mind. I waggled my fingers at him in acknowledgement, averting my eyes from his sweaty body and determinedly headed for the treadmill. I wanted to block out the sight and sound of him and fortunately all the mirrors in the gym were surrounding the weights area. I was mirror-free and would have been able to pretend to myself that I was alone except for the grunting noises he was making as he lifted and lowered those heavy weights. I desperately wished I had an iPod at that moment. I promised myself that I would go shopping and buy one the next chance I had. I’d now earned a pay cheque since I’d started working at Heller’s and had a bit of spare money for the first time in forever.

  I started slowly on the treadmill, giving myself a proper five-minute warm-up. I revved up to a decent running speed, zoning out everything, staring straight ahead at the blank plasma TV, thinking about random things: what I would cook for dinner that night, the complicated plot of the thriller I was reading, the revoltingly gory movie I had watched with Daniel and Niq the other night that was still giving me nightmares. I ran for another twenty minutes before I slowed down again for a warm-down. When I finally stopped, puffing heavily, I gave a small scream of fear when I turned around to dismount to find Heller standing behind me, arms crossed across his insanely wonderful chest. He must have been watching my running session and my first thought was to hope that he hadn’t been looking at my butt the whole time.

  I couldn’t help but notice again that he was virtually naked except for those tiny skintight gym shorts. Oh God, give me strength, I prayed frantically. He was a beautiful man with a beautiful body, a huge temptation for any woman, but especially for a poor girl who hadn’t had any action for a while. Luckily for my self-control that morning though, sex was the last thing on his mind.

  “You have a good running style, but running’s not enough,” he criticised. “You need to do weights as well.”

  “I know. I haven’t finished yet. There’s more to my workout,” I said mildly between breaths, scrambling away from him over to the mirrored weights section to grab the two-kilogram hand weights. I went through my normal routine, proud that I had recently graduated from the one-kilogram weights I’d used when I’d first started. I was deliberately taking it slowly.

  “That’s not enough,” he disapproved, repeating himself. “You won’t build big muscles with those.” His contempt for my little weights was manifest.

  “I don’t want to be too muscled,” I explained patiently as I exerted myself with my little weights. I desperately kept my gaze ahead at myself in the mirror, trying not to make eye contact with him. God only knew what weight he had just been lifting. I had no doubt it would put me to shame.

  “Why not?” he demanded.

  I suppressed my sigh as I finished my last bicep curl. “Because I’m a woman and I want to look womanly, not manly.”

  There was a significant pause as his eyes roamed freely over my body. “Oh, I don’t think you need to worry about that,” he finally said, with a calculatingly suggestive smile.

  Okay, he probably had been looking at my butt while I ran, I decided. I sighed, hoping I wouldn’t, but already feeling a pinkness creeping into my cheeks at his words. I wished he would just leave and stop watching me, especially when he was standing there with almost nothing on. I wasn’t wearing that much myself either to be honest, regretting the small Lycra shorts and mid-riff revealing top I had pulled on. He was getting a good look at my flesh.

  “I’ll move up to larger weights when I feel competent with these ones,” I promised, trying to distract him from his scrutiny of my body.

  “Talk to me when you do. I can help you devise a program.” He strode towards the door, but in the mirror I could see him casting me a prolonged glance as he left.

  *****

  After a couple more weeks, I felt like I had settled in at Heller’s. I’d helped bring in a handful of new and ongoing clients, which I knew pleased Heller even though he didn’t say so. I was also becoming incredibly fit and had developed close bonds with Daniel and Niq. I was on friendly terms with the twins. Well, Sid was friendly at least, but Clive not at all. I hadn’t yet set eyes on Victor and Heller himself remained an enticing enigma. Occasionally I caught a glimpse of humanity inside, but mostly to me he was still a solid barrier of cool, mocking aloofness.

  However, there were some issues to sort out before I could really feel like part of the family.

  One day, Heller called me into his office and heatedly remarked that I seemed to be disappearing every couple of hours and was I a secret smoker? To him, this was clearly a severe crime and a major betrayal of his trust, and I think it came as a relief for him to learn that it was my female fastidiousness that kept me jogging upstairs to use my own bathroom. There was an awkward moment when I was explaining about the importance of female hygiene bins and that at a certain time of every month . . . I’m not sure Heller had ever considered the necessity before, and I will swear that he even reddened a little when I brought it up. But he never questioned me about my disappearances again.

  Then I tackled everybody’s free access to my flat. On a number of occasions I had been startled by finding one of them in my flat when I thought I was alone. On one particular occasion I had left my bathroom after a long shower, clad only in a towel, to find the four men in my flat, drinking my coffee and casually discussing the security of my windows. After that, I called a special staff meeting. There I gave a very angry and detailed lecture about privacy and why it was so important for a woman, particularly a woman living with a bunch of men, again especially at certain times. Daniel, Niq and the twins were aghast, if not actually traumatised. Heller instructed everyone to respect my privacy and to knock on my door in the future.

  After those successes, I decided to confront Heller about the decor in the office. I begged him to let me soften it up, shrewdly arguing that it would offer Niq a better study environment if we provided some indoor plants and stimulating paintings. He finally agreed, wearily worn down by my daily assaults. That afternoon, Rumbles, Niq and I drove to the local mega-hardware barn. Niq was so excited by the rare outing that he chatted away the entire trip, barely drawing one breath. Rumbles and I exchanged glances, smiled at each other and listened patiently, joining in when we were given a chance. We purchased a number of potted indoor plants, and I impulsively added a small water feature to the trolley as well, paying for it all with a Heller’s credit card. We arranged everything strategically around the office. I made sure I had one of the plants on my desk to partially hide me from Heller’s view.

  The next day I invited around an art dealer (after he was screened by Heller, of course) who looked around in dismay at the severity of the brick walls and promptly supplied us with three modern and beautiful watercolours by a rising local artist. He assured a flat-expressioned Heller that the paintings were worth every cent of the exorbitant price and would become quite valuable in the future as the artist became better known (he was right). Daniel and I spent the following morning hanging them and when finished, I glanced around, satisfied with my work.

  Heller came out of his office, raised his eyebrows at the gently gurgling water feature I’d placed on a small table in a corner near Niq’s desk, rubbed the leaf of one of the philodendrons, spent a moment contemplating each painting and walked back into his office without saying a word.

  “He likes it,” Daniel whispered to me.

  “How can you tell?” I whispered back, disappointed at the lack of feedback.

  “Because he didn’t say that he hated it,” he replied with a smile.

  I thought about that and realised it was true. If Heller hadn’t approved of what I’d done, he would have let me know with no uncertainties. Happier, I secretly patted myself on the back and went to collect my notepad and pen. It was time for the weekly staff meeting that was held in Heller’s office and attended by him, Daniel, Sid, Clive and me. I was
n’t quite sure why I was included as I was rarely expected to contribute a word.

  As was the practice at these meetings, Daniel gave us a briefing on new enquiries that he had logged during the last week and upcoming confirmed assignments. He advised us of a potentially big assignment coming up in the next few days that we would be competing for against other firms. Heller allocated work to us individually and then we each gave a brief summary of our activities since we’d last met. Sid described a new line of micro-cameras he had recently read about that seemed worth investigating, and promised to provide Heller with some more information. Clive grunted his way through a problem the security staff were experiencing on assignment with accessing buildings before and after hours. Daniel promised to look into it and then it was his turn to discuss the accounts, noting with pleasure that receipts were up for the past month. Heller’s eyes flicked over to me momentarily, but he didn’t say anything. He mostly sat in silence, listening intently. He gave everyone an opportunity to talk, not dominating the meeting but firmly making decisions when required. And then the meeting was over and that was that for another week. Everyone trooped out back to work.

  After about the fourth week of working for him, I walked into Heller’s office uninvited. He finished what he was writing with a flourish and gestured for me to sit down. I had plucked up a lot of courage to come in, deciding that I had to do it and that quickly was best, which I vaguely remembered as kind of a quote from some Shakespeare play.

  “When you appointed me, you said that I was on trial for a month,” I reminded him after I’d taken a seat.

  “Did I?” he pondered coolly, his head on one side, eyes resting on me, uncharacteristically vague.

  “Yes, you did,” I replied firmly. “And that month has now passed. I would like some permanency, so do you confirm my employment or not?” My heart was thumping.

  “Hmm,” he said thoughtfully, swinging back on his chair, “let me think. You’ve cost me a lot of money in start-up and upkeep but you have brought in quite a few new clients, mostly women, which is the reason why I hired you. But on the other hand, I do believe that you have made some outrageous promises in the course of bringing in these new clients. It will probably take an era to untangle them, and I’m not even sure that some of them are physically or morally possible.” He looked at me and considered. “On the plus side you have become quite the favourite of Daniel, Niq and the twins, and even Victor had something complimentary to say about you the other day.”

  “Really?” I found that hard to believe. I hadn’t yet met the man, if he even existed, which I was beginning to doubt.

  “Yes. He said that your literary tastes were impeccable, and that every time he goes to the library to get a book, you have already just borrowed it.”

  “Is that so?” I was sceptical.

  “Yes, quite so,” Heller replied laconically. “But to continue, on the minus side, you do drink more than I prefer. Every day, I believe, you have some wine.”

  “A glass or two is beneficial for your health,” I recited piously.

  “And also on the minus side, you’re very untidy.”

  I sat up in my seat. “What? Exactly where am I untidy?” I burst out, exasperated. I had made a super-human effort over the last month to be as neat as possible and to be accused of untidiness really pissed me off.

  “Your desk,” Heller said. “You leave it messy each day. Look at it now.” I glanced back at my desk and noticed a pen resting near the keyboard, a file lying open on top and my coffee cup sitting to one side.

  “I think you’re really stretching now, Heller,” I said bluntly.

  “And you’re very noisy as well. This office used to be peaceful but now all I hear is the three of you laughing and chatting all day long.” I stared at him in disbelief. “I’m not sure everyone is working as hard as they ought to be.”

  I wasn’t able to control my rude snort. “Heller! We’re having what is commonly known as ‘fun’. You should try it some time. You might enjoy it.” He was beginning to try my patience. “And for your information, it makes us all more productive. And anyway, Daniel and Niq love having me around. They would hate it if I had to leave.” So there! I thought childishly.

  He didn’t respond, but merely leant back in his chair and gazed back at me with an irritating serenity.

  “Now, just tell me. Am I confirmed or not?” I pushed back my chair and stood up, ready to stamp out of the office in high temper if I didn’t hear what I wanted to hear. I have a problem with my temper sometimes and I’d been reining it in for four long weeks.

  “What happens if I say no?” Heller asked, standing up also and coming around to face me, arms crossed.

  I put my hands on my hips and looked daggers up at him. “I will immediately turn around, go to my flat, take off this outfit and everything you have bought me, put on my old clothes, grab my backpack, say goodbye to the boys and walk out the door. Forever,” I replied, silently daring him to say ‘no’ so I could do as I threatened.

  “You have none of your old clothes left,” he reminded me with the ghost of a smile.

  I floundered for a moment. “Well, I . . . I guess I’ll have to wrap myself in a towel then.”

  “But all the towels belong to me,” he said, his smile becoming more open, his white, even teeth gleaming in his lightly tanned face. “And I’m afraid that I couldn’t possibly let you take one with you.”

  Our eyes duelled for a long minute. “Fine,” I snapped, defiant. “Be like that. I’ll walk out of here with nothing on at all. Is that what you want?”

  He looked down at me with an expression on his face that implied he was greatly entertained by my theatricals. When he spoke, his voice was cool and reasonable, far from how I was feeling. “Calm down, hothead. No matter how alluring that scenario might be to me, as it happens what I want is for you to continue working here and I will confirm your employment. You haven’t been the complete disaster I predicted, and frankly, Niq and Daniel would murder me if you left because of me. You’re right – they do love having you around. Are you happy now?”

  I beamed at him and nodded in relief, my anger melting away instantly. I loved working in his business and would have hated to be fired. Not to mention losing my flat and wardrobe and styling and free food . . .

  “I don’t understand you,” he confessed, eyebrows pressing together in genuine puzzlement. “One minute you are angry at me, the next you are smiling. How can your mood change so quickly? I don’t know what to make of you sometimes.”

  I laughed out loud. It was as if he had only discovered women. Impulsively, I hugged him. “Thank you, Heller,” I said, smiling up at him. “I won’t disappoint you. I promise.” And in my defence for such unprofessional behaviour, I was overjoyed at that very moment.

  His body tensed and I immediately regretted my impetuous act, feeling like a fool. He clearly wasn’t used to receiving spontaneous gestures of affection from his staff, but after a second he put his arms around me too and drew me close. We stayed like that for a very pleasant moment before he pushed me gently away and returned to his desk. I refused to leave though and waited until his eyes moved back to mine.

  “Now that I’m confirmed, you have to stop calling me Ms Chalmers. I hate it.”

  He gave me a searing blue stare and said quite deliberately, “Can you bring me in the Wilcott file please, Matilda. I want to discuss some approaches with you before we meet him next week.”

  I glared at him. Matilda?

  “Tilly,” I remonstrated, not moving.

  “Did you hear what I said, Matilda? The Wilcott file please.”

  “Heller! Not Matilda. Tilly.”

  “Matilda, the file please.” He looked at me with frosty detachment. It was clear that he wasn’t going to budge, so I did what I was told, but I wasn’t happy about it.

  Chapter 10

  A few days later a ringing noise intruded into my sleep and it was a moment or so before I realised that it was the
phone next to my bed. I sat up bleary-eyed and fumbled for it, pressing buttons wildly before managing to hit the answer button.

  “Yeah?” I croaked.

  “Get dressed,” Heller’s voice commanded. “We have to meet the VIP client Daniel was telling us about at the staff meeting the other day.”

  “What?” I tried to focus on my clock. “But it’s four-thirty in the morning.”

  “He’s just flown in and wants to meet with us before resting. You’ve got fifteen minutes to get ready. I’ll pick you up on the way down.”

  I couldn’t argue – after all I was being very well paid to be on-call. My mouth felt furry and I had a slight headache. As I stumbled into the shower I wished I hadn’t had that last glass of wine the previous night, Daniel and I staying up far too late chatting up on the roof-top. Somehow I managed to get ready in time in a russet skirt-suit with gold-coloured silk blouse and was popping a couple of paracetamol when there was a soft knock on my door. I snatched my handbag off the dresser and answered.

  “Good morning, Matilda,” Heller said pleasantly, looking fresh and gorgeous in a dark charcoal suit and pale blue shirt that emphasised his eyes. I grunted something unintelligible in reply. As we drove he briefed me on the client, a very wealthy Jordanian businessman in town to close a multi-million dollar development deal. He wanted his young wife chaperoned during the next week while he was occupied with business. We were the last of three firms he was interviewing, the others were two of the city’s biggies and it would be a lucrative job for the winner.

  They were staying at the city’s only six-star hotel. We were met by a well-dressed respectful servant in the opulent foyer and conveyed to the penthouse suite. The sheer luxury of the suite was overwhelming and I glanced around it in awe. Antique furniture vied for attention with gilt-framed oil paintings and beautifully crafted and magnificently-coloured authentic Persian rugs. I couldn’t even imagine being rich enough to afford this splendour.