Page 26 of In the Frame

We can’t get the network up and running, total server meltdown. We’re doing what we can to cover but it’s sensitive and I can’t say more than that

Johan does mysterious things on computers for mysterious people. He’s like a computer whisperer, having a knack for troubleshooting. It’s got to be bad if he has to work through the weekend. God knows if he’s doing IT support for oligarchs with their secret art stashes.

I’m very sorry. I’ll text Caden and Paul to send my regrets

Well, shit. Not only am I missing a suit, but I’m missing my date to help me navigate the wedding as a single person. Johan’s part of our big friend group from Brighton at uni, and we have an agreement to have each other’s backs for events as we can. Except when it’s impossible. Like now.

It’s okay, I understand. It’s not your fault. I’ll figure something out

Double disaster ahead.

By the time I get to my meal break in the early evening, I’m sitting alone in the small break room with a tea and a sandwich, staring at my blank phone. No messages from Richard, who’s probably gone home like any sensible day worker. Unless Florian has him working overtime on something. And speaking of Florian, desperate times call for desperate measures.

I start writing a text.

Hi, it’s Matty again. Just following up on the suit because I need for a wedding this weekend and I’m leaving London tomorrow

Do I tell him that Richard didn’t know anything about it? Probably not. Probably best not to throw Richard under the bus and get on his even worse side. He may be an efficient assistant, but he’s hardly a role model for warm customer service.

And I wait. And wait.

Nothing. Still nothing by the end of my shift, and I sigh. Well, shit.

I mean, I don’t know what I expected. It’s totally fair to be ghosted by a millionaire businessman, right?

Florian’s busy, I tell myself sternly. Possibly counting his money. It’s the rich man’s equivalent of staying in to wash his hair. He doesn’t have time to worry about suits. Florian’s probably forgotten all about it. And me too.

Shit. This means tomorrow morning, I’m going to have to go panic rent a suit from my overdraft, with money I don’t have, at the last minute and dash to Brighton in time to meet my friends. There’s a rehearsal and making sure everything’s ready for the next day. And I’m so far from ready. All I have are my leather dress shoes, and I can’t just show up wearing those. So, into the overdraft I go.

I rub my temples for a moment, put my phone into my pocket, and load the dishwasher before heading back to work.

And my phone stays silent.

Chapter Thirteen

It’s safe to say I was feeling down by the time I left Ivan’s at 11:30, and the cosmopolitan that Kat made for me as we tidied the bar together didn’t help. If anything, it made me more glum, since there had been a couple of cosmos on the tray that landed on Florian that first night we met. Ah, memories. Something’s wrong with me for getting nostalgic over attacking someone with drinks.

I’m still no further ahead on my own flat-share search. Every morning, I look at flat shares, but so far, everything’s either too expensive or too far out. Or should be condemned. I have to keep looking up each London neighborhood to find out some info about it and transport links. I definitely won’t be able to afford to stay in Soho or so central, but I’m hoping for Zone 2 if I can swing it. Even if I sleep in a cupboard aspiring to be a broom closet.

After a shake of my head, I go through the routine of getting ready for bed, and it’s not long before I’m beneath the covers, my phone’s alarm set for early the next morning to get ready for my suit-finding mission. I’ll pack my bags otherwise before I go and be ready to grab it and head straight to the train after.

I’m dozing when my phone buzzes with a message.

Instantly, I bolt upright and seize my phone from the bedside table.

Apologies. I was in a meeting and only saw your message now.

Oh my God, he doesn’t hate me. At least, not overtly, right? Progress. I gulp down air and flop on my pillow, staring at Florian’s text. He’s typing.

Would you happen to have a moment now to talk? I realize it’s late, and you likely won’t see this ’til tomorrow.

I blink. He actually wants to talk to me?

I’m here

Moments later, my phone lights up with an incoming call.

“Hi?” I sound sleepy, even though my heart’s racing.