The Reboot

Chapter 1

Perched on the edge of a squashy yellow sofa in the reception area of Citizens of the Wild, Ella tried to relax and look like she could belong here.

But she’d felt dowdy, out of place and behind the times the moment she’d walked through the glass doors of the warehouse-like Temple Bar building.

She’d been greeted by a pretty, young, black girl who’d introduced herself as Kerry and waved Ella to a seat, before disappearing up a spiral staircase at one side of the room.

Left alone in the vast empty space, Ella took in her surroundings as she tried to steady her nerves.

Exposed pipework painted in primary colours stood out against bare brick walls, and oversized bean bags dotted around among neon-bright soft furnishings made it feel more like a soft play centre than the offices of a start-up techwear company.

The walls were adorned with framed photographs of good-looking people snowboarding down mountains and hanging onto sheer cliff faces by their fingernails, which did nothing to put her at ease.

On the coffee table in front of her there was a pile of magazines dedicated to various dangerous-looking outdoor activities.

‘Ella?’

She looked up at Kerry, crossing the floor towards her with a friendly smile. ‘They’re ready to see you now. Follow me.’

Too late to run now, she thought, as she followed Kerry towards the staircase.

Kerry was wearing a wide-legged scarlet jumpsuit that set off her glowing dark skin, a pair of chunky trainers, and lots of statement jewellery that clinked and jangled as she walked.

Ella immediately regretted the Marks & Spencer suit she’d bought at the local charity shop, which had seemed like such a brilliant find at the time.

At the top of the stairs, Kerry led her through a bright-red door across the landing, and Ella had the fleeting thought that she might need to invest in sunglasses if she got the job here.

They walked into a small lounge area with a pair of sofas facing each other across a low coffee table.

Two young guys stood as they entered, one tall, angular and greyhound-lean with sharp, pointed features and wire-rimmed glasses, the other broad and stocky with a shock of white-blond hair and an open, friendly face.

Ella made a conscious effort to smile and maintain eye contact as Kerry introduced them, keeping her handshake firm.

Jake was cool, arty and beautiful – pale-skinned and dark-haired, with soulful brown eyes, hollow cheeks and a full, pouty mouth.

Dylan was a boyishly handsome boy next door, exuding an air of energy and outdoorsy good health that she supposed spoke to their brand.

They were both dressed casually, but with obvious intent – the kind of look that Ella admired, but could never pull off.

Her casual look had a ‘whatever was on top of the linen basket’ vibe, whereas they looked ready for a trendy menswear photoshoot in skinny chinos and sharp jackets, topped off with thoughtful accessories.

She suspected the devil was in the detail, and she tended to forget little touches like the tiny gold cross dangling from one of Jake’s ears or the silver and black leather bracelets wrapped around Dylan’s wrist.

It’s your first interview, she told herself as Kerry left the room and she took a seat on the couch opposite Jake and Dylan. You don’t have to get the job. Just look on it as practice.

‘Would you like a coffee? Or tea?’ Dylan waved to a drinks station in the corner.

‘No, thanks.’ She was gasping for a coffee, but she was twitchy enough already. She’d barely slept last night.

It started off okay. Jake and Dylan were ostentatiously relaxed and friendly, clearly intent on keeping it casual and putting her at ease.

‘So, Ella,’ Jake said, after some preliminary chat about the weather. ‘Do you know anything about what we do here?’

‘Yes!’ She pounced on the question eagerly, glad that she’d done her homework, and all the time she’d spent researching the company online hadn’t been in vain.

‘I know you started up just over a year ago with a crowd-funder for the Heatsmart jacket, and you exceeded your initial campaign target by over 200 per cent. You achieved profitability in your first year and have increased revenue in the first quarter of this year by almost 50 per cent.’

‘Wow! Impressive!’ Dylan grinned.

‘It really is. Most companies don’t make a profit at all in their first year, so—’

‘I meant your knowledge of the company. But we do sound the shizz when you put it like that.’

‘She knows more about our financials than you do,’ Jake said to Dylan. ‘You’re fired, mate.’

‘If we can afford to lose anyone around here, it’s you.’ Dylan turned to Ella. ‘He’s all style and no substance.’

‘Seriously, bro, get your coat.’ Jake clapped Dylan on the shoulder. ‘It’s been great working with you, but we always knew this day would come.’

Ella smiled politely, hoping this exchange would end soon and they’d get on with the interview.

She appreciated they were trying to make her comfortable, including her in their little private jokes and banter.

But somehow their chumminess just had the opposite effect, knocking her off balance and only adding to her tension.

She’d prepared for a formal grilling about her skills and experience, not a cosy chat with a couple of guys who seemed more interested in charming her than finding out anything about her qualifications or employment history.

‘Save yourself!’ Dylan stage-whispered to Ella, shielding his mouth with his hand. ‘There’s no loyalty in this company.’

‘You said it yourself,’ Jake said to Dylan. ‘I’m the whole reason our stuff looks so good. Sure, our jackets are technically superior to everything else out there—’

Ella nodded, grateful once again for her research. ‘Lightest, most advanced heat-sensitive technology, longest battery life…’

‘And made from mostly recycled materials, don’t forget,’ Dylan added.

‘The Heatsmart is state of the art,’ Jake said. ‘But it’s not just about functionality. Our jackets have become desirable fashion items in their own right.’

Ella wondered did people really care what they looked like when they were abseiling down a cliff face or spelunking around a dark cave. She wasn’t likely to ever find out. ‘And you’re branching out now into urban techwear,’ she said to show she knew her stuff.

Jake nodded. ‘It’s a big emerging market, and we’re perfectly placed to be at the forefront of that. We’re developing our range at the moment, and we’re putting as much focus on design as functionality. There’ll be no compromise on either, no sacrificing comfort for style, or vice versa.’

‘We’ll have our first collection ready to show at London Fashion Week next year,’ Dylan told her.

‘That’s very exciting!’

‘So, Ella. Enough about us.’ Jake picked up her CV from the coffee table and Ella felt herself tense as his eyes skimmed over it.

It was thin – skimpy even. But that was okay, wasn’t it?

All the advice she’d read said to keep it short and snappy.

Nobody cared about your school grades or part-time college jobs by the time you were thirty.

These days it was all about your gig economy experience – the zero-hour contracts and innovative side-hustles you’d cobbled together – and she’d had plenty of those over the last few years, albeit sporadically.

She’d resisted the urge to pad her CV out with irrelevant skills and achievements that would only draw attention to her lack of solid hands-on work experience.

A slight frown of concentration drew Jake’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows together as he scanned over the CV. He turned the page over quickly, checking there was nothing on the other side. But no. That was it.

‘You graduated with a first from Trinity. Impressive.’ He leaned back against the sofa and gave her a relaxed smile.

‘You’re certainly the most qualified candidate we’ve seen,’ Dylan said.

She knew the reality, though. She may have the highest academic qualifications, but she couldn’t imagine they’d had any applicant with a sketchier employment history.

‘You took a couple of years out after college.’ Jake’s eyes flicked over the page again. ‘And you’ve done a lot of freelance gigs. You’ve always worked remotely?’

She nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Were you travelling?’ Dylan asked. ‘Doing the whole digital nomad thing?’

Oh, the irony! She’d been whatever the opposite of a digital nomad was – a digital stick-in-the-mud?

But he was offering her an out, and for a moment she was tempted to accept it.

She could just say yes. They didn’t need to know all the gory details, did they?

But she didn’t want to start off on the back foot if she did somehow end up working here.

Besides, she had nothing to be ashamed of. Why should she hide it?

‘No.’ She cleared her throat and smoothed her unwrinkled skirt. ‘I was meant to be starting a PhD, but I got sick and had to drop out of college.’

Jake raised his eyebrows, waiting for more.

Remember what Mum said – picture him in his pants.

Unfortunately, that didn’t make him any less intimidating, because when she pictured Jake in his pants, he looked like an underwear model, all washboard abs and ripped muscles.

She could see him posing in designer boxers on one of those arty black and white posters, cuddling a baby to his perfectly sculpted pecs. Yeah, that wasn’t helpful at all.

‘I had M.E.,’ she said.

Dylan’s eyebrows shot up, and then he frowned. He was trying to figure out which one that was, she could tell, his eyes wary as they flicked to her. Then he half-turned to Jake. ‘M.E.? Is that—?’

‘Chronic Fatigue Syndrome,’ she said, putting him out of his misery.

‘Ah, right,’ Dylan said, relief softening his features. ‘Didn’t your aunt have that?’ he murmured to Jake.

Jake grinned. ‘Nah, my aunt was just a slacker.’

Ella clenched her fists, trying to remain calm.