by Amy Daws
“You ready to go in?” she asks. I sigh heavily. Holiday was nice, but it’s back to the real world now. “I know someone who will be very happy to see you!” she says, giggling, and climbs her lean, willowy body up the cast iron fire-exit steps.
Our office is located on the second floor. There is a more appropriate interior entrance, but it connects to a call center situated on the lower level. That call center feels like a funeral when you walk through to get upstairs, so we all opt to use the fire escape when weather permits.
We climb through the huge swing-out window and the familiar smell of canvas, leather, and furniture polish greets me. Nikon is located on the entire second floor of this building. It’s a huge wide-open space with stark white support beams peppered throughout.
“Leslie!” Benji rushes over as soon as my feet hit the glossy wood flooring. “You look brill’! How was your holiday?”
“Fan-freaking-tastic, Benji. How are ya?” I smile politely.
“I’m well, I’m well! We missed you round here, that’s for sure.” Benji follows me as I walk over to my desk area. It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve been here. I guess it has because prior to Mexico, I was in China—so, shit, it’s been three weeks now I guess.
Benji perches up on one of the three tall barstools that sit perpendicular to my desk for when I design with my team. I smile tightly, listening to Benji talk about what’s been going on around here. I really try not to encourage him too much. He’s our office personal assistant, twenty-two years old, and fresh out of university. Everyone in the office laughs at how nervous he is around me, so I do my best to put a plug in it. I’d be heartbroken if poor Benji ever found out people gossiped about him. He’s so sweet and cute in a dopey, puppy-dog sort of way. Just way too young. And way too not my type. I prefer the thicker, more muscular builds.
“Listen, Benji, I need to get settled and caught up on the gobs of emails I’ve missed. Maybe we can have a chat later?”
“Oh, sure thing Leslie. I’ll go grab your coffee!”
I smile and fire up my huge Mac screen. I glance over at Vilma in her area next to mine. In our open office, one entire wall is set up with five large office bays. No cubicle partitions—thank God. Each area is separated simply by the designer’s own decorations. I haven’t done much with mine. It’s just covered in fabrics from Fab’s. But I think it’s got that shabby-chic look about it. My large cast iron floor lamp with red tassels was something I’d found in China and paid a small fortune to have shipped back to London. It was cheap to buy though, so in the end it’s still a squeal of a deal.
The other huge perk of this job is that Nikon pays for me to have a computer here and a computer at home. And the two mirror-image each other so I can work from either location. It’s really nice because I tend to get my inspiration at the oddest of times.
“Roger said we’re all meeting at ten,” Vilma says, not even bothering to look up from her computer screen. She’s already engrossed in what she’s doing.
“Roger that!” I say, cheekily.
She peers at me from around my lamp. “You actually have been missed, Leslie. Let’s not ruin that with terrible jokes.” I pinch my lips together and chuckle quietly.
An hour and two coffees later, the entire staff is sitting around the huge wooden plank table we use for meetings. Our full London team consists of three designers—myself, Vilma, and Hector. Our production manager, Natalia, takes care of all of my travel needs whenever I go to China. She’s nice enough, but she’s all business and does not do well when we try to change plans last minute. Then there’s Benji, and our boss, Roger.
“Good to have you back, Leslie,” Roger’s deep timbre voice cuts through the chatter. “You did an excellent job with the China factory. The models were perfect. We should have our first burst within the next month.”
“Thanks, Rog’!” I reply, flushing slightly. Roger is great with praise. I’m just not great at receiving it. I’ve never had a job where I felt so appreciated. But Roger’s definitely one to give credit where credit is due. He’s tall and a solid thirty-years-older than me and Vilma. Hector and Natalia are both in their forties. Then there’s baby Benji.
“I may need you to head back out there in the next month for a quality check. Nothing official yet, just wanted to give you a heads up.”
“No problem,” I say. I’m the only one that travels to China, as I have the most sewing experience. Communicating with the factory workers via an English translator is not the easiest thing to do. It helps if I just sit with them and work, having them look over my shoulder and mimic. The Chinese seamstresses I work with pick up new techniques fast, so it’s a fun silent buzz of energy exchanging when I’m training them.
Roger continues the meeting and I feel myself becoming invigorated again. This is what I’m good at. This is what I was meant to do with my life—design, travel, experience, explore. I don’t need a man in my life to do any of this. Maybe being on holiday for Finley’s wedding just gave me too long to think.
Perhaps Frank’s cleanse is a huge mistake. I know he’s not trying to get me a boyfriend, just laid I suppose, but why can’t celibacy be more appealing to me? I shudder at the thought of packing away my precious hotdog for good.
Maybe just giving hotdog a break for something a bit more lifelike is what I need. I just have to make sure that whoever I end up with in that final step of the cleanse is impervious to love and relationships—NO chance of them wanting more. I gotta trust in Frank’s cleanse. He knows that a relationship and marriage ain’t happening for me! No siree.
Leslie Lincoln is never getting married. For some reason, saying it in my head in the third person seems more serious.
Regardless, I just know I can never get married like Finley. Not after everything I witnessed. Everything I’ve been through. I swallow hard trying to bury that deep, dark memory into the back of my mind. Finley would kill me if she ever found out I kept something like this from her. Keeping the cracks from Finley will get my ass kicked. But this particular crack is for my own sanity. She doesn’t need the darkness of my past tainting her new, bright future.
***
CHAPTER TWELVE
I meet Frank at the historic pub in the Mayfair side of town. This is a posh, financial district and nowhere near where Frank and I usually hang out in. I walk into a decidedly swanky cocktail bar inside the Millennium Hotel. It’s all dark woods and rounded leather armchairs stationed around low glass tables. It’s filled to the brim with young business professionals.
Frank waves me over to the corner of the bar where he’s wedged tightly between two gentlemen seemingly ordering drinks.
“‘Bout bloody time, Lez. I’ve been going mental trying to get a drink in this racket! Get up here and show ‘em ye tits.”
I roll my eyes. “What tits, Frank?” I surely won’t fare any better than him. I’m not the get-drinks-easily type that hot bartenders usually go for.
“Finally!” Frank sighs heavily when a bartender makes his way over to our side. He orders us two red wines and gives the ‘tender a sexy wink. Frank. Always on the hunt.
We get our drinks and find a spot near a window overlooking Hyde Park.
“Alright Lez, do you know why I picked this place?”
“No,” I reply, sipping my wine and staring excitedly at Frank. I’m ready for the next challenge. This one sounds like fun.
“This is the business district. Men are plentiful and women are scarce. More competition, therefore, more opportunity for you to chum it up with a bloke.” Frank’s all business today in a smart white button-down and grey slacks. His orange hair is greased off dramatically to one side, so much that it looks wet to the touch.
I tug at my Houndstooth shorts, feeling like my outfit looks a bit outrageous around this crowd. “Stop fidgeting, Lezzie. You look fab. You have nothing to be self-conscious about. You aren’t these blokes’ type.” I visibly deflate. “Don’t give me that wounded puppy look, poppet! You know
how I feel about you. You’re the finest piece of arse in this pub, but these blokes are shallow tossers. You’re best to be shot of them. We’re using them for day two of Frank’s cleanse. Nothing more.”
I giggle at him using his name in the third person. “Duly noted, professor!” I salute him snarkily and he scowls.
“Alright, see those two girls sitting over there by themselves?” I glance behind me and nod. “All these tossers want to shag their knickers off. But none of them have the balls to talk to them. We’re British, Leslie. We’re not known for balls. That’s where you come in.”
I bite my lip excitedly. “Do I talk to the girls or do I talk to the guys?”
“Start with the girls. Befriend them, make them like you. Won’t be hard,” he winks at me and smiles. “Then we move on to the cavemen.”
Twenty minutes later, Sally and Veronica think I’m the best thing since sliced bread. I’ve got them in stitches over stories of Frank and his vintage porn collection. They’ve even bought me another glass of wine. They are busy yammering about their jobs as I notice a couple of sharply dressed businessmen eyeing us curiously.
I glance at Frank and he nods his head over to the same two guys and mouths “Get on with it.”
Okay Leslie, it’s go time.
I clear my throat and make eye contact with Mr. Bleach Blonde. “Jesse?” I squeal, fakely. “Oh my Gawd, Jesse!” I jump up, interrupting Veronica’s story about her boss’ latest unreasonable demand and dash over to the men seated two tables over.
He looks at me quizzically as I lean down and air kiss both his cheeks. “Jesse, I haven’t seen you in ages! You must come sit with us!” Before he can reply, I grab his arm and yank him out of his seat. “Bring your friend!” Mr. Dumb Face follows dutifully behind us.
“Sally! V! It’s my dear friend Jesse from university!” I shove Jesse toward Veronica and she shakes his hand curiously.
“I’m afraid you…” he starts.
“Sit guys, join us! You’ve got the next round, Jesse! Are you still at the same firm being hugely successful, making loads of dosh?” I giggle and grab my wineglass to take a sip.
“I am at a firm, but I’m afraid you…”
“Who’s your friend…what’s your name?” I ask.
“Ryan,” he offers, his face still looking as dumb as it did a second ago. Get your game face on man, I can’t do this alone!
“I was just telling Sally and V what a pig of a day it’s been for me! Playing catch up from holiday is the pits!”
“I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong guy,” Mr. Bleach Blonde says, apologetically.
“Whatever do you mean?” I ask, batting my eyelashes accordingly.
“My name isn’t Jesse. It’s Will. You must have me mistaken.” He looks hilariously disappointed at his misfortune of not being Jesse. Sally and Veronica’s eyes bug out of their head, obviously feeling horribly mortified for me. I laugh loudly and long and just when they think I’m done laughing, I laugh some more and bat Will’s arm.
“I’m such a fool! I must still be jetlagged!” I fan my face. “Well, you’re here now. You guys work on this side of town? Veronica was just telling us about her job around the corner! You guys look very successful in your dapper suits. You should take these nice girls out for dinner, there’s a great four star just two blocks down that I’ve heard serves the best pudding!” I glug my wine a bit sloppily and snort in laughter.
Will and Ryan look at each other in confusion and turn to the safest of the three women sitting at the table right now. The ones not rambling on and on and snorting when they laugh. They give the girls a sheepish smile and I sit up straighter, feeling like I am killing this cleanse step.
The four of them find some common ground to talk about and I look over to Frank excitedly. He silently applauds me with a quiet gesture. I then look at him quizzically and he returns my quizzical look. I shrug my shoulders waiting for further instruction and he shrugs his shoulders right back. Bloody hell.
“Oh, would you look at the time! I have to be going. I have an evening colonic scheduled.” All four faces blanch as I rise from my chair. “I’m sure I’ll see you all around!” I wave dumbly and toddle over to Frank.
“You suck at bailing me out of awkward situations,” I hiss at him as I take my seat back.
“What d’ya mean? You did brilliant! Look at them!”
I glance back over and see Sally laughing at something Ryan must have said. I did do good!
“Well, great. Is that it then? Did I pass the wing-woman challenge?”
“Flying colors, Lezzie! Let’s have one more drink to celebrate and then get home. Tomorrow night’s challenge won’t prove to be nearly as easy.”
***
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“We’re home,” a voice whispers in my ear. My eyes flutter for a second, squint shut, and then fly open. It’s pitch black in my room.
“What time is it?” I squeal, sitting up. I’m suddenly feeling nervous that I’m late for work.
“Relax, lay back down, it’s still early.” I recognize it now as Finley’s voice. “It’s not quite six. Sorry, we just got back. I wanted to see you!” She pulls back the covers and slips into my daybed beside me. I sigh heavily and lie back down.
“Fin-Bin, I don’t have to be up for another hour,” I groan and roll so I’m facing away from her. I shove my butt out far, nearly pushing her off the bed. She laughs and wraps herself around me.
“I missed you, Lez!”
“You were just with me for a whole week!”
“I know, but you seemed…off,” she says quietly.
“What do you mean?” I whisper, waking up a bit more now.
“At the wedding. You weren’t yourself, Leslie. It’s been bugging me since you left. Brody told me to leave it, but I can’t. Are you okay? I’m worried.” I roll over and we’re now facing each other, lying on our sides with our hands tucked under our heads.
“Where’s Brody?”
“He went to bed, it was a long flight.”
“I’m sorry you were worrying,” I frown and catch a glimpse of Finley’s round aqua eyes as the early morning dusk begins seeping into my room. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”
“I gathered that. Thinking about what? I want the cracks, Lez.”
I sigh. “Finley, it’s so bloody early.”
“Hey!” she says. “You would do the same shit to me, so spill!”
I suppose there’s no point in fighting it. “I’m fine. Really. Just thinking about my life and what I’m doing and how it’s changing. My dumb head is all over the place, Finny.”
“Changing ‘cause of me?” she asks nervously.
“Yeah. But not in a bad way!” I rub her arm soothingly. “I’m happy for you and Brody! Really, I am. I love Brody. You guys fit perfectly here. It just makes me feel like I’m such a loser.”
“You are not a loser!”
“I know, I know.” I roll my eyes. “It’s just…I’m not the pretty one. I’m the funny one. The crafty one. The odd one. I’m not beautiful or interesting. I’m definitely not the marrying type. Nor do I even want to be! It’s not what I want in life…ever. But if all my friends up and marry, I’m gonna have to buy cats! I hate cats!”
I look at Finley who appears shocked into a very rare silence. Finally she replies, “Forgive me, but you just spewed a load of crap at me and it’s taking a moment for it all to process.”
I roll flat onto my stomach and bury my face into my pillow. Finley was smart to wake me up to chat. I’m in a vulnerable and honest drowsy state of mind. I’m saying way more than I should be.
“For starters, if you tell me you’re not the pretty one ever again, I will slap you right across the face because that’s just stupid. Secondly…funny, crafty, and odd all sound like the best possible characteristics! And lastly, why don’t you ever want to get married?”
“Oh, you’re one to talk! There was a time you never wanted to marry!” I bark incredulously at h
er.
“I was lying to myself Leslie, like I think you are right now.”
“I’m not lying. I don’t want what my parents have. Ever,” I reply and flinch at how much I just revealed.
“What’s wrong with your parents? They always seemed happy to me.”
I nod. “I was just using them as an example.” I can’t tell Finley this crack. She’s just too close to home and I don’t want my family name tainted in Marshall. Despite everything, I still don’t want that.
Finley scowls in the soft morning light. “So what’s your life plan then, be a lonely spinster with cats?”
“Well, eventually I’m sure. But not immediately. For a bit of fun, Frank’s got me on this new romantic cleanse.”
“Romantic cleanse? What the heck is that?”
I relay all seven steps to her and tell her that tonight’s challenge is to string along two guys at once.
“Oh, this I gotta see!”
“Oh yes, please do! Buy a ticket to my show of humiliation! It should be a great laugh!” I giggle.
“If Frank’s planned this, I’m so in. I have a huge presentation this afternoon, but I’m meeting up with you guys later! Can I bring Brody?”
“Sure! Bring the whole family! Or better yet, a video recorder. Let’s capture this wonderfully pathetic thing I’m doing so we can enjoy it for years to come.”
“It’s not pathetic!” Finley crows. “I think it’s brave actually. I’m very proud of you, Lez.”
I smile. “Get out. I got at least another thirty minutes before I have to be up.” I roll away from her, nudging her out of my bed with my bum again.
“Love you, Lez,” Finley whispers in my ear and exits quietly.
“Love you too,” I sigh with a smile.
***