It's Complicated (The Agency Book 2) Page 10

  Freja gives me another bright smile as she leaves, and for the first time today I start to feel good about Tribe. I’ve deliberately kept my friendship circle small, just Ethan and Max – the only two people I’ve found who truly get me. I always felt safe and happy having just them. I never needed tons of friends in my life and I was always more than blessed that I had two real ones. But who’s to say there isn’t a third person in the world who gets me the same way they do?

  10

  ETHAN ARRIVES BACK ON THE floor late-afternoon. I watch him stride purposefully to his office, bark something at Lucille, then turn full circle and head for my office. I don’t know what to expect, but I know I’m still angry. And I hate feeling like this.

  “Have you had lunch?” he asks, stepping inside my office.

  “It’s half past three in the afternoon.”

  He shrugs. “Did you have a proper lunch or did you eat whatever you found in your bag? Like half a packet of wine gums and a cereal bar?”

  I hold up my hands. “You got me.”

  “Get your coat. There’s a fab sushi bar in Canada Square I spotted on the way in this morning.”

  I love sushi. Really love it. I could eat it all day long – every meal – for the rest of my life. I put on my coat and we make a short walk to the very small, but very stylish, Captain Sumo’s.

  We’re seated on high stools in front of long wooden benches linked by a conveyor belt stocked with brightly coloured boxes. Ethan orders some wine and grabs a noodle dish. I opt for salmon nigiri.

  “Well, this is nice,” I say, raising my glass.

  He raises his glass to meet mine. “Here’s to our first day.”

  “Cheers.”

  He smiles, but then his face changes. His eyes crease with something I can’t quite put my finger on. Regret? Irritation? Sadness? “I’m sorry about Jadine,” he says.

  “I know you are. I’m sorry too.”

  He leans forward, his elbows on the table as he twists the stem of the wine glass between his fingers, the dark red liquid twirling in soft waves. “I don’t blame you for reacting the way you did. I wouldn’t be too happy if anybody you’d had a relationship with showed up to work here.”

  My heart skips a beat. “You said you hadn’t had a relationship. I thought it was only a couple of times.”

  “That’s right. It was.” He awkwardly rakes his hand through his hair. “It certainly wasn’t the same as Zoe, and I’m sorry about that too. I’m a partner in an ad agency now, so I need to act like it. I shouldn’t have even thought about employing my ex-girlfriend, and that’s before we get to how it made you feel. I guess I’m worried. I keep fucking up. I’m not sure I can do this.”

  I can’t stop the tears welling in my eyes as I hear him confirm what I feared. “You don’t think we should be together?”

  His head snaps up to attention. “What? No, of course not. I’ve been in love with you since the first day I met you.” He pushes his noodles aside and takes my hand, leaning in closer. “Violet, there’s never been a time I’ve known you when I didn’t think we should be together. And I’ll always wish I told you how I felt sooner. I think we should be together, now and forever, because it’s always been you for me.”

  I know he means that. I know he loves me and I know I love him. But loving each other was never the hard bit – loving ourselves was the hard bit.

  “What are you thinking?”

  For the first time I realise I’m probably thinking the same as him – only he hasn’t admitted it to himself yet. I roll my shoulders back and do everything I can to keep my face straight, but I can feel my bottom lip trembling like it belongs to some ridiculous damsel in distress in a silent movie. I try to sniff my tears back into my eyes, but I feel one escape and I hate myself for being so weak.

  He has a drink of wine, then puts his glass back on the counter with a clunk. “You always do this.”

  “Do what?” I ask.

  “You always keep how you’re feeling locked inside you. I never know what’s going on in your head.”

  “You know why I’m like this, Ethan. Do you think I want to be like this?”

  His demeanour softens. “I’m just trying to tell you how hard it is to talk to someone who’s so closed up all the time. I don’t know how to open the door, Vi.”

  “Maybe you should leave it closed.”

  “What?” he says in a whisper as his breath catches in his throat. “How could you even think that, never mind say it out loud? What’s this all about? I apologised about Zoe and Jadine and Tamara. I know you’re worried about me being your boss, but . . . I know this isn’t perfect. I dreamed about ‘us’ for so long that I always assumed it would be perfect if it ever happened, and it kills me that it’s not. I don’t know what to do. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  I plonk my glass down on the wooden counter and turn my head away from him. “If you’re not ready to tell Stella, then maybe you’re just not ready full stop. Maybe we missed our chance, or maybe the time isn’t right yet.”

  “What? No . . .” I feel his hand on mine, begging for contact, but I pull away. “I promised you I’d tell Stella. Is that what all this is about? Violet, please. This is just temporary.”

  “It’s not just that, Ethan. I feel like the best part of us has gone. We were great together – the best creative team in the city – because we were best mates.”

  “Best mates who loved each other!” he says, raising his voice. He thuds his chopsticks down on the bench.

  “Yes, but when everything else is wrong, how can we be right?”

  The nonsensical music batters my ear drums as I wait for his words. My instincts are to run crying to Captain Sumo’s unisex bathroom and lock the door behind me. I don’t want to let him know how much this is hurting, but at the same time I can’t believe I’m saying all this. I take a deep breath, wipe at my face again and then I have another drink of wine, the spiced liquid warming my throat and calming me down.

  “I can be who you need me to be if you let me,” he says finally, his eyes fixed on his wineglass.

  “I’m not stopping you, Ethan. You’re stopping you. And Tribe is stopping you. And so is Stella. I don’t blame you for any of that. Tribe is your dream and you need to put it first.”

  “So what are you saying?” His jaw tightens and he slams his half-empty glass down. “Do you want to break up with me?”

  “No, I don’t want that, but I think we should cool things down for a bit. Give ourselves some time to settle into our new roles.”

  He shakes his head three times. “If that’s what you want.” I swear I can hear him gritting his teeth.

  I lower my voice to a soft whisper. “It isn’t what I want, Ethan. I’ve just explained that. But if we carry on the way we’re going, we’re going to lose our chance. The stakes are too high right now. Can’t you see?”

  “I tell you what I see.” He knocks back his wine and looks at me hard. “You’re running scared again.”

  “Yeah, I am scared. Because I know how this will end unless we fix what’s broken first.” I pick up my coat and slide my arms into it.

  “So that’s it? You’re just going to go back to work?” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “What about Friday when we made love in the office? What about the past five months? What about us, Violet? Why are you doing this?” His face crumbles and I feel my heart break. I inhale a sharp, painful breath. My instincts are to run to him and hold him and kiss him, but I can’t. I’m frozen to the spot. “You act like you’re a lost cause, like you’ve been permanently damaged by losing your sister and by your father’s words. But you’re not fucking broken, Vi. You may have cracks in places, that’s just fucking life, but you’re not broken. Your cracks show you’ve been battered and tossed around a bit, but they also show you didn’t break – that you’re strong. And you know what? No matter how much you try to glue yourself back together or paint over the cracks, they’re always going to be there, and I don’t care one
bit about that. I’ve never cared, because I love you.”

  I tuck my hands into my pockets and sink deep into my coat’s fake-fur collar. “I only said we should cool things down, just for a little while.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” he says desperately.

  He takes a few steps towards me. His eyes are filled with so much hurt that I want to take everything back, but he doesn’t understand. “You can’t fight for me. When you’re ready, we should try again.”

  My words leave a sting in the air and he swallows hard when it hits him. “It’s not that I can’t . . .” he says, his voice breaking. “The time isn’t right, that’s all.”

  “And that’s precisely what I’m saying, Ethan. The time isn’t right. When you’re ready, the time will be right and we’ll have our chance.”

  “And until then?”

  I shrug. “We just have to wait.” He shuffles his feet awkwardly and I wonder if he’s trying to think up yet another defence. I step forward and place my hands on his chest. He doesn’t flinch or push me away, but he doesn’t put his arms around me either. “I love you, Ethan.”

  * * *

  I wanted to leave work an hour ago, but the creative floor was still buzzing with busy people and it didn’t seem right for me, as their boss, to go home before them.

  But if I’d left earlier, I wouldn’t be hiding in a toilet cubicle right now. And I certainly wouldn’t be sitting with my knees pulled up to my chest, pretending I wasn’t here. Ruby Sloan and Jadine Clark arrived with a clatter of high-heeled shoes and a flurry of laughter thirty seconds ago, and they’ve been at the bathroom mirrors talking drivel ever since. I absolutely do not want to talk to them, hence I’m hiding.

  I hear Jadine invite Ruby to hang out with her and “Marley Cousins”, who I assume is a Tribe employee until Ruby literally squeals with delight and starts to hyperventilate. “Oh my god, oh my god, I love her so much,” she says to her new best friend. Meanwhile, I resign myself to the fact my celebrity knowledge is as current as the Titanic’s cross-Atlantic sailing schedule. I have no idea who Marley Cousins is. But then maybe she’s a “celebrity” in the same way Max’s cat became a celebrity after it did a wee on the postman’s leg.

  “So, how are you getting on with your new boss?” asks Ruby.

  “Freja Larsen? Not great. She hates me and I hate her.”

  Oh god, they’re embarking on a slagging session. What did I do to deserve having to listen to this?

  “She fell over in the office this morning, just outside Violet’s office. It was quite funny.”

  Jadine makes a noise best described as a pony-snort. “Freja’s a horrific attention seeker – the absolute worst.” I hear one of them turn on a tap and I miss a great big chunk of conversation, which is more than infuriating.

  “Oh my god, really? She said that? After you were in a car accident?” exclaims Ruby.

  Fuck, she said what? I need to know!

  “Yeah, she did. And she knew that was the reason I had to give up modelling. Don’t trust her for one second. There’s just something about her that makes her hate women – all women, but mostly successful, attractive ones.”

  “I can’t believe it. She seems so . . . nice.”

  “It’s all an act. Everyone falls for it, particularly the guys. She has them wrapped around her little finger and I don’t get why, aside from the fact she’s a slut. She isn’t even very attractive. Sure, she has pretty hair, but have you seen her face? She’s only five years older than me, but she needs Botox already.”

  Jadine spits the words out of her mouth with so much spite and venom that I’m reassured I made the correct decision to hate her at first sight. I always try very hard not to hate other women, especially if the only real gripe I have against them is man-related, but here I gladly make an exception. I barely know Freja, but I speak as I find, and I found her to be kind, just as I’m finding Jadine to be a putrid, hollow sack of spite.

  “Freja isn’t all that talented either,” bitches Jadine while Ruby employs her listening skills. No wonder she’s a conduit for all the office gossip. “She’s great at delegating and taking credit for other people’s work, but that’s it. She’s only in advertising because she failed to make it as an actress. She spent years in Hollywood – no doubt attempting to sleep her way into a movie – but she got nowhere. Have you noticed how she parades around like she’s all that? Well, she’s only ever acted in low-budget Scandinavian noir that nobody outside of Copenhagen has heard of. I wouldn’t be surprised if she slept with a casting director or two to get those roles as well.”

  Wow, my newfound friend is an actress? Yeah, I can see that. I can also see good old-fashioned jealousy being at the root of Jadine’s bitchiness. Sounds like Jadine wanted to be the star of the show at Diablo, but she couldn’t compete with Freja. Makes me glad I’m an introvert. We don’t care if anyone else becomes the star of our leave-me-the-fuck-alone show.

  I hear handbags snap and zip shut and I pray they’re about to leave. I have cramp in my left foot and wiggling my toes isn’t helping. I also have an overwhelming fear that I’m going to sneeze. Or burp. Or fart.

  “So,” says Ruby, drawing out the word teasingly. “Have you bumped into you-know-who today?”

  Oh, god, no . . .

  “No, I haven’t,” says Jadine with a pathetic little giggle that makes me wince so much that a sharp pain shoots into my crampy toes. “But did you see how he looked at me in the break room?”

  My chest starts to burn and a swell of nausea rises in my throat. I don’t want to hear any more.

  “Yeah, I did. He’s definitely still hot for you. How long did you two date again?”

  “Over six months,” Jadine says, and I have to slam my hands over my mouth to stop myself screaming “Lying bitch!” at the top of my voice. “I didn’t want to break things off with him, but I was flying all over the world modelling. I just didn’t think it was fair.”

  “Do you regret the split?”

  “Oh god, yes,” she says with a growl. “I mean, you have seen him, haven’t you?”

  “Of course. He’s definitely the fittest bloke on the floor.”

  “Fittest, most talented, most charming and he’s hung like a racehorse.”

  Oh my fucking god. That’s just what every girl wants to hear, isn’t it? Two women cackling about the size of her boyfriend’s penis. God. They’re both as shallow as a Walker’s potato crisp, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to think nice thoughts about Ruby ever again.

  “Are you sure Ethan’s not seeing anybody?” Jadine asks eagerly.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” says Ruby. “I had a word with my boss earlier. Violet was his partner and best friend. She said Stella slapped a relationship ban on him.”

  “What? Really?” Jadine gasps the words out into the air. “You know why she’s done that, don’t you?”

  Silence. I dread to think what bullshit she’s going to come up with, but Ruby speaks first. “Oh my god, it’s because of you, isn’t it? Stella knows about you and him.”

  Now my brain is melting out of my ears. How can people so completely lacking in self-awareness function on a daily basis?

  “This may cause a slight hiccup to my masterplan,” says Jadine. “But don’t worry. Once I work my magic, Ethan Fraser won’t know what’s hit him.”

  A vision of me bursting out of the toilet cubicle telling her to keep her filthy claws to herself invades my mind. And I realise there is now no difference between my life and a 1970s Dolly Parton song. I wouldn’t be surprised if I ended the evening begging her not to take my man. Or at least I would if I hadn’t already just ‘cooled’ things with him. Talk about timing.

  I hear a clack of high heels against lino, then the sound of the door swinging open. Thank the gods of crampy toes they’re on their way out of the loos. They didn’t even go to the bloody toilet, did they?

  “By the way,” asks Ruby with even more teasing in her voice. “Was he good?” />
  “Good? You mean . . .” They both giggle as I wait for yet another answer I don’t want to hear. “Put it this way. Five times in one night. The best I’ve ever had.”

  Fuckity fucking fuck. Really? Is this torture necessary? I don’t doubt she’s bullshitting again, yet I still find myself trying to recall if I’ve ever done it five times in one night with Ethan. I think back to the epic night we first got together and convince myself we did it six times.

  The door clanks shut, and I celebrate by removing my shoe and stomping my dead foot on the cold floor. Then I stand up and grind my foot into the floor. Then I pretend the floor is Ethan’s head, and I grind until the feeling eventually returns to my toe.

  11

  “TALK TO ME ABOUT JADINE CLARK.”

  Freja is seated at her desk in the “dungeons” of our building. Her office is painted a cool duck-egg blue, and she’s brightened up her space with sunny yellow accessories: vases, photo frames, pencil tubs and paper trays. Even the box files on her shelves are varying shades of yellow – some plain, some striped, some covered in flowers. I notice a row of plastic Minion figures on a shelf and smile inwardly at the odd choice. She definitely loves all things yellow, that’s for sure. She picks up a yellow mug and takes a sip of coffee, then she places the cup back on her desk with a thud. “How long have you got?”

  I check my watch; it’s after seven. “I’m sorry – I didn’t realise how late it was. I’ll catch you tomorrow.” I start to walk away.

  “Wait,” says Freja, her voice drawn out resignedly. “What has she done?”