CHAPTER 8
ROBBIE
Even though the sun was shining, the office’s dark tinted windows blocked the light, making the open-plan workspace seem small, like the walls were closing in.
Being at my desk today made me feel more anxious than had become the norm these days. My heart was pounding so hard that my fingers tingled.
The tea I’d had earlier threatened to return as dread surged through my body and settled in my belly.
This wasn’t the first “oh shit” moment I’d had in the last few weeks.
It was, however, the worst one.
And it wasn’t just about the email. I now stared at it as if it were a horror show.
It was everything — the sleepless nights, the grief, the secrets, the livestream I couldn’t stop thinking about. The man on the screen, with eyes that saw too much. The way my body had reacted and my mind hadn’t shut up since.
I felt like I was coming apart in slow motion.
The office was more or less deserted these days, since the company had embraced hybrid working. Not because it was a benefit for the staff, but more like it saved money on running costs.
Today, I was glad to be alone. No one witnessed my meltdown. No one to see what I was sure would be the end of my career.
Clicking on my web-phone app, I dialled Evan’s number and waited until I heard his voice through my earbuds.
“I’m guessing that if you’re calling me from work, then your boss isn’t there?”
Evan’s light-hearted comment was spot on. There was no way I would’ve kept it together if Hew had been sitting at his desk, glaring at me.
“He’s not. And...I’m resigning.”
“What’s that fucker done now?” Evan’s Welsh lilt sounded more pronounced over the phone.
“It’s not really him this time. It’s me. And sort of him. If he’d done his job as my supervisor, then maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad.”
“Robbie, babe, what have I said about being dramatic? Hmmm? That it’s my job. You’re the level-headed one. Now tell Auntie Ev what’s the matter.”
I took a deep breath and stared at Hew’s empty desk before confessing.
“So let me get this straight. You forgot to delete an old report from the template document that went out to the CEO?”
“Yep. That’s about the size of it. If Hew had checked the document beforehand, he could’ve caught the error...”
“But he didn’t bother,” Evan said, finishing my sentence.
“No, he didn’t. That would’ve been too much effort.”
“You’re just going to up and resign over a mistake?”
I imagined his confused expression — the one I’d joked made him look constipated. Except I was far from feeling light-hearted.
The more I thought about my cock-up, the more convinced I was that I had to resign.
Sighing, I tried to explain again.
“It’s not the first time I’ve forgotten to delete an old report. That time it got caught before any real damage was done. There’s no way Hew’s going to stick his neck out for me. He’ll throw me under the bus to save face. I’m resigning before he can fire me.”
My hammering pulse was easing. But the feeling that this was inevitable remained.
“Maybe he won’t. Maybe you’re overreacting?”
I knew Evan meant well. And yes, I had a tendency to over-think things. But my churning gut was telling me otherwise.
Right now, I was one hundred percent sure Hew was trying to save face — by blaming the fuck-up on his incompetent assistant.
Which was me.
Nope, I’d had it with double standards. The company’s manipulative tactics. Their relentless training aimed to mould us into perfect, loyal, unquestioning minions. Using their corporate coercive control.
It was too much.
Pushing my thoughts aside, I answered Ev’s question.
“Maybe. And I might regret it. But...I just can’t swallow any more of this place’s bullshit. It’s choking me. Like the light inside me is dimming a little more each day.”
“Well, that’s descriptive. Not to mention depressing. I’m sorry, babe. I was wishfully thinking things would work out. That you’d stick it out. But I think you’re right — your boss is throwing you to the wolves.”
I missed whatever else Evan was saying as I stared at my computer screen, still showing Hew’s message. The words burned into my memory.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
I could try to smooth things over. Promise it wouldn’t happen again. Grovel...
Some of my colleagues would’ve done exactly that.
But that wasn’t me.
With a few clicks of the cursor, I was opening a draft resignation letter I’d previously saved. With just a few changed words, I pulled the pin on my career and threw the grenade.
I attached the letter to my reply with a brief apology for making Hew look bad — and for the awkward timing. I added a line about hoping to become a full-time author.
Not that my reason for leaving mattered much.
Hitting send, I settled back in my seat and took a deep breath.
Feeling the mental weight I hadn’t realised I’d been carrying fall away.
“I’ve done it. Sent the letter to Hew and copied it to HR.”
“Wow. So that’s it then? How much notice do you have to give?” Evan asked.
“Just one month.”
“WHAT? That can’t be right. Doesn’t your boss have to give six months? At your level, it must be three months!”
I couldn’t stop the smirk that crept across my face.
“Theoretically, it should be three months. Except HR avoided changing my terms.”
“Sounds like they’ve just shot themselves in the foot then.”
Or I’d just shot myself in the foot.
I’d hoped to build up a bit more of a nest egg before going part-time. Now here I was, ditching the day job completely.
Why was I still sitting here when no one else had bothered to come in?
I felt the urge to go home. To be in a safe, quiet place. Somewhere I could face the onslaught of emails and calls I knew would come, asking me to reconsider.
“Ev, I’m going to head off. I’ll see you at home later.”
“No worries. I’ll see you soon. And Rob? Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
I could picture him now — bleached blond hair, tattoos giving him a bad-boy edge in contrast to his boyish good looks.
I wish I had his confidence.
No matter what life threw at him, Ev always seemed to land on his feet. He’d changed jobs more times than I could count. To him, life was an adventure, not just a journey.
Maybe I should take a leaf out of his book.
And just go with it.
Just as I expected, news of my resignation spread quickly.
If I had a pound for every time someone said I was “being brave” by becoming a full-time author, then my money fears would be irrelevant.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they really meant — that I was being reckless.
Part of me got a perverse kick out of surprising them. Knowing full well they’d never take a leap of faith into the unknown.
Normally, I wouldn’t either.
But ever since losing Dad, I’d been questioning why I was holding off from following my dream. Life was too short to keep waiting. Too short to keep hiding.
I didn’t want to be lying on my deathbed regretting that I’d never even tried.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t shitting bricks at the prospect of becoming a starving author.
Did Hew ask me to reconsider? Yes.
Did he try hard to convince me to stay? No. No, he did not.
Did I have any doubts about revealing that he was running his private consultancy projects while shoving his workload onto other members of the team?
Hmm, let me think.
Actually, no. I didn’t want to think anymore.
I’d done far too much of that recently, and I was tired of it.
I needed a ray of sunshine to drive away the dark skies that were becoming a metaphor for my life.
Ugh, I was becoming melodramatic again.
Maybe I have more in common with Oscar Wilde than just my taste in literature.
Which brings me back to the USB, the dogging, the dildo.
And the gay porn.
Part of me wishes I’d never found any of it. That staying in the dark about Dad’s preferences would’ve been easier.
But for whom?
Did it make my life easier? No.
Had it made Dad’s life easier? No, I don’t think so.
For years, he had been hiding in plain sight.
Did I think he was gay?
The jury was still out. But I was leaning more toward bisexuality.
Not just because it would be easier for me to accept, but because of the memories. Talking with Ev about porn reminded me of a time when Dave and I were teenagers.
Dave had found a DVD hidden under the corner unit in the sitting room. We didn’t need to watch it to know what it was. Its hidden location made that obvious.
Still, we fed the disc into the player, eyes glued to the screen.
It was just me and Dave in the house, but we muted the TV anyway — not wanting anyone to overhear the moaning or the dodgy soundtrack.
Really, if I never hear the words “That’s it, baby, suck that dick” again, it’ll be too soon.
It wasn’t just memorable because of the bad acting, the lack of storyline, or the scary haircuts.
It was my reaction. Seeing a naked man going down on a Barbie-lookalike.
My gaze should’ve been on her. But it was fixed on him, on the way his muscles flexed with each thrust.
I couldn’t look away.
A boy doesn’t forget the first time he watches porn...whether it’s straight or anything else.
There was also the time Dave found a box of condoms stuffed under the TV unit.
Whatever Dad’s more recent leanings, back then he was leaning toward women.
Me? What way was I leaning?
Who the hell knows? Not me, apparently.
I was so confused I didn’t know if I was coming or going.
That’s not strictly true.
I knew.
I was coming. A lot, and making a real mess.
I now understood why in all those teenage films, the guys had tube socks scattered on the floor.
That — and the amount of washing I was doing.
Evan had even commented on how much soap powder I was going through. Asking whether I was running a laundry service.
I’d joked it off, saying I’d had an accident, knocking a cup of tea over my sock drawer.
But the knowing smirk on his face and the evil glint in his eye said otherwise.
Whatever.
I’m a guy. I have needs.
And those needs seemed to be centred on my right hand — and the smoulderingly handsome hottie on the USB.