‘So?’ Matt asks. ‘How was your first day?’
I stare blankly ahead as I take a long swig from my Budweiser.
‘That bad, eh?’
I take a second swig and place my bottle on the coffee table with a thunk. ‘If Satan ran a law firm, it would be this one.’
Matt doesn’t look surprised at this news in the slightest. ‘Yeah, I’d heard they can be a tad merciless. Their billing hours are notoriously high but—’
‘Information that might have been useful before today, mate. . .’
‘But they’re successful!’ he insists, trying to make me feel better. ‘Remember Felix Thingamajigwho started with us at Kensington? He worked there before he went solo. Made more in bonuses than he did on salary.’
‘Didn’t he get disbarred?’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘Well, temps don’t get bonuses,’ I inform him. ‘I’m only contracted to work 9am–6pm but apparentlyshowing initiativeandgoing the extra milegoes a long way towards not being quickly replaced by someone else.’
Matt scrunches up his face but remains silent. We both understand that this a terrible working practice, but we also know that this is the world we chose to work in. At Kensington, we’d pull all-nighters, competing with other associates in order to get head pats from senior staff.
‘Fuck it,’ I say, attacking my beer again. ‘I’ll tell Greta to keep looking for other opportunities, maybe something better will come up.’
‘I hear Build-A-Bear are hiring. . .’
‘Up yours,’ I reply, while secretly thinking that it’s not a bad idea. ‘Anyway, I’m off to bed.’
Matt says goodnight while I slump off to the bathroom to wash the very long day off. If I can survive working with screaming children, I’m almost certain I can handle a few cantankerous lawyers.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Is this dress too “meh” for a wedding? Or is it too weird? Maybe it’s too weird. I don’t want people to be all “hey, there’s Matt’s girlfriend, the thrift shop weirdo”.’
I laugh as Sarah stands in front of the mirror, pinching at the fabric on her bluey-green dress. I personally think she looks beautiful. Classy, even. Hot. I remove my gaze and continue knotting my tie.
Matt’s girlfriend. Not yours. You don’t care how she looks. Play it down.
‘It’s definitely a look,’ I tell her. ‘You remind me of a retro peacock.’
She looks appalled.
‘No, I mean the colours! And the way the skirt poofs out. You look fine!’
‘I should change.’
‘No time. We should have left twenty minutes ago. Greta will end me if I’m late.’
As neither of us are particularly flush we choose to get the Underground, feeling decidedly overdressed as we take a seat in a carriage filled with Adidas and skinny-jean wearers. Sarah sits beside me and begins smoothing down her hair. I quietly chuckle.
‘Flyaway hairs are nothing to laugh at,’ she informs me, grinning. ‘My ability to frizz at any given moment is legendary.’
‘I wasn’t laughing at you!’ I reply. ‘You just remind me of a woman who works in my office, Kim. She gently pets the top of her head constantly like it’s a show dog.’
‘I feel her pain. How’s work going, anyway? Matt says they’re all savages in that place.’
I laugh. ‘In our industry, it’s widespread, not just in my office. Let’s just say, I’ve quickly become reacclimatised to finding loopholes and making rich people’s lives easier. Kensington Fox wasn’t any more virtuous; it just had more natural light.’
‘I still think you’re meant for greater things,’ Sarah says, rummaging through her bag. She brings out her phone and checks the screen. ‘I should probably text Brandon’s mum, shouldn’t I? Make sure Alfie’s OK.’
