11
Leo was already awake when I opened my eyes the next morning. He was freshly showered and quietly sipping on a coffee in the corner, looking out over the sun-soaked city below. I took him in for a moment, so well put together as always. A huge, loud yawn escaped my mouth, and he quickly put his coffee down and pivoted to observe me lying there staring at him, wrapped in the hotel duvet, which I had pulled up under my chin.
‘Please don’t tell me you’ve already been to the gym,’ I groaned playfully.
He rolled his eyes and gave me a half-smile. ‘I’m not that much of a nerd, just a shower and a coffee.’
We looked at each other in comfortable silence for another second or two. It occurred to me that this moment really should have been awkward. But it wasn’t. Not one bit.
‘Well, good morning,’ I said eventually.
He grinned. ‘Did you sleep okay?’
‘Surprisingly, yes. You?’
‘Well, once I found the hotel earplugs to drown out your snoring, the night improved.’
I shot up defensively. ‘Take that back! I am not a snorer! I sleep silently and beautifully like a Disney princess and you know it!’
‘I admit it. You’re a regular sleeping beauty,’ he replied, as he walked towards the Nespresso machine and popped a pod in. ‘Black coffee okay?’
‘Perfect,’ I replied.
My eyes fell on my fuchsia mini dress, which at some point in the night I’d removed from under my robe. It was now folded on a bench with the Prada brogues placed neatly on the floor below. Definitely not how I had left them. Did this man have an irresponsible bone in his body?
Leo appeared at the edge of the bed, coffee in hand. He took a deep breath in, releasing it with a happy sigh as he handed me the mug. A smile broke out across my face and overflowed into a laugh.
‘So, what do we do now, Alex York?’
‘I suppose we need to talk marriage,’ I mused.
His expression froze and he fell back onto the bed with a laugh. I propped myself up next to him, coffee in hand.
‘Well, fuck. This whole thing is a plot twist I never, ever saw coming.’ I paused. ‘Did you?’ I added seriously.
‘Did I think I’d end up pouring my heart out to you over room service and then having a sleepover? Absolutely not! I blame the whisky. And the tequila! I haven’t let myself relax like that in—’ he sighed ‘—years.’
I took a long sip of my coffee, holding his gaze. ‘Usually I’d make fun of you for calling it a sleepover, but we did have a midnight feast and talk about our crushes, so I suppose it was a sleepover, in the traditional sense.’ He smirked when I said the word ‘crushes’. My God, I wanted to kiss him. But every fibre of my being was telling me it would be a bad idea. I certainly wasn’t going to let my feelings for a man derail my career twice in one year.
‘Better to dip out now while we’re ahead, yeah?’ I murmured.
He exhaled loudly. ‘You’re on the precipice of something huge. Just focus on that.’
I took another sip of coffee. ‘Okay. Friends. No more weirdness. No avoiding each other. Let’s just knuckle down and get this show pumping, yeah?’
‘That sounds great.’ I searched his face, hoping to catch a glimpse of hidden disappointment, but all I saw was relief.
‘Now all that’s left for me to do is rock a solo walk of shame through the hotel lobby wearing the world’s least subtle dress,’ I groaned playfully as I ordered an Uber.
He chuckled. ‘I have a hoodie you can wear, if you like?’
‘That would be perfect, thank you.’
The hoodie was buttery soft, and unbeknownst to Leo I had decided never to return it before I’d even put my arms in. He stared out the window to give me some privacy as I got changed, slipped my shoes on, grabbed my purse and walked towards the door. ‘Bye, friend.’ I called out to him across the room. ‘Promise you won’t go cold on me again?’
Leo crossed his arms and cocked his head as he looked back at me. ‘Bye, friend. I promise.’
Alex York, 9:30 am: I’m in an Uber. I may have woken up next to Leo this morning. No P in V.
Vanessa Blake, 10:00 am: HUH? I thought you guys weren’t talking????
Alex York, 10:01 am: We weren’t. Till we were. Last night was a whole thing. He admitted that he ‘felt something’ that night in London.
Vanessa Blake, 10:01 am: And what did you say?
Alex York, 10:02 am: That I felt it too.
Vanessa Blake, 10:02 am: And then?????
Alex York, 10:03 am: Well, we hugged. And then maybe almost kissed. And then his phone rang. And then we ended up just hanging out all night and talking. And then we fell asleep.
Vanessa Blake, 10:04 am: So what. What’s going on? Do you like him or not?
Alex York, 10:05 am: How I feel is irrelevant. We work together. He’s got a super complicated past. We both decided to just focus on the show. I’m not throwing away my career again over my feelings.
Vanessa Blake, 10:06 am: So you’re just going to pretend last night didn’t happen?
Alex York, 10:06 am: Yep.
Vanessa Blake, 10:07 am: Good plan (not!). You’re surrounded by hot single pop stars all day and you choose to fall in love with your boss. Classic.
Alex York, 10:07 am: I haven’t fallen for him!
Vanessa Blake, 10:08 am: …
Alex York, 10:08 am: ANYWAY! You seeing anyone?
Vanessa Blake, 10:09 am: I’m seeing everyone, baby! I will not be held back!
Alex York, 10:10 am: Why is it always so easy for you?
Vanessa Blake, 10:10 am: Because I’m not a romantic like you. And I never want to get married. Or have kids. Or do any of that boring shit.
Alex York, 10: am: And I do?
Vanessa Blake, 10: am: Yeah, babe. You do.
Alex York, 10:12 am: You’re right. I totally do. Love you xxoxoxo
Vanessa Blake, 10:14 am: Ditto xoxooxo
There’s no guidebook on managing a professional working relationship with someone you keep having random moments of deep and slightly horny emotional connection with in hotel rooms. I would know, because I googled it.
While I knew that our decision to focus on the show was the safe, mature and ultimately correct one, it didn’t stop me from zoning out every now and then and spending a couple of glorious minutes reliving our hotel encounter. I sometimes even found myself doing this while he was in the room, and a couple of times I got the distinct feeling that he was remembering exactly the same thing.
On the Monday after ‘nothing happened’, I gathered the team in a meeting room for our regular post-show debrief. This was usually the time we discussed what worked, what didn’t, and started to get ahead on tomorrow’s show. These meetings traditionally happened slowly while everyone flipped between sharing ideas and sharing funny memes. Occasionally we’d give up and all walk to Starbucks.
Leo and I were the first to arrive, and we watched as one by one the team appeared, clocked Leo’s presence, looked at me with confusion, and hesitantly sat down. Tom walked in last, holding a coffee the size of his head in one hand and a croissant in the other. He held Leo’s gaze, with a look I can only describe as dubious, and slowly sat down, still staring. He dramatically cleared his throat, ensuring all eyes were on him as he slowly sat down.
I stood up. ‘Well, my loves, we have a new addition to the show meeting today as you can see. Leo and I actually thought from here on out he would run these,’ I announced confidently, mustering every bit of believability I could. ‘I think it’ll be great to have another set of ears and eyes on the show, especially someone with a bit of distance from it.’
Hushed silence fell across the room. This was going to be a hard sell. I looked at Leo nervously. He stood up to speak with an air of confidence that seemed as natural to him as breathing.
‘I know what you’re all thinking, and you’re absolutely right. The show sounds great and no one needs the lame boss around—’
A couple of smiles broke out across the room. Leo continued.
‘—and while I may be the lame boss, I’ve been doing this a long time, and in my experience the best teams aren’t the ones that spend their whole lives at work in long meetings. They’re the ones that have full, exciting lives to draw from when they walk into work every day before the sun comes up. So, from now on these meetings will be limited to thirty minutes, but they will be thirty glorious minutes where everyone brings their A-game. I then want to see every one of you out the door by 12:30 pm. Earlier, if possible. That’s what you’re paid for and you all have the ability to get everything you need done in that time frame. If you can’t get it done, then we need to expand the team, not your hours. Does that make sense?’
Tom slurped loudly on his iced coffee, nodding. Everyone else nodded too.
As it turned out, I didn’t love having Leo around just because he smelled good and gave me butterflies occasionally. I loved having him around because he was really fucking good at his job.
As he became more involved in the show day to day, it very soon became clear that within a work setting, he was the ultimate yin to my yang. He had the ability to put legs on my wild ideas, keeping things manageable without losing the magic. The thing that I’d feared most (him getting too involved) had actually turned out to be a godsend.
Leo put Georgia on a leadership fast-track program, teaming her up with a mentor—one of the veteran senior producers upstairs. Her confidence flourished, and her work went from excellent to extraordinary.
Ferg almost instantly started to look younger and healthier as a result of no longer sitting in his dark audio production suite until 3 pm every day, sustained by an apparently limitless supply of Maltesers and energy drinks.
It took me a full week to convince Tom I’d had neither a lobotomy nor sex with Leo, such was his shock and confusion at our new-found chumminess. But he soon believed that we’d simply ‘buried the hatchet’ and began to get on board with Leo’s involvement. It helped that Leo made an extra effort to butter him up with a weekly Starbucks budget and a new part-time junior producer to go and fetch it. His name was Raj, and he was fresh out of radio school and eager to please. He worshipped the ground Tom walked on, which certainly didn’t hurt.
The show sounded better than ever. Tom was happy, I was happy and we were having fun, which shone through on air. Every day it felt like we were making people’s dreams come true. We sent a group of mums who’d been friends since high school to New York to see the Backstreet Boys, revelling in their joy as they called in to the show buzzed on Aperol from the back of a limousine en route to the concert. We broadcast from primary-school talent shows and made a local celebrity out of the school’s maintenance guy, who pulled off an incredible rendition of ‘Halo’ by Beyoncé. Footage of his performance appeared on the news that night, much to his and his family’s delight. It was those kinds of moments that filled me with the sort of satisfaction I’d never experienced at work before.
As per my initial pitch to Leo about the kind of show I wanted to make, every morning at 6 am we got on air with one job and one job only—to bring the joy. We broke the best new music and transported people back in time with the kinds of songs we’d all heard at the clubs back when we used fake IDs. Our DMs were flooded every day with fans of the show, thanking us for helping them transform their stressful mornings into something more manageable. It really felt like we were doing more than just entertaining people; we were reminding them of the joy that still existed in the world, even when bills were due, kids had colds and traffic was a killer.
After our hotel room encounter, Leo and I had a good two weeks of workplace bliss before trouble reared its ugly head in our perfect little radio paradise, and this particular brand of trouble had a name. Darren Chase.
Tom had been a little touchy all week. My sixth sense told me he was having some sort of boy issues, but as usual he was reluctant to share, so I stopped asking and decided just to ride the emotional wave until it was over. There was furious texting, random groaning and a package that arrived on his desk but remained unopened. I spent two days staring at it, desperate to pick away at the wrapping to see what was inside. Death glares ensued. He seemed resolved to let it sit there, like some sort of protest. Whatever this person had done had obviously pissed him off on a monumental level, as his packages were usually opened with much fanfare and sometimes even an Instagram live unboxing.
It was around midday on a Tuesday when Tom came screeching over to my desk, filled with the kind of rage that was generally saved for when somebody had opened a can of tuna or fried an egg on the sandwich press in the staff kitchen. He breathlessly sat down next to me, pulled out his phone and placed it down on the table facing me.
‘Look what I just got sent!’ he cried.
‘Is this the reason you’ve been pissy all week?’ I asked without looking up from my computer.
‘Oh, I’ve put that on pause for now to focus on THIS. LOOK!’ he shrieked.
There on his phone was a photo that had obviously been taken from very far away and possibly from behind a pot plant. It was grainy, but I could just about recognise Darren Chase’s big fat head in the picture deep in conversation with two men. One I didn’t recognise, and one whose face I knew straight away. It was none other than our darling CEO, Mark Holdsworth.
‘What the hell is that peasant doing in a hotel lobby three blocks away, outside of work hours with the CEO?’ Tom hissed. ‘He’s up to something, I just know he is.’
‘When did this happen? Who took this?’
‘Tristan, that hot tech who I’m convinced wants to marry me, was there last night on a date and snapped it for me. Oh and the other guy with them? It’s Darren’s manager.’
‘You really do have spies in every corner of this joint.’
‘Babe, I’ve even got one in the loading dock. Her name is Patty and she smells like Winnie Blues and Red Bull. I slipped her a double pass to P!nk and ever since then she’s been my eyes in the basement. You can never know too much. Anyway, back to more pressing matters. Like what the hell the scumbag that is Darren Chase is cooking up.’
I squinted at the photo, pinching the screen to zoom in.
‘What are they holding in their hands?’
‘I’m pretty sure they’re smoking cigars. Cigars! Old white men smoke cigars when they have something to celebrate!’
My stomach dropped. ‘I’m sure there’s an explanation for him being there that has nothing to do with us. Don’t have a menty b just yet. AirDrop that photo to me and I’ll chat to Leo to see what’s going on.’
I pulled out my phone and shot off a text.
Where are you? Have you got a second?
Darren catching up with Mark wouldn’t be completely out of the ordinary, but the fact that this meeting happened offsite, in the presence of Darren’s manager, told me that Tom may be on to something. Managers only ever came when there was business to discuss.
My phone buzzed.
Just wrapping up with some clients upstairs. Back in ten. All good?
If anything was going on, Leo would know about it. And if I had reason to worry, then I knew he would fix it.
Yep! I’m at my desk. Come find me when you’re back.
He hit me with the classic Leo thumbs-up emoji. I remembered how safe I’d felt that night in his hotel, waking in the dark to his hand resting on my shoulder, his gentle breath on my neck.
My moment of indulgence was interrupted by Tom’s voice a couple of metres away, gossiping with a group of girls, no doubt gathering more intel.
I spent the next ten minutes obsessively clocking the elevator door, waiting for Leo. I wasn’t sure whether I was checking it because I wanted to clear up the whole photo thing or because I just wanted to see him. When he did appear, he quickly scanned the room and rested his gaze on me just long enough to tilt his head slightly towards his office. I promptly stood up from my desk and followed him, mobile phone in hand.
‘Everything okay?’ he asked, closing his office door before dumping his briefcase, notebook and mobile phone on the desk and taking a seat. I passed my phone over, with the picture on full display.
‘This is doing the rounds …’
Leo squinted his eyes, moving the phone closer to his face. ‘When was this taken?’
‘Last night at some hotel across town. The third guy is Darren’s manager. Please tell me I’m crazy to be worried,’ I pleaded.
He closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. ‘I don’t know what is happening in that photo, but I’m willing to bet it’s nothing. Probably. I don’t know.’
‘That doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence. Darren Chase is an absolute arsehole and I don’t want him anywhere near me or my show.’
Leo looked puzzled. ‘What do you think is going on?’
‘I don’t know. But we both know that Mark doesn’t take me very seriously,’ I said, collapsing into the seat across from him.
‘Wait.’ He sat up. ‘You think he’s coming after your job?’
‘Yes! I absolutely do!’
‘Right. Well, if it will make you feel better, I’ll chat to Mark.’
I relaxed a little. ‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’
He leaned back in his chair again, focusing his gaze on me once more. ‘How are you going, anyway?’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘You getting enough sleep? Not too stressed?’
‘Do I sound like I’m tired and stressed on air?’
‘No! You sound like you’re finding your stride, enjoying yourself and making great radio. I’m just doing my due diligence here and making sure you’re okay.’
‘Due diligence as my boss? Or …?’
He narrowed his eyes cheekily at me. ‘Or what?’
I pursed my lips and shrugged. A loaded silence hung in the air. His mouth twitched. Obviously flirting with him was a bad idea and outside the realms of our agreed working relationship, but sometimes I deserved a free pass to indulge in a little playfulness. Perhaps as a way of keeping some sort of a spark alive, just in case we ever wanted to reignite things later. Or maybe I was just a masochist who only ever wanted what I couldn’t (or shouldn’t) have.
Leo’s phone rang (it rang every five minutes, so this was not entirely unexpected), which I took as my cue to go. ‘You take it. I’m gonna head home.’
I swore I noticed a flicker of disappointment in his eyes as I got up to leave, before he snapped back into work mode and checked his phone. ‘Thanks. I’ll chat to Mark. I promise.’
His promise brought some relief. Because that was the thing about Leo. He always made everything okay.
Tom was waiting for me, impatiently tapping his fingers on my desk as though I were a schoolkid late for detention. ‘Well?’ he cried, exasperated.
‘Leo doesn’t think there’s anything in it. He’s going to investigate. He says not to worry.’
Tom made a ‘hmmph’ sound. I wondered if this was going to snap him out of his funk, or if we still had another week of huffing and puffing to endure.
‘Well, that’s good news, I suppose. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to be giving Darren death stares at the Ivy Penthouse tomorrow night.’
‘Ahh, fuck. I completely forgot about that.’
Every now and then, the record labels would organise intimate dinners where some of their up-and-coming artists would perform, usually alongside one of their big internationals, who’d be flown in for the event so everyone could get a good pic for their Instagram (and also to ensure that people would actually come). Tomorrow’s big guest was a ‘surprise’, which could mean one of two things. The first? That it was going to be a letdown. The second? That the artist was so big they didn’t want gatecrashers and therefore needed to keep it under wraps. I was hoping for the second.
There was always amazing food, too much booze and a healthy amount of disdain in the air between competing radio talent. Darren would no doubt appear with some Only Fans model on his arm, and I would spend the whole night avoiding him like the plague.
Tom put his hands on his hips. ‘Well, you’d better unforget about it right now, Alex York, because I sure as hell am not going alone. And if you do go, you need to look amazing. Like, “don’t fuck with me” amazing. Have you got something fierce to wear?’
I stared back at him with disgust.
‘What am I talking about? Of course you have something fierce to wear. I’m sorry. I deserved that.’
I quickly texted my make-up artist lifeline, Carla, hoping she was somehow free at late notice.
What are the chances that you’re free tomorrow to get me ready for 7 pm? I’ll pay you double! Triple! Must look hot! Love you miss you love you!
Three dots appeared straight away.
Needed an excuse to avoid dinner with Nico’s parents. It’s a win-win. See you at six, amiga!