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‘Yeah, I see that. But … I guess what I’m asking is, what does Annalise Sherwood want to do with her life thatthisinternship is what’s going to make all the difference?’
‘Now you sound like the guy who interviewed me for this role.’
A dry smirk flits across Lloyd’s mouth. ‘Humour me.’
It would be easy to tell him to bugger off, to snatch up the plate of cake and stalk off with my head held high. I could tell him, again, that I can’t expect Topher Fletcher’s son, CEO-in-training, to understand.
But the chocolate cake tastes a little bitter and after I finally manage to swallow a mouthful, I fidget with my fork for a minute before setting it down. I can’tquite meet Lloyd’s eyes, but imagine he’s still the person he was that first night we met. It was easy to bare my soul to that Lloyd.
I want him to understand so he’ll stop asking – but more than that, I find I simply want totell him.
‘I guess … I guess I don’t know hownotto work hard or give my all to things. And – so my dad’s a teacher, I think I told you that, but he really loves his job. It’s less likeworkfor him and more … purpose, I think? I kind of want to find that. And if I have a good job, that sets me up, you know? Opens doors. Gives me a leg up, or whatever. It means I get to find something like that for myself, if I want. And like I said, I’m a people-pleaser, so, that’s kind of a factor.’
‘What about your mum? She’s … not around much, right?’
‘No,’ I tell Lloyd. ‘She’s not around much. She hasn’t been since I was little. Dad met Gina – my stepmum – not long after though. Mum was … She’s … It’s like life was a series of tick-box exercises, and she had to make sure she got them all. Keep pushing to be the best.’
One of Lloyd’s eyebrows goes up slightly, his mouth tilting with it. ‘Three guesses where you get that from, then.’
‘That’s different.I’mdifferent.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I am. I’m – I don’t want to stomp all over everybody else just so thatIcan succeed. Throw them under the bus while I focus only on myself. I want … I want to do itforother people, if that makes sense. For whoever I am in the future. Whatever family I might have.’
‘Is that what she did with you – threw you under the bus? Why you don’t want to talk to her when she gets in touch?’
‘Remember you told me your mum used to make costumes for you and Will for school plays and stuff? I don’t have those kind of warm, fuzzy memories. Mine never did anything like that. She lived to work, and having a family was … an inconvenience, I guess? Like we could never stack up against her career. That’s how it always felt, anyway. She definitely didn’t fight for custody after she and my dad split up. I barely even got a birthday card on time until recently.’
I say this mostly to the kettle, looking off to the other side of the kitchen and keeping Lloyd only in my periphery. I notice the way his face crumples in sympathy, the judgement there a moment ago easing away in an instant.
‘And besides,’ I confess, before I can talk myself out of saying it out loud, ‘my work ethic is … kind of an escape. I know how sad that sounds, okay? Soyou don’t need to tell me. But if I’m busy with studying or after-school clubs or a job or something, then it’s just … easier, to pretend that’s why people didn’t invite me to do things. You know I said my ex called me cold and unlikeable when we broke up? It’s because Iam. I’ve never been good at making friends. I’m not good at making people like me – but here, I don’t have to be likeable. I just have to do a good job.’
The noise Lloyd lets out is sad and whisper-quiet, something that might be a sigh or might be my name. I keep my gaze far away from him; I don’t need to see the pity on his face, or – worse, that he understands because, deep down, he doesn’tactuallybelieve I’m likeable. Then I square my shoulders, bracing myself before I turn to face him again.
‘So, to answer your question, I don’t know what I want to do with my life, exactly. But I do know I want to give myself all the advantages I can, so I can choose when I’m ready – and working hard is something Icando. Not all of us have that silver-spoon life with the whole world at our feet, swanning around aimlessly in our millionaire father’s offices on ourgap yah.’
Lloyd has the good grace to wince, discomfited. ‘It’s not … exactly a gap year. And I don’tswan around. I’ve got a job to do.’
‘You absolutely do swan around,’ I say, latching on to this excuse to move on from talking about myself. I desperately, desperately do not want to talk about me anymore. ‘And whatjob, exactly? Nobody even knows what you do! You’re always here, there and everywhere, getting stuck into all sorts … You probably have some gimmicky title and a nice big salary, and it’s all an excuse to act like the big man, and go on some ridiculous power trip.’
‘Okay, I’mdefinitelynot on a power trip. And not that it should matter, but I’m not on the payroll, either, and I don’t have some fancy job title.’
‘Then whatdoyou do around here?’
‘Act like the big man, apparently. I must be compensating for something,’ he jokes before laughing at himself, and it’s infectious enough that I crack a smile too. It breaks some of the tension, and I let go of the worry that I’ll be faced with his pity or his judgement from what I just told him about myself. This Lloyd, I feel like I can trust.
Simply curious, now, I ask, ‘Whatareall those papers for, keeping you here so late on a Friday night? Don’t you have, like, I don’t know, plans to lurk in bars spying on your interns?’
‘Oh,ha-ha. My dad’s a big-picture guy, so I … make sure the details don’t fall through the cracks. Keep aneye on things. See that it runs smoothly. Old habits, I guess.’ His smile is wide, his tone flippant, but there’s an undercurrent to his words that I don’t quite understand. Before I get a chance to ask him about it, though, he takes a deep breath and says, ‘So I hear you ran into Will the other day,’ and digs into the cake again, taking a giant mouthful.
Lloyd’s never been shy about throwing his weight around in the office before, though admittedly always with a smile. It’s weird that he’s suddenly avoiding talking about whatever he’s working on right now – but maybe it’s above my pay grade.
‘Yeah. Will seems great. Really friendly.’
Lloyd cuts me a look, laughter dancing in his eyes. ‘Not like me?’
‘Oh, you’re polar opposites for sure.’ There’s a beat, and then I can’t help but ask, as casually as I can, ‘So … did you tell him about us?’
