‘Which one’s Lexi?’ I whisper.
‘She sits with Lily. Came over to sniff your roses the other day. Welsh.’
We look across the office at them, deep in conversation over their own drinks. There’s a box of sugary donuts on their desks and Lily takes one and puts the entire thing in her mouth. Thick red jam dribbles down her chin. Lexi laughs and snaps a photo on her phone and Lily flaps her hands about.
‘I love them, but they are both wildly basic,’ Carlina says.
‘Why are they trying to keep it a secret?’ I ask.
‘I guess in case it all goes to rat shit? I mean, how awkward would that be?’
‘How does everyone know?’
‘Because they are incapable of being subtle. Just watch them later on, you can’t miss it. And once you’ve seen it, you’ll notice it everywhere. It’s like the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon.’ She rolls her eyes and drinks more of her beer.
‘Right.’
‘Anyway, tell your boy to come along. We go to The Whippet. Stay as long as you like and then go for dinner after. It’ll be fun.’
She’s so chill about it that I reckon I’m probably overthinking the whole thing. Why should these two parts of my life be distinct and separate? You hear about people in relationships getting to know each other’s colleagues all the time. Lucas will be friendly and affable. He’ll join in and won’t be stingy with buying drinks. And this way I get to have both, and a nice dinner on top.
‘Alright,’ I say, and fire off a text. Someone turns up the music, signalling that we’re very much done for the day. Around me the already pretty chill vibe relaxes even further. Tools are downed. Computers are switched off. Camera and sound equipment is locked away. Someone brings round a giant platter of freshly made cheese straws, leftover from a Yummo shoot earlier on in the day. They’re sprinkled with cayenne pepper and poppy and sesame seeds and they are incredible. Flakey and crunchy and very, very cheesy.
Carlina closes down her computer and rummages in her bag for her make-up.
‘Come hang in the ladies’ whilst I redo my slap?’ she asks.
* * *
By five the office is locked up and we’re at the pub, huddled in groups, generally respective to the layout of the office, sipping drinks. Maxine sidles up with her gin and tonic.
‘How have you found your first week?’ she asks. ‘The video storyboards are looking top notch.’
‘It’s been wonderful,’ I say. ‘Quite a learning curve, but absolutely a good one. I’m knackered. Thanks for hiring me!’
‘Excellent,’ she laughs. ‘I’m glad. Not about being knackered but, you know. And you’re very welcome. It’s good to have you on board, and I’m always around if you need anything. Open door policy.’
Someone across the room waves at her and she excuses herself. She’s right about the video. In the four days Ollie and I have been working on it, we’ve hit the ground running. We’ve planned out our shots. We’ve decided on a recipe to send across (a pie with fish sticking out of it for shock value). We’re starting with UK and US-based teams and have put the feelers out for presenters from the LA studio. We’ve agreed to share the producing and directing and editing but we’ve asked Sinjin to record the audio, and Lee, who sits near Ollie, to operate the second camera. We’re treating the first one as a pilot, but we’ve both talked about follow-ups.
Joe was keen for our personalities and passion to shine through, and I’m confident it will. I stuck to my promise and realised, mid-morning on Tuesday, that Ollie isn’t competition anymore and pinning him as such is fruitless and counterproductive, and I’ve kept my promise about not rising to the comments he sometimes cuts. I took the high road on Tuesday afternoon, when he laughed at me for not understanding a joke Joe made. And I bit my tongue on Thursday when he said something about Lucas, and made no retort about This One, because that would be tantamount to admitting I’ve looked him up online, too. And that’s what he wants, and there’s no way I’m giving him that satisfaction. No way at all.
In any case, all that aside, we’re pretty much consistently on the same page, and despite the initial teething problem about who did what, our visions for how it should look seem to have aligned almost perfectly. So I’m not worried about us in a professional capacity. But despite the fact that I told myself it swirled down the drain with my purple, soapy bathwater, I do wish the ball of dread that sits in the pit of my stomach would alleviate when I think about working with him, and I also wish I didn’t feel so clumsy around him, and that I didn’t have to work so hard to hide it.
He’s standing at the other end of the bar, talking loudly with Ben and Lee and the other people he shares desk space with. Lexi is there too, and I remember what Carlina told me earlier and glance towards them every so often. She said they aren’t subtle but I’m not sure I’d have picked up on anything. Although now that I’m looking through eyes that know, she does seem to be standing closer to him than anyone else. And the way she looks at him is different, more gazy. Dreamier. And when Lily calls her over to the table she’s nabbed she hesitates slightly. She weighs up her options, but ultimately goes to her friend. I don’t think she’d keep it quiet if she felt she had more of a choice. I think she’d want to scream it to the world.
‘Did you catch any of that?’ Carlina asks, when Lexi’s gone.
‘She’s very sweet,’ I say. ‘But honestly it seemed a little one-sided.’
‘I sometimes think that, too. But I think he just doesn’t want the drama. They’ve for sure done the boom-boom in the studio.’
‘What? How do you know that?’
‘I see all, I know all, I am omnipresent in that place,’ she says, and then pauses whilst she grabs a few peanuts from the packet Mickey is proffering. ‘No, I went back to the office to get my phone charger one Friday. Everyone else was here. Except for… you guessed it, Ben and Lexi. And I’d seen them walking towards the pub so it’s not like I was expecting to see them back at work, you know? Anyway, I got my charger and thought, since I’m here I’ll nip to the loo. They’re nicer than the ones back at the pub. And as I’m walking towards them there’s a rustling sound coming from the far corner by the meeting room and then she started laughing. And I’ve been here long enough to know her laugh. Then she goes, “Pull my hair, Ben, I’m so close,” in her Welsh accent, and I got out of there ASAP.’
‘Well,’ I say, and sip my pint. ‘Well.’
‘Indeed,’ Carlina giggles. ‘Oi, here comes trouble.’
Ollie is coming over, his group dispersed now, decanted to Lily’s table, and Ben’s wedged himself in next to Lexi.
‘Alright?’ he asks. He puts his pint down on the bar and looks at the three of us, and when none of us immediately respond: ‘You three are like the Witches of Eastwick.’
‘Only if I get to be Cher,’ Carlina quips. She sucks in her cheekbones and piles her hair up on top of her head. Ollie laughs and his eyes do that crinkly thing.
‘And how’s your first week been?’ Mickey asks.
‘A challenge,’ he says, and he looks right at me. ‘Young Frances over here has been keeping me in check. Put the reins on the bants a few times.’
‘I mean, that’s not really true at all,’ I say. ‘You have your fun; it’s cool.’
‘It’s only fun when I know I’m getting to you,’ he grins. I chug back quite a lot of my pint.
‘Well, you don’t,’ I say.
‘Hence the challenge.’
Carlina takes her packet of tobacco out of her bag.
‘Actually, Fran and I were just nipping out for a smoke,’ she says, and I could kiss her.
‘Come along if you like,’ I offer, appearing gracious but knowing full well that he won’t.
Carlina picks up her bag. ‘Mickey, watch our drinks,’ she says, and before Mickey can reply, she’s halfway towards the door.
‘Thanks,’ I say, and she nods. But as I’m turning around, Ollie grabs my arm and it stops me abruptly, pivoting me bac
k around.
‘I didn’t know you smoked, Fran,’ he says.
I make a point of staring at where he’s still holding my sleeve, and he lets go.
‘Socially,’ I say. ‘And why would you?’
‘Well, you shouldn’t. It’s bad for you.’
Oh, Jesus. I blink, slowly.
‘Why do you care, Ollie?’
He looks baffled that I’ve asked.
‘I… I don’t.’
‘Well, then. Don’t sweat it.’
Mickey hoists herself up on to a bar stool and I follow Carlina outside. She leans against the wall and rolls two cigarettes one after the other. Perfectly straight. Thin papers. A menthol filter in each. She puts the first one in her mouth and holds the second one out for me. We both spark up and take a drag before speaking.
‘He just told me off for smoking,’ I say. ‘Reprimanded me like I’m a kid and he’s some sort of disappointed authority figure.’
‘Well fuck him,’ she says. She leans towards a hanging basket, spilling over with bright petunias, and sniffs. ‘I would. These need watering,’ she observes.
‘He’s been making random comments like that all week,’ I say.
‘It’s because he’s into you Fran,’ she says, and looks at me like I’m stupid. Her look says, we’ve covered this ground, Fran, keep up.
‘No, it’s because sometimes he’s an uppity, self-satisfied little git,’ I say, flicking ash on to the pavement. The words sounded harsh, even before I said them, and yet I couldn’t stop myself. ‘Oh,’ I say, embarrassed. ‘That was quite unprofessional wasn’t it?’
Carlina snorts.
‘Given everything you’ve seen so far, do you really think we’re hugely profesh? Anyway, he might be uppity and self-satisfied but I still think he has the hots for you. I told you this on Monday when he shook up your Coke can, and I’m telling you again now.’
I could cut this off immediately with what I know about him. I could tell Carlina about the girl with the long hair who has a lemon slice in her wine. I could show her his Twitter feed and his Instagram, and she’d surely have to concede that actually he’s just a piss-taker, but it’s better that all my cards are kept safely close to my chest. Because I still don’t fully understand them myself, or the thing that stops me from admitting it.
Carlina’s talking again, and I tune back into our conversation, happy that she’s changed the subject. It’s Mickey’s birthday in a couple of weeks. She knows I haven’t been here long, and I shouldn’t feel obliged, but would I be down for contributing to a little gift? And would I be up for having another lunch, or would getting something delivered be better? Since that way everyone can be involved. When we head back in, Mickey’s still sitting at the bar, babysitting our drinks, but Ollie’s wandered off.
‘You should have come out!’ Carlina says. ‘Don’t like to think of you sitting on your own.’ And again, I see a protectiveness in her.
‘It’s fine,’ she shrugs. ‘I was having a nice chat with Ollie, but then his phone rang and he dashed out to the beer garden. He’s only just gone really. He was telling me about the interview. He’s nice isn’t he? And how cool about The X Factor?’
‘Yeah, really is,’ I say, noncommittally. I look through the bar and out to the beer garden where he’s still talking on the phone and we catch eyes, but he immediately looks away. I’m half expecting him to come back to us when he walks back into the bar but instead he heads over to Ben and Lexi’s table, and Carlina, Mickey and I are left alone again. The Witches of Eastwick.
‘What time’s your fella coming down then?’ Carlina asks.
‘Any time now,’ I say, checking my phone. Lucas doesn’t work far from here, and he hasn’t cancelled, so for the half hour or so that follows, I keep glancing at the door whenever it opens, and stay in the direct line of sight for anybody who comes in. He’ll be here soon, and he’ll kiss me and I’ll introduce him to Carlina and Mickey and wave in the general direction of everyone else.
And eventually, someone pushes the door open and I do recognise them, but not because it’s Lucas. This person has a floaty skirt and Salt-Water sandals and a pedicure. This person has long brown, dead straight hair. This is the first time I’ve seen her face, despite my secret searching, but I recognise her anyway, from the hair alone. It immediately strikes me that her features are sort of bunched up in the middle of her face. Like they’ve been put through a squeeze filter. Little eyes. A pointy nose. A small mouth. The way Ollie jumps up tells me right away that I’m right about who she is. That the woman now staring around The Whippet is none other than This One.
‘Lou!’ he calls.
‘There you are!’ she says. He moves quickly towards her, but she stays completely still, in the middle of the room, waiting for him to make all the effort. She stands with her arms wrapped around herself, clutching on to her bag, with a pair of giant Jackie O sunglasses balanced on top of her head. Ollie’s got to her now. He puts his arms around her, kisses her forehead, tenderly, and she tips her chin and puckers up that thin little mouth so he can kiss her there, too.
‘Guess that answers that question then,’ Carlina mutters.
‘Guess it does,’ I say, as if I didn’t already know. ‘Told you he wasn’t into me.’
Still in the middle of the room, Ollie’s taking Lou’s jacket. He folds it over his arm.
‘Let’s get you a drink,’ he offers and she nods, tightly. He orders her a white wine spritzer with soda water (‘Not the house white, Oliver, spend a little money, please!’) and, very specifically, three cubes of ice and a slice of lemon.
Lou looks around at everyone in the pub. She chucks cursory glances at the men but lingers more on the women. Carlina definitely notices.
‘What do you reckon?’ she whispers. ‘Insecure or secretly gay?’
Mickey giggles and Ollie glances over and steers her towards us.
‘This is Lou,’ he says, and his demeanour has changed. He’s a more fractious version of himself.
‘Hiyaaa,’ the three of us trill, in unison. Lou stares blankly at us, slightly dead behind the eyes. She’s not a girl’s girl. She wouldn’t tell another female she liked her lipstick in the toilets of a club and make a friend for life. Of that I am certain. I instantly dislike her.
‘Lou, these are some of my colleagues, Carlina, Mickey and Fran.’ He points to us at each introduction.
‘Fran who you’re making your video with?’ Lou asks, and she fixes her eye on me and touches his arm. I bristle. Carlina stiffens. She’s so obviously marking her territory.
‘The very same,’ I say, sweetly. And then, ‘It’s going really well, isn’t it, Ollie?’
His eyes widen briefly, so briefly that I think I’m the only person to register it, and in that moment I know I’ve been mentioned between them, and I don’t know what’s been said, but once again, I’m getting a gut feeling, and once again, it’s confusing and not wholly positive.
‘Right, yes,’ he says. And the five of us fall into silence. Behind me, the door of the pub opens again, and this time Lucas walks through it. Tie removed. Top button undone. Jacket slung over his shoulder.
‘Lucas! Hooray!’ I say. It breaks the tension and I turn away from Ollie and Lou and throw my arms around him. Pressing my lips to his, I remember how nice he smells and how warm he feels, and after we’ve kissed I reach around his neck and tell him I’m so glad he wanted to come to meet everyone.
‘Let me introduce you to my friends Carlina, Mickey and Ollie. And this is Ollie’s girlfriend, Lou,’ I say. Lou snorts and immediately after, Ollie squeezes her shoulder. It’s an odd reaction if it was intentional, but I don’t dwell on it, and there’s small talk for a few minutes whilst everyone gets acquainted. Just like I knew he would be, Lucas is friendly and charming. He buys a round for us all and chats easily and affably to everyone until Ollie and Lou disappear off to Lily’s table again. He moves his hand from my shoulder down to my waist and over my bum and as he slips his
hand into the back pocket of my denim skirt I catch the reflection of us in the antique mirror behind the bar. We look happy and comfortable together, with his mop of curly dark hair contrasting nicely against my own Little-Mermaid-red dyed locks. And behind us, sitting at the table with Lily and Lexi and Ben and Lee, are Ollie and Lou. But she’s looking at her phone and even though his arm is loose around her shoulders, he’s staring back at me in the mirror, and this time even when our eyes lock in the reflection, he doesn’t look away.
Chapter Seven
Ollie and I hold eye contact through the speckled reflection until the bartender walks in front of the mirror, breaking our line of sight, and I use it as an excuse to look away. For a few seconds it feels hard to get a full breath, and all I want to do is get out of here. I want to get outside where things aren’t as enclosed and claustrophobic as they suddenly are in the pub.
‘Are you getting hungry?’ I say, patting Lucas on the hand.
‘I thought you wanted me to meet your new colleagues?’ he says, flatly.
‘I did. I do. You have. But I’m getting a bit peckish and I can’t stop thinking about… the pizza.’
‘Well, alright. Just seems like I haven’t been here long.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ I say. ‘But it wasn’t ever geared up to be anything heavy. I just thought it would be nice for you to come here for a quick one and then we go.’
‘Can I at least finish my drink?’ he asks, brusquely.
Carlina concentrates very hard on the beer mat on the bar.
‘Look, Mickey,’ she mutters. ‘Haven’t seen one like this before.’
‘It’s a beer mat,’ Mickey says, and she looks confused. ‘Are you being sarcastic?’
‘Of course you can,’ I say, quickly. ‘I just meant—’
‘Relax, Franny-Frangipane,’ Lucas interrupts. He swills his drink around, and then turns to Carlina and Mickey. ‘She’s such a worrier, this one. About the smallest of things. They’re hardly going to run out of pizza at Franco Manca, are they?’
‘Really? She’s been chill this week,’ Carlina says, coolly. Her body language has changed a little. She’s stepped back a bit. She’s sizing him up, and I’m not convinced she particularly likes the cut of his jib. Her eyes bounce between us and I wish he’d not said that. I’m not a worrier. Not really. Not under normal circumstances anyway. I also wish he’d stop calling me Franny-Frangipane, but I’m not touching that right now.
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