Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
EMMA
Present Day
“Iswear, I will murder someone if I don’t get out of here soon.
I need a drink like you wouldn’t believe.
My day has been beyond shitty. No. Scrap that.
It’s been a totally shitty week,” I moaned to my best friend Grace, as I spoke to her on speakerphone while wrestling to get myself into my little black dress in the cubicle of my works toilet.
Thankfully, there was no one else in here.
“The bar is filling up already. Get moving, girl,” she urged with playfulness in her tone.
“I shouldn’t be too long,” I assured her. “I’ve got a taxi booked. It should be here in five minutes, and then I’ll be with you. Order me a gin and tonic.” I blew some stray hairs out of my face as I huffed and wriggled into my dress and then smoothed the silky fabric in place with my hands.
“I’ll make it a double,” she stated, clearly on a mission for tonight. “My week was shitty too. Don’t keep us waiting, Em.”
“Us?” I asked. It was usually just me and Grace whenever we went out. Hearing her say us made my butterflies explode and reform into a swarm of wasps.
“There’s a few of the guys from my office here. I thought we could make a night of it.”
I didn’t really know Grace’s colleagues that well. I’d only met a few of them briefly. And I wasn’t great at being with new people. I hated how awkward I felt in situations where I was outside my comfort zone, and a night with strangers would put me on edge.
I debated telling her I couldn’t make it, something had come up, and sloping off home to put my feet up and watch a Netflix boxset or binge read a good romance novel. But I couldn’t do that to her. I’d made a promise that I’d see her tonight. I couldn’t go back on that.
“Sounds great,” I said, feigning excitement. I wasn’t keen on the extra guests, but it was Friday, and wherever I went with Grace, I knew we’d have a good time.
I assured her again that I’d be there as soon as I could and then said my goodbyes before hanging up.
My working week really had been and always was a shit show. In my job, I spent half the time wishing I could climb the career ladder, that for me seemed to have brittle, breakable steps, or falling back into the shadows to avoid my odious boss.
I’d been a PA for the editor-in-chief at the Merivale Echo newspaper for four years now.
It wasn’t the job I’d dreamed of when I left university with an English Literature degree, but it was work.
It paid the bills. And when I’d accepted the position, they’d assured me there’d be opportunity for growth.
That my degree was what made me stand out during the interview process.
It was why they’d wanted to hire me. I’d told them I was interested in pursuing a career in journalism.
But everything they’d said, all the promises they’d made, they were just empty words.
Paying lip service to a girl with stars in her eyes, but they had no interest in helping me.
They tried to burn out those stars at every opportunity.
Time and time again, I tried to show initiative.
Push myself forward. Give them ideas for leads I’d heard about, stories I could write, but they didn’t listen.
Well, they did, but they listened to serve themselves.
They stole my ideas and took the praise.
So why didn’t I leave?
I’d tried, but finding the right position in this town was tough.
There were few jobs that appealed to me, and none that paid as well as this one.
Rent wasn’t cheap, and in the back of my mind, I still held onto the hope that one day my big break would come.
That by some miracle, I’d grasp the opportunity to prove my worth in a world that was cutthroat and totally dominated by men.
The women above me in the office, who were doing the job I wanted to do, saw me as a threat and treated me as an outsider.
Life was tough at the Merivale Echo, but even tougher working under Stephen Gold’s dictatorship. He was the boss from hell.
I shoved my phone into my purse and picked my rucksack, with my work clothes in, off the cubicle floor.
Then I opened the door and went over to the wash basins to wash my hands and do a final check of my hair and makeup.
My dark brown curls were playing nicely tonight, falling perfectly over my shoulders.
That hardly ever happened, but I’d take it. I didn’t look half bad.
“You’ve got this, Belmont,” I told my reflection in the mirror. Then I straightened my back, strode confidently to the door, and left the bathroom to head to my desk, so I could stow my rucksack underneath it until Monday morning.
“You look nice, love,” Phyllis, the cleaner, told me as she polished the desk opposite mine. “Are you going anywhere special?”
“Just meeting up with a friend,” I replied, as I pushed my rucksack under the desk and wiggled my mouse to check one last time that my computer was switched off.
“Have fun.” She smiled earnestly. “And have a drink for me.”
I bet poor Phyllis wished she could swap places with me. She looked tired, sighing as she leant down to the bin beside her and pulled the plastic bag full of rubbish out.
“I’ll order a double gin just for you,” I said and waved her goodbye as I made my way out of the office, shaking off the shadow that this place held over me, and moving onto the landing.
I pressed the button for the lift, but it was taking forever to arrive, so I decided to take the stairs. It was only five flights down.
Five flights I really wish I hadn’t taken in five-inch heels.
By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs and opened the door to the foyer, I was huffing, sweating, and probably looked like a red-faced hot mess.
I headed to the reception desk, planting my hands on the counter as I asked Leo, the security guy sitting behind it, “Have you seen a taxi pull up?”
“No. Not yet,” he answered, not even bothering to look up from his crossword.
I don’t think Leo would’ve noticed if a flipping parade was dancing down the street; he was so engrossed in what he was doing. So, I pushed myself away from the desk, spun around, and walked towards the large glass doors to peer outside, but there was no taxi waiting.
“Come on,” I cursed under my breath. “Where are you?” As if my whispered annoyance would make the taxi appear quicker. Spoiler, it didn’t.
To kill time, I plonked myself down on the sofas in the reception area and took my phone out, in case I’d received a message to let me know it was running late.
But all I had was a text from Grace with a photo of a glass of pink gin and tonic sitting on the table at the bar.
It looked delicious, with ice cubes and cut strawberries in it, tantalising me from afar.
‘Get here before the ice melts’ she’d written, and I went to type back that I was waiting for my cab, when I heard a familiar voice bellow across the foyer.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
That was Stephen Gold, my not-so-enigmatic boss, hollering down the phone as he strode past Leo, who still had his head bent over his crossword.
Even Mr. Gold’s booming voice couldn’t distract him.
Anger flushed in Mr. Gold’s face as he huffed, the overhang of his belly threatening to bust his trouser belt wide open.
I wasn’t sure that was a sight I particularly wanted to see this evening.
“No one else needs to go,” he carried on barking down the phone. “I’m going alone. End of.”
He ran his hand over his bald head in frustration, eyes narrowed like the snake he was. And I slipped my phone back into my bag and sat back into the sofa, hoping he wouldn’t see me.
“But that’s absurd! Do they know who I am?” he yelled at the person on the other end, making me cringe.
You’re a legend in your own mind; that’s who you are, Mr. Gold.
“I swear to God, Phillip. If this is a fucking wind up...” He threw his head back and huffed, then snapped, “Fine.” He cut the call, clenching his jaw as he glared around the foyer, first at Leo, then at Phyllis, who’d just walked in and was emptying the bin beside the reception desk. And then his eyes fell on me.
“You,” he snapped, pointing his phone at me. “I need you to attend a work event with me this evening. I need to take a plus one.”
“No.” The word tumbled out before I could engage my brain.
“No?” He furrowed his brow and glared back at me. “That wasn’t a request, it was a fucking order!”
“But it’s Friday night, Sir,” I explained, trying to sound a little more professional and not poke the bear and anger him any more than he already was. “I have plans.”
“Then you’ll have to unmake those plans,” he demanded, standing firm, not giving two shits about what I wanted.
Not that he ever did. Stephen Gold had a habit of bulldozing over anyone who got in his way.
I’d bet even his own mother wasn’t exempt from his wrath.
If he ever took the time to visit the poor woman, that is.
He rarely took a day off, unfortunately.
His chubby face was growing redder, and his jowls had started to wobble. He was seconds away from throwing one of his hissy fits that he was so famous for in our office.
“Can’t someone else go?” I ventured, knowing exactly what his answer would be, but I had to try.
“Well, it’s you or her,” he said, nodding over at Phyllis, who was standing frozen to the spot, gawping at us.
“But I don’t think she’s dressed for the occasion in her blue and white gingham, polyester apron, do you?
” I took a breath as he scanned my body, then he turned his nose up and added, “You could’ve worn something less... tacky.”
I gasped. He was so fucking rude.
“I’m dressed to meet my friend. Which I still plan to do. I understand you need someone to accompany you to an event, but there are other people you could ask.”
“No, there isn’t. And I don’t have time for this,” he snapped, irritated that I wasn’t bending to his will. “Everyone has left for the day, and I can’t call Maisie. She won’t answer if I do.”
Maisie was his on-off girlfriend. Long-suffering, some might say, me included.
I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it again, lost for words.
Mr. Gold tilted his head.
“Do you like your job, Miss Bellamy?”
No.
“Yes, and it’s Miss Belmont, actually.” I swallowed, waiting expectantly for what he was about to say next. He never got my name right, even after all these years.
“I should probably rephrase that, Miss Belmont. Do you need this job?”
Yes.
Do you know how much rent costs these days?
I’m one payday away from being up shit creek.
But I didn’t say that, I just nodded.
He folded his arms, regarded me curiously, and added, “You’ve always wanted to better yourself, haven’t you, Emily?
” I didn’t have the energy to correct him yet again and tell him my name was Emma.
“You’ve told me on more than one occasion how eager you are to write a story for the paper.
You said you’d always wanted to be a reporter. ”
I’d always wanted to be a writer, but journalism seemed more attainable, seeing as I was already working for them. What a joke that was turning out to be.
He took my stunned silence for intrigue, so he continued.
“If you come with me this evening, I might be able to secure you a byline on the piece that’s going into the newspaper next week. It might even make the front page.”
I had to admit, that was something I couldn’t turn down, and yet, I didn’t entirely believe him. I’d been let down too many times by his false promises. But I always had hope.
“A byline?” I asked, sitting forward slightly to show my interest. “With my full name? Emma Belmont. I’d get to write a piece for the paper, and you’d give me credit for it?”
“Yes,” he replied, sounding bored. Then he peered outside. “But we’d need to leave now. My limo is waiting, and I need to get this over with.”
Get it over with? That didn’t sound like a front-page, show-stopping event.
But then again, this was the closest I’d come to taking the next step in my career in the whole four years I’d been here. I felt so torn. I hated letting Grace down, but if I didn’t go to this event with Mr. Gold, what would my life be like on Monday morning when I had to face him again?
Would I face him again?
Or would he give me my marching orders and fire me?
I knew I was probably making the shittiest decision for my night, but this time, I was ignoring my gut and letting hope lead the way.
“Fine. I’ll go.”
I stood up, nerves fluttering in my stomach, warning me that I’d just given in way too easily and I had no idea whether it’d pay off.
God, I really hoped it paid off. I couldn’t stand being stagnant in my job for much longer.
Not to mention, I’d just traded in a night with my best friend to spend time with Mr. Gold and a bunch of strangers.
To be on show. It wasn’t my finest hour, but I’d made the decision.
There was no point stressing over what-ifs. This was work. It had to be done.
Mr. Gold didn’t wait for me to walk over to him or offer to hold the door open for me as I hurriedly cancelled my Uber on my phone.
After hearing me agree, he turned his back to me and strode out of the building towards his driver, who was waiting beside his limo.
He left me to trail behind him, juggling my handbag, phone, and the door, as he called over his shoulder, “Don’t make me late, Miss Bellamy.
I’d hate for your career to be over before it’s even started.
” And then he smiled to himself as he added, “What you’re about to see tonight is going to make your hair curl even tighter. ”