EIGHT
“You said yes.” Tola blinked at me. “Without even talking to us?”
“There were extenuating circumstances,” I said, pushing down my guilt as I clicked the kettle and got out our usual mugs. She sat on the office kitchen counter even though she’d been told not to hundreds of times.
Eric leaned next to her, and they shared a look. That Aly’s being weird again look.
I hated that look.
“Which are . . . ?”
“Personal.” I closed the cupboard firmly and focused on spooning coffee, measuring it carefully. Anything to avoid looking at them. Tola’s lime-green fingernails tapped the cupboard door.
I should have been more prepared with my plan. I was the Fixer Upper, after all; I should be able to use this situation to my advantage.
But if I told them about the money, I had to tell them about why I needed it. I’d have to explain that all the energy I’d spent on fixing men was nothing compared to the lifetime I’d spent trying to fix my parents. And they’d look at me in the way people did when you opened up your chest and let them see your fragile heart—Oh, that’s why you’re like this, of course.
Only one person knew how my parents were, and ridiculously, that was Dylan. He’d helped forge apology notes, calculate “accidental” meetings, cook dinner when she was too sad to eat. He’d seen it all. And now if I could fix him, I could fix them for good.
Eric looked at me. “We’re sure it’s not just that Aly wants to get back at the boy she fancied when she was a teenager?”
I raised an eyebrow at Tola. “Thanks for that.”
“He’s our business partner! He had to know some of the situation!”
I put my hands down on the counter and prepared myself to argue.
“Look, you wanted a challenge, right? Well, here it is, right before us. The biggest challenge we could have asked for. So let’s prove we’re the best. That we can do this.” I tried to rally go, team enthusiasm, but they knew it was a front.
They were waiting for more, and I panicked. “She offered us more money.” I paused. “Twenty grand.” I sang the number jokily, trying to lure them in like I was in my gingerbread house waving lollipops, and hating myself for the deceit. “Split three ways?”
Eric let out a low whistle. “Nice chunk of change there . . .”
He looked hopeful, but Tola was unconvinced. She frowned at me, narrowing her eyes. “She doubled her offer. And you’re interested? You said it was manipulative and ridiculous and . . . kind of gross. It’s your friend.”
“My ex-friend,” I corrected. “And sure, it feels a little . . . icky. But that’s just because of Nicki’s personality. When she called back, she was much more vulnerable. Is it really so different from the other women we’ve helped coax proposals for? To how people pretend to be completely different for the first month of a relationship until that good behavior wears off?” I argued.
“Yes,” Tola said, “absolutely.”
“Of course it is,” Eric added. He tilted his head in concern. “What’s going on with you?”
I shrugged, irritated, as I poured the hot water and stirred each drink more aggressively than I needed to. “I don’t know what to tell you. I need to do this. So if you don’t want to be involved, that’s fine. But I’m in.”
Tola clenched her hands in front of her face like she wanted to strangle me. “One of these days I’m going to crack your head open and see what the hell is happening in there. Because something isn’t right.” You’re telling me.
“But what with it being such a huge task, I could really use your help with this . . .” I tried smiling, wheedling just a little, fluttering my eyelashes. Make them laugh; as long as I could make them laugh it would be fine. I handed them their coffee cups, all innocent and full of hope.
“Oh, now she bothers to turn on the charm.” Eric rolled his eyes, taking his rainbow mug, his one nod to his sexuality in the office, where everything else remained lad jokes and banter.
“Please?” I pouted, widening my eyes, looking between the two of them. “We are going to turn Dylan James into her dream boyfriend and prime him for a proposal. I know him, and we can absolutely do this.”
“Ah, the opposite of a fairy godmother. That poor guy.”
“Believe me,” I said, “Dylan’s a pleaser, he’ll appreciate the direction.”
“From a woman he couldn’t even make direct eye contact with?” Tola raised an eyebrow. “Come on, now.”
I had to redirect her. It wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about Dylan. It was about keeping Mama’s house. About not letting my father win, again.
“You keep saying we’re thinking too small, right? So let’s think big. At the end of this experiment, we’ll have a girl with a TV deal, a guy with a successful company, and a proposal on the way! We already know we can do it when the stakes are lower. Let’s see how far we can take this thing!”
Tola and Eric looked at each other. There we go. They knew that we could do this. They knew that I hadn’t been fired up about something outside of work in years. Whilst they ran their team-meeting-bingo betting ring and went to Disney-themed spin classes, I was here, working late, proving my worth.
And now I was begging them to try something risky with me.
“Come on.” I grinned, wiggling my eyebrows, my final attempt. “Aren’t you at least intrigued that I’m the one suggesting we take a chance? Me. The responsible one.”
“That’s what scares me,” Tola snorted, and held up her coffee cup in a toast, waiting for us to raise our own. “Okay, babe, let’s work some magic.”
—
The next day, I took the afternoon off from work and strode into the reception of Dylan’s office space, wearing my power jacket and my favorite black boots with the metal studs all over them. Tola called them “punky stegosaurus” and they were one of the few items of clothing of mine she deemed interesting.
I knew I had to break him down quickly, before he had a chance to say no. My hope was that he would really want to please his girlfriend (true to form) or that he’d admit that he really did need the help (much more unlikely). The third option, that he actually might be curious enough to want me around, didn’t even merit consideration.
He was renting a painfully modern office space by the river, one of those places where young, start-up hipsters tried to claw back the fees in fancy coffee and free pastries, whilst looking out over the city and dreaming of success. It had energy, and it wasn’t surprising he’d chosen it. Dylan loved the look of things. He’d always wanted the fancy gyms and the attractive bars. He wanted the good life. He’d fit in with Nicki’s life just fine.
Of course, he hadn’t been shallow when we were teenagers, he was just hungry for experiences and places and people. He lived in a gray house with a former soldier who wanted routine, structure, and diligence. There was no space for color or frivolity in Dylan’s home life.
I remembered when we were applying for our university courses I asked him to dream of his future life, and he said, “We’re eating steak and lobster in a super-fancy restaurant, and I just bought a fifty-quid bottle of wine and no one thinks we’re out of place at all.”
“That’s it?” I replied, amused, but secretly thrilled that I was in this future he’d dreamed up. “Money?”
He wrinkled his nose. “No. Fitting in. Having adventures. Tasting everything! Money just makes that happen. It’s gonna be great!”
And now he didn’t even need money for that, he had Nicki. Maybe my nudges would be a gift to him, offering him a life of fitting in with beautiful people in fabulous places. All the adventures he could ask for.
When I exited the lift on the second floor, a young guy with horn-rimmed glasses and slicked-back blond hair was waiting for me, eyebrows raised, ready to impress.
“Hello, there! Apparently you’re here for EasterEgg Development! We rarely get unexpected visitors! Can I help?”
“Well, I sure hope so!” I smiled at the gatekeeper. I had my power shoes and my orange-red lipstick. I was a force of nature, and no one was going to stop me. “I’m here to see Dylan James.”
The guy frowned slightly. “Is that right?”
I beamed at him and held out my hand. When you can’t get them with force, get them with enthusiasm.
“I’m Aly. I’m a business and branding consultant hired by Miss Wetherington-Smythe. I’m here to help you guys prep for the presentation at the end of the month.”
The man’s face changed immediately, and he looked suddenly young, reaching out to take my hand and shaking it vigorously. “Well, hallelujah. We need you, desperately. I’m Ben.”
“A pleasure.” I was taken aback by how quickly he warmed up. “You work with Mr. James?”
He nodded. “I was one of the first to join the team. Dylan’s a brilliant ideas man and he wants the best for all of us, but . . . if we don’t get this investment, I’m going to have to go back to bartending, and honestly all the booze is terrible for my skin.”
I frowned at him. “You’re a bartender who’s allergic to booze?”
“No, I’m a bartender who has to drink to deal with how stupid drunk people are.” He grinned, leading me toward the office.
Maybe that was my in: if his team wanted me around, Dylan’d have to keep me, I was sure of it.
“Ben”—I put a hand on his arm to slow him down before we entered the room—“Dylan is not likely to be happy to see me. He kind of rejected my services when Nicki offered before. How, in your eyes, can I get him to accept my help?”
Ben took a second to think about it. “Dyl is everyone’s best friend; he’ll take your advice if he thinks it’ll make you happy to give it.” Ben shrugged, and I nodded. That sounded about right. “But I think deep down he knows he needs help. He knows that if we don’t do this, we’re toast. We’ve already come back from the dead once. We joke that we’re phoenixes.”
“Phoenixes?”
He nodded. “But our wings are a bit singed right now, you know? Can’t take another house fire. Hell, can’t even take another back-garden barbecue.” He gripped my hand and looked into my eyes. “I am very relieved you’re here. Normally Nicki’s pushiness is unbearable, but this is exactly what we needed. Honestly, I’d send her a gift basket, but it would just get lost among all the other free crap she gets.”
I laughed. Clearly Ben was the person who knew everything here.
As he turned toward the office, he threw a look over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t let him charm you into thinking we don’t need help.”
“Believe me, he has no intention of charming me.”
Ben frowned, but shrugged and walked through the door, into a small room with a couple of desks. The walls were floor-to-ceiling glass with a lovely view of a crisp gray London skyline, but something didn’t add up. The motivational posters framed on the walls, the expensive watch on Dylan’s wrist. The number of fancy computers when there were only three people in there.
They were dressing up in their dad’s suit and pretending this was a real business. And God knew how much they’d spent on this facade. Oh, Dylan, what have you done?
He sat with his back to us, hunched over a laptop, whilst a dark-haired woman sat opposite, typing away at speed, headphones on and apparently completely unbothered by his huffing.
He was at least in jeans and a T-shirt this time, so apparently he was just playing “successful businessman” for his girlfriend. Interesting. I could see the stress in the line of his shoulders. Panic had just started to set in, and I was about to trigger an avalanche. And a small part of me—a tiny, insignificant splinter—wanted to see him panic, so I could be the one who had all the answers. Just like old times. Try forgetting me now, Dylan.
“Hey, Dyl, you’ve got a guest.”
He turned and for a beautiful moment his face showed only shock, before it morphed into displeasure.
“Aly,” he started, frowning at me as he stood.
“Oh, you do remember,” I said brightly. “I wasn’t sure I’d made such a good first impression the other night.” You wanted to play this game, Dyl, you’ve got it.
But he didn’t want to play. “What are you doing here?”
I shrugged, walking across the room to put down my bag. “Nicki said you needed help. She has acquired my services for you. So I’m here to help.”
He laughed, sharp and unpleasant, as he crossed his arms, leaning back against the table. “No way.”
I caught Ben’s jaw drop and watched as the woman at the table looked between us. Apparently they hadn’t seen their boss be rude before. I could well believe it. When he found out his mum had died, he waited until he was safely at home, with no one to see him, to cry. Even at thirteen he didn’t give anything away. He’d let me squeeze his hand in the car ride home, though. But the Dylan in front of me wasn’t my one-time confidant, he was a project. One who was going to make my life very difficult.
“So you’re willing to risk your chance at investment and make life harder for yourself because . . . you don’t want to accept help from your girlfriend?” I tilted my head slightly, daring him to break eye contact. “I wonder how your colleagues feel about that?”
“You can’t just come in here and start telling me what to do—it’s not . . .” It’s not like we’re at school anymore. Go on, say it, Dylan.
“It’s not what, Mr. James?” I smiled politely, daring him to break.
“It’s not appropriate, Miss Aresti.”
Ben looked between us, eyes widening. He shared a look with the woman on the other side of the table, who had taken her headphones off to listen to the conversation and seemed to be struggling to hide her laughter. She ran a hand through her shoulder-length black hair, untangling it from the silver hoops in her ears, and then fiddled with her nose ring as she watched us both. I noted the delicate black and white line tattoos forming a sleeve on her arm and had that brief pang I sometimes had where I desperately wanted to make friends with someone who seemed oh-so cool.
“This is Priya,” Ben said, “our other team member.”
Priya nodded at me, the curve of her mouth shifting as if she found everything just a little too amusing. I felt like she was rooting for me.
“It’s just you three?” I asked, confirming my suspicions. “Your website . . .”
“Needs updating,” Ben said quickly, and I watched as two embarrassed red patches appeared on Dylan’s cheeks. He’d lost staff along the way. A fair few, depending on when that website was set up.
He looked desperate, his dark hair mussed up and almost falling into his eyes from where he’d been running his fingers through it. There was a few days’ shadow around his jaw. Perfectly undone and in need of someone to come and fix it all for him. He tugged at the neck of his white T-shirt like it was strangling him.
“Look, either you’re willing to accept help from an expert, or you’re willing to jeopardize the livelihoods of your team members.” I shrugged, turning toward the door. “I’ll go get myself a coffee. Come and get me when you’ve decided.”
It was a power move, but the best way to get the decision you wanted from someone was to give them the tools to make it. Dylan didn’t want Nicki’s help. He certainly didn’t want my help. But did he hate me more than he loved his company? I had to hope not.
I caught Ben’s impressed look, like he was pleasantly surprised, as I turned around and walked out, so that was something. He’d fight for me, at least.
I spent a little time fiddling with the fancy coffee machine in the lobby, looking out at the view of the city. I checked my emails and saw another request from Hunter. Then an email from Felix, noting my holiday request had been approved, but asking if I was all right. I usually had to be forced to take my holiday, so no wonder he was shocked. But at the end of that email inquiring after my well-being, there was a line: We’ll be discussing internal candidates for the head of brand development role shortly—make sure you’re showing your dedication.
I felt a wave of panic and took a deep breath, closing my eyes. When I opened them, Dylan was standing in front of me, glowering. He’d attempted to push his hair into place, and he stood ramrod straight like he refused to be intimidated. That silver chain was visible at his throat, the St. Christopher pendant creating a clear indentation under his T-shirt. I looked away, as if even acknowledging it would give him some sort of power. I focused on sipping my coffee, looking out at the view, and waited for him to say something.
“Haven’t even hired you, and you’re sleeping on the job?”
I smiled my shark smile. “Well, when you’ve got to wait an age for someone to make a sensible decision . . . you get sleepy.”
He rolled his eyes upward, as if asking for strength, and even that was so familiar I felt something in my chest tug a little.
“I guess you know what I’m here to say?” he said, like a fifteen-year-old wheeled out to a great-aunt to say thank you for their birthday presents.
“Well, you’re intelligent and you care about your team, so I think I do.” I nodded and stood up. “Shall we get started?”
“Wait.” He tapped my elbow briefly to stop me. “I just need to know why you’re doing this.”
I creased my brow in mock confusion and shrugged, smiling at him. “I don’t know what you mean, Mr. James. It’s just a job. Nicki hired me, and I think I can help. That’s it.”
He looked at me with suspicion, tracing all my features for any sign of a lie. I just stood and looked at him whilst he watched me.
“I don’t care that Nicki hired you,” he said suddenly. “If you’re working for me, you’re working for me.”
“I’d prefer to think of it as working with you.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he said and walked off, pausing by the door. “You coming, or do you need a few moments for your grand entrance, O wise business sage?”
Oh, well, wasn’t this going to be just fantastic?
—
As long as I wasn’t talking to Dylan, looking at Dylan, or listening to Dylan, it was absolutely fine. Ben was a dream, full of ideas, support, and context, and Priya was wry and quick and had no time for bullshit. I often found that with women in male-dominated industries. She’d probably had to work twice as hard to get where she was, and she wasn’t going to be ignored. But on the balance, she had a kid, so she worked her hours and she went home. She wasn’t getting pulled into anything by anyone’s ego. I was shocked by how impressive her boundaries were. Maybe that was how you got to have a family and a kid, by making that space for them. I wanted to be her.
“Okay, so pitch me the app,” I said, hands splayed, leaning back in the chair.
“What, like the official presentation?” Ben said, frowning. “We haven’t really . . .”
“No.” I smiled. “Just . . . tell me what you made and why it’s important.”
Dylan took a breath, and I held up a hand. “Without any of the tech stuff.”
He huffed at me. “Brilliant, a technologically illiterate business expert. Just what we need.”
Ben and Priya shared a concerned look, as if their happy-go-lucky boss had been taken over by an ogre.
“Actually, I specialize in digital, but that’s irrelevant. Focus on what the app does and why it matters, how it will impact people. The code may be really clever, but it doesn’t matter if the app doesn’t connect with an audience.”
“Yeah.” Priya nodded. “Only other nerds care about how clean the code is. Which is why my husband begs me to shut up when I talk about it.”
“Not a nerd?” I asked, and she made a face and half shrugged.
“Accountant.”
“Ah, different strain of nerd. Gotcha,” I quipped, and Priya laughed.
“If you’re not taking this seriously, Miss Aresti, then I think it’s a waste of everybody’s time,” Dylan said roughly, and I couldn’t help it. I looked at him, trying to be all serious when most of our childhood he’d be the one disrupting lessons, trying to bunk off, finding ways to get the teacher laughing so we couldn’t be given homework. His lips were a thin line and his brow was furrowed, and I just couldn’t help it.
I burst out laughing.
“Really?” he asked, crossing his arms as I gasped for breath, trying to suppress my giggles.
Priya and Ben looked at each other again.
“Hey, Dyl, can I grab you for a minute?” Ben asked, tilting his head to outside the room. I imagined he was going to ask his boss why the hell he was acting like such an arsehole to the nice lady offering the free business support. It would serve him right.
Priya waited for me to stop laughing and pushed a glass of water across the table.
“Thanks,” I said, gulping it down. “Sorry, don’t know what happened there.”
“I imagine you’re not usually berated for being friendly,” Priya said. “Are you friends with Nicolette?”
I shook my head. “She approached us for some other work, but mentioned Dylan and wanted to support him. She said the start-up’s been a bit slow at . . . starting up?”
Priya nodded slowly, as if wondering how much to reveal. “I haven’t been here as long as Ben has, but . . . Dylan likes things to be perfect. He doesn’t want to rush ahead and miss his shot. But, you know, until we get the investment, we’re not getting paid, so . . .”
I blinked. “You’re not getting paid?”
“We work in four-to-six-month sprints, usually,” she replied, tapping her nose ring like she was guilty for revealing too much. “Then we go get short-term contracts with other companies for a few months, save up enough, then come back. We’ve been doing that for three years.”
“Isn’t that exhausting?”
She laughed. “Yes! And when you’ve got a kid and you’ve gotta send her to nursery to afford coming to work . . . but I believe in what we’re doing. And apart from today, when he’s being super weird, I believe in Dylan. He’s a problem solver, an eternal-pain-in-the-arse optimist. But doesn’t do pressure well.”
Don’t you find it exhausting? I’d asked him once. Being the life of the party, being Mr. Perfect?
If you’re gonna be the life of something, might as well be the party. He’d shrugged, with that perfect, affected grin that worked on all the girls.
Some things didn’t change.
“This has been really helpful,” I said as I made a few notes, and Priya looked concerned. I shook my head. “Don’t look worried, it’s just Nicki gave me no information beyond app development and a meeting at the end of the month.”
“Did she warn you Dylan was going to be like that?”
I pressed my lips together, trying to find the right way to phrase it. “I anticipated some resistance. But I’m like a pitbull, I’ll be fine.”
She looked out to the corridor where Ben was clearly giving Dylan an absolute earful. His face was red, and he was pointing and gesturing and tapping his toe. It was satisfying.
When they returned five minutes later, Dylan sat down again and gestured toward me.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit . . . short. Obviously we’re under a lot of pressure at the moment, and I wasn’t expecting you today. I’d be grateful for your feedback.”
His voice was sincere, but when I met his eyes there was a challenge there. “For as long as you’re willing to give it.”
I simply smiled as if I bought what he was saying and splayed my hands. “Okay then, let’s fix you right up.”