I always wondered how I could be so creative on the computer but not in other areas of my life. I just hope my impromptu attempt at chic works today.
***
Exactly thirteen minutes later, I’m back downstairs and chasing after Alex and Michael, who are already getting in the car. Michael owns a black Saab. He won’t let anyone else drive it, including Alex.
I squeeze into the back seat and try to make myself as invisible as possible. I know Michael is put out that he has to drop me off, and Alex is stressed about the shop. I’ll have to call him later to make sure everything is going smoothly. I might even offer to help behind the scenes. I do feel bad about leaving him in the lurch for the fashion show, but I can’t bear the thought of getting up on the catwalk so soon after yesterday’s debacle.
We get to my office with almost half an hour to spare. I even have time to go to my desk and check my e-mails. I make a mental note to buy Violet a muffin for morning tea to thank her for texting me earlier.
I plop down in my chair and switch on my Mac.
Then I stare at my desk in horror. There is a copy of today’s paper with a big post-it stuck on it and a message saying Jess—is that you? Call me ASAP! V.
Somehow the paper has picked up on the story from the news yesterday, and my photo is plastered all over the front page. What is wrong with these people? Why couldn’t they have reported on real news, like the war in Syria? Surely my appearance doesn’t warrant the front page of a major newspaper.
But the photo is quite convincing. They managed to take it while I was staring out at the street right after I finished my coffee. You can even see the tears in my eyes. No one would guess it was because my throat was burning—it looks like I’m genuinely devastated. I don’t remember seeing a camera following me around yesterday, but they did a pretty good job of keeping track of me.
THE FACE OF HOMELESSNESS, screams the headline.
Terrific. I’m the mascot for street people.
Violet comes rushing up to my desk.
“Oh my God, Jess! So it is you! I thought perhaps it was someone who just looked a lot like you, because normally you have different hair, and I was thinking, why would Jess be wearing a wig and looking like a homeless person? But now I see you’ve got the same hair, and…” She runs out of breath and looks at me questioningly.
“Big misunderstanding. I’ll tell you about it later. Anyway, let’s hope the whole office doesn’t see it. The last thing I need is a distraction like this while Richardson is visiting.”
“You’re right. I promise I won’t say anything. I’ve even hidden all the papers I could find, just in case.”
“Thanks, V. You’re a star. I already owe you one for reminding me about the brief this morning. I was going to call in sick.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Ah well, I’m here now. Might as well make the most of it.”
“Maybe Richardson will send us both somewhere really exciting!”
“I hope so.”
We hurry into the briefing room and sit down, managing to grab two of the last chairs. These meetings are always really crowded—everyone wants to look like they’re working hard—and of course, they’re all hoping to be posted somewhere nice. Our firm has a pretty good reputation. We have offices in most major cities around the world, so everyone’s heard of us.
Placements are usually transfers to other offices within the company or new projects where you work on-site with the client.
“Cute outfit, by the way,” Violet whispers to me. “And your hair looks way better now than it did in the photo.”
“Thanks,” I whisper back with a grateful smile.
Donald Richardson shows up just as everyone has settled. He is a great CEO. He’s like a corporate Santa Claus. And quite good looking too. He’s in his mid-fifties with speckled grey hair, and he has quite a fit body for someone his age. He also has these sparkly green eyes that look like they’re laughing at a private joke. I have a bit of a crush on him, but not in an I-want-to-sleep-with-him way. More like one of those crushes you get in primary school when you just want a boy to notice you.
He smiles at everyone, making eye contact with a few people around the room. I blush when his gaze lands on me. He should be on TV. He’d make a great talk show presenter.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming. I know you’re really busy, so I won’t take up too much of your time. I’ll just go through the latest growth figures and some of our key projects. Then I’ll allocate staff to a few exciting new ventures we’ve taken on in recent weeks.”
You can practically feel the room buzzing. Everyone is poised on the edge of their seats and praying for their names to be called out.
I listen with one ear open, and doodle on my notebook in front of me. I would normally be the most attentive person in the room, but I’m a bit distracted by this whole homeless thing. And if I’m really honest, also by Luke. I always get like this. A guy is nice to me for five minutes and I’m immediately smitten. I know he was just helping me out—anyone would have done the same if they saw a fellow patron in distress. And I know I’m probably never going to see him again, but it’s been ages since I’ve had butterflies while talking to someone. Paul never made me feel like that. Our arrangement was purely physical.
That reminds me—I forgot to talk to him last night about calling off our thing. I hope I didn’t say or do anything that may have led him on. I may not get hangovers, but I do suffer from massive memory lapses after a big night out. I’m like an old roll of film where some of the frames are blank, and then they’ve been spliced together with no concern for continuity. I poke around in the recesses of my brain for a moment, trying to remember talking to Paul. I don’t feel any unusual pangs of worry, so I suspect everything is okay.
“All right.” Don drums his fingers on the desk like a showman.
“The moment you’ve all been waiting for…” You can practically hear the collective inhale.
“We have a job in Dubai with Ballencia Mining. We need someone from HR to go over there and head up the team for a couple of months.”
Oh. I’m secretly glad I’m not in HR. I don’t think I’d be a good fit for the UAE. I’m sure I would accidentally end up wearing my bikini at the market, or get caught eating chewing gum and land myself in jail. Oh wait. Maybe that chewing gum thing is Singapore.
“Chris, I’m appointing you in this role.”
I look at Chris to see his reaction. He actually seems quite pleased. I’m glad. And he’ll probably get paid a lot, so at least it will be good from a financial point of view.
“I need a couple of account executives to go over to Manchester and help train employees in the new office. The guys in London are too busy to assist right now so I said I would take care of it. Louise and Dan, you both have a few years’ experience so I’d like you to go.”
The UK! That would have been cool.
“And lastly, I have a job for a graphic designer.”
Yes! Pick me! Pick Me!
“Jessica, I want you to take this. You’ll be going to Osaka to help out with our new campaign for Bella Beauty Products.”
I gasp. “Really? Wow! Thank you!”
I quickly realise that Violet won’t be going with me and tone it down. I glance at her with sad eyes. She shrugs noncommittally.
“Well, that about wraps it up. See your team leader to finalise your travel arrangements. And everyone else, keep up the good work!”
We all file out. I follow Violet.
“I’m so sorry, V. I’ll talk to Meg and see if you can come too.” Meg is our team leader.
“No, it’s all right. You’ve been working here longer, and you’ve done some good stuff lately. I can see why you were picked.”
I almost tear up. “You’re too good to me.”
“I know. I should have let you call in sick this morning, bitch,” she jokes.
“I will totally make it up to you. If there’s any way I can take
you over, I will. And if I can’t, I’ll bring you back anything you want from Japan.”
“Cool. I’ve always wanted a kimono.”
“Done.” I’m willing to agree to anything to make sure Violet doesn’t feel too left out. But later on it occurs to me that kimonos might be really expensive.
***
I get straight on the phone to Alex. I want to tell him the good news.
He answers with a harried tone. “What?”
“Oh, hi, sorry, is this a bad time?”
“Jess, what do you think? I have at least a hundred people in my shop and I’m trying to set up a sound system for tonight.”
“Do you want me to call back later?” Gosh, what is wrong with me? I was so excited to be picked for the assignment that the show somehow slipped my mind again.
“Would you? I don’t really have time to talk right now. But you can make yourself useful by picking up some red balloons on your way over. I could really use the help, even if you aren’t modelling.”
“Sure. No problem. Of course. Okay, see you later.”
He hangs up without saying goodbye and I feel a bit deflated. Now what? I guess I should go talk to Meg about when I’m leaving.
She’s on the phone as usual. She motions for me to sit down in one of the empty chairs in front of her desk. Meg spends more time talking to her daughters and husband than anyone else during work hours. I don’t know how she gets anything done.
“All right darling, well, just don’t make a mess. I’m having the Harrisons around for dinner tonight, so I don’t want to be racing around tidying up after your friends at the last minute.” She looks at me and rolls her eyes.
“No, you cannot go in Aaron’s car. He’s only been driving for a couple of months. Remember my rule? Only if the driver has had their licence for a year or more.”
I hear a screech of protest through the receiver.
“I don’t care. It’s for your own good. Do you know how many kids die in car crashes these days?”
I stare at the ceiling. This is a regular occurrence. I know more about Meg’s daughter’s friends than my own. And I can tell you exactly how many marks there are on the walls of this office and what I think caused them. I’m guessing the yellow stain right above Meg’s head is from a celebratory bottle of champagne that was shaken a little too vigorously last Christmas. And the dent to the right could be from a paperweight that she threw in anger after we lost the Sierra Pharmaceuticals project. Or it could just be where the shelf scraped the wall. I like to pretend Meg is this crazy person behind closed doors, cursing and shouting orders at everyone. But in actual fact, she’s really quite mellow.
“Now if I hear you have disobeyed me, there will be no trip to France this year.”
Another screech.
“Look, I have to go. Be good.” She puts the phone down and sighs.
“Kids! Don’t have them until you are well and truly ready to give up your individuality and sanity.”
I laugh politely.
“So! Lucky you! Off to Osaka!”
“I know. Did you suggest me? If so, thank you.”
“I did. Don asked for a list of candidates and I told him you’d be a good choice. Just make sure you finish your work on Jacana Foods before you leave.”
“No problem. You don’t suppose Violet could come too, do you?”
“I’m afraid not. Besides, her standard of work has been slipping lately. I think I’m going to have to have a word with her.”
“Oh.” I’m not really sure what to say to that. V and I don’t normally look at each other’s designs—we only catch up during the lunch hour because she’s on the other side of the partition and we get in trouble if we yell at each other over the top. That means I can’t actually vouch for the kind of work she does.
I decide to change tack.
“So when do I go?”
She glances at the calendar on her computer. “Hmm…Thursday, it looks like.”
I blink. “Next Thursday? But that’s less than a week away!”
“That’s okay, isn’t it? I’ll get admin to book your flight and accommodation. Oh, and you speak Japanese, don’t you? For some reason, I thought you did.”
“Ah, yeah. I learnt it in high school,” I lie. I don’t know why I just said that, but I really, really want this job. And I’m sure I’ll be able to find an online crash course somewhere.
“Good. All sorted, then.”
Her phone rings again. It’s a really loud Bollywood tone that reminds me of an old episode of 24. For some reason it makes me anxious every time I hear it.
“Hi, honey. How’s your day been?”
Sounds like the husband. He calls all the time. I think he’s one of those possessive types. Once, when I was working on a project with Meg in her office, he rang eight times. She doesn’t seem to mind, though.
I quietly leave her to it.
The rest of the day crawls by. I write up a checklist of things that need doing before I head overseas and place it in my overflowing to-do tray. I’m going to have to stay late every night until I leave just to get everything done in time.
But by three-thirty I can’t bear to sit still any longer. I have to go and see how Alex is doing.
I tiptoe to the elevator and hope that no one is watching. The door pings and opens. Almost there!
“Hello, Jessica.”
I jump. Don is in the elevator waiting for me to get in.
“Off to a client meeting?” he asks.
“Ah, yeah.” I step in and stand against the opposite wall.
“Anyone I might have heard of?”
“Uh, probably not. It’s a boutique sports label that I’m trying to pitch to.”
“Oh?” He sounds interested.
“Yeah, they’re looking at re-vamping their image. I’m helping with the logo and trying to convince them to use our marketing team,” I improvise.
“Good work. I knew I picked the right person for the Bella campaign.” He considers something for a minute. “You know,” he lowers his voice, “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but if all goes well in Japan, there may be a senior position available for you here when you get back. But I would appreciate it if you kept this information to yourself for now.”
“Really? That would be amazing. I promise I will do everything I can to ensure the Bella project goes smoothly.”
“I know you will.”
My heart is pounding. Now I feel bad that I lied to him about my imaginary meeting. I silently vow to make it up to him by being the best overseas correspondent ever.
We reach the ground floor. I practically run out of the elevator, but turn at the last minute.
“Thanks again for giving me this opportunity. I’ll do my best.”
He hesitates for another moment and then winks at me. “By the way…if you can manage it, try to stay out of the papers from now on.”
I flush, completely horrified.
“That was a bit of a mix-up.”
“I’m sure it was. Anyway, good luck with your meeting this afternoon, and I might see you in Japan.”
“What? Oh, yeah. Thanks. See you later.”
I stride off, trying to retain a shred of dignity. I’m glad he didn’t offer to accompany me to the meeting. I’m sure Alex would have gone along with it, but it would have been pretty obvious that today wasn’t exactly a good time to organise a marketing consultation. And what was that about seeing me in Japan? I wasn’t really paying attention.
***
I arrive at the shop to find it in total chaos. At least I finally did something right and remembered to get balloons on the way. I had to go by the party factory and specifically ask for red ones. I also bought some gold ones because they match the store’s colour theme. As a graphic designer, I’m fussy about that kind of thing.
Alex seems impressed that I actually brought the balloons, and even more so when I offer to blow them up and pair them with the gold ones.
“Thanks, sweeti
e. I knew you’d come through for me.”
I set to work immediately. As I’m blowing up the balloons, I look around in admiration at what Alex has achieved. He inherited the store from his dad who passed away five years ago, and he’s managed to transform it from a cluttered, run-down sporting equipment shop into a stylish clothing and gym supply warehouse. He still sells the equipment, but only to fancy health clubs that want infra-red saunas and vibrating plate machines. The floor is mostly dedicated to expensive yoga wear, designer sneakers and a bunch of other sport-related merchandise. He’s even set up a mini health section with vitamins and supplements for the fitness buffs who come in and want to buy everything in one place.
The aisles are packed with people looking for items on sale and those enjoying the free juice bar set up near the counter. A small team is putting the finishing touches on the catwalk. Some guy is testing out the sound system like he’s preparing for a U2 concert. He’s obviously very serious about his job.
The show doesn’t start until seven, so there’s still a bit of time left to set up.
When it quietens down momentarily, Alex comes over and hands me a freshly squeezed juice. It’s apparently called a Cyclist’s Sunrise. From my guess, they were going for a sporting theme. I’m feeling light-headed from all the blowing, so I gratefully accept the refreshment.
“Jess?”
“Mm?”
“Can I ask you a huge favour?”
“What?”
“Can you please be a model in my show?”
“Don’t ask me that,” I beg.
“But I’m short a person and I haven’t been able to find a replacement.”
“Are you sure no one else can do it?”
“Yes. All my staff are either already part of the show or they have other jobs, like serving drinks or working the cash register.”
“What if I swap with someone who has a different job?”
Zen Queen Page 3