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Chrissy is a former model and ex-footballer’s wife. That invites a lot of people to make several assumptions. However, she eschewed fame, celebrity and the trappings of “trophy wife” once she realised her husband was having it off with her best friend. Like me, she rebranded, started this business, met her second husband and had two kids. To look at her, you’d think she has it all, but it’s obvious she worked really hard to get here.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” she says, smouldering with confidence. One might even say she looks like the cat who got the cream. “It seems like you enjoy your work here. And a couple of clients have called to say they’ve been really impressed by your professionalism.” I try to grin modestly. “You do have a gentle bedside manner but also know your stuff. I’ve never had anyone join the company who proved themselves so fast.”
“Wow, thanks—”
This is the moment her perfect face should crease, but the botox doesn’t allow that dark look in her eye to spread to the rest of her face.
“I’ve realised Miles’s position here is untenable.”
“Oh?” God, I wasn’t expecting her to say that.
“I had a rather regrettable email from Stacie over the weekend. I’d had to let her go on the basis of what I thought to be several unexplained outbursts towards Miles, but… she hadn’t wanted to get him into trouble. On reflection, she decided she had no choice but to speak out.”
I’m rubbing the space between my eyebrows, when I realise she’s expecting me to say something. This is not how I anticipated the conversation to go.
“I’m sorry to hear she’s been through a terrible time,” I murmur, trying to sound empathetic, even though surely, the signs were there. Weren’t they? “Personally, I didn’t think he seemed the marrying kind, so when a friend of a friend mentioned he had tied the knot… and then when Stacie’s behaviour changed… I wondered.”
Chrissy takes a seat on her side of the desk, her posture strong, but her eyes betraying concern and a little fear. Her hands clasped together, she whispers, “He’s very charming of course and exceptional at his job. His father and my husband play golf. It’s a rather nasty business.”
“I’m not sure why I’m here—” She’s making me nervous, when she started out by saying she was going to cut to the chase, but still doesn’t appear to have got there quite yet.
“Since the arts event last week, I’ve had Miles make several disparaging remarks about your character. Almost as if… well, he’s trying to head you off at the pass.”
Now we get to it. She might have believed him, but for the amount of flattering comments in my favour from clients and my other colleagues…
Therefore, she had cause to think twice.
I’ve got my phone on top of the notebook I brought in with me. I go into the cloud and find the audio file, then we share a knowing expression. Ahead of revealing what I have, I feel an odd sense of shame.
“Before you hear this, I want you to know something. I wasn’t always a suspicious or doubtful person, well… not to the extent I am now.”
Her throat moves as she swallows. “Then you worked with Albie and Sharon and got wise?”
“No, not wise,” I admit, shaking my head. “I got jaded and picked up some bad habits. And that’s probably why I figured him out, because it seemed familiar, and then… well, I wondered how… but it seems it’s been taken out of my hands.”
I play the recording of him begging me to give him another chance, and when she hears what he says about getting pussy off the internet regardless of how many bars or clubs he ends up blocked from, she sucks in a shocked, almost strangled breath.
When it’s finished, I tell her, “He labels women in his phone according to their sexual parts and other attributes he likes to remember them by. He has a particular m.o. where he flatters, then slowly slips sexual language into the conversation. All the while he appears to be a genuine gentleman, holding open doors and buying dinners and drinks.” She’s holding a hand against her heart, because this has the potential to ruin her, if it ever comes out she was aware of what was going on. “He’s a predator, Chrissy. There is no doubt about it. At first, he can seem restrained and sort of distant, but the messages and emails when he’s not getting what he wants can be overwhelming and sort of manipulative. Intense and bullying, even. Mix that in with work stuff, and it’s a potent mix. This is why so many women have been scared to say anything. Their livelihoods are at stake. They’ve also found it hard to believe he’s a dirtbag deep down. He’s so clever and handsome and seems to offer all the excitement they’re missing. But he’s married with a baby due in just a few months.”
She takes several long minutes to absorb what I’ve said, then she’s staring into space when she whispers, “If you can put your skills of diplomacy to good use and get rid of him for us without a scandal, then his job’s yours and you can have the run of this place. I’ll start you on 55K and we’ll include bonuses on top. What do you say?”
A shocked cough leaves me and I sit forward. “I—what?”
“I’m giving you a week to get rid of him for me. By whatever means necessary. One week. Once he’s gone, his job’s yours.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m beyond disgusted that she can’t sort this out herself. Just because of the things I did for Sharon in the past, she thinks I’m not beyond doing those same things for her.
Oh god, and I thought I got away from all that, didn’t I?
Stupid, stupid fool.
“One week?” I ask.
“Yes. Don’t you think you can do it?” she snaps.
I nod my head. “I can do it.”
“Good, now fuck off.”
