‘There were…’ he trails off for a few seconds. ‘Five friends. No! Six.’
‘Lucas, I’m going now.’
‘Why, Franny-Frangipanny?’
‘Because I wanted to see you, to celebrate, and you gave me some crap about being tired and, “aww maybe some other time, babe”. But then you went out anyway, and that’s a little bit shit.’
I sigh down the phone to punctuate my displeasure.
‘No, wait. Come over. Or I can come over. Or we can meet halfway?’
‘Nah, I’m having a night in with the girls.’
‘But. Frances. We were going to get a takeaway. Don’t be like this.’
‘We weren’t going to get a takeaway. You didn’t want to. And anyway, I’ve had one, thanks. With people who didn’t say they were tired and then go out anyway. With people who cared enough to ask about how my job interview went. You know, the one at Viral Hive for the Content Editor role I really wanted.’
‘I can’t believe you’d begrudge me a quick drink with my friends. What people?’
‘No one is begrudging anything. I just don’t like being fobbed off. Suze and Lydia.’
‘Oh, Suuuze and Lyyydia,’ he says, and I don’t like the way he elongates their names. It feels dismissive. There hasn’t been much love lost between him and Suze since he said, in front of her, that he didn’t like her flat and I should move somewhere closer to him, despite it being in a swanky new Olympic Village development, boasting a concierge and a gym, but Lydia’s always been very accommodating. We’ve had some lovely afternoons at her flat, picking at tapas and washing it down with a crisp white.
‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow,’ I say, evenly. ‘Goodnight.’
‘That’s not very nice, Fran,’ I hear him say, as I hang up. It’s tinny. I don’t care. And for the first time, for just a brief second, I see him the way Suze does, and not through the rose-tint I’m so fond of.
Chapter Three
My first day at Viral Hive is the following Monday and I’m up at seven. I watch, impatiently, for the coffee machine to boot into life, and drink two cups in quick succession whilst simultaneously picking at a crumpet. And then I spark up a mercy cigarette on the balcony to counter the effects of the caffeine and chill me out a little. Our neighbours scurry across the gardens in the courtyard in the middle of the block. On any day other than today I could be joining them. But Maxine told me to arrive at ten thirty, so I’m blessed with the gift of time and the joy of a slightly quieter commute.
Back inside, I put on my favourite jeans and French tuck a v-neck t-shirt, taking time over my hair and my make-up and hunting through my jewellery box for a statement necklace. All in all, I look cool, yet approachable. This outfit definitely says I’m casual but also fun. It’s the necklace that matches my lipstick. And the flicked eyeliner.
It’s great leaving at this time. There are seats on the tube. I don’t find myself pressed against anyone’s sweaty back or within sniffing distance of any armpits. No one bashes me with their bags or flicks their paper in my face. No one is so close that I can hear their music, thin and trebly through headphones. So far, so very, very good. I sit on the same train all the way into the West End, scrolling through my phone and listening to tunes, and take a chilled walk to my new office.
And it isn’t long before I’m back on the same black and yellow striped sofa as I was before, although this time there aren’t six of us and no one is picking their cuticles opposite me, or smirking at their text messages. This time the receptionist tells me her name is Mindy, and asks about my morning, and she immediately dials Maxine’s number so I’m only waiting a couple of minutes.
‘Fran! Good to see you!’ Maxine greets me like we’ve been friends for years, and she guides me through the office. Some of my new colleagues look up, vaguely interested. Others don’t seem to notice at all.
‘This’ll be where you sit,’ she says, pointing to an empty section of desk with two lovely big wide-screen monitors and an ergonomic chair. The seat next to mine is also empty, but not vacant. There’s a Chinese lucky cat waving its paw at me, a rainbow flower garland strung over the top of the monitors, and the phone is covered in metallic star stickers. I put my bag on my chair and hang my jacket over the back of it.
‘Obviously you’re not chained to it. If you find it easier to focus in a meeting room or in one of the chill-out spaces, or anywhere, really, then you crack on. You do you!’
‘Okay,’ I say. I’m trying to take it all in my stride but the buzz of the place is quite a lot to take in.
‘So let’s introduce you to your team.’ Maxine gesticulates towards the two people sitting at the other side of the desk. ‘This is Sinjin and Mickey, two of our Content Creators. They keep a beady eye on what’s trending online and curate content based on that, as well as vetting community submissions.’
Sinjin pulls his headphones off his ears and scrutinises me.
‘Hi,’ he says, and does a little wave.
‘Don’t mind him. He’s not much of a talker,’ Mickey says. She seems warmer. ‘It’s actually Michaela, so you know, but no one calls me that. Carlina’s around somewhere, too. But I think she’s on a coffee run. You’ll hear her before you see her.’
Sinjin, Mickey, Carlina. I repeat the names over and over in my head, trying to commit them to memory. There’s no way I’ll memorise everyone’s, but I should definitely attempt to learn the names of the people I’m line-managing.
‘Fran,’ I say. ‘Lovely to meet you.’
‘We’ll be back later,’ Maxine says over her shoulder as she whisks me away. ‘We’ve got more to cover.’
‘Oh, we’re having a team lunch,’ Mickey calls after us. ‘So don’t fill up on snacks from the test kitchen! Thought we’d go to the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.’
Test kitchen? Greasy Chinese for lunch? I love this place already.
Maxine and I circulate for the rest of the morning, pausing to get a coffee and a plate of biscuits and sit in one of the break-out areas on a mezzanine.
‘How are you finding it?’ she asks, catching me staring around the office. Below us Mickey is talking, animatedly, to someone I wasn’t introduced to. Probably in her mid-twenties, she is dressed in little shorts and knee-high tube socks and a khaki jacket. She’s wearing a beanie hat, even though it’s warm and sunny outside, and Converse high tops. She flits around, delivering Starbucks coffee cups to a few people here and there. This, I suspect, might be Carlina.
‘I love it,’ I say. ‘Everyone’s so friendly. Don’t remember anyone’s names, but, well, you know.’
‘Of course you don’t,’ she shrugs. ‘No one would expect you to.’ She looks over the side of the rail and Mickey catches her eye, and stands up. ‘Think you’re wanted for lunch. Afterwards, maybe we can have a chat about how you could implement your pitch, just to get you started with things. We’ll get you introduced to the video team, too.’
‘Of course, yes,’ I say. Mickey, Sinjin and Carlina are ready to go and I grab my jacket on the way out.
The Chinese buffet is busy and Carlina decides we’re not going to sit in to eat, so we take foil cartons instead of plates and pile them high. Chicken in glossy sauces, noodles slick with oil, crispy seaweed, and a token spoonful of a vegetable dish that’s mainly bamboo shoots and a few slippery mushrooms. It’s an MSG feast. Outside, she leads us into a square, throws down her jacket in the middle of the grass and sits on it. We all do the same, even though there are empty benches dotted around, and despite the fact she is friendly, I get the vibe that Carlina is a big personality. Someone able and used to getting other people to do exactly what she wants without ever really being questioned. She rolls herself a cigarette and pulls the lid off her lunch before putting the carton down and lighting up.
‘I prefer my Chinese on the cooler side of warm,’ she explains, taking a long drag. ‘It’ll be perfect when I’ve finished this.’ She leans back on her elbow and blows smoke rings in the air. Sinjin tuc
ks into his noodles. Mickey looks thoughtful.
‘What did you do before you got your job then?’ she asks.
‘The same sort of thing, editing web content. I’ve had some articles published in a few online magazines.’ I pause and take a mouthful of egg fried rice. ‘But being freelance, I haven’t as such had a flock to tend to before though, so… be kind, yeah?’
We carry on eating for a few seconds, and Carlina’s silence, especially, is deafening. She’s still nursing her cigarette and Sinjin is still shovelling his noodles into his face without saying anything. ‘What about you guys?’ I ask.
‘Oh, well, I used to be the receptionist,’ Mickey says, with a shrug. She opens a can of Dr Pepper and bends the ring pull back and forth until it snaps off. Then she drops it into the drink.
‘Why do you do that?’ Sinjin asks.
‘I dunno,’ she shrugs. ‘Force of habit. We used to do it in school but say the alphabet at the same time. Whatever letter it broke off on, was the first initial of the boy you were going to kiss next.’
I like Mickey. There’s something about her which is sweet and childlike. She seems to be the middle ground between Sinjin, who, so far has been a little standoffish and taciturn, and Carlina, with all her opinions. She grinds her cigarette into the grass and picks up her carton of food.
‘We used to do that, too,’ she says, before Sinjin responds. The way she says it is final. As if that’s the end of the matter. As if she doesn’t want to hear anything further about it. As if she’s protecting Mickey a little, but I think Mickey could definitely hold her own, given the chance. We chat more as we eat, and it’s pleasant, if not a little stilted here and there.
Maxine doesn’t appear to be around when we get back, but I make a start nonetheless, setting up my emails and scouring the internet for weird recipes. I don’t know what Maxine’s going to say, or even if she’ll still want to go with that idea, but there’s no way I’m going into that meeting unprepared.
Sinjin puts his headphones back on and Mickey hums along to the music playing in the studio. Carlina checks her phone and wanders off for a while, and she looks excited when she returns.
‘There’s someone in with Joe,’ she stage-whispers, sliding into her chair. She unlocks her computer screen and opens up a chat channel. ‘He’s hot from the back.’ She types pretty much the same message to someone called Lily, and then swivels around and gestures towards a girl with pastel pink wavy hair, who discreetly looks towards the offices by the mezzanine staircase and delivers a thumbs-up.
‘Lily agrees!’ Carlina says.
‘Trust you to notice,’ Sinjin smirks.
‘You say that about everyone, though,’ Mickey laughs.
‘I know!’ Carlina shrugs and turns to me. ‘You should probably know, Fran, I fancy everyone. Keeps things fun, you know? Makes for good chat.’
I’m about to respond when the phone on my desk rings. Joe’s name flashes up on the screen.
‘Holy shit,’ Carlina says, gleefully. ‘It’s like his ears were burning!’
I’m summoned to his office and I’m a mixture of intrigued and slightly terrified. What if Joe saw Carlina lurking and is going to ask me to keep an eye on her? I don’t much fancy that conversation. What if he and Maxine have chatted whilst I was out and have decided they made a mistake after all? How completely mortifying that would be. Carlina sees it as an opportunity.
‘Do you know which one his office is? I can show you if you like?’
‘I’m sure I’ll find it,’ I say.
‘Well at least check out the dude in there.’
‘He’s probably gone though, right?’ I say, getting up. ‘Why would Joe want to talk to me with someone else there?’
‘Nothing gets past you, eh?’
The door to Joe’s office is open and I walk in with a glass of water like I’ve worked there forever. I’m all smiles and confidence.
‘Afternoon,’ I say. The guy Carlina mentioned is still in here. Hang on a minute, I recognise that varsity jacket. It can’t be. He turns around in his chair and grins at me, confirming that it categorically is, and my stomach feels like it’s about to fall out of my arse. I almost drop my drink.
‘Frances Tatlin,’ he grins. ‘I had a feeling I’d be seeing you again.’
What the ever-loving fuck is going on?
‘Ollie,’ I gasp. ‘This is such a surprise.’
Chapter Four
Ollie and I stare at each other for a few seconds. If confidence was a tangible thing, I’m certain you’d be able to see mine leaking out of my pores. What is this? Why is he here when I got the job? My fear that they’ve realised he’d be better at it than I would returns tenfold.
‘Take a seat, Fran,’ Joe smiles, which I take as a good sign. People don’t smile at you when you’re about to be fired, unless they are complete sociopaths. I’m no expert, but Joe didn’t strike me as one of those. In any case, I do as he asks, and it’s a welcome relief for my now trembling legs.
‘I take it from your reaction that you remember Ollie from interview day?’ he asks.
‘I do,’ I say, and turn towards him. ‘So, this is nice.’
He’s still looking at me, and I notice again how pretty his eyes are. How nice his face is in general. ‘I am little confused, though. I didn’t know there were two jobs going.’
Joe sits back in his chair and clasps his hands together.
‘Well, there weren’t. But I was just saying to Ollie, we really liked you both. After you left Maxine and I couldn’t decide on just one of you. It was too close to call. You were streets ahead of the other candidates and we especially liked the way you reacted to each other.’
I flinch, and he stops talking for a second. Catches his breath. Continues. ‘We wanted you both. So, we considered your skill sets and created another role. That’s the short version of a very long discussion. You’ll still be Content Editor for your team, and Ollie will be doing something similar but based over in Video. That said, I think Maxine mentioned implementing your pitch, and that’s something we’d like to see you working on together.’
‘So here we are,’ Ollie says. ‘Are you looking forward to working on our pilot?’
Hold it together, Frances.
‘I… er. Yes. Very excited. It’s going to be brilliant.’
‘We should brainstorm. You know, sit down somewhere and just get all our ideas out.’ He gesticulates with his hands and mimics his mind blowing up.
‘I mean, it’s not a complicated idea,’ I counter. ‘We came up with the crux of it at the interview, no? I started researching earlier anyway.’
‘It’d be a great way to get up to speed,’ Ollie says, and I can tell by the look on his face that Joe thinks this is excellent. He thinks he’s conjured up some sort of dream team, but there’s something about Ollie that I’m unsure of. A feeling about him that unsettles me, and I can’t put my finger on why. Something that makes me want to scurry back to my desk, and keep my head down.
‘Well, this all sounds excellent,’ Joe says. He stands up, signalling the meeting is over. ‘I’ll let you two get on with things.’
‘Let’s make a start then,’ Ollie says as we file out. And I can’t say no. It’s not as if I can tell him thanks but no thanks, my dude, not right now, I have stuff to do, because the stuff I was doing before all this was research for the very thing we’ve been teamed up for.
‘Sure. One of those meeting rooms?’
There are four of them. One in each corner of the office. Soundproofed glass boxes that remind me of bubbles or fish tanks, and like everything here, all very casual. The same yellow and black sofas as in reception. A drinks fridge, stocked with soft drinks and bottles of beer and snacks. A table, network points, a phone. ‘Maxine told me we don’t have to book them out or anything.’
I can feel Carlina watching us as we weave between the desks. She catches my eye and makes the ‘Okay’ sign with her thumb and forefinger. Then she fans at her face and
tips her head back.
‘I have to be honest with you, Frances, this has thrown me for a bit of a loop,’ Ollie says once we’re safely inside.
‘You’re not alone,’ I say. ‘Did they tell you when they rang you there were two jobs going? Also it’s Fran, rather than Frances, if that’s cool?’
‘No, I found out about an hour ago. Joe asked me to come in at lunchtime and when I arrived he casually mentioned it.’
‘Right,’ I bristle. ‘I see. Well, it’s good, I guess. Congratulations to us both for being too good to choose between.’
Ollie laughs and it reminds me of when he laughed during the interview. When I’d joked about his X Factor performance.
‘That can be our thing. Too good to choose between.’
We sit on the sofas and I flip to the page on my notebook where I’d started compiling a list of recipes.
‘I didn’t get all that far,’ I say. He takes it and scans down the page.
‘I like the ones with the regional-sounding names. Can you imagine someone from France making laverbread or a stargazey pie? Fran, what is stargazey pie?’
‘Don’t ask. It did not look appealing,’ I say. ‘I had to look it up.’
‘I looked you up,’ he says, out of nowhere.
‘I know you did,’ I say, looking down at the way I’ve stretched my hands out on the table. ‘I got a LinkedIn notification. Did you find what you were looking for?’
‘I did,’ he says. ‘I was checking you out.’
I don’t know how to take that. He has a girlfriend. She has long glossy hair and wears espadrilles and floaty skirts. She holds his hand on beaches and has a slice of lemon in her wine. So he must have been checking me out for competition purposes.
‘I mean, I—’
‘I bet you looked me up, too?’
‘Not really,’ I lie.
‘What, not at all?’
‘No. Why would I?’
For a split second he looks disappointed, but he masks it immediately.
‘Bollocks you didn’t,’ he grins, the cocky git. But I was careful about not being logged into LinkedIn, so he’ll never be able to prove it. And there’s no way to tell who is looking at your Twitter feed, for which I am thankful. Still, after all my bravado I can feel myself blush just a little. I’ve been betrayed by my own face.
Swipe Right Page 3