by Carmen Quick
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Good Conscience vs. Bad Conscience
The next few days passed by in a blur. Tegan introduced me to about fifty people, showed me the three photocopier rooms, the correct printer station (out of a possible sixty-two stations, apparently), the four cafés, the meditation room, and the gym. This place was as much a leisure complex as it was a workplace! And yet I’d never been in such an industrious place. People had their coffee breaks at their desk. They scheduled their meetings over lunch. They arrived half an hour early and left two hours late.
By Friday afternoon, after a whirlwind of introductions, I was exhausted. It wasn’t just work that was tiring me out. Mr. Forsythe had given me so much work to do at home, too. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, training up to be a journalist, but this was crazy. I had to do two hours of shorthand, and another two of touch-typing each night. He’d given me precise instructions, with the areas that I had to complete every evening marked in red. Essentially, I was having to revise for a seventy-five-hour course, as well as working in a full-time job, in just two weeks. I knew that if I failed he’d be more than just disappointed in me. I might even lose my job. And I really wanted this now. Although it was intimidating, I found the buzz of the office exciting.
At 4.30pm on Friday though, in the middle of typing up some notes for Tegan (which thankfully weren’t in shorthand), I was seriously flagging. I was relieved Tegan was going home at five, which meant that I could leave then too, but I was dreading the fact that I’d fallen behind on my revision by half an hour last night, having fallen asleep over a pile of notes on my bed, and so I had four and a half hours work to do when I got home tonight. Mr. Forsythe had given me even more work to do over the weekend. It was as if he was trying to take away my social life, to stop me from doing anything in my free time, in my private life, other than work for him. Not that I had much of a social life anyway…
At that moment, my cell buzzed in my pocket. It was a text message from Kieron.
Still on for drinks after work? I’m finishing up here now, can be at Global for 5 p.m. x
Oh god. Kieron! I’d forgotten. I’d agreed to meet him. I was desperate for a drink, too. Hadn’t had a chance to celebrate my new job all week, and I really, really wanted a little time to unwind. My mind began to race.
Good conscience: I can’t go out! I have four and a half hours’ work to do tonight.
Bad conscience: Unless I can fit it all in at the weekend somehow? I’ll be refreshed and can work better at the weekend.
Good conscience: Kieron might want this to be a date. I don’t know if I want that. It’s really much more sensible to stay home and do my work.
Bad conscience: He is kind of cute. I really need to learn to let my hair down. It’s just one night. I’ve got the rest of my life to be sensible.
In the end, guess which voice in my head won? The good conscience…? Yeah, right!
As soon as the clock hit five, and Tegan told me she was heading off to the hills, for a weekend of white-water rafting with her girlfriend, Anya, (WTF, Tegan? Seriously?) I grabbed my belongings and raced down to reception to meet Kieron.
I saw him standing outside, in a tight, white T-shirt, with his sunglasses on, running his hand through his thick blond hair. We’d had a bit of a heatwave this week, and Kieron looked like he was one of those people whose skin instantly tanned, their hair bleached, and they looked like they’d been at the beach all their lives. In other words, he looked great. Really great.
I, on the other hand, had been stuck indoors working all day and night. My skin was so pale it was almost translucent. I’d still barely been finding the time to eat, and my clothes were hanging off me at awkward, unflattering angles. Today I was wearing a strappy denim dress, which was really too hot in this kind of weather, and I could have used a deodorant before hugging Kieron, if I’m being honest with you.
‘Lilly,’ he said, holding me tight as we hugged. When I pulled away, he was beaming. ‘Check you out! Miss Global! I can’t believe you work here!’ Kieron seemed genuinely pleased for me, which was nice. It felt like a real relief, actually, to meet an old friend after a week of new faces – even if I’d only known that ‘old friend’ for the last month.
‘I’m so pleased to see you, Kieron,’ I said. ‘Now let’s go and get ourselves an enormous drink.’
We linked arms, and, like a pair of giggling schoolgirls in search of our first cigarette, we stalked the streets looking for a bar that was a) not too busy, and b) affordable. The latter of those requirements wasn’t too easy downtown. Eventually, we settled on a rather out-of-place-looking tiki bar, which was advertising its happy hour from five until seven. It was relatively quiet inside in spite of that. Presumably, I thought, as we walked towards the giant menu hanging over the bar, high-powered business types prefer going for a flute of champagne over a ‘scorpion bowl’ or flaming rum.
Sometimes you can go into a tiki bar and the décor is relatively subtle. In this case, it wasn’t. This was like a Polynesian theme park. On the walls hung various ‘tiki god’ masks and carvings, alongside tropical murals and decorations. The female staff wore grass hula skirts over their jeans, and the male staff wore garish shirts with palm trees on them.
It wasn’t exactly a ‘classy joint’, but Kieron seemed happy enough, and got himself a Red Stripe. I went for a Mai Tai. The waiter told us he’d bring it over to us.
‘So,’ Kieron said, as we sat at a table by the window. ‘How was your first week? Did you miss The Chronicle?’ he gave me a cheeky wink, to show he was joking.
‘It’s very different to The Chronicle,’ I told him. ‘It’s different to any place I’ve ever worked. It’s so big. And the boss–’
‘Sheldon?’ Kieron asked.
‘Yeah. He’s something else.’
‘He hasn’t given you any, uh, inappropriate requests, has he?’ Kieron scowled. What was he going on about?
‘He’s given me a load of work to do,’ I replied. (Did Kieron look relieved?) I’m meant to be doing it now, actually. You should see how much I’ve got to learn for my shorthand test in a couple of weeks. It’s like this.’ I pulled my hands apart, showing him how thick the file I’d been given was.
The waiter arrived at our table. Kieron’s beer looked like a regular glass of beer, but my cocktail looked bizarre. It was a lurid orange, served inside half a coconut, with an array of flowers scattered on the saucer it precariously rested upon, a pink cocktail umbrella beside three colored straws, and, perhaps weirdest of all, a small plastic horse straddling a glacé cherry, floating in the drink.
‘Well,’ Kieron said, laughing, and raising his glass to my coconut. ‘Cheers, Lilly. Congrats on the new job, and it’s lovely to see you again.’
‘It’s lovely to see you too, Kieron,’ I said. And I meant it.
My fingers brushed against Kieron’s as I pressed the coconut against his glass. I felt the tingle of warmth from his fingertips travel along my arm, up to my chest, and then down into the pit of my stomach. I had the strange feeling that something exciting was going to happen tonight.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
An Unfortunate Encounter
Three Mai Tais later, and I’d collected two plastic horses, a plastic fish, and a bit of a rum-induced slur in my voice. Kieron was on his fourth Red Stripe, and we were feeling rather merry. We’d been laughing pretty much all evening actually, and not even talking about work stuff. We’d just been fooling around, joking like a couple of teenagers. It felt like absolute heaven after working so hard all week, trying to appear like a serious news reporter among all my new colleagues. With Kieron, I could relax. There was no pretence.
The more I drank, the more I was convincing myself that there was definitely a spark between Kieron and I. A romantic spark, I mean. He definitely wasn’t anything like Jacob. I wasn’t going down that road again. But he was a good guy. Nice. Funny. Down to earth. Exactly what I needed.
‘Let’s go somewhere els
e,’ I said dreamily to Kieron. I’d just got back from the bathroom, and seen that my tongue and lips were tinged with orange coloring from my drink. I was also beginning to feel a bit queasy from the high sugar content of the cocktails here, and fancied a change. Besides, happy hour was over, so it was time to move on.
‘Where shall we go?’ asked Kieron. ‘We’re in your neck of the woods. You choose.’
I hated making decisions like this. Besides, I still didn’t know the area too well. ‘Let’s walk in that direction,’ I said, pointing down a street where I could make out a couple of bars and restaurants. ‘That one looks like the best bet.’
‘Okay,’ said Kieron, getting up from the table and holding out his arm. ‘Would madam like to link arms with sir?’
‘Kieron,’ I giggled, thinking how silly he was, but linking arms with him happily. We left money on the table for our drinks and stepped outside into the still-sunny evening.
‘Y’know, Lilly,’ Kieron said, as we walked drunkenly down the sidewalk. ‘I really enjoy spending time with you.’
‘I really enjoy spending time with you too, Kieron,’ I said, elbowing him playfully in the ribs.
‘Oh, you enjoy beating me up, is that it?’ he asked, elbowing me back.
‘Kieron!’ I squealed. Pretty soon we were play-fighting on the street, outside a load of serious-looking offices, and right opposite a fancy Japanese restaurant. ‘Stop it, Kieron!’ I screamed, as Kieron tickled me. As he tickled I felt a sudden pang of pressure on my bladder. Not now! He carried on tickling, mercilessly, not aware of the crisis he was causing in my nether regions.
A couple of businessmen turned around and watched us disapprovingly for a moment, and I wondered how obvious it was we’d been drinking. My lips were probably fluorescent orange. Maybe my teeth were orange too.
As I bent over, trying to stop Kieron from tickling my stomach, trying to fight him off me by bashing my hips and handbag against his pelvis, I suddenly stopped. I saw the silhouette of someone standing across the road from me that I recognised all too well.
It was Sheldon Forsythe.
He was standing outside the restaurant, as if he’d just been about to go in, accompanied by two men in dark business suits, and he was watching me.
I felt my cheeks go crimson.
‘Kieron,’ I hissed. ‘Stop it.’
Kieron sensed my tensed body, saw that I wasn’t laughing any more, and took a step backwards, no doubt noticing my boss himself.
Sheldon Forsythe’s expression looked like a mixture of things. I had seen that furious scowl the night of the awards. But there was something else in there. Disappointment, maybe. I’d let him down.
I should have been at home, doing the work he’d given me.
What an idiot. Sometimes I acted just like a baby.
Urgh, I felt so angry with myself. He’d given me this opportunity, out of the goodness of his heart, and I’d disappointed him. I was squandering it. I didn’t deserve to work for Global Media. He was surely going to fire me.
Mr. Forsythe’s eyes moved from me, across to Kieron. He looked at Kieron with disdain, shaking his head slightly, and I felt like shouting across the road, telling him to leave Kieron out of this, that it wasn’t Kieron’s fault for leading me astray or anything.
But I didn’t shout. I didn’t do anything. I just stood, waiting. I could hear Kieron breathing heavily to my right, still cooling down from the tickling session we’d just engaged in. And I could see Sheldon Forsythe opposite. Immaculately dressed, standing tall and rigid, with prefect posture, looking down on us both. And then I could see myself. Shameful little Lilly. Nothing more than a naughty little girl. From the way my bladder was feeling, I could do with a diaper right now, too. What a baby. I braced myself now, as if awaiting a telling-off.
Mr. Forsythe didn’t speak though. Instead, he looked at the two businessmen beside him, and pointed them towards the door of the restaurant. They began to walk in. Mr. Forsythe turned to follow them, then stopped and looked back at me for a moment. He bowed his head, almost imperceptibly, but with a slow, graceful nod, to show that he was acknowledging me, and then he walked into the restaurant.
‘Oh fuck!’ Kieron said, breathing out and laughing. ‘That guy is so weird! Why didn’t he say hello? What was all that about?’
I shook my head, not wanting to answer.
Kieron put out his arm again, like before. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and get drunk.’
I looked at Kieron’s arm, then I looked back towards the restaurant. ‘I have to go home,’ I told him, already dreading Monday morning.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Weak At The Knees
I felt sick. I held on to the metal bar in the elevator as I Lilly up to the seventh floor. I was tired out. I’d spent all weekend working on my shorthand course, even managed to get a couple of hours ahead. My mom had started to worry about me, told me I shouldn’t work so hard, even if it was for a new position. My dad said it was nice to see me finally knuckling down to something. All I knew was that Sheldon Forsythe had looked annoyed with me on Friday. Very annoyed. And I felt like I’d let him down.
I practised my apology in my head over and over again as the elevator went up. By the time I reached the seventh floor, I had it all prepared.
I’m sorry, sir, I was going to say. Starting this new job is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m determined not to screw things up. Friday night was a mistake. Please give me another chance.
I knocked on the door.
At first I heard nothing. A big, echoing nothing, making me think that maybe Mr. Forsythe wasn’t in today. Or he was in a meeting. Perhaps I’d have to go through this rigmarole all over again tomorrow–
But then I heard the deep voice within. ‘Enter,’ he said.
I opened the door to catch Sheldon Forsythe just sitting down at his desk, with slightly flushed cheeks, as if he’d been rushing around to get something tidied up or moved before I entered. I saw his eyes flick over to a dresser on his left as I walked in, then they flicked over to me.
Since Mr. Forsythe wasn’t saying anything, I presumed it was okay to sit, and took a seat on the small black stool, my eyes on the carpet. Then I took a deep breath and prepared to give my speech. ‘Sir,’ I said, looking up at him pleadingly. ‘I’m sorry about Friday. About you seeing me drunk with a friend, when I was meant to be at home, doing my work–’
Mr. Forsythe lifted a hand to silence me. ‘Let’s take a walk, Lilly,’ he said. He stood up and motioned for me to do the same. ‘This way,’ he told me, pointing towards the sliding glass doors at the back of the room. The doors led out into the glasshouse; the square of botanical plants enclosing his office with their thick, lush foliage.
He pulled back one of the sliding doors, and I stepped inside. Immediately I was greeted with warm, moist air. I breathed in the sweet smell of cherry blossom, the fragrant aroma of delicate gardenias, and the fresh, slightly metallic smell of recently watered soil. Sheldon Forsythe followed me in, and closed the glass doors behind me.
‘This place is beautiful,’ I said. ‘You’re so lucky to be able to come in here every day, whenever you please.’
Though Mr. Forsythe was walking ahead of me, leading me to wherever we were going, I could see, from the way his posture changed, that my words made him bristle. ‘Luck has nothing to do with it,’ he said. ‘I designed all this myself. I took the best ideas from buildings I’d seen across Asia, on my journalistic travels, and I gave myself the best working environment possible. I worked damned hard for it, too.’
I decided not to say anything at this point, realizing that I was likely to put my foot in it again if I spoke further.
We walked ahead in silence for a while, down a smart concrete path, leading us past beautiful plant after beautiful plant. Many were species I didn’t recognize. They must have been taken from all over the world.
Eventually, we stopped, under the thickest past of foliage, whe
re the branches crossed over above us, as if holding hands and embracing one another. Mr. Forsythe and I, however, stood a good couple of meters apart.
‘Lilly,’ he said to me. ‘I am disappointed in you.’
I felt my heart sink. I could feel it, pushing its way down my chest, into my stomach. I felt so sick. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ I said, felling like a naughty child.
‘I sent you an email when you started here. Told you to come and see me in a couple of days, to tell me how you were getting on.’
‘I’ve been meaning to,’ I lied. ‘I’ve just been so busy and–’
‘You should have made time.’
‘I’ve just been so stressed,’ I said, feeling relieved to finally be able to let it out. ‘Starting work here, and then having to get through all that homework you’ve been setting me. I’m not eating properly, I’m exhausted–’