Miss Spelled

by Sarah Belle

  ‘I’m with you, Aiden. Really, I am. But what can we do?’ Donovan says, throwing his hands into the surrender position. His face is redder and blotchier than normal — he looks like he might keel over from a heart attack at any moment.

  ‘Hunter’s only taking this path because he believes that severe pruning of the staff will lead to bigger savings, which reflects directly in his commission. But he’s always been short-sighted and opted for the most extreme measures without weighing up the options.’

  ‘His reputation precedes him, that’s for sure. I don’t suppose you can convince him otherwise?’ Donovan asks.

  Aiden lets out a laugh. ‘I’d be the last person he’d listen to — in fact, he’d slash even more just to spite me. I’ve re-worked the figures, take a look at these,’ Aiden says as he pushes his iTablet in Donovan’s direction. ‘According to these my area is more profitable as a team of five than the projections for a team of three, or possibly zero.’

  Donovan spins and twirls his silver Cross fountain pen like a marching band leader.

  ‘Hmmmm, are these workable? In reality, I mean?’ Donovan asks.

  ‘Yes, definitely. Look at the fall in revenue when we’re cut down to three, and look at it here remaining as five. Even holding all other factors as they are now, with the decline in client spend, we still stand to make more profit as a team of five.’

  Aiden sits in the chair next to Donovan, who is now nodding and appears to be deep in thought.

  ‘What about the rest of the office? Can you apply this to other areas as well?’

  ‘I can try. There’s no doubt about it, some retrenchments have to be made. We’re carrying dead wood and we’re overstaffed in terms of administrators, and some teams can be merged, but I can give it a go.’

  Donovan seems to lose some of his ruddiness and perks up a little. ‘See what you can come up with, as quickly as you can. We need to fight a little on this one.’

  ‘If Amelia had been sent instead of Hunter, I know she’d be open to these figures,’ Aiden says.

  ‘Where’s she working?’

  ‘She’s in Sydney, wrapping up another merger. We missed her by only a month.’

  ‘Can you send the figures to her anyway, get her opinion? She’s more senior in the organisation than Hunter and may be in a position to effect some changes.’ Donovan asks.

  ‘I’ll try. Where is he anyway? If he calls a meeting, the least he can do is show up,’ Aiden says as he paces the length of the boardroom.

  ‘I’d say every moment without him is a good one. Enjoy it while it lasts,’ Donovan replies.

  I watch like a besotted teenager, shifting a little too close to the doorframe, eventually losing my balance and toppling in the doorway.

  Aiden spins around and within two easy strides has reached me on the floor. He opens his mouth, his gorgeously sexy mouth, but says nothing. Hunter approaches and nearly trips over me on the floor.

  ‘Sending your assistant to eavesdrop on conversations, are you Hunter? That’s a bit low, isn’t it? Even for you,’ Aiden says.

  Although the words fly over my head, due to me being sprawled on the floor, they strike me deeply in the heart. I fight not to burst into tears at the thought of Aiden believing me to be the enemy.

  ‘If you’re after a private conversation, Aiden, perhaps you should try closing the door. That is what doors are for, I believe,’ Hunter replies.

  ‘I could say the same to you.’ Aiden says as he offers a hand to me. I take it and sparkles fly throughout my body as I struggle back onto my feet. Please don’t ever let me go. ‘Instead of subjecting the rest of us to party time with your assistant.’

  My skin burns and my insides roast in embarrassment.

  ‘Now, now, Aiden. Ms Mercer is my personal assistant. She’s here to assist me, personally. Anyway, I need it. Perhaps you should look at getting yourself one too? It might improve your mood. Now, let’s get this meeting underway,’ Hunter says as he pushes me into the room and narrowly misses hitting shoulders with Aiden.

  * * *

  How dare Hunter refer to me like that?! He made me sound like nothing but a hooker, around to assist him personally. Great, now Aiden probably has an even lower opinion of me. Not only am I a snitch, but a whoring one at that.

  I stagger further into the boardroom in the four-inch heels that seemed such a good idea this morning but are now causing me to limp like a three-legged dog, and take the seat closest to the door. Hunter sits near me, at the head of the table, while Aiden and Donovan sit opposite. Neither look like they want to be here. In fact, if it weren’t for Aiden’s aftershave floating across the table at me, I’d prefer to leave as well.

  The animosity between Aiden and Hunter is electrifying. The entire room seems to buzz. It’s amazing that the lights don’t flicker and hum with the electrical interference.

  The meeting starts. Donovan looks as though he is barely holding off a coronary and Aiden and Hunter clash on every point. Meanwhile, the duties of a personal assistant are foreign to me, so I take a few notes for appearances’ sake.

  My efforts to make eye contact with Aiden are futile. He avoids me completely. It’s as though he can’t see me, which makes it impossible to believe that this is my Aiden.

  By the end of the meeting 40 minutes later, there still hasn’t been any success in making eye contact with Aiden, even though my gaze lingered too long, too often, unable to look at anyone or anything else for fear he’d never be in my sight again. There’s a desperate urge to fling myself at him and tell him of our life together, but restraint must be exercised, because being barred by security from entering the building isn’t going to get me closer to him.

  The personal assistant in me managed to take down a few notes, keywords and phrases, but at the end of it all when I look down at my notepad, it’s covered with my well-practiced signature — Lou St. James — and love hearts. Jesus! Better not let Hunter see that. He’d boot me out the door without opening it first.

  Later, while sitting at my desk, the conversation between Aiden and Donovan is replayed in my head, and like a literal light bulb, it hits me— what I have to do to win Aiden back and help him defeat Hunter. I need to be a double agent.

  * * *

  After work, the cocktail party is held in the Chart Room of the Crown Towers. There are trays and trays of champagne, beer and assorted cocktails being handed around, along with intricate hors d’oeuvres that look way to pretty to eat. There is cool jazz floating out of the speakers and mood lighting to match. It has everything, except a proper party atmosphere. Someone forgot to pack the fun.

  Not knowing anyone, except for Hunter, who thankfully hasn’t spotted me yet, I stand next to Ella the receptionist and strike up a conversation. My fear is that Hunter will expect me to continue the party in his suite tonight which, apart from making me ill, will do nothing to further my plan.

  ‘So, when’s the hatchet going to fall?’ Ella asks, sucking back a cosmopolitan.

  ‘I’m not really sure.’ Which is the truth. ‘But let’s not talk about it. Let’s just have a bit of fun. Can I get you another drink?’ I ask. If you can’t baffle them with bullshit, or impress them with genius, then by all means, ply them with alcohol.

  ‘Why not? If I’m going to be out of a job next week, the least they can do is give me a decent hangover,’ Ella laughs.

  I find two more cosmos and a spot by a tall table with a few barstools and plants around it. Prime real estate in any cocktail party, and a little garden to boot. Nice.

  ‘Come on over here. We may as well be comfortable. I’m going to need a double foot amputation if I keep these shoes on any longer.’

  ‘They are gorgeous though,’ Ella says, eyeing them off.

  ‘Yes, but like all things pretty, they’re not very functional.’

  Within minutes we strike up a friendship based on a mutual sense of humour and love of all things pretty.

  ‘So, speaking of pretty things, how long have
you been shagging Hunter?’ Ella asks.

  My vol au vent lodges itself in my throat and causes a coughing fit.

  ‘Sorry, I just figured that you two were an item,’ she smiles. ‘The walls aren’t sound-proofed.’

  ‘Oh, Jesus!’ I splutter.

  Ground, please open up and swallow me now.

  ‘I…we’re…not…’

  Ella raises her eyebrows. There’s no point in trying to fool her. She’s the receptionist, she knows everything.

  ‘It was a mistake. I should never have got involved with him. From now on we’re just colleagues. Not even colleagues, actually. I’m only temping for him while he’s out here for this job. Then he’ll be back to London and I’ll be…’

  ‘Unemployed like the rest of us,’ Ella giggles. ‘What are you going to do after this assignment? Do they have another lined up for you?’ she asks.

  For a brief moment, my kids flash through my mind, my classroom, the sounds of children playing at lunchtime, their sweet little faces lit up by pure fun. Although there has never been any question that teaching was the right occupation for me, it was never clear just how much I loved it until now.

  ‘I am returning to teaching,’ I say. It’s true. Once this mess is sorted out, my days will be spent in my rightful place — in the classroom, surrounded by my munchkins. Besides, it’s the only job in the world where I am the tallest in the room.

  ‘You’re a teacher?’ she asks. ‘Jeez, I wouldn’t have picked that. You dress too well – too expensively, I should say.’

  ‘Yep, I’ve got a great wardrobe,’ I say. Just no house surrounding it. My little cottage flashes through my mind. My beautiful little sanctuary, gone.

  ‘So is he married?’

  ‘Who?’ I ask.

  ‘Him.’ She looks over to Hunter.

  ‘Hunter? God no. He’s too…’ …much of a selfish, self-absorbed A-grade rat-bastard to be married. No woman could possibly want to spend her life with him, unless she was either a masochist or his equal. ‘…too much of a career man, married to the job.’

  ‘What a shame, he’s so gorgeous. Look, he’s left little puddles of sex appeal on the floor behind him. I’m tempted to go and bathe in one.’

  We watch Hunter as he schmoozes senior management. He certainly is gorgeous. If only he used his sex appeal for good instead of evil, had a nicer personality, and wasn’t such a conceited arsehole, he’d be close to perfect. Close to Aiden. It’s been one whole day since we’ve kissed. One long, crazy day. Suddenly, he comes through the door and I feel myself sit up straighter.

  ‘He’s gorgeous too, isn’t he?’ Ella says, cocking her head in Aiden’s direction.

  Where to begin? I could list all of his gorgeousness, alphabetically, just off the top of my head, but try not to be too obvious.

  ‘What’s his story?’ I ask Ella.

  ‘Aiden is…’

  My breath comes to a standstill.

  ‘…one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. Which is surprising, seeing as he comes from a wealthy family. You know, they usually keep to themselves, don’t want to mix with the minions, but everyone loves him. He’s always got time for people, always says hello and asks how the weekend was. He’s a real sweetie. It’s such a shame.’

  My bubble of love and adoration is so full it bursts. Hang on! A shame?

  ‘What’s a shame?’ I blurt.

  Ella takes another slurp of her cosmo and throws a few nuts into her mouth. She motions that she’s chewing and will answer soon.

  He’s not sick with a terminal illness is he? He’s not gay? Oh God, please don’t say he’s gay! What hope would I have then? I can’t compete with another man.

  Aiden helps himself to a drink and stands chatting to his team members. How handsome does he look in his Prada suit? No one wears clothes like he does. No one wears naked like he does either, with those long, athletic legs. Runner’s legs— lean but with defined, rock-like muscles.

  And those shoulders underneath the designer jacket. I close my eyes and call upon the images stored inside my head to re-live the first time I saw him without his top on. I nearly passed out. Surely no man like this actually existed in real life? Each muscle was perfectly defined and later, every muscle in his shoulders and arms moved when he brushed his teeth. It was the most erotic episode of oral hygiene imaginable. And he is all mine. Every delicious bit of him.

  Was. Was mine. Past tense.

  I want to collapse on the floor and wail loudly while beating my fists against the carpet. Why, why, why, why? What the hell have I done? Bloody idiot. This is by far the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, cataclysmically dumb. Literally.

  Ella coughs and clears her throat with a drink of water.

  ‘Oh, those peanuts can really go down the wrong way, can’t they?’

  ‘You were saying, that it’s a shame about Aiden?’ I urge, holding my drink in a death grip.

  ‘Oh yeah, it’s a shame that…urgh, there she is.’ Ella stops when a pair of lips teeter into the room, closely followed by a pair of breasts attached to an unflatteringly skinny body with a huge mop of sleek blonde hair perched on top. A mirror image follows behind.

  ‘It’s a shame he’s getting married…to her,’ Ella says pointing directly at the bony blonde who is now doing her best leech impersonation on Aiden’s arm.

  My blood pressure rises instantly and I find myself launching out of my seat. How dare she touch my fiancé like that! Without warning, my mouth opens and my brain is preparing a tirade of abuse against the Barbie doll attached to the love of my life. Married…to her? She’s his fiancée? But that’s me. I’m his fiancée. Me. Not her.

  My eyes fill with tears and it takes all of my resolve not to collapse on the floor and howl like a banshee. If I cry now, Ella will know that something’s up. Besides, once these waterworks start, it’s unlikely they’ll stop. Must hold back the flow…must hold back the flow…

  ‘Are you okay?’ Ella asks.

  I stare at Aiden, unable to take my eyes off him.

  ‘Did the two of you have a thing together? Is this news to you?’ Ella asks, looking backwards and forwards between Aiden and myself. ‘You and Hunter, and you and Aiden? Man, you have done well.’ She looks at me with a mixture of confusion and admiration on her face. It’s a look I have grown accustomed to when Aiden takes me out. How on earth did she get him? It’s a real morale boost — not.

  ‘Ah, no. I just, um, mistook him for someone else, that’s all,’ I lie. ‘When are they getting…married?’ It chokes me to have to say that word. Married.

  ‘On Sunday, I believe.’

  ‘Sunday? This Sunday?’ Holy fuck!

  ‘Yep,’ she says and shakes her head, ‘Such a waste. Another one bites the dust.’

  ‘But that’s only six days away!’

  My entire body is numb. Even my lips — which I believe are doing a little tremble —can’t be felt properly.

  ‘I know, it’s heartbreaking isn’t it? Her family’s loaded, you know. I mean L.O.A.D.E.D. They’re in the resource industry. They could buy the entire country if they wanted to. She gets whatever, whoever, whenever she wants.’

  ‘Well then, you’d think she could afford a decent feed with all that money,’ I mumble.

  Ella laughs.

  ‘But what does he see in her?’ I just have to know. This girl is the kind that Aiden used to go out with, the kind his mother forced upon him prior to my arrival. The kind of girl who belongs in the world that he belongs in, or so Cressida used to say.

  ‘Question of the century,’ Ella says. ‘No one can figure that bit out. They say opposites attract, but…’

  It has to have something to do with Cressida.

  Ella continues, ‘Between you and me, I’ve heard Geneva is a real princess.’

  ‘Her name is Geneva? Her parents named her after a city in Switzerland?’

  ‘Yeah, but I get the feeling that she thinks it’s the other way around — that the city was named after he
r.’

  Oh my God. How can Aiden be with this woman?

  ‘Sorry, you were saying?’ I continue.

  ‘Geneva spends her life shopping and living between New York, London, Paris and here. And maybe Geneva as well,’ she laughs.

  Why would Aiden be interested in someone like that?

  ‘She’s a bit of a coke-head too, likes to party and…well, you know,’ she continues.

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘Rumour has it she’s a bit of a nympho,’ she says.

  ‘A nympho? Is that what the idle rich call a slut?’

  Ella nearly falls off her seat laughing. ‘What a shame we’ve only got a week left together. Let’s get another drink.’

  ‘Yup, let’s do that,’ I say, still staring at Aiden and the blonde, trying not to let the sound of my breaking heart be heard.

  * * *

  The anaesthetic properties of the vibrant red-coloured drinks have worked their magic on my whimpering feet, to the point they no longer belong to me. My heart, on the other hand, is a different matter. It feels so heavy that I fear it might break away and freefall to my feet before it shatters irreparably, casting itself far and wide for people to step on and mush into the pizza-patterned carpet.

  My night is spent watching Aiden and Geneva as discreetly as possible, from behind a potted palm I manoeuvred in front of me while Ella was refilling our drinks. The sight of Geneva’s red-taloned fingernails on the chest of my soulmate make every speck of jealousy in my body rise to the surface. It could rupture at any moment, leaving green goo stuck to everything in this room and hopefully taking Geneva out with it.

  Eventually, Geneva leaves his side, followed by her clone. This is my chance to get up-close and personal. They giggle and waltz their way into the ladies’ room, arms linked like my grade twos. I follow at a discreet distance.

  The ladies’ room is decorated in floor-to-ceiling marble, with intricate gold taps and pendant lights. In place of paper towels are thick, fluffy white hand towels and a wicker basket to dispose of them after one use. It looks like more like Buckingham Palace than riverside Melbourne.

  Geneva’s red-soled Louboutin heels click-clack on the floor as she teeters into a cubicle. The clone takes the one next to Geneva. I scoot into the one on the other side of her, and can hear a small compact of some kind being opened, followed by four almighty sniffs. So it is true! She’s a coke-head. Or possibly a hayfever sufferer.