Chapter 1 #2
The monstrosity was erected directly behind us, towering over us and wrapping its shiny tendrils around us.
They also bought most of the surrounding area.
Offices for multinationals, apartments for the rich and famous.
We know some movie stars have bought apartments in the building's upper echelons. They certainly don’t want the local women's church choir rocking up in the car park, singing. Which they do every Tuesday. They also don’t want a bunch of unruly kids for indoor futsal and cricket traipsing through on their way here.
Or a load of ladies in cardigans for the knit and natter.
“Oh, look! Paps,” Louise says excitedly. We’ve gotten used to seeing paparazzi outside the building. “I wonder who it is today?” She points down at a couple of people with large cameras.
“God I hope it’s not Carter Maywood again. It’s nearly Christmas. The knit and natterers will have a field day.” We both start to laugh.
It’s become a game of cat and mouse. The knitters peer obsessively into the windows of the building, even infiltrating the security a few times.
Apparently, they bribed the front desk with cake.
Their quarry—Carter Maywood, probably the most famous Hollywood A-lister—barely got out with his trousers intact one winter afternoon when he was drunk and wandered out of the building and into their clutches.
By the time they were done, they had him measured up for a full winter outfit of woollen goodies.
Hats, scarfs, gloves, jumpers… Not sure why Gladys needed his inside leg measurement for that, but she was determined.
Claimed she was branching out into ‘long johns.’
“Do you think you ought to meet him?” Louise muses, watching the paps rush backwards and forwards on the pavement.
“Who, Carter? I think he’s had enough crazy women measuring him up.
I don’t want to add ‘arrested for stalking’ to my LinkedIn profile.
” I start to laugh. “Might get me a few more hits on it though. Maybe a contract or two. They say there’s no such thing as bad publicity.
” I tap my finger to my lips as if I’m considering a plan.
“Not Carter, although I don’t mind joining you in the stalking of him.
I can add him to my favourites for photos.
A little carousel of hot men.” She smirks at me.
“No, I was thinking about Jude Greystone. If you met him it might shut down the incessant calling from his team. I’ll go with you.
I’m sure I can endure half an hour in a nice restaurant with Jude Greystone.
Drinking the best red wine, eating shellfish.
Listening to you tell him that no amount of millions will buy this old decrepit building.
” Louise bats her eyes at me. I just shake my head.
“We can notch it up as our Christmas do?” she adds helpfully. I ignore her.
“There is absolutely no point in my meeting him. I’ve said no, god knows how many times. If I go, he’ll think he can change my mind. Men always do. Hell, he’d probably think I’ve changed my mind and am coming to negotiate a higher price.”
I’ve listened to some podcasts of Jude talking about negotiating techniques. It was cringeworthy with the female presenter egging him on. Embarrassing.
“I don’t want to have to sit through the guru’s playbook.
Listen to his futile attempts to prise me out of the building.
It’s not about the money. It never has been.
” Louise sighs. She knows it. “And besides, he hasn’t offered me anything as yet.
It’s all conjecture and hearsay.” I give her an intense look down my nose. She’s the worst at it.
But she’s undeterred. “I know. We couldn’t have kept going if your family weren’t a set of scoundrels and acquired this building.
” She laughs at my face. I’m shocked, but then I grin.
They were. “Or that your dad obviously did not trust your husband and hadn’t put the building into your name.
Which he kept saying he was going to do.
” She holds her hand to her heart. “I rejoice everyday at the memory of your ex’s face when he finally found out he couldn’t have half of it in the divorce settlement as you didn’t own it. ”
She fist bumps the air. Even eight years on, we take the small wins from back then.
“Then again,” she continues, “when he found out two years ago that your dad had moved it across to you. Yeehaa.” A cheerleader type dance follows.
I think she’s limbering up for boxercise.
It’s quite a sight, a woman in her forties, woollen skirt, winter tights and pink trainers. But she makes me smile.
“Yep, Nigel certainly deserved that,” I say grimly.
“He deserved worse,” she states darkly.
I look back out at the building, sighing. “I'm not going to meet Jude Greystone. But if he carries on ringing us, I’m ringing the police. I’m sure it’s harassment.”
On cue, my mobile rings, and I scowl. An unknown number. I flip the phone to show Louise.
She shrugs. “Your number is on your business card, Em. Answer it. It might be a new business for us.”
She’s right and she knows it. And of course she grins as I answer.
I push a smile into my voice to say, “Good afternoon, Synergy Recruitment. Emma Lincoln speaking.” And the smile dies on my lips when the voice speaks on the other end.
I’ve heard it before. On that bloody podcast. Velvet, smokey.
Sultry even. And low. So low it hits you below the navel and just keeps going south.
Of all the cheek, he’s ringing himself. And on my mobile.
He’s abandoned the landline and the company.
Eschewing all good protocol. Going for the personal touch. Playbook: Chapter One.
“Hi, Emma.”
Emma? Emma! How dare he. We are not on first name terms.
“It’s Jude Greystone, from The Bowman Group. I’m glad I’ve caught you. I hope you had a productive lunch meeting.”
I don’t answer immediately, shocked he’s called in person.
He really must be desperate. And even though I heard his voice on that podcast, to have it saying your name in real life…
Wow. But I can’t let that show. I need to play it cool.
He will not get what he wants. Men like him always do. Well not today, and not by me.
“Hello? Hello, Emma, can you hear me? Sorry, this seems to be a bad line.” He’s so presumptuous.
“Hello, Mr Greystone, Ms Lincoln speaking. How can I help you?” There is no smile in my voice now. It’s as flat as a pancake. But at least I’m civil.
“Oh, fabulous. There you are.” He’s so upbeat, I roll my eyes at his obvious tactics.
I mime a gagging motion towards Lou. She grins at me.
“I was wondering if we could add a date to the diary for a meeting. If we could fit something in before Christmas, that would be great. I’d be happy to come to you.
” And he just keeps talking. I can’t get a word in edgeways.
“I’d really like to discuss your building. And update you on plans for the area.”
I can hear the smile he’s forcing into his voice. It sounds so fake. And what plans for the area? How much more does he own? There’s a small grassland park next door that the kids use in the summer. And it’s also on my deeds. So he can get his greedy eyes and hands off that as well.
“To be honest, Mr Greystone, I’m glad you’ve rung personally.
” I sound so bored, even Louise is giving me pack-it-in vibes and we-need-the-business looks.
I walk back into my office and shut the door.
“My building is not for sale. At any price. So if I could ask you to stop ringing please on that matter. I have told your representatives, and to be honest, it’s starting to feel a little like harassment.
” I’m calm and professional. I don’t want to appear petty, resentful, or slightly jealous, even if I am a little.
“Oh.” He draws in a breath, and I’m not sure if it’s a reaction to the no to the building sale or the harassment accusation.
“Well that is unfortunate.” Still not sure.
“Is it possible for me to take you to lunch to apologise for my overeager staff?” An improvement.
“And I can make my offers in person so you are under no illusion as to the depths of my desire for your building.”
Bombed out! Big time.
“Mr Greystone,” I don't hide the annoyance in my voice, “I’m not meeting you to discuss my building. Full stop.” I stop talking and wait. The power of silence. One of his own mantras. Chapter Four, I think.
We sit in silence for what feels like five minutes, but I bet it's less than five seconds. Then I cave. Drat. Need to practise. “Goodbye, Mr Greystone.”
“Emma? Em—”
I hang up, switching my phone off immediately.