Chapter 6
DREW
After the pitch, I return to my desk and sit heavily in my chair. I don’t mind pitching, but I prefer the actual work – scripting, storyboarding, shooting… Pitching is essentially auditioning for your job, over and over. And half the time you get rejected.
But even though we won’t hear until later this week, there’s every chance they’ll go with my concept. When I told them Max Stirling was unofficially attached – pending discussions about scheduling and money – their faces lit up.
Even though Home for the Holidays is an American classic, it was almost as big over here, ranking third in the UK’s most beloved Christmas movies of all time behind Love Actually and The Holiday. The people at Hargreaves know what this could mean for their bottom line.
And hopefully that’s enough to make up for being a couple of minutes late for my pitch. I was texting with Mom and lost track of time.
I look up right as Sophie walks past my cube.
‘Hey, Reid…’
She keeps walking so I get up and follow her into the break room – or the Lounge, as it’s called. As far as break rooms go it’s pretty nice. It’s got a real espresso machine, a fridge and pantry stocked with snacks, tables and chairs, and a couple of sofas.
Although, I hardly ever come in here. I prefer to get out of the office when I need a break.
‘Reid?’
Sophie huffs, then rounds on me. ‘What do you want, Parker?’ she asks.
God, I love how she says my name – Pahka. I think the Australian accent makes her even hotter. And she looks incredible today. I’ve never seen that red dress before and it may be a cliché, but it hugs her curves.
She glares at me through narrowed eyes – hmm, better not mention the dress.
‘I was gonna ask how your pitch went,’ I say, crossing my arms. Her eyes flick down to the left, then to the right. She’s totally checking out my biceps, so I flex, and her eyes shoot up to meet mine. Man, she seems pissed.
Her chin lifts. ‘It went really well, thanks,’ she replies, not even a hint of gratitude in her tone.
‘Good,’ I say. ‘I’d hate for it to be a walkover.’
‘A walk—’ She coughs out a scoffing laugh. ‘You’ve got tickets on yourself, Parker.’
‘I’m not sure I’m familiar with that one,’ I say.
‘Perhaps if you weren’t a halfwit, you could glean the meaning from context.’
I bite my top lip, acknowledging the blow with a nod. ‘Cool, cool, cool. I’ll, er… leave you to it then.’
Slightly stung, I leave before she says anything else.
I’d give anything to know if she’s watching me walk away but if I check, I’ll lose any edge I’ve gained.
That’s assuming this is a competition – the back and forth between us.
Actually, scratch that – I’m not sure what this is.
Usually, it’s fun exchanging barbs with Sophie, but that felt different.
Maybe she really does hate me.
Back at my desk, I try distracting myself by checking email. I delete a bunch – some people will never learn that they don’t need to CC the entire agency on everything – and reply to a handful, but my mind keeps straying back to Sophie.
How will I feel if her concept is chosen over mine? Or Frannie’s for that matter. Although, if it’s Frannie’s, then Sophie and I could potentially drown our sorrows together. Sex is just as effective for that as booze, right?
I scrub my hands over my face. I shouldn’t be entertaining these kinds of thoughts. Sophie’s my colleague and no good can come of seducing her – even if she does want me as much as I want her. I mean, she was checking me out just now. And in my experience lust wins over hate every time.
And that dress should come with a warning label. WARNING: Sophie Reid wearing this dress will induce NSFW thoughts and under-the-desk erections.
Speaking of which… I shift in my seat and adjust my pants.
‘Do you have a sec?’ I look up to find Gen peering over the wall of my cube. Fuck, did she see that?
‘Hey, what’s up?’ I ask breezily.
‘Lorraine said the pitches went well,’ she replies. ‘How do you think you got on?’
‘Yeah, good. And I mean, like she said last week, we’re giving them three strong options, so…’
Gen tilts her head and her mouth twitches. She’s onto me. Gen’s always onto me.
‘I killed it.’
‘Course you did.’
‘It still depends on which direction they want to take.’
‘Mmm.’ She leans closer, dropping her voice. ‘Any idea how you’ll spend the bonus if you land this?’
‘Probably blow it on hookers.’
‘Andrew Parker,’ she says, pretending to be appalled. But I’ve known Gen a long time – I’d doubt anything could shock her for real.
‘I should get back – budget meeting,’ she says. ‘But I wanted to stop by, see how it went…’
‘Always a pleasure, Gen,’ I say, meaning it. I love my sister-in-law.
After she leaves, I fire off a quick message to Max:
Presentation went well – will let you know by Fri
Surprisingly, he replies right away:
Great. But the price has to be right don’t forget *winky face emoji*
‘Oh, I haven’t forgotten,’ I say out loud.
I hope Hargreaves has deep pockets, because hiring Max Stirling will be expensive. I can’t imagine making a million bucks for a couple days’ work. It could be the deciding factor against my campaign. But if they do go for it… It’s not a million, but ￡5000 isn’t nothing.
Last year I invested the bonus – and the year before. If I win the account this year, I should spend it on something more tangible.
If I win the account. It’s probably in the bag, but I’ve taken things for granted in the past and been wrong. Like assuming Caitlyn wouldn’t cheat on me with my best friend, something I discovered less than a month before our wedding. I lost two people I loved that day.
But I don’t want to think about Caitlyn. In fact, Max bringing her up was the first time I’ve given her a second thought in ages. And it took a long time to get to that point. A long time, a move across the Atlantic, and a self-imposed mandate of first dates only.
And now I’m down the Caitlyn-ruined-me-for-love rabbit hole – great. Get that lying cheat out of your head, Parker.
The bonus – focus on that.
I could fly Mom over for Christmas – if I can convince her to leave Aunt Linda, which is unlikely. They’ve lived together since Dad died five years ago. Aunt Linda is divorced – no kids – so it made sense. And they’re close – friends as well as sisters.
They’re super cute together too – sassy and funny, always riffing off each other.
Mom says they’ve hit their bad-girl era – not giving a shit what anybody thinks, doing whatever the hell they like.
In hindsight, I was totally oblivious to the dynamics of my parents’ marriage growing up, but I get the sense that my dad was a dick to my mom.
He certainly was to me and Chris – not sure why it never occurred to me that Mom probably bore the brunt of it.
Maybe I fly Mom and Aunt Linda over for Christmas – two sixty-something bad girls letting loose in London for the holidays.
But my aunt hates to fly, so it will either be convincing Mom to come without her or cajoling Aunt Linda to get on a plane.
I’ll ask Chris what he thinks. I take out my phone to message him, and it chimes with a notification.
I read the message, chuckling to myself. It’s Maisie. She’s only supposed to use her phone for emergencies – and she’s messaged me from school, which is a ‘hell no’ – but I won’t tell Chris and Gen.
I tap on the message.
Hi uncle drew it’s maisie do you want to take me and my friend to the cinnema tomorow to see the smurfs
She’s spelled cinema and tomorrow wrong and there’s zero punctuation or capitalisation – she’s probably typing under her desk like I used to on my ‘emergencies only’ Nokia.
It’s cute, but not cute enough to make me sit through the Smurf movie.
We’ll see. Now put your phone away!
I laugh to myself as the dancing dots appear.
Okay
God, I love that kid.
Maybe I can talk her out of the Smurfs and we can do something that’s actually fun.
I look up from my laptop and press my palms into my eyes as a yawn takes hold.
Dropping my hands, I blink a few times and look around.
It’s dark outside and there are only a few lights on in the office – I’ve lost track of time.
This happens sometimes when I’m in the flow, but I need to get going. I’ve got a date.
I log off and pack up, shrugging on my jacket as I head towards the door. Up ahead, light spills from Sophie’s cube. She’s still here.
Say goodnight or slip out another way?
Fuck it.
‘Hey,’ I say, sticking my head into her cube.
She jumps out of her skin, slamming her hand against her chest.
‘Geez, Parker. Don’t sneak up on people like that.’
‘Sorry, I— You’re here late,’ I say, stating the obvious.
‘Yeah,’ she says, less pissy than she was a moment ago. ‘Trying to get ahead on my other campaigns. You know, in case…’
She trails off, but I know exactly what she means. I was doing the same thing – clearing the deck for working on the Hargreaves campaign.
‘You heading out soon?’ I ask. ‘We can walk to the Tube station together.’
A dozen thoughts flash behind her eyes – all of them unreadable. Right when I think she’ll take me up on my offer, she frowns and shakes her head.
‘Uh, thanks, but I should finish this.’
‘Okay,’ I say, giving her a quick smile. ‘Don’t stay too late, though. You know what they say – all work and no play…’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying I’m boring?’
‘No, I—’ I huff out a sigh. There’s obviously no winning here. ‘Good night, Sophie.’ I turn and stride off before she can reply.
On Friday morning, Lorraine calls a meeting with me, Sophie, and Frannie. This is it – who won the Hargreaves account.
As we wait outside the meeting room, I try to catch Sophie’s eye but she’s ignoring me, and Frannie’s obviously nervous because she hasn’t stopped talking since she arrived – a story about how her dog has a girlfriend he met at the dog park.
I nod and smile because that’s what you do when people talk about their pets. Or kids.