Sweet Deception (15 page)

“Helena,” Rex interrupted. “I know how upsetting this is, but try to stay calm—”

She rounded on him. “How can I? Do you know how bad this looks? We'll never have time to come up with anything decent now, so we'll have to ask for an extension, and it's not going to cut it to say that our lazy, apathetic assistant”—I winced at the description of me—“who has no interest in being here, screwed us over. They're a small charity, who've come to us for help, and we're going to look like we don't give a damn about them.”

Before Rex could say anything to this, she turned back to me. Her eyes blazed with such fury and contempt that I automatically took a step back. “Was this your ploy to get sacked from here? Well, congratulations. You're about to get your wish. Because I sure as hell don't want you on my team any longer. And I'm going to tell Richard that now.”

She got up and stormed out before I could say anything else.

There was silence after she'd gone.

I looked over at Rex. I hoped he couldn't see that I was actually physically shaking.

“Overreact much?” I said, trying to turn it into a joke, even though I didn't feel much like laughing.

Rex didn't even crack a smile. He was the softer one, who never lost his cool. But even he looked faintly disapproving. “It was just a project very close to her heart.”

I waited for a fuller explanation, but he just shook his head. That didn't make me feel any better. Even if I did think her reaction was a bit extreme, I hated the thought that I'd upset her like that, simply because of my carelessness.

“Look, don't worry about it,” Rex said, obviously seeing the look on my face. “She'll calm down.”

Somehow that didn't make me feel any better. I crept back out to my desk, and tried to make myself as small as possible.

Half an hour later, Helena returned.

“Richard wants to see you in his office,” she said as she walked past my desk. She didn't even look in my direction.

I wanted to apologise again, but I could see there was no point—she wasn't in the mood to listen to me. And then I wondered,
Why did I feel so bad about this?
When I'd first started at Davenport's, all I'd wanted to do was leave, and find a way to cut my three months short. Now that I'd inadvertently got my ticket out of here, I should be celebrating.
Soon I wouldn't have to think about any of these people again.

I was still feeling defiant when I reached Richard's office. I walked in like I didn't give a damn and flopped into the chair opposite him.

“So.” I leaned back and stretched my hands over the armrests, regarding him with a deliberately bored, defiant expression. “Can you do me a favour and skip the lecture? I know I made a mistake, but whatever Helena thinks, it wasn't deliberate.”

Richard wasn't exactly a shouter, but I'd perhaps expected him to raise his voice and bawl me out. Instead, he regarded me with grave eyes. “There's going to be no lecture,” he said quietly.

That took the wind out of my sails. For a moment I didn't know what to say. I'd been geared up for a fight—I wasn't prepared to deal with anything else. Then I regained my composure. “Oh, right. Then what am I doing here?”

He frowned, as though confused by my response, and I suddenly realised that I was meant to have already figured that out. “I just wanted to tell you that you've got your wish—I'm going to release you from our deal.”

I blinked, momentarily stunned by his words. “Oh, right.” My eyes narrowed suspiciously, certain there must be a catch. “So what does that mean? That you're going to tell my parents about the hospital?”

He sighed. “No, I'm not going to do that. I would never worry them like that.”

“You wouldn't? So—what? This whole thing was just a massive joke to you? Your way of wasting my time?”

“No, Charlotte. Of course not. I wanted you to work here because I hoped . . .” He stopped.

“What?” I prompted.

He studied me for a long moment, and then shook his head. “It doesn't matter. You've made it clear that you don't want to be here, and it's obviously not working out. We're going to arrange for a temp to cover your role, but we can't get anyone until the start of next week, so if you could hang on until Friday, I'd be grateful.”

I waited, somehow expecting there to be more. And then I realised—this was it. There was nothing else to say. I was being dismissed. I got up to leave then, and Richard didn't stop me.

On the way back down to my desk, the significance of what had just happened finally sank in. I'd got my way. Richard was releasing me from our deal. So why didn't I feel happier about it?

*  *  *

I spent the rest of the day trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. I sat quietly at my desk, going through the routine tasks. The door to Helena and Rex's office remained firmly
closed, and they were clearly locked in deep discussion—no doubt trying to find a way to come up with a campaign before they were due to present to the client on Friday. Helena didn't come anywhere near me, and I studiously avoided her.

Guilt was gnawing at me, and I didn't want to feel this way. After all, it wasn't my fault—the screw-up with the meeting hadn't been intentional. And even if I hadn't been the most dedicated employee, that was hardly a surprise, either, was it? After all, I'd never asked for this job. It was Richard who'd forced me to work here, despite my protests. That's who was to blame; not me.

“It's all Richard's fault,” I railed at Lindsay three hours later. I was sitting up at the bar in the Nick, having gone straight there from work. It was early and still quiet, so Lindsay—who was meant to be working—was able to sit and listen to me rant between serving the half dozen other customers. I knew we hadn't been close recently, and that she'd been spending more time with Adrian while I was out a lot with Gavin and anyone else who wanted to party with me. But still, she'd been my best friend for a long time, and I was sure she'd understand. Plus, I didn't exactly have anyone else to confide in.

I took a sip of my beer, and continued my rant against Richard. “None of this would have happened if he hadn't forced me to work for him in the first place. I don't know why he had to stick his nose into my business.”

Lindsay didn't respond. In fact, I suddenly realised that she wasn't looking at me—instead she was busy ripping up a cardboard beer mat. My eyes narrowed as I watched her. “You haven't said much.”

“Haven't I?” She continued tearing.

“Look, I know we had that argument a few weeks ago, but don't you think it's about time you got over it by now. I told you, I didn't mean to mess this meeting up at work. I don't understand why you aren't on my side over this—”

“You really want to know why?” she said suddenly. “Because I'm sick of hearing you bitch about this!” I stared at her, too shocked to respond—which was just as well, because she didn't seem to have any intention of letting me get a word in edgeways. “Even though I've been trying to stay out of your way, I've still had the misfortune of overhearing you drone on about how hard done by you are. It's driving me crazy! All the times you've moaned about Richard—has it never occurred to you that he's actually trying to do you a favour? He saw you were going off the rails, and he cared enough to try to intervene. God!” She shook her head in exasperation, her pink spikes moving with the force. “Do you know how fortunate you are to have someone looking out for you the way he is? You're one lucky girl, yet all you can do is complain.”

“Yeah?” I said, once I'd finally recovered enough to respond. “Well, I didn't ask for his help, and I don't remember
asking for your opinion, either. I've had a shit day, and I came here for some sympathy tonight from the person I thought was my best friend. But all you can do is attack me.”

I looked round the bar. My eyes settled on Gavin, who was there with a group of guys I vaguely knew. Without another word to Lindsay, I slid from the stool.

Lindsay had obviously guessed what I was planning. “Charlie, don't do this—” she said as I walked over to where they were sitting, but I ignored her.

I dropped into a seat next to the guys. They turned to look at me, and I flashed a broad smile, ever the party girl. “So what are we drinking, boys?”

*  *  *

“Drink! Drink! Drink!”

It was an hour later, and the group was chanting at a skinny guy, Joe, who had just lost out on the drinking game again. I joined in, but my heart wasn't in it. Even though I wanted to forget what Lindsay had said earlier, her words kept going through my mind. Was she right? All this time, I'd been obsessed with the idea that Richard was interfering in my life. I'd never really considered that he'd been trying to help me, at great expense to himself. The realisation left me feeling confused and disturbed.

They all drained their pints. “Hey.” Gavin nudged me, and nodded down at my untouched drink. “What's up with you?”

“I'm not feeling great.”

“Yeah?” He didn't look like he was about to ask more details. This wasn't the kind of relationship where you shared intimate details of your life. “We're off to Inhibition. You coming?”

Inhibition was a nightclub I'd been meaning to get to. Usually, I'd have agreed without a second thought. But for the first time in a long while, I hesitated. I was always the party girl, the one who wanted to stay out longer, drink more. It had never occurred to me to feel guilty about it.

“Not this time. I've got an early morning.”

He just shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He rose with the others, and the guys headed off. I looked down at my half-finished beer. I really wasn't interested in drinking it. The mix-up today hadn't been deliberate, but I still felt guilty. Not just about that, but about the way I'd behaved since Richard had given me the job. Maybe his methods had been a bit barbaric, but now I could see that his heart had been in the right place.

Lindsay was still working at the bar, so I headed home on my own. I'd planned to go straight to bed, but the events of the day were still swirling around in my head. So I made myself some tea, and brought it into my room, intending to read. But instead, as I sat up in bed, I took out a notepad and began to jot down everything I remembered about the
PURE client brief. I then thought back to the discussions I'd overheard between Helena and Rex, about the feel that they wanted for the campaign.

Half an hour of brainstorming later, I dug out an old sketchpad and began to draw.

I worked through most of the night, sketching ideas for a print ad for the PURE campaign. By three in the morning, I had something that I was happy with, so I decided to get some sleep.

I set my alarm for six thirty, and was up, showered and dressed in twenty minutes. I didn't have time to think much about what I was wearing, so I grabbed a pair of fitted black trousers and a black T-shirt. I also didn't have time for make-up or to style my hair, so I went bare-faced for a change, and pulled my platinum frizz back into a ponytail. It was a much more conservative look than normal. I needed something to carry the storyboard in, so I rummaged in the back of my wardrobe and took out my black portfolio case—the one I'd used for my art lessons at school and when I went to college. I hadn't taken it out for nearly six years, since I'd dropped out of art school.

I got to my desk just before eight, the earliest I'd ever been in. Helena and Rex were already there. Even though the door to their office was firmly closed, I could hear them brainstorming inside. I dumped my bag on the floor, and slipped my coat off, playing for time.

I looked down at my black portfolio case. I'd been excited about showing them my work, but now I was here I suddenly felt nervous. Just because I thought I'd done a good job, it didn't mean they would. And Helena had been so furious with me last night . . . it suddenly occurred to me she might not even agree to look at my drawings. In some ways it would be easier just to stay quiet, and keep my head down, rather than putting myself out there and trying to make amends.

But that would be the coward's way out. I'd gone to the trouble of putting this together, I might as well show it to them.

I picked up my portfolio case, and walked over with a determination I didn't feel and knocked once on the door. Through the glass I saw both Helena and Rex look up. Neither of them seemed especially happy to see me. Helena said something I couldn't hear, but I presumed it was something derogatory about me. Rex allowed himself a smirk, and then he straightened his face, and called for me to come in.

“Whatever it is, can it wait?” Rex said brusquely as I
opened the door. They'd obviously decided it was best if he did the talking. “We're in the middle of something.”

“Yes.” Helena's voice was like ice. “We're trying to work out what the hell we're going to pitch to the client on Friday so we don't look like a couple of idiots. Because right now, we've got nothing.”

I flinched at that. I caught Rex shooting her a look, frowning at her and shaking his head a little. Obviously he'd suggested it was best not to engage with me. Helena just shrugged back—as if to say, I'm not pussy-footing around to make this idiot feel better. I can't say I blamed her.

I looked between them, shrinking a little under Helena's expression of contempt. Even the usually playful Rex seemed cool towards me. It would be easier just to turn and walk out of here, and keep a low profile until I finished up at the end of the week. And perhaps I would have done just that if all I wanted was their forgiveness, because I knew I didn't really deserve that. But I realised now, standing here, that forgiveness had never been the point. I had no chance of winning their respect, but I did feel what I had put together could help them with their campaign. Maybe it wasn't perfect, but I could always amend it for their suggestions. Perhaps they'd even reject my idea outright—but if I didn't show them now, then I'd never know. It would be better to risk the rejection. After all, at this stage, what did I have to lose?