5
Unsurprisingly, that night I had the carpark dream. The long and short of it was that I’d be in a carpark, going about my business, and my father would appear, nonchalantly claiming he hadn’t left after all … He’d just been hanging out in the carpark waiting for me. He’d act cool and calm, as if he hadn’t up-ended my family’s whole world and changed the trajectory of our entire lives with one single decision. I’d be shocked and angry and, just before I started yelling at him, I would wake up.
The reason I wasn’t surprised that I’d had the carpark dream was because it usually visited me on momentous occasions. Perhaps a reminder that he would always be missing from every big celebration or commiseration in life. It’s not like I ever really missed him, because he was never really around in the first place, even before he abandoned us for good. But in big life moments, I suppose I missed what I imagined the ‘idea’ of a good father would be, and how it might feel to make him proud. Lucky for me, Mum was generally proud enough for the both of them.
I’d been lying in bed at May’s house, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the dream for a couple of minutes when Leo rang, bang on 9 am. Our phone call was short and to the point. He had my contract and wanted to hand it to me directly. Three hours later I was sitting at a cafe down the road on Bondi Beach, waiting to have my third encounter with this man in as many days. In some sort of power play move, I had pretended I had a busy day and suggested he come to my neck of the woods for a catch-up ‘in between meetings’. There were no such meetings. I suspected he knew there were no such meetings. I committed to the bit anyway.
A taxi pulled up in front of the cafe, and through the rear window I could see a jovial Leo, laughing with the cabbie as he passed his credit card over to the front seat. He didn’t exactly strike me as the type of guy who liked to engage in friendly banter with strangers … or with anyone, to be honest. On the other hand, it was entirely possible that he just didn’t engage in friendly banter with me , which was even more unsettling due to the fact I am the QUEEN of friendly banter.
A minute or so later he stepped out of the cab with an A4-sized envelope under one arm and scanned the cafe. He looked perfectly at home among Bondi’s beautiful people: a sea of long-legged twenty-somethings in Lululemon, topless surfers and middle-aged men with dubious incomes and luxury cars. I’m not sure why I was so surprised that he was once again wearing his uniform, although today his tee was a midnight blue. Same jeans, same shoes, with his hair pulled back into that signature man-bun in a way that looked both messy and neat at the same time.
‘Hello again.’ His tone was polite. The sunshine against his skin illuminated a couple of soft wrinkles around his eyes. On anybody else, I would have called them laugh lines.
I was immediately hit with a scent I couldn’t quite put my finger on; one I had definitely smelled on one of the countless rich and/or famous men with whom I’d spent time over the years.
I went in strong and friendly. ‘Hi Leo! Thanks for coming to my side of town!’
Tom Ford. Tabacco Vanille. Of course. I didn’t know much about him yet, but I did know he had impeccable taste in watches, cocktails and now cologne.
I passed him a menu straight away. I had no desire to let this catch-up extend any longer than it needed to.
‘All good. It’s been a while since I’ve seen an Aussie beach.’ He looked out at the ocean.
‘Oh, right. Where have you been?’
‘In the UK. For the last ten or so years,’ he replied matter-of-factly.
‘So the job brought you home after all that time?’
Leo shuffled around in his chair for a moment, an uneasy look on his face. It was clear he didn’t share my interest in long-winded, highly detailed monologues about one’s personal history.
‘I love living by the water. I swam every day on the island,’ I told him.
‘You didn’t get bored?’ His deep, serious eyes finally made contact with mine, sending a tiny jolt of surprise through me. It was the first question he’d asked me since he sat down, and I couldn’t tell whether his tone was judgemental or just direct.
‘Uh, no, to be honest.’ Heat rose on the back of my neck. I’m not sure if it was shame or embarrassment, but I was suddenly incredibly self-conscious. ‘I’d spent the last four years working my arse off twelve hours a day in a freezing cold studio and was in desperate need of some sunshine. Plus, how could you get bored when the massages cost ten bucks, the rum costs two and the ocean is free? It was paradise.’
Leo’s attention turned to the ocean for a minute, a light breeze sweeping a couple of rogue strands of hair off his face. ‘Well, when you put it like that, it makes perfect sense, I suppose. Coffee?’ I guessed he was just as keen to not drag this out as I was.
‘Almond piccolo, please.’
He walked up to the counter to order and returned a minute later, reaching into the envelope he’d placed on the table and pulling out a pile of papers stapled together.
‘Your contract. I’m assuming you’ve got a lawyer or business manager to look over it in the next forty-eight hours?’
I most definitely had neither of those things. I nodded anyway.
‘I also had Tom’s contract drawn up and delivered it to him at his desk.’ He looked at me, deadpan. ‘He didn’t read a word of it; he just made me take a photo of him signing it for his Instagram and then handed it back.’
This made me chuckle. In turn, Leo followed suit, his face softening, the crinkles around his eyes coming to life. Maybe they were laugh lines after all. I felt my shoulders relax a little.
A young waitress appeared with a tray of coffees. She was universally stunning with legs up to her neck, the kind of cleavage that you only get until you’re twenty, and huge doe eyes that she fixed on Leo as she spoke.
‘I’ve got an almond piccolo and a long black.’
‘The piccolo is mine, thanks,’ I responded, reaching out to give her a hand.
She ignored me, swapped her hands around and placed the long black in front of Leo with the kind of adoration in her eyes that I usually reserve for dogs on the street that I want to pat. I wondered if she’d missed the wedding ring on his finger or just didn’t care.
‘Can I get you anything else?’
‘Alex? Did you want to eat?’ Leo asked.
I shook my head. The waitress widened her enamoured gaze, attempting to illicit a response from a completely oblivious Leo, who instead took a sip of his coffee and quickly checked his phone. She walked away like a lovesick zombie, and even turned to look back at him on her way to the kitchen. Nada. Zip. Nothing. This girl was a sucker for punishment.
‘So, Leo, what exactly is your role going to be in all of this? Like, day to day.’
‘Well, you, Tom and your team will take care of the ins and outs of the show. But I’d like to be in your daily planning meetings at least for the first month, and we’ll need to have weekly check-ins to make sure everything’s on track. And, of course, I’ll be heavily involved over the next couple of weeks as we figure out the DNA of the show. I’ve already got the head of audio mocking up some ideas for the show’s sound and imaging, which we’ll get you across by the end of the week, if you’re interested.’
My stomach dropped. Of course I was interested. This was my bloody show! With my name on it! In what universe would I not care about every single detail? I took a deep breath and counted to five as I attempted to swallow my anger and reply in a manner that didn’t make me sound as murderous as I felt.
‘Leo, I would have liked to brief the audio producer myself.
Or, at the very least, have been part of the conversation.’
He looked genuinely taken aback by my response, uncrossing his legs and re-crossing them on the other side.
‘Right.’ He mused, tapping a finger meditatively on his knee. ‘I can easily CC you in. Any thoughts on everything else?’
I had a thousand thoughts on everything else. Most of which went something along the lines of ‘piss off and leave me and my show alone’ but instead I chose something a little more vague.
‘I’m sure we’ll figure it out as we go.’
And there it was. The first awkward silence. Leo stared back at the ocean and fidgeted with his wedding ring. Why did he always do that? I took another sip of my coffee and did my best to commit to the silence between us. This was an almost impossible task as I never did well in situations where nobody was talking. My job was quite literally to talk into a microphone and avoid silence at all costs. I only had another ten seconds in the tank before I was going to start rambling and truly embarrass myself for the second time this week, so I was thankful when a familiar voice boomed out from halfway across the road.
‘Good morning, my darling heart!’
Aunty May was approaching, dressed in her walking gear. Her brunette locks were up in a short ponytail, held in place by a bright pink visor as she waved happily and took her AirPods out.
‘I missed you at home this morning and wondered where you’d got to! And here you are!’
‘Here I am! May, this is Leo, my new … work colleague. Leo, this is my Aunty May, who I live with.’
May raised her eyebrows and stood back to take him in as he rose from his seat to shake her hand. She looked back at me with a face that was, for lack of a better word, pretty damn horny. Since moving in with May I had discovered that women get to a certain age where they consider themselves exempt from the kind of social norms that deem gawking at somebody with a look on your face that says ‘you should have sex with this one’ as inappropriate.
‘So, Leo, what do you think of our girl so far?’
I prayed for a tsunami to swallow us all whole, wincing apologetically towards Leo.
‘You don’t have to answer that, May is just being a shit-stirrer.’
Leo looked relieved to have been let off the hook, as May giggled heartily.
‘Would you like to join us, May?’ Leo asked politely.
I gave her a look that implied she was most definitely not welcome to join us. She understood and responded accordingly.
‘A lovely offer, Leo, but I’ve got twenty minutes left on this podcast and then a yoga class so I must be off. But I do hope to see more of you in the future. Perhaps you can come over for tea one night? My husband Billy is a chef, which I think is half the reason Alex still lives with us so long after the break-up.’
Again, I prayed for the tsunami as Leo tightened his mouth in order to stifle a smile.
‘Okay, May, off you go. Enjoy yoga. Namaste.’
May, satisfied that an appropriate amount of humiliation had occurred in her short encounter, winked at Leo, gave me a kiss on my forehead then popped her AirPods back in and waved goodbye. We both watched as she walked into the distance, and it was Leo who spoke first.
‘So, you live with your aunty and uncle?’
‘It’s a long story. And to be fair, Billy really is a great cook.’
Leo broke a half-smile, checked his watch and knocked back the last of his long black.
‘Well, you can certainly afford your own place now. You’ve got your contract; take a look and we’ll be in touch in the next day or two. Coffees are all paid for.’
As he stood up, I caught myself noticing the distinct way that his shirt clung to his shoulders, which were surprisingly broad. In the midst of scanning the street for a cab, he glanced back at me. ‘Oh, and by the way, Mark Holdsworth wants to meet you, so expect an email.’
‘The CEO?’ I called back.
A cab appeared on the other side of the road and he lifted his arm into the air to hail it. My gaze fixed itself on his strong bicep as it flexed in the sunshine. I hastily reminded myself that the jury was still out on this dude, and I may still have to hate him. The cab pulled over as he yelled back. ‘Yep! The CEO. Good luck.’
I watched him drive away and realised I was no closer to actually figuring out anything about this man. He didn’t seem to be a complete arsehole, but he also wasn’t exactly warm. Or maybe he was warm to other people and not me. Maybe when he got home he was a perfect, adoring husband who bought his partner flowers and offered up foot massages. Doubtful.
My phone dinged with an SMS notification.
Leo! Wow! Hubba hubba! Xoxo May
Victoria Milligan was a terrifying woman. In her role as executive assistant, she had outlasted four CEOs over a period of twenty years and commanded more power over the staff than all four of those old white men combined. She had short grey cropped hair, fabulous glasses and ran marathons in her spare time. Everything about her was sharp. A sharp memory, a sharp tongue and a sharp sense of style. It took mine and Tom’s keen eye for detail and obsession with French luxury brands to discover that everything this woman wore was outrageously expensive. Hers was the kind of wardrobe that was not just thrown together but ‘expertly curated’ over many years. I worshipped and feared her in equal measure.
An email from Victoria only ever meant one of two things, neither of which were pleasant. Option one was that you’d broken an office rule (I once lit a Dyptique candle that had been sent to me by one of the record labels. The lavender hibiscus scent wafting down the hallway was enough to alert Victoria of the fire safety breach). Option two, however, was one that I’d never had to face. Option two was a meeting with the CEO, and even with forewarning from Leo I was a little unsettled at the thought.
When I arrived outside Mark Holdsworth’s office the next day, Victoria gave me a curt smile as I sank into a chair to wait. My mouth felt dry but my armpits were suddenly swamps. It was absolutely ridiculous that I was sitting there feeling like a naughty schoolgirl. I was the new host of the goddamn breakfast show for goodness sake—I should be sitting there holding my head high. Like Goldie would have been. Instead, I was half expecting Victoria to hold her palm out and ask me to spit out my chewing gum. I wasn’t even chewing any.
A friendly voice boomed from inside the office.
‘Come on in, Alex.’
I pushed open the heavy door and walked through to a huge corner office, with a large mahogany desk in the middle and a spectacular view of Sydney behind. The walls were completely empty and the desk was sparse, apart from a computer and some family photos. A lone Peloton bike sat in the corner. The office was entirely insipid. Mark stood and smiled warmly, pointing to the chair on the other side of the desk. It couldn’t have been more different to Goldie’s office on the same floor—hers was full of colour and light and life. After a polite handshake, I settled in and placed my bag on the floor. I wouldn’t normally place a vintage Louis Vuitton rucksack on any floor, but this carpet looked like it had never been walked on and I decided it was a safe bet.
‘Thanks for stopping by, Alex. I thought it would be a nice idea if we had some face time ahead of the big announcement.’
He was about fifty-five years old, with a head that looked as though it had been shaved at the first sign of balding, which was a decision I respected in a man his age. He wore rimless round spectacles, a crisp white shirt with the top button undone and a slim-fit grey suit jacket. I’d seen him hundreds of times around the building, but never alone and never this close up. If he were a stranger in the street I would think he ran a bank, not an entertainment empire. Although to be fair, I imagined there was a fair bit of boring money stuff involved in the old CEO gig. More boring money stuff than Lady Gaga concerts, at least. I supposed I could forgive him for not looking particularly cool.
‘No worries, my pleasure. I’m glad we’re finally meeting!’ I chirped.
He narrowed his eyes towards me. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?’
His face told me the question was a serious one, to my surprise. He went on, ‘I only ask because I’ve got a twenty-eight-year-old daughter.’
‘Oh, right.’ That made a little more sense. ‘I’m thirty later this year.’
‘Lovely. Hannah is a physiotherapist. She lives in Brisbane with her boyfriend.’ He picked up one of the framed pictures from his desk and passed it over to me, pointing to one of three girls. ‘Three daughters! That’s Abbey next to her, and Harper on the other side.’
It would appear I wasn’t going to be getting the interrogation I’d imagined. Perhaps I should have brought tea and scones.
‘Do you have any siblings, Alex?’
‘Uh, nope. Only child, I’m afraid. I grew up listening to the radio for company, so it makes sense that I ended up here!’
At this point I realised the forced politeness on Mark’s face was perhaps more condescending than kind. Were we actually going to talk business? Or did he want me to draw him a family tree?
‘And where are Mum and Dad?’
Mum and Dad? I shifted awkwardly in my seat. ‘Um. Mum’s in Melbourne and Dad could be anywhere, really. He could be dead for all I know!’
Mark’s eyes grew wide and then flicked from me to the desk. He took the framed photo of his daughters back and returned it to his desk.
‘Right. And how are you feeling about the new job? As you know, it will be lots of pressure.’
I grinned confidently. ‘Yep. Lots of pressure, but I’m certainly up for the challenge and I’m going into this with my eyes wide open. Goldie is my hero and I’ll forever be indebted to her. I’m going to make her proud.’
‘Right. Yes, of course, we all love Goldie,’ Mark said with a disingenuous tone that made me think he didn’t love Goldie at all. ‘Oh, speaking of Goldie, we’ve decided to turn her office into an executive retreat, but you’ll be glad to know you can have your old desk back, which should make settling in nice and easy.’
‘Oh, right. That’s fine,’ I replied. I hadn’t presumed I’d get her office, but now that he’d made a point of letting me know I wouldn’t, I felt a little miffed.
‘Well, Leo tells me the paperwork is all taken care of, and from the sounds of things you’re in very good hands, so if you need anything, you know where to find me.’
One thing was clear. I absolutely would not ever need anything from Mark Holdsworth.
‘Of course. Thanks, Mark.’
I picked up my rucksack and headed for the door, wishing to God I’d chosen a more grown-up bag for the meeting. It had set me back three grand at an exclusive vintage store in Harajuku, but I doubt he knew that. I swung it over my shoulders and felt his eyes burning a hole in my back as I left, with the distinct and unwavering sense that there wasn’t a single bone in Mark Holdsworth’s body that took me seriously.
I walked out the door and past Victoria’s desk, numb and increasingly dejected by the brisk and shallow encounter I’d just had with my new boss.
‘Nice bag, Ms York,’ she whispered under her breath as I passed.
I gave her a grateful look. She mouthed the words ‘chin up’ as she lifted her own chin with her index finger.
I raised my chin and took a deep breath.
She gave me a satisfied nod in return.
As if I hadn’t already had my fill of mediocre white men for the morning, I found myself face-to-face with Darren Chase in line for coffee downstairs not twenty minutes later. My assumption that we were going to simply ignore each other and caffeinate in peace proved to be ill-founded as he collected his iced long black and made a beeline for the corner booth I’d hidden myself in.
‘Are you stalking us now?’ he asked. ‘You’re kinda reminding me of one of those sad girls who hangs outside her ex’s workplace hoping to run into him.’ His face was smug, high on some sort of imagined superiority.
‘Yeah and you’re kinda reminding me of Zac Efron in High School Musical with that hair—go easy on the blow waves, Darren, it’s not 2006.’ I committed the insult to memory word for word, knowing I’d be retelling this story verbatim to Tom later.
He scoffed. ‘I just don’t know how you have the guts to come within a kilometre of this building after your embarrassing little performance. And it was all over what? A break-up?’ He laughed.
‘Yeah, well not all of us have a break-up every eight weeks,’ I snapped back. ‘My boyfriend at the time may have turned out to be an arsehole, but at least he stuck around long enough to learn my middle name, unlike every girl you’ve dated since, well, forever.’ The insults were coming free and easy, presumably due to the fact that I knew I’d already won. That soon he’d find out I was getting his dream gig. If it were anyone else I’d go easy, humble in the knowledge that I had nothing to prove, maybe even feeling a hint of pity. Darren’s attitude, however, was making humility far too hard.
‘You know you could always come and work on my show, Alex. I’ve been saying for weeks we need someone to get coffees …’ He cocked his head to the side, studying me with a look of disdain as he took another sip of his iced long black.
The irony was too much. I downed the last of my piccolo and picked up my rucksack, extricating myself from the booth so that Darren and I were face-to-face.
‘Great. I’ll send my CV to you today. Is your email address still [email protected]?’
Obviously far more used to being insulted than I was, his face didn’t flinch. ‘Gmail is for unemployed bums. I still have my official company email address since, unlike you, I have a job here.’
‘Yes you do, Darren. And you’re soooo very good at it. I can only hope that one day I can climb to such illustrious heights!’ I bellowed, my eyes wide with faux wonder. ‘And now, I must be off. Very important unemployed bum business to take care of, but I might see you around. Sooner than you think, maybe. You never, never know …’
His bottom lip twitched as I gave a dramatic wave and disappeared into the crowd of coffee-hungry office workers.