Chapter Seven
‘Ready?’ Oliver said.
I nodded. ‘Ready.’
He clicked Send and sat back in his seat.
The room was silent; the open-plan office was empty, all phones forwarded to voicemail.
In the cacti-themed auditorium, where Esme and Ajax had briefed the company on developments over a breakfast buffet of fruit (selected by Ajax) and pastries (selected by Esme), I could only imagine what the noise was like.
The excited babbling of over-hyped employees, tempered only by the glum faces of those in the Finance team.
‘We should have done a drum roll or something,’ said Oliver.
I nodded. It seemed strange to be sitting there in the soft, lavender-scented silence while our press release winged its way to a variety of correspondents and news outlets, and mirrored statements appeared simultaneously across Esme and Ajax’s socials.
It had been surprisingly fun to write their announcement.
Olly and I had taken one look at the romantic gobbledegook produced by our respective bosses then each drafted our own versions before sharing and merging them: yes, we were announcing a romance, but we were also announcing a new dating app which Esme and Ajax, in their hyper-excited way, ‘expected to revolutionise the way we form relationships, merging art and love for the first time’.
Olly’s version had been so resolutely formal, almost puritanical in its sparseness, I had felt obliged to add some warmth and sentiment.
I mentioned this to him now.
‘I worked for the Royal Family for a while,’ he said. ‘Army followed by the royal household doesn’t train you in expressing emotion.’
‘I see,’ I said, pressing my diffuser to release another burst of diluted essential oil.
For the last week, my sleep had been patchy.
Not least because eyelid licking seemed to be Pebble’s new favourite hobby.
If aromatherapy couldn’t get me through this charade, I’d have to start chugging herbal sleep remedies.
My make-up felt like the only thing holding me together.
That, and the ribbed Versace shirt dress I was wearing with gold buttons down the front, which I’d got from Vinted for twenty quid because the owner may, or may not, have burned a cigarette through it (I’d neatly darned the hole).
‘You tired?’ Olly said.
‘Fresh as a daisy,’ I batted back serenely.
‘So,’ he said. ‘You’re a cat lady.’
I stuck my middle finger up at him.
‘We’re on those terms already, are we?’ he murmured. ‘You must tell me which finishing school you went to.’
‘We are if you come out with many comments like that, mate,’ I said, putting my glasses on. I liked calling him ‘mate’; it made him wince.
‘But you own a cat, right?’
‘Accidentally, yes. I don’t call you puppy man, do I, even though you bring Pank up at any given opportunity? I mean, I could start, if you wanted?’
‘You’d only embarrass yourself.’
Elbow on the desk, I rested my chin in my hand. ‘I’m immune to embarrassment, Olly.’
He laughed. ‘That, I can believe.’
I had to give him that. He had a great laugh: open, generous. Every time he laughed, I found myself reconsidering the ways I’d pigeonholed him, and struggling not to laugh myself.
‘So, what did you have to cancel today to staff the lurve hotline?’ he said.
I sighed. ‘I was due to have a lovely long content meeting with Esme and the creative team, talking about our strategy for the next six months. I’d been preparing it for weeks…’
‘Nice,’ he said. He’d been twirling backwards and forwards in his office chair in an unexpectedly playful way, smiling as we talked. But now his eyes focused over my shoulder and he sat up. ‘Look,’ he said.
I turned towards the empty office. One by one, the phones were lighting up; the touch screens, then the tiny LED lights that indicated voicemails were being activated. People were calling and leaving messages. We’d caught their attention.
At the same moment our mobiles, side by side on the desk, started vibrating. A friendly pool of journalists had our direct mobile numbers. We nodded at each other, almost imperceptibly.
‘Good luck,’ I said.
‘Same to you, soldier,’ Olly replied.
And we each picked our mobiles up, pressed answer, and started to speak.
I’ll admit it, I slightly enjoyed the intensity of it.
The quickfire questions of interested journalists, the ‘no waaay’ sentiment expressed by pretty much everyone I spoke to.
If I hadn’t felt so sure this whole venture would end in a bin fire, I would have fully embraced it.
Although the fact remained, much as Olly and I tried to lever mention of Chroma into the conversation, people were interested for salacious reasons.
One famous person had got it on with another famous person.
Cue internet memes, opinions and press interest.
Olly and I had decided to stay in my office together in case we needed to consult each other on any difficult questions, but as my team started filtering back into the office after the announcement extravaganza, I went out to check on their mood.
As Sasha passed me, she put her arm around my waist and dropped her cheek onto my shoulder.
I patted her head. ‘So much change,’ she said.
‘This week has been fun, but also… strange.’
‘Strange is one word for it,’ I said, noticing as she walked back to her desk that she was carrying a new notebook with an E & A monogram embossed on it. I saw someone else twirling a monogrammed biro. I took another call which was easily dispatched, then went back into my office.
‘What’s with the merch?’ I said, once Olly had signed off from the call he was on. ‘Notebooks? Pens?’
‘Nothing to do with me,’ he said.
‘They really don’t care about wasting money, do they?’ I opened my mouth to say I thought it was Ajax behind it, then bit my lip. I needed to keep Olly on side. ‘Haven’t they heard of the cost-of-living crisis?’
Jacob appeared in my doorway. His face was pale with fury. ‘That’s it,’ he snapped. ‘I’m done, Lizzy. They charged that whole charade to EKArts.’
I shot a look to my left, and Jacob followed my glance to glare at Olly. ‘You—’ he started.
‘Hold fire.’ Olly stood up, drew himself to full height, and put his hands in his pockets. ‘My colleague, Amber, is our Finance Director, Jacob. It is Jacob, isn’t it? I’m not sure we’ve been formally introduced.’
Jacob folded his arms across his chest. ‘Yes.’
‘Look,’ said Olly, ‘I’m sorry this has happened, but things are in flux at the moment.
I’m taking calls with Lizzy right now to deal with the media, but please call Amber, tell her what’s happened, and say I’ve asked that the costs be moved so the split is fifty-fifty between our two companies. There won’t be a problem.’
Jacob looked both relieved and deflated. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Um… well… thank you. And sorry for, um…’
I swear those words had never left Jacob’s mouth in the whole time I’d known him. Never apologise was one of his mantras.
Olly sat down again. ‘No problem.’
I watched Jacob go. As he passed me, he gave me a look of bewilderment.
‘So you outrank your Finance Director?’ I said.
Olly tilted his head and looked up at me. ‘Of course. Don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well.’ He smiled expansively. ‘We’re equal then, aren’t we, mate?’
Olly and I worked together seamlessly on the remaining enquiries, but then Olly had been calmed by a delivery of pastries.
How the man managed to eat like that and look quite so buff, I had no idea.
As he ate, he twirled a monogrammed biro in his hands, inspecting it.
After everything had been dealt with, we reported back to Esme and Ajax.
Esme looked flushed with excitement, glancing at Ajax’s unreadable expression.
‘So people really are interested?’ she said. ‘In the dating app?’
‘A lot of the questions were about your relationship,’ I said, but Ajax was already cutting me off, sweeping his hand across his beloved’s face and tipping her chin up.
‘I told you, Es,’ he said. ‘Chroma is a winner.’ He turned back to me and Olly. ‘We need a press conference.’
‘Yes,’ said Esme. ‘A press conference. Definitely.’
‘I don’t think that’s necessary,’ I said. ‘It’s not as if we have the full details of the app to share yet – and the word is out about your relationship.’
‘But a press conference nails everything down,’ said Ajax. ‘It makes it official – and if we invite TV, we might even get some airtime.’
‘Exactly,’ said Esme.
There was a moment of silence while I calculated whether this was the hill I was going to die on. Then, with one look at Olly, who was clearly doing the same thing, we silently reached mutual agreement.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘We can do it here.’
They glanced at each other, eyes in the shape of love hearts. ‘I think there’s only one place we want to hold it,’ said Ajax, naming a very luxurious hotel in Central London.
‘Why?’ asked Olly.
‘We’– they gazed at each other, Esme’s voice soft – ‘spent our first night there.’
‘So you didn’t just go to one of your apartments?’ I said. ‘No, wait.’ I put my hand up. ‘I don’t want to know.’
Esme’s eyes flashed. ‘This hotel is the most romantic setting ever. We wanted to begin our love somewhere legendary.’
I managed an eye roll of such epic proportions that Olly choked on the piece of cinnamon whirl he was eating and called an early end to the meeting so arrangements could be made.
‘We’re going to have to work on your face,’ he said, as we walked down the corridor. ‘Seriously. You’re dripping with contempt.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘I’d love to apologise for my Resting Bitch Face, but – oh no, hang on, I wouldn’t.’
‘Chill, armadillo,’ he said. ‘Remember you’re the legendary Lizzy Brinks. Usually you’re like a swan, a millpond, a bloody sheet of ice. I saw you give the press conference when you were representing that footballer.’
He was right. My tiredness had, unusually, upset my composure. ‘I guess my game face has slipped,’ I said. ‘It won’t happen again.’
His eyes twinkled with amusement. ‘How on earth do you do it, by the way?’
I relaxed slightly. ‘An excellent early boss. I’ve never forgotten her advice: be calm, and if you can’t be calm, look calm.’
‘Takes effort though, doesn’t it?’ he said, as the lift doors dinged open and we got in.
We stood there as the doors closed, opposite each other. His gaze was fixed on mine. It felt as though he was trying to read my thoughts.
‘We don’t need to talk about emotions,’ I said, stiffly. I wasn’t getting stuck in that trap: it was a classic manoeuvre which my ex had often made. He was an expert in locating a point of vulnerability and prodding it.
‘Wow. I thought I was the uptight one. You just said “emotions” like it’s a swear word,’ he countered.
‘Maybe it is,’ I snipped. ‘Look, I need a break. Let’s go again in half an hour to write up the press conference speech, yes?’
He shrugged, held up his hands, and stepped out of the lift doors as they opened.
‘And make sure you get yourself a healthy snack,’ I said. ‘Maybe a protein bar?’
As he walked away, he stuck his middle finger up, and I found myself smiling against my will as the lift doors closed in front of me. I carried on smiling all the way to my floor.