by Annie Dyer
I finished the call and focused my attention away from Jackson and Richard and onto where it needed to be: work.
An hour or so later my phone started to ping. I managed to ignore it, concentrating on the copy I was doing, until curiosity got the better of me.
Jackson: Seph mentioned something about you coming for drinks after work.
Me: He asked me about it. I didn't give him an answer. I think I can make it though, and Alice is keen to let off some steam. It's been a busy day.
Jackson: My little brother is a lying shit. He told me you had said you were going for definite. I've talked a client into meeting tomorrow instead of 4.30 today.
Me: I'd have been fine going on my own, you know.
Jackson: I wouldn't have been fine you going on your own. I heard Dave in accounts going on about the chances of taking you out for a drink earlier.
Me: Again, I am fine going out on my own and stopping the advances of men (and occasionally women) towards me. I don't succumb to everyone like I have to you.
Jackson: Occasionally women?
Me: Did you read the rest of that last text?
Jackson: Tell me about these women?
Me: I'll see you later. Surrounded by men (and women).
Jackson: Shall I meet you at your offices and walk you over?
Jackson: Don't you have any heavy bags that need carrying?
Jackson: Van?????
***
Alice was on her third cocktail by the time the first couple of employees from Callaghan Greene arrived at the bar. She hadn't stopped all day, finalizing the arrangements for the retirement ball, meeting with another potential client and managing the digital marketing team who were in the midst of arguing over the concept of a new advert for a high street store. She was worth her weight in platinum and diamonds and a few cocktails were the least I could do for her today. Those and a late start tomorrow.
"That's three new clients today and seven inquiries, four of which will involve campaigns," Alice said, sipping her margarita. "We can't have too many days like today, Van. We don't have the capacity and I don't want to turn potential clients away. The campaign we did for Baby Butterscotch has sent us viral."
She was right; we were expanding after a couple of particularly good campaigns and rebrands that had got people talking. "You're still interested in coming in as a partner?" I said. This had been something I had thought more about over the weekend and discussed with Jackson – in his capacity as someone who had an MBA and ran a business, not as anything else.
"Definitely. When you're clear what you need to buy Richard out for let me know what you can offer me. I'm not the only one, either. Josh has mentioned it too." Josh was our creative lead when I wasn't able to take on any more work. "And Sally."
"Sally? When did that conversation occur?" Sally was our business manager and extremely able.
Alice looked sheepish. "Last week when we knew you'd finally started legal with Richard. If he won't let you buy, everyone will hand in their notice and go with you."
"He'll sell. I'll arrange a meeting later in the week between the four of us to discuss going forward. The firm's really developing and I'm at the point where I won't be able to manage to spread myself so thinly going forward. But I don't want to stop doing the creative side." Baby Butterscotch had been my idea; a baby clothing range that was unisex with a very set ethos. We'd gone hard and heavy with the photos and the models used, keeping it clean and simple and it had worked.
"Can I get you ladies, a drink?" A tall man with thick red hair peered over. Alice smiled up at him, re-crossing her legs and sharing a glimpse of thigh. I recognized this Alice as being Prowly Alice, who was also highly amusing.
"I'll have a Long Island Iced Tea please," she said, her eyes widening, eyelashes demurely fluttering.
Red looked at me and then I felt a hand on the small of my back and a pair of lips on my temple.
"I'm good, thanks." I turned around to see Jackson sending out the alpha signal. If his employees didn't know we were dating before, they did now as that signal was beaming across London.
"Jesus, Jacks," Seph said. "Territorial much?" Maxwell stood behind them, lifting a glass as a greeting. Amelie lingered nearby, her usual shine lacking luster.
I lifted myself onto my tiptoes and kissed Jackson briefly on his lips. As much as I would never be someone's possession it was nice to know that someone wanted to be possessive over me, something Richard had never been bothered about showing, if not the opposite.
"What do you want to drink?" he said, keeping a hand on my waist and speaking quietly. "I knew you'd have a man hovering."
"I've never known him leave work so quickly," Seph said. "We should do this more often. It might convince him to quit being a workaholic."
"Shut up, Seph," Jackson said. "Drink?"
"A margarita," I said. "One more and I'm done. Alice has a few hours to get over her hangover but I have a busy day tomorrow."
He took the orders from the rest of his siblings and Amelie; Claire, Payton, and Killian joining us too. Josh and Ceri from my firm were already here but had discovered the bar had various games consoles so had joined another group of geeks, failing yet again in their trials to find people who would sleep with them. We commandeered tables where I could keep an eye on Alice, who was quickly seeming disinterested in Red and I found myself for the first time in over a year enjoying myself after hours on a Monday in a non-work situation.
Amelie sat down beside me sipping at what looked like a gin and tonic. "I'm so sorry I interrupted your weekend," she said. "If I'm been a bit more with it I would've told Max to leave it and got a hotel, but I couldn't think straight. I hope I didn't disrupt your plans."
I shook my head. "It was nice to have you around, I'm just sorry about the circumstances. It might not be the right time to ask you, but how are you holding up?"
She gave a hollow laugh. "I've not had to hold myself up. He's done it for me." She nodded towards Max. "Before I think of something that needs doing, he's already done it. It'll annoy me later, but at the moment it's a godsend. They're good people, the Callaghans." Amelie glanced around them, her eyes brimming with tears. "Tell me about you and Jackson. Take my mind off the shit storm that is my life at the moment. And what you can't tell me now, tell me after drinks on Wednesday."
I took my margarita from the bartender who had arrived with the rest of our drinks. "It's very new. I don't know really. It's so long since I've been at the start of a relationship..."
"So, it is a relationship?" Her eyes brightened and she drank the gin quicker.
I bit my tongue at my wording. "I...I... don't know. We haven't discussed it."
"You're staying at his tonight?"
I nodded, becoming very interested in the salt around the brim of my glass.
"Then he thinks it's a relationship. He never has women sleep over during the week. He's too focused on work and the gym. When he was seeing Teresa, he'd go to hers sometimes but never stay there. I know you don't want more details than that but when Seph said you'd stayed last night..." she gave me a knowing look.
I laughed disbelievingly. "I'm sure it's just a fling for him." And then it came out. "Men like Jackson don't have serious relationships with women like me, unless there's some ulterior motive like they're beneficial to the company they work for or something."
Amelie finished her drink, Max automatically noticing and asking if she wanted another. "Then you don't know Jackson or the Callaghans well enough yet. Yes, they're entitled but their mum and Marie never let them know that and as gorgeous as Jackson has turned out – I remember him as a complete skinny geek – he's never been a dick with women. Claire would have killed him."
The salt was still interesting.
"And he really likes you. I feel like I'm ten years old saying that, sugar, but he does."
I felt warmth flutter through me and I felt ten years old too. Except the feeling I got when I looked at Jackson, heavily in conversat
ion with Claire, was not one a ten-year-old would have. "How do you know?"
Amelie grinned. "He's possessive. He wants to spend every moment with you. And when I spoke to him today after checking how I was, you were all he could talk about."
"Good," I said. "I'm glad." And I was, feeling the sort of excitement I hadn't done since I was in high school and going to a party with Darren Stokes.
Claire squished in next to me, nursing what looked like a diet coke. I raised my eyebrows at her and glanced purposefully at the drink.
"Trial at the end of the week and the start of the case that's going to ruin me for the next few months if not more," she said. "No alcohol unless it's a Friday night and I don't need to work the Saturday."
"Does that apply to sex as well?" Amelie said. "Or are you going to be irritable and cranky for the aforementioned months, sugar?"
Claire glowered. "I'll buy a new vibrator. Or find a decent escort service. I'm not above paying for suitable services."
"My housemate Sophie can probably recommend her PT," I said, sipping the margarita and wondering if one more would be acceptable. It was still early with lots of time to drink plenty of water.
Claire looked at me puzzled. "Why would I want a PT?"
"Sorry, I wasn't clear. Sophie thinks he should start a business as a male escort. Apparently, he's talented in that department," I said, realizing how well Claire and Sophie would get along and that it would be a potentially deadly combination against anyone of the male species.
"Is she seeing him?" Claire said, putting down her drink.
"Only in the disabled changing rooms. She's not dating him. He's just scratching an itch – with some talent or so she leads me to believe," I said, looking up see Jackson hovering over us.
"I'll take his number," Claire said. "Just don't tell my brothers."
"Don't tell us what?" Jackson asked. He'd pushed his shirt sleeves, his tattoos standing out against the white material. I hoped I wasn't drooling.
"That I like big cocks, especially pierced ones," Claire said, eyeing him evilly. "And I like it best when they go in my..."
Jackson held his hands up in protest. "I won't ask anymore. Please don't carry on even though I know you're not being serious..."
"How do you know I'm not being serious?"
"Fuck you, sister. Van, do you want another or shall we head off?" He flipped Claire the bird and smiled at me.
I laughed. "One more, then we'll head off." I stood up, leaving Amelie and Claire to catch up. Jackson's hand automatically went to my waist as soon as I was next to him. "Did you have a good day?"
"It wasn't bad," he said, gesturing for the same again from the bartender. "As far as Mondays go. One more then we can go, right?" He faced me, both of his hands on my hips so we were inches apart.
"One more. I wouldn't usually drink on a Monday," I said, looking up at him.
"Me neither. But Amelie needed us here. That's why we didn't mention it to anyone else at the office. You get ten minutes to go over work stuff when we get in? My diary's a shit storm of appointments and someone might've booked a reporter in to speak to me." He gave me a mock glare.
"You said it was okay," I knew he was fine with it really. I'd persuaded him, Max and Seph to be interviewed by a journalist I knew at an upmarket current affairs magazine that was glossy but had a lot of kudos. They'd reluctantly agreed, Seph slightly less reluctantly so when he realized there was a photo shoot as well, but that wasn't for another couple of weeks.
"I'll forgive you if you make it up to me." He paid the bartender and passed me my drink, taking a glug of his beer. "You're fine with staying tonight?"
"Yes. I already have stuff at yours. I might leave it there if that's okay, just so I don't have to trek it around with me tomorrow." It seemed presumptuous to mention leaving it there, but common sense and practicalities had won out.
He nodded, clearly wanting to say something but holding it back. "It's no problem. Means I have to see you again at least once more," he joked.
"And at the retirement ball. So that's twice I'd have to put up with you." My hands were on him, drink on the bar forgotten.
"Do you two need to get a room?" A quiet voice disturbed us. Max leaned over my shoulder. "You're losing your man card, brother. No one in the business world would respect you if they could see you now."
I looked over at our tables where Alice was now sitting with Amelie. They were all watching us. "Fuck," I cursed. "This isn't my usual way of behaving." I felt my face grow hot and shook my hair so it partially covered me, my way of hiding.
Jackson just laughed and turned to face the catcalls coming our way. He put his arm around my waist again. "They're enjoying the novelty. This isn't something my family ever sees."
"You with a girl?" I said, reaching for my drink, needing the alcohol.
"Me being affectionate with someone in front of them."
"So why me?"
"I could ask you the same question, Van."
We finished our drinks, said our goodbyes, which included Claire riling Jackson even more and arrangements with Amelie about Wednesday, and walked back to Jackson's house. It was still light and the alcohol hadn't had too much of an effect so I tried to not let myself feel guilty about not working that evening. Alice was right, we needed to expand and we needed a leadership and management structure to be able to do that successfully. I talked through Alice's information that Josh and Sally were interested in buying in and the possibilities that could present. He listened and talked it through, not telling me what to do like Richard would have, but still giving me his opinions on different scenarios, unlike my father who wouldn't have known what to say.
He was quiet as he made us dinner, spaghetti with a prawn and chorizo sauce. I watched the news, drinking tap water and wondered how wrong it was to feel so comfortable so soon and whether he was thinking the same.
"What are we doing, Jackson?" I said, muting the TV.
"Having dinner?" he said flippantly.
"No, this. Us. We've barely known each other a week and a half."
He started to plate up the food. "I know. It's strange for me too. In a good way. I'm not a relationship person so to spend this amount of time with one person and not want to be away from them is something I haven't done before."
"Me either," I said. "You weren't part of my plan."
"Am I now?"
"I don't know," I said honestly. "I'm enjoying what we have at the moment. I'm not sure making plans right now is the best idea as so much is in the air with work and where I'll live and other rather big decisions."
"That's fair enough." He brought the plates over and we ate sitting on the sofa as the night fell over the Thames, speaking no further about what we were or what we weren't and I tried to ignore the warning whisper in my head that at some point this had to go wrong.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Chapter Sixteen
Jackson
Although my days were unpredictable because of work, I'd always had a steady routine: the gym, work, meeting clients and socializing with friends and my siblings. The week that followed the trip to my parents' home became subtly different: I went home more. Since moving into my house, it had been more of a place where I slept and showered, rather than actually lived, but that week it was where I would see Vanessa, for breakfast, dinner or just before we went to bed. There was noise inside, the sound of her voice, or her footsteps or the music she played while she got ready. It felt real and exciting and I realized that as busy as I had been before, it had been tinged with a strange shade of loneliness. The nights we'd spent together had totaled more than the nights we'd spent apart.
My phone started to vibrate against the desk during a rather heated phone call with another solicitor. A stream of messages appeared, which I kept glancing at in case one was from Vanessa. Eventually, once I'd disposed of the phone call – unfortunately not the other solicitor – I got around to reading them. It appeared my parents were back from Canada and Ma
rie was in her usual fine form, judging by the first message.
Marie: We're home. I did imagine that one or two of you might have been here to greet us but then I forgot that ALL of you have inherited the workaholic gene from your father.
Maxwell: Congratulations on being back in the country. Tell Dad the file v. Neville is nearing completion. We should get a judgement on Friday.
Marie: Thanks for that Max. We had a great time, it's good of you to ask. And you're all welcome to the winery that you'll one day inherit.
Maxwell: Sorry. You know I'm shit with saying the right thing.
Claire: Ignore Max. He's still a knob. That hasn't changed while you were away. How are your livers?
Marie: Recovering. Slowly. Your dad's gone to play golf with Geoff and discuss the funeral. How's Amelie?
Maxwell: She's managing. Back at work and dealing with things with perspective. She'll be fine.
Marie: Good. I'm glad you're all looking after her. We're expecting all of you over – those that are in the country – the weekend after next. Let me know of any plus ones (I'm still living in hope for grandchildren before I'm 60.)
There was a long break in the time between texts. Once Marie had the head's up about me and Vanessa she would become over-enthusiastic. Now I wished I'd been nicer to the former girl and boyfriends of my siblings. That might have curbed her enthusiasm for any of us being in new relationships.
Marie: Silence. That means you're all following The Code. Let me see who will be the first one to break...
Marie was the only person who ever referenced The Code, and she only did it to extract information from whichever one of us was adulting best that day. Back when we were kids, The Code was used as a nickname for silence, for covering up misdemeanors on who had broken windows or eaten the last of the pie in the fridge. I knew Seph and Ava at least would be desperate to tell her about Vanessa and unleash the wave of hysteria it would cause. I decided to take control of the situation and determined that Marie only received the right information and not some hashed up fairy-tale-slash-porn that Seph would create.