Chapter 3
3
As Priya and I finish up at our adjoining desks, gathering our things and preparing to head downstairs for after-work drinks at our usual bar across the road, I can tell she’s getting excited about our Italy trip – even if it is for work.
‘Oh, I can already taste the pizza,’ Priya says, practically salivating at the thought. ‘And the pasta and the coffee and the gelato – do you think we’ll have to taste things?’
‘I’m sure we will,’ I point out with a chuckle. I’m looking forward to that bit too.
The company we are working with – Come a Casa – is an Italian food brand that specialises in good quality, ready-prepared products. It’s the kind of thing that people like me – i.e. crap in the kitchen – love, because it is restaurant-quality food and snacks, but the most you have to do is heat and/or assemble it. They’re a huge brand in Italy, popular with young, busy people who don’t have the time to spend six hours on their sauce, but want it to taste just like mamma used to make. Now they’re working with us to bring their products to the UK with a big launch and a campaign that will show everyone what they’re about and how great their products are.
‘It’s the perks of the job, right?’ I continue. ‘If going to Italy, eating their food, and making the most of all the culture is going to help enrich what we do – or even if it isn’t – then I’m all for it.’
‘Speaking of the perks of the job,’ Priya starts, lowering her voice as we make our way out of the building, ‘I still don’t get why Rick’s getting married on the trip. It’s so bizarre, right?’
I can’t stop myself laughing as I shake my head in disbelief.
‘Honestly, I think it’s kind of genius,’ I reply. ‘Sneaking a destination wedding into a business trip – essentially making huge parts of the process much cheaper or even free – is like the ultimate scam.’
Priya giggles.
‘You’re right there,’ she replies. ‘But – it’s hard not to wonder – do you think we would even be invited, if we weren’t already there for work?’
‘Absolutely not,’ I say firmly. ‘But, to be honest, do you think we would actually go, if we weren’t already there for work?’
‘God, no!’ she insists. ‘I’ll take the all-expenses-paid trip, sure, but the wedding isn’t exactly something I’m looking forward to.’
‘I mean, it will be interesting, at least?’ I suggest, putting a positive spin on things. ‘I’m sure we can just sit quietly, at the back, and laugh at everything.’
‘So, just like a normal day at work then?’ she replies.
‘Exactly,’ I say, offering her a high-five. ‘Right, come on, I need a drink. I wonder if they have limoncello.’
‘Wine might be the most Italian you can get here,’ Priya replies.
‘Well, when in Rome…’ I joke.
I’ve been loving living and working in central Manchester over the past couple of years. Everything feels so close together – work is right here, all our work haunts are within walking distance, and my apartment is just a five-minute stroll. It’s like living in a little bubble, where everything I need is just a few steps away.
Being in the bubble isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, though. Yes, it’s convenient, but it might actually be a little suffocating too. Well, I never really seem to leave it – unless I’m visiting my parents in Altrincham, but even then, that’s just extending the bubble a little, not exactly leaving it.
The bubble is great, until you start feeling like you’re on the inside, looking out, seeing life pass you by. That’s why I’m so excited for the Italy trip too, because even if it’s for work, and even if I do have to attend my boss’s weird wedding while I’m there, let’s face it, it’s the closest thing I’m going to get to a holiday any time soon. Whatever happens, even if the work part sucks, I’ll be somewhere hot and sunny, with great food, by the sea. I’m determined to make the best of it.
After completing the short journey across the street, we finally make it to the bar. The place is packed this evening, but we manage to claim a table in the corner where the whole team – minus Rick, obviously – can sit together.
‘Shall we wait for the others to arrive before we get drinks?’ Priya suggests.
‘Yeah, okay,’ I reply. ‘They’re only coming from across the road, it’s not like they can be late.’
Priya laughs.
‘You never know…’
The first person to show up is Cait and, if I’m being honest, I’m not entirely sure what to make of her. She’s nice enough – in theory – and I love her style. She’s got this whole cool girl vibe going on, and these big, bouncy natural curls that are seriously enviable. However, she is definitely Liz’s work BFF, so whenever it comes down to it, it’s always Liz’s ideas she likes best, and Liz who she goes to with extra work, and Liz Liz Liz.
She’s closely followed by Henry, who is basically James’s right-hand man/minion. They’re both from London, which they instantly bonded over, and they’re both posh boys; however, the difference is huge. James has a bit of Hugh Grant about him, whereas Henry gives off the air of an heir. Still, Henry practically worships the ground James walks on, which is intense at times. He’s shorter than average (which, honestly, only makes him seem more minion-like) and he has, frankly, the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen – so white that it’s almost distracting.
Finally, the moment we’ve all been waiting for arrives – well, just me, but you take my point. The doors swing open, and in strides James. It’s like something out of a movie, honestly, as the crowd practically parts like the Red Sea to let him through, women nudging their mates to check out the good-looking guy who just walked in, and even the men are giving him that cool-guy nod, simply acknowledging that he’s here.
But then, just as quickly as my smile appears, it is wiped from my face the second I spot Liz catching up to him. My heart sinks as I watch her hook her arm with his, clinging to him as they make their way over to our table together. It’s like a punch to the stomach, seeing them together like that, all chummy and cosy – and the fact that she looks so smugly satisfied that they just arrived together makes it even worse.
I hate that I feel jealous right now – in fact, I need to push those thoughts from my brain, because it’s stupid. Mind over matter, right? There’s nothing to be jealous about; he’s about as into her as he is me, which is not at all.
I slap on my best fake smile to greet them.
After swapping greetings, we all settle into our seats – me, Priya, Liz, James, Cait and Henry, AKA the supposed dream team (although it feels more like a nightmare most of the time).
Suddenly it feels like everyone is waiting with bated breath to hear what brilliant ideas the expert in Italian culture – me, ha! – has to offer. And honestly, I wish I did have something to bring to the table, but the truth is, I’ve got nothing. Potentially less than nothing, actually, because last night it was my mum who chose an ‘Italian’ movie for us, with the goal of giving me something to work with today. However, my mum being my mum, she decided to choose one of her favourite movies – one that she claimed was Italian, and, well, it wasn’t. The film she chose was Captain Corelli’s Mandolin which, fair enough, has Italians in it, but generally speaking it’s actually set in Greece, and being set against a World War II backdrop really didn’t help either.
Typically it’s all I can think about, sitting at the table with a bunch of expectant faces staring at me, when all I’ve got to offer is a surprisingly decent impression of Nicolas Cage’s Italian accent because Tom and I spent the whole movie taking the piss out of it. Nic Cage’s accent was about as Italian as the pizza we ate.
‘How about I get some drinks in?’ I suggest, trying to delay the inevitable – them finding out that I actually have zero good ideas. At this point, buying a round (and taking the financial hit) seems like a more viable option than making a fool of myself in front of everyone. Plus, after a few drinks, the crap ideas that I freestyle might not seem so, well, crap.
After everyone barks their orders at me, I head over to the bar, pushing my way through the crowd.
I sigh heavily as I wait to be served – because this is another fine mess I’ve got myself into.
Leaning on the bar, I try to muster up some enthusiasm as I order our drinks, but it’s a struggle. I’m dreading going back there and making a fool of myself.
‘Wow, you don’t look very happy.’ A deep voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I turn to see a man – a kind of good-looking guy – standing beside me, his dark hair ruffled in a way that suggests he doesn’t spend too much time worrying about appearances – ditto his stubbly beard. But he has kind eyes and a friendly smile.
‘I’m having drinks with work people,’ I say, shrugging it off, letting him know I’m okay.
He chuckles.
‘That’s why I never drink with people from work,’ he tells me. ‘After I’ve had a few, there’s always a danger that I might tell them all what I really think.’
I laugh, feeling a little more at ease in his presence – well, he is still a random man at the bar, even if he is a handsome and funny one.
‘Yeah, I don’t blame you,’ I reply. ‘Perhaps one day I might snap and do the same.’
Before our conversation can go any further, Liz pushes her way between us, her forceful presence immediately putting an end to our vaguely flirty chat.
‘Robin, what’s taking so long?’ she asks, even though it’s been little more than a couple of minutes.
She doesn’t wait for a reply. Without missing a beat, Liz turns her attention to the man beside me, her flirting so blatant it’s almost painful to watch. She’s laying it on seriously thick, batting her eyelashes and flashing a smile, practically dancing on the spot in a blatant attempt to steal his attention away from me.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I pay for our drinks and go to pick up the tray in front of me.
‘I’ll catch you up,’ Liz informs me with a smirk as she snatches up her drink from the tray. Then she turns to the man. ‘Hi, I’m Liz.’
‘Hi, Liz, I’m Max,’ he replies, clearly into it.
Oh, boy. She really can’t let me have anything, can she? The second she sees a guy talking to me and she has to have him for herself.
I make my way back to the table, handing out the drinks before taking my seat back next to Priya.
James raises an eyebrow as he notices Liz chatting up the man at the bar.
‘So, what’s Liz up to?’ James asks curiously, glancing over at her with interest.
I shrug, trying to sound unbothered, but I’m very bothered – bothered by how bothered he seems. Did I mention I was bothered?
‘Talking to a man,’ I reply, keeping my tone casual.
James’s gaze lingers on Liz for a moment longer before returning to me.
‘Anyway, work…’ I start, attempting to steer the conversation away from Liz’s antics. Yep, now I want to talk about work, even though I have nothing to say.
‘Have you heard the rumours?’ Cait asks us all.
‘No, what?’ I reply.
‘Apparently there’s a promotion up for grabs,’ she replies. ‘Maybe something extra – like a pay increase. Julie’s been blabbing. She reckons whoever impresses Rick the most during this Italy pitch might be the deciding factor for him.’
‘At least if we all know, we can call it fair, right,’ Henry points out. ‘But, really, it’s not in our interest to work in big groups, not if we want a clear winner. I suppose we can brainstorm initial ideas, though.’
‘Perhaps we should wait, to talk work, until Liz joins us,’ James suggests, his eyes back in her direction.
‘Erm, yeah, okay,’ I reply.
We fall silent for a second.
‘So, James, are you nervous about the wedding?’ Henry asks James, breaking the silence.
‘What are you, er… are you getting married?’ Priya asks him.
Priya knows that I have a crush on James, and that I’m dying to ask the question myself, so she’s doing me a real solid by asking for me.
James laughs as he shakes his head.
‘No, no,’ he says, suspiciously firmly. ‘I’m part of Rick’s wedding party. I’m actually the best man.’
‘Wow,’ Cait blurts, her eyes widening in disbelief. ‘Does Rick not have any friends or something?’
James feigns offence, but laughs good-naturedly.
‘Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,’ she adds.
‘That’s okay. It is a bit weird,’ James admits. ‘Sort of like the wedding generally. Getting married on a work trip says a lot about Rick. Work is his life, so his life has to fit in with his work.’
I can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Rick, even if he is playing a blinder by combining the two.
‘It’s kind of sad really,’ I say softly.
‘It’s not sad, Robin,’ James quickly insists. ‘It’s an admirable work ethic. In a business like this, that’s the must-have attitude that gets you ahead.’
If combining your wedding with a business trip is a sign of success then perhaps that’s why I don’t feel like I’m getting any further in my career. Maybe I don’t have the drive to succeed, because I can’t think of anything more depressing, but if that’s what it takes then maybe I don’t want it.
‘Guys, looks like we’re going to have to reschedule,’ Liz interrupts us, her new friend in tow. ‘We’re going to grab a bite to eat so I guess I’ll see you all in the meeting tomorrow. Don’t wait up.’
She dashes off as quickly as she appears and it causes a chain reaction. James’s face falls, then my face falls because his does. He is bothered.
‘Perhaps we should finish these and then call it a night,’ James suggests. ‘We can’t talk work without Liz.’
I’m sure that’s not true.
‘Okay, yeah,’ I reply.
I pick up my cocktail and take a huge gulp. Some night this has turned out to be.