Chapter 1 Andrea #3
I sucked the spoon. “It’s fine,” I said. It wasn’t really, but there wasn’t much else to say. “I think I’ll just take a break from men for a while.”
If I was honest, I wasn’t even that surprised. My pride was just hurt—that was probably all it was.
“Pfft,” James scoffed. “While you do have, shall we say, a type? I don’t think you need to go cold turkey yet. Maybe just think about dating guys with jobs this time. You’re too nice to arseholes.”
“It’s true,” said Eliza. “It’s a thing you do.”
“I clearly make bad choices.” I exhaled and looked at the ceiling. “This is just another one.” If it was hard for them to understand, it was even harder for me.
“I don’t know why you can’t go out with someone normal,” said Eliza, reaching for the tub again.
“Or at least one you don’t have to fake all your orgasms with,” James muttered under his breath. I glared at him.
“Why do they always have to be artsy flakes with man buns? It’s such a cliché.” Eliza shook her head. “You know those guys who pretend to be ‘evolved’ are the least evolved of them all?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be writing an essay about parliamentary sovereignty?
” I frowned at her. Considering Eliza’s own issues with executive function—just remembering to take her lunch into uni was a challenge—she was a fine one to be critiquing my life.
“At least I’m out there. You’re not even dating. ”
“Sure, Andy. One of us has to get a decent degree, I suppose.” She smiled sweetly before turning her head back to the books, and my eyes flicked briefly to the canvas shoved on top of the mantelpiece. I might as well put it away. Seeing it just made me feel bad.
“Says the lady without an income who lives with her big sister,” James said with a curt tut. He turned to me. “Fine art is a proper degree, hon, ignore her. Just because it has nothing to do with your job is irrelevant. At least you are in paid employment.”
“For now,” I replied, the BBC news report flashing back into my mind. “Do you reckon we really will hear who’s bought Novexia tomorrow?”
James nodded. “I do. The crystals have spoken. And now that you’re back on the market, the timing couldn’t be better. We could end up crawling with hot Pfizer alpha dogs who’d climb on you faster than they’d climb the corporate ladder.”
“Hot Pfizer alpha dogs. You don’t often hear those words in combination, do you?” I said thoughtfully.
“You never know, Andy,” replied James. “Earning money like a grown-up doesn’t necessarily have to be a turn-off.”
I dug in for another scoop of ice cream.
“Just what I need in my life. A corporate fuckboy with an ego the size of the Oxo Tower who thinks flashing his expense account makes knickers dissolve. No thanks. I’ll stick to rescue cats and sauvignon for now.”
“Some might say it’s not healthy to adopt men the way you adopt a cat,” said my sister, typing on her laptop without looking up. “You need to stop dragging home men who belong in lost property. How about dating a guy who looks after you for a change?”
“Thanks, Dr. Phil,” I replied with a tight smile. “Please feel free to re-parent my inner child for me when you can slot me between podcasts. I’m well aware—”
Just then, my phone pinged. Someone had sent a message to the sales team’s group chat on WhatsApp. James and I looked at each other. I grabbed the handset and clicked on the message. It was my boss.
Gerald: Heads-up, acquisition details announced at tomorrow’s all-staff. Can’t say more right now, but you’ll want to be early.
“Oh my God, oh my God.” James started fanning himself lightly. “My dream was true. They’re announcing it. Andy, we might be about to lose our jobs.”
“It doesn’t mean that, necessarily,” I said, more calmly than I felt. There was no way I could lose my job now, on top of my boyfriend. I had the mortgage to pay on the flat, not to mention a disabled cat and a flaky sister to take care of. It didn’t bear thinking about.
“Anyway, five minutes ago you were telling me this was the answer to my dating prayers.”
“Please. Whoever it is, let them be hot and not into tattooing their neck with naff hipster artwork,” said Eliza, sounding beyond bored. “I can’t take another professional freeloader with the emotional range of a teaspoon.”
“Imagine,” James said faintly, “they announce we’ve been bought by some sexy Scandi biotech firm, and suddenly, everyone’s wearing minimalist linen and eating rye crackers.”
I stared at the phone, still clutched in my hand. “Whatever it is, Gerald said we should be early, which means either free pastries or a corporate bloodbath. Possibly both.”
“You think they’ll actually axe us?” James made a strangled noise. “What if I have to go back to selling vitamins at Holland & Barrett?”
Eliza stood and stretched. “Well. If you’re both getting fired tomorrow, you might as well mentally prepare for the chaos by ignoring it entirely and watching Married at First Sight with me.”
We all nodded. It was, objectively, the sanest response.
And really, could tomorrow possibly be any worse than today?