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He pulled up outside the apartment. “When you’re ready to let me help you, I’ll be there.”
“Don’t you worry, he’ll chew you up as well.”
Tom looked at her over the top of his sunglasses. “Bryan has a voodoo doll. I’m assuming it will eventually do its job.”
“I’m serious.”
“He can’t live forever.”
She pressed her lips together hard. “You think I should’ve tried to wait him out. Wait you out.”
He shook his head. “I think you should live your life, little sister, and quit worrying about what anyone else thinks.”
She got out and watched him pull away. In time maybe she’d feel like contacting him, for now, he was part of the world she’d been rejected by and had abandoned right back.
There was a note from Jay under her door. He’d gone to the US, a sudden trip to deal with some investment gone bad. She could call him, but it would be better to have any kind of order in her life before she did, somewhere new to live at least.
She went inside. On the kitchen counter she’d left her accounts. Most of her savings had gone to the marathon victims’ fund. That was another reason not to call Jay, he’d insist on refunding them; in covering her contribution himself.
It seemed right that money she’d accumulated from Wentworth had gone to help people who needed it more. If she sold her company shares she’d have enough to live on for a year or two, maybe longer if she was careful.
And she might need to be careful. She knew it would take a year, longer to get another job at the same level, another job she would feel as connected to, as fired up about. It would take longer if she wanted to move industries and that might become essential if Malcolm did decide to play dirty.
The two headhunters she’d spoken to both suggested she should study or travel, do volunteer work, use the time to show an employer she’d profited in other ways from not having a paying job. That was the thing to do. She’d look at some courses, maybe take an adventure holiday, Jay might have ideas about volunteering.
But first she had to pack up. Find somewhere new to live. Shake the panic that had settled in her stomach, heavy like dread, roiling like a storm cloud.
Despite the size of the apartment there wasn’t much to pack: clothes, shoes, books and papers. All the furniture belonged here. She could take the coffee machine but since it’d been plumbed, she’d need a plumber to get it out. She could take the frozen meals but she’d need a freezer to put them in.
The biggest issue was the canvases. This was the ideal time to throw them out, or simply leave them for Wentworth’s people to deal with. That was the easiest thing to do. Close the door, walk away from all of her failures in one grand gesture.
She stood in the room and looked at the slashed canvas and knew that was a cowardly way out. They were her possessions; it was her responsibility to do something about them.
The room was a mess. It’d never been tidy, but after Mace had moved things around, there seemed more to deal with. Too many decisions to make about what to throw out, what to keep. So much easier to make no decision at all. She’d just made the biggest one of her life and her decision-making muscle was strained to breaking point, all shuddery and weak.
She flicked the sheet off the canvas on the easel. Mace had asked what she was running from. So many ways she could’ve answered that: a mother who’d left her, a family who didn’t love her, a childhood that was fractured, a man she’d cared for who’d hurt her. She’d painted it after she’d thrown Brent out; after she’d forgiven herself for giving him a second chance.
But it was none of those things and it was all of them, glued together in a rough-edged mosaic. She’d avoided answering Mace because the real answer was too painful to deal with.
She was running from herself.
21: Call Me
Fronting at Jacinta’s apartment was too forward, too stalker like, it had stand by to be humiliated spray-painted all over it. Mace nixed that idea despite the appeal of the chance to be face to face with her.
Email was less confronting, but it was also a sucking quicksand and Mace didn’t have the written dexterity not to end up blubbering in it. On the other hand, phone was a suffocating jungle of tangled innuendo and he was leery of cutting through it without his tongue tripping him up and ending things with Jacinta before they began again.
It hardly mattered which way he jumped, because Jacinta’s assistant would likely catch both curveballs before Jacinta got a chance to. That meant email was out. There was no legitimate reason for Mace to send Jacinta an email, especially now he wasn’t a Wentworth employee, and tipping off her assistant to anything personal between them was
a bad algorithm. That left phone. What he really needed was her direct line so together with the power of the hang-up, he could stalk her without her assistant ever knowing.
The hack was probably illegal, but technically not even a hack. It wasn’t his fault IT hadn’t removed his login and password from the employee intranet. For a second he contemplated mucking with it, demoting Malcolm to the mailroom. Tempting, but he had other things to do. He got Jacinta’s direct line and if he called it early morning or late at night she might answer. If she didn’t, he’d hang up and try again till he got her.
The first night he tried he got Jacinta’s voicemail, her assistant’s voice on the machine. He hit the end call button so hard he almost dropped the new handset into a packing box full of Buster’s books. The same thing happened the next night.
On the third night, he got voicemail, but a different voice, a new name. He dialled again with the rough hope he’d misdialled. He’d reached the message bank of John Newton, credit control manager, please leave a message after the tone. Either a glitch or her number had been reallocated. Did she have other stalky one night stands ringing and hanging up on her? He hit the employee intranet, still accepting his details, what losers. He typed her name. He got nothing. Had to be a glitch. He typed in just the surname and up popped Malcolm, Tom and some guy in a branch office called Nigel. No Jacinta.
He typed in Jacinta and got two hits. None of them Wentworths or the company COO. Shit. What was going on here? He typed in personal assistant to Jacinta Wentworth and got Melanie Blasko.
