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Who the fuck knows?
All I know is, that everything he says from now on, is going to be screenshotted and filed away.
Chapter Four
The first few days back are always a lethargic nightmare. Trying to get back into the swing of answering inane emails with a smile on one’s face, then think of new, fresh, exciting ideas. All while you’re still carrying around half a pound of mince pies in the bottom of your gut.
I manage to get away with telling him I’m swamped catching up after the holidays, and he leaves me alone for a bit, before he comes striding into the account manager area late afternoon on Wednesday, clearly signalling to me he wants to talk. The kitchen door is just behind my desk so I give it a minute before joining him. It’d look too obvious otherwise.
I’m about to take my cup in there and refresh myself, when a woman about the same age as me comes storming past. Her pace and fury even disturbs my neatly straightened hair and there’s almost a gust as she flings the kitchen door open. It’s a heavy fire door with a retracting frame so the fact she made it touch the wall with a slight crack tells me all I need to know.
There are raised voices inside the kitchen for around three minutes, then she comes storming out, stomping across the office space in her towering patent-red Mary Janes like a woman possessed. I barely have time to process it, but her thick blonde hair is securely pinned to her head in a tight chignon, she’s wearing a glamorous pencil skirt and polka dot silk blouse, plus she smells pretty good, too. Miles leaves a minute later and strides past me slowly, but without looking over his shoulder at me, his left hand buried conspicuously and deeply inside his trouser pocket.
My colleague Daisie looks across the space between us with a raised brow, the other two who share our four-person desk unit still on holiday, having added on extra leave. Thank God I didn’t do that—or I’d have missed this.
“Stupid fire door, we didn’t hear a thing!” Daisie titters, glowing with curiosity.
“She was so mad. It seems like it was more than just a work grievance.”
There is nobody else nearby but Daisie still leans forward and whispers, “She’s called Stacie and she works upstairs with them lot. Think she’s his PA. If not his PA, then Chrissy’s. Maybe they share her. Anyway, yeah, what they were both doing down here… who the bloody hell knows? They ought to save it for after work.”
I gulp and have to work hard at hiding my revulsion. “Weird, whatever that was.”
She raises one eyebrow. “I wouldn’t rule out a workplace romance gone wrong. He’s meant to have shagged loads of lasses in this place. For a moment, we all wondered if you were next. When you kept making coffee together.” She waits for my reaction, but doesn’t get anything from me except a slight shake of the head and a grimace. “Seems we were wrong. Stacie’s seen through him, no doubt. Good on her.”
I wonder if Stacie just found out he recently got married.
So how long will it be before everyone else finds out?
Five minutes pass and I’m still trying to focus on work, yet magnificently failing at it, when he opens a thread on Teams and messages me.
She really didn’t like it when I said her work needed improvement. What you gon’ do? Sorry to have missed you. Really wanted to arrange our next meet. M x
Making a mental note to screenshot all of this later, in its entirety, I tell myself to keep it professional.
She seemed in an awful mood x
In order to hide the fact I’m messaging someone, I pick up a sheaf of papers from the top of my in-tray and start rummaging through, as though I’m looking for something work-related.
I’m reading his reply at the same time as I’m shuffling papers, feeling like one beady eye is on me at all times.
So, when can we meet?♥
I pretend to be checking something on paper against something on my screen, and then send a short reply back, as if I’m notetaking.
I’m not sure. My old BF came back into town. We’re sort of, maybe, thinking of getting back together. Happened rather suddenly @ NY x
Daisie starts to get up from her desk with her mug. She usually washes it out at about this time of the day. She leaves at 3.30 so she can collect her kid from her mother’s at four.
I minimise the chat box and hide it behind a load of other open windows. I’ve got a document open with notes in it relating to an upcoming book launch. I’ve been throwing around ideas to present to the author and Chrissy. It’s going to be interesting going upstairs for that. The presentation is tomorrow.
Daisie does her best to leave the kitchen as slowly as possible, and spends a second or two staring over my shoulder (I’m sure) before she puts her clean mug in her top drawer, then grabs her bag and coat to leave.
“Text me if any more drama happens,” she says, winking.
I grin wildly. “Oh, I sure will do.”
Once I’m sure she’s gone, I go back into the Teams thread. He’s been busy typing out several messages in the intervening minutes.
