Chapter 4
Almost a week has passed since the news has flooded the company and I haven't received a single note from my boss that would give me any kind of sign at all that this whole celebrity thing was for real. I should have foreseen this. Maybe it was time I'd finally learn there's no trusting anyone. The only person you can rely on is yourself. I tried to get away from the bitterness that would ruin my day by doing some extra work. I was killing the time I knew I could spend a bit more useful. But if George didn't give me the green light, all I could do was to wait. For it was him who has to approve the whole thing, then I'll later struggle to actually get anything out of that actor. Things seemed to be moving so slow like never before. I wasn't used to that pace.
George always liked to remind me that fast writing and giving the piece in before the due is the right way to success, for you'll never know what can come between that would hinder your work. To be honest, I wanted to get it over with as soon as I can, because I couldn't not watch the company slowly sink any more, nor my co-workers' sad faces. It hurt me, not only because they were my friends, but also because their future depended on me. George was sometimes acting utterly weird. I could simply say I wouldn't do the job because it's not my responsibility to save the company but George's. And I wonder, I really do, what would he do in such situation? Among the emergency options there was handling the article to someone else. But it bugged me, probably George as well, that none would do it the same as me. Not saying as good as me, but just not in my style of writing that attracted our loyal buyers so much. It wasn't fair either, maybe some even wanted to do this piece and George hasn't even given them the chance to prove themselves they can be just as good as me. Knowing that someone might want this more than me, doing this with more enthusiasm really pissed me off. It made it that much less honest.
The clock above my head showed it's time for lunch. Normally I wouldn't especially wait for this time of the day, for mostly I was busy losing myself in writing to let myself have a break. Never it had occurred me I would miss my work that much. Although it wasn't entirely gone – I was still onto some other articles, the ones George has prepared me to do. But they weren't anything special, at least has no equal to the current one.
I stood up from my black chair and headed to Sarah's office to offer her a lunch out of the office today. It sucked being in the same room as my co-workers. Not that I thought of myself anything higher than that, it's just I could almost hear what they were thinking if we were in the same room. It was either mixed with jealousy and anger or despise and disgust. I was hundred percent sure none of their thoughts possessed a trace of kindness. Though I wasn't even expecting that. I skilled myself rather well in pushing other people's opinions in the trash bin and let them be there, not even caring to give them a read before justifying my actions. Was there anything left to do other than slide myself away from people and their negativity? Like that was really something we all needed in this particular time.
As I was walking towards Sarah's working place, I was passing by lots of people, giving me the looks. When I'd passed them, I'd put on the cold-blooded expression on my face as it was in my nature, not having a slightest care about what they were thinking of. Since that crucial day on, I haven't been wearing anything classy or sophisticated in the least. Usually it were just some trendy skinny jeans combined with a comfy sweater that gave me most pleasure writing in than any other piece of clothing could have. To be honest, it was on the end of my to-do list to care what I put on these days. I had other things on my mind. Like saving this company by annoying an at-the-time most famous actor in the planet. No big deal at all.
All of a sudden, Sarah appeared behind the corner, devoting me a light smile when she met my gaze. "Hi!" I said faked cheerfully. Things have been a bit awkward between us since the disclosure part. "Are you finished for lunch or do you still have something left to do?"
"Oh no, not at all, I'm all done, thank god," she replied, smile still on her face.
"Would you mind eating outside today? I feel kinda trapped inside here. All the memories, if you know what I mean," I chuckled and waited anxiously for her response. She sensed it was more a request than an offer and quickly nodded as I left out a sigh with relief. She knew me all too well. In this time of personal crisis I needed someone to not give me a shitty advice or say to just go with it, but someone who understood me by not even saying a word. Someone who understood the desperate look in my eyes that craved for something more than just few words of seeming encouragement.
She dropped the huge pile of paperwork on her desk, grabbed her black coat and headed outside next to me. The silence between us seemed comfortable and too vulnerable to break, that's why we kept it this way. The sky outside was painfully grey, kind of representing my current mood. I didn't feel like talking, yet wanting to let everything out to Sarah. I didn't normally feel the need to justify my emotions to someone, simply because I hid them perfectly well enough to even notice I have them. I only let myself pour out the deepest oceans of passion when I was writing. Other than that, I knew it would ruin me. It's the unspoken truth of humanity.
We were walking down the busy streets of central London, looking left and right if anything exciting was worth our attention. However, we both spot several handsome men, to which we dedicated a delightful, slightly flirty look to each other. I needed this sort of thing from time to time. This sort of relaxation. It kept me going and preparing for many other things, still awaiting in the future. To be honest, I was always afraid of future. Or rather what would it bring, what consequences would I have to suffer if something didn't go as planned. I could say I was sort of addicted to planning things and overthinking. Analysing each and every word. It would get very exhausting by the end of the day, but I'd be lost without it.
Sarah knew all this stuff that crept through my mind. It was like she was reading my mind or my body language. I simply could not lie in front of her, neither to anyone else if she'd be standing next to me. She had that thing in her that made you honest about yourself and your feelings to another person. It was a lifestyle she was proud to defence as for herself as for the rest of the world. I think if she'd set her mind on changing the world, she'd actually do it.
We paid for some cheese sticks we ate along our way to the Russell Square Gardens. The weather didn't seem to change, yet the forecast said it wasn't going to rain, so that was good news. We threw ourselves tiredly on the wide bench right in the heart of the park. Even though it was almost noon, it was filled with people and little kids playing in the playground. It was a nice sight to see, a bit of refreshment after such dull morning. We nibbled our brunch, when Sarah finally decided to speak.
"Are you going to be like this the whole day?"
Well, I did hope she'd say something nicer, though I couldn't blame her. I was being unfair to her for being grumpy for no reason and not telling her the truth. Although, I did have a good excuse now that I think about it.
"I promise you, I won't," I said with my mouth full to add a bit of humour to the seriousness of the conversation about to start. "I just have a bad day."
Again, I knew I made a horrible mistake for lying to her. How could I expect to fool her? She gave me the exact look I was suspecting she'd give me, and I turned away in response, angrily biting off the second cheese stick. Maybe I wasn't lying at all. It actually was a very dull day today. I felt like it sucked all the life I possessed from me. Trust me, it didn't feel quite nice.
After silence was filling the air a bit too long, Sarah once again opened her mouth.
"You're really going with that?" she said mockingly. "We both know there's much more to it than 'just a bad day'."
"Then if you know me better than I know myself, why don't you enlighten me what this is about?"
The comeback was completely unnecessary, though I felt like I had to say something in return. It wasn't fair she always knew what's up with me and it kinda annoyed me from time to time that she always demanded to know everything. To be honest, I quite never did the same to her in such amount.
Sarah pouted her lips as her eyes flew far away from my face, letting me know I made a mistake. Why did we always have to play this silly little game? Why didn't she just tell me straight what's bothering her?
"I won't push you into telling me something you do not wish to tell or do not wish me to know, but I'll tell you one thing." Her voice was filled with offence and disappointment, showing she was, however, a bit hurt. "I know this thing really beat you down, it's practically written all over your face. But you know you can tell me anything. I'm not here to judge you. If I wanted to leave, trust me – I'd be long time gone."
We often had this sort of conversations, but mainly when the situation was a slightly bit less critical and devastating. Our friendship has never been up to this point where we were forced to start doubting our mutual trust and interests. It was in our nature to overthink every word we say and every move we make. But so far we managed to pull off quite an extraordinary relationship that could not be neither lost or replaced. We both valued each other's virtues too much to let it all go because of a few flaws we both possess and mistakes we both make. We were grown-up women, ready to talk it through like it was appropriate.
"If this has left you this desperate to not know where you belong any more, I think you should tell me." Sarah put down her meal in her lap and was now staring at me. I wasn't used to being taken care of this much, although we became friends practically the day we met and we got along instantly. "You know we could not lose you know, Julia. This is the very moment, the state in your life when you have to give all you have. All you worked so hard for."
My eyes flew away from hers since I felt a bit too embarrassed to keep looking at them. My shoulders dropped as I looked away, and Sarah knew she hit the soft spot. I couldn't hide it any longer.
"I think I'm no equal to the task I have been given," I started slowly. "I know it may seem like I'm hesitating and turning tail, but I genuinely believe I won't be able to do this as it should be done. Think of me as a weak person now, but that's just the truth."
Maybe it was a mistake, maybe it was the right thing to do – I don't know. All I knew was that something has been kept from her too long and I craved her comfort, her telling me I'll be okay. Because she was the only one that ever made me feel safe. The only one that showed enough effort to prove she cared. And that was enough for me.
"You know I won't judge you, I don't dare to. After all you've been through, I thi-"
"Don't, Sarah. I've told you many times I don't want you to pity me for what happened to me." I felt obliged to say what's truly on my mind. I knew too well I could just nod and agree with her, join her to pity myself. But I also knew myself as well, and by that the fact that I couldn't never let this happen to me; to make someone else feel sorry for me. Sure, it happened quite on a daily basis back then when the thing was still fresh, but now I knew the only option left was to move on from this. Leave this in the past, where it belonged.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay, though. I understand you. It's hard to know exactly what to say in this kind of situation. I guess the best thing to do is to just leave it as it is, for time will heal everything. But I do appreciate the thought." Now I was brave enough to look her in the eyes once again. "To be completely honest, I think this should be assigned to someone else. Not that I won't make time for it or avoid it, I just think Mr Huttington deserves a well-written article, because after all... It might just save our company, so I don't like to even think about failing. This needs to be put in professional hands of someone who is in this with their heart and mind. Which I'm definitely not."
Sarah's eyes gave away that she simply could not agree with me. Were we back on that track again?
"I totally get it, Julia. But just think – who puts words together better than you? Who can find that right amount of sarcasm and humour to fill the article with its evergreen greatness? Who would swap with you?"
Those questions filled my head and they didn't seem to be leaving it any time soon. I knew Sarah was right. But was she only trying to encourage me or was it really true that no one could really write it better than me? Maybe I should look out for new opportunities, for new challenges. But I recently realized it might be a bit of a big burden to bear to have the whole crew expecting such killer article to save this whole situation. It was next to impossible.
"You're right, you're always right... I'm making an unnecessary fuss about it, like always. But George hasn't send me a single text that would include any kind of information about what's going on. That's not quite normal, is it?"
"Maybe he's waiting for you to make the first move. He's testing you, and this is your chance to show yourself to the world in full light. This is your big break-through and this time you will get the credit for it, not George or anyone else, for that matter."
She had a point. This was all going to be mine and mine alone. But the nervousness crept inside me again, thinking of the unnecessary consequences, issues and complications. I wouldn't let my bad side win once again.
I leaned to her and formed a sincere 'thank you' with my eyes and she smiled in response. I did not know in that moment why I needed such long time to be persuaded in this. Maybe it was only for good, to not be able to be dragged in some scheme that easily. But sometimes it could be a bit of a drag, not believing some things are really going to come out great for you. I could easily blame it on my trust issue, but deep down I knew this whole thing held much more responsibility and thoroughness that some people might have imagined. This was no time to quarrel, though, so I decided to just go with it. Now, what choice do I really have?
Sarah and I were now back safe in our small office with extremely bad air conditioning, ready to do some work. While I was busy checking some things for my later articles, a phone rang on my wooden desk. I was surprised to get a call at this hour, since other companies or our sponsors or even wrong numbers called more frequently in the morning hours, yet when I picked up the phone I did not sound surprised, just casually curious. But the voice on the other side got me indeed very surprised, to say the least.
"Miss Grady? I do hope I'm not disturbing or interrupting an important meeting of some sort," the strangely familiar voice said that sent shivers from my forearm right to the shoulder blades in a matter of seconds.
"No, no, of course not," I replied chuckling like a little girl. Very convenient, yes.
He chuckled back, yet in his own infamous way, that was actually getting on my nerves by now.
"If that's so, I have a favour to ask of you." Dear lord.
"Of course, bring it on!" I said softly, mentally slapping myself for saying that idiotic intrusiveness. He did not seem to care for he continued like he didn't even hear me. Or he was actually too engrossed with developing a well-worded English way of putting this favour of his to my ears.
"As your boss Mr Chapple lovely put that you have to finish your article by the end of the month, I'd like to set this meeting of ours on this Friday, if it's okay with you?" Since I didn't let out any noise at all, he gently added something to fill the awkwardness slowly overcoming the conversation. "For I have several other meetings later and I wanted to get over with this as quickly as possible. This way it will be better for both of us. Just let me check the date..."
"It's March the fifth," I roughly interrupted him for being a few steps ahead of him. Let's admit it; it was more my job taking care of the arrangement dates than his. All it took him was being as tall as he is and putting on some Dolce & Gabbana suit and that's it. Not to mention how much he's getting paid for just being him.
I think I lost him when he said that thing about finishing the article. How did he know all these things before me? When did George even settled for this? He surely did somewhere where I was not present, which I might add is really confusing. He expected so much from me, yet didn't even give me basic details and information about the whole thing. How was I expected not to make a fuss about this?
"Yes, you're quite right actually. So what do you think?" The silence was our best friend once again and this time I was not waiting for dear Mr Huttington to charmingly break it.
"Let me check my calendar and I'll message you back in a moment." Something inside me was telling me I should do a few things before saying a full yes or no to the film star.
"All right then. It was nice chatting with you, Miss Grady," he briefly added.
"Oh, Julia, please." I simply said in response, trying to be as patient and as polite as I possibly could be, but rage was boiling inside me.
"Sure. Till the next time then, Julia." And he hung up. Finally.
The phone somehow managed to leave my palm as it landed on the desk, which I could acknowledge from the rough sound, but my body did not stop for one second to check if it's still in one peace. My mind was focused on something else.
"Where's George?" I asked the first person I met on the hallway.
"I think he's in his office, as usual," the woman replied and I flew by her immediately. This time it won't be some embarrassing situation spoiling my intentions. Not that I would let it.
I opened the door quite aggressively, which caused George to widen his eyes even more as they already were. The confused look on his face that gave of that innocent image of his pissed me off in no time.
"Would you like to tell me when exactly were you planning on telling me that Mr Huttington already knows half of the things about this adventurous little interview that I don't?"
My heartbeat was so loud I could hear it pump in my ears. This was no longer his funny game he was playing. This was getting out of hand.
"Just don't go with that soft talk of yours where you'd say you're so extremely utterly sorry. Because it won't work this time." I looked away through his window, for I could not stand catching his gaze after the words I was about to speak. "George, I don't think you realize how serious this is. I don't think you even know yourself how far you're willing to go until I'd eventually leave."
His face seemed did not seem too impressed by my emotional outpour, letting me know my words have not effected him in any way whatsoever. I was hurt, lost and humiliated. I've never seen George behave so apathetically as he was right in that moment. My throat started to hurt from trying to hold back the mixture of rage and desperate sadness inside. Did he have no guilt inside him left? Why did it feel like he left me abandoned feeling like I'm some sort of robot, just executing his wishes and orders? Were we no longer as close as we once were?
So many doubtful questions started to pop inside my head, I just needed to sort them out somehow. Even if it meant hurting some people. Who cares, I'd only treat them as they treated me.
"George," I took a deep breath. "I'm leaving."
Not until this point he didn't look me once in the eyes, now he was staring at me with his glasses off. How little did it take to finally catch someone's precious attention. I guess I wasn't worth it back then, when he didn't realize what he had.
But my decision was final and concluding. He couldn't convince me otherwise, for he had made quite a good impression of what he truly felt. And it was painful, sincere indifference.
"You cannot be serious, Julia." His jaw dropped hundred miles down.
"I'm more serious than you've ever taken me." It was a sneaky comeback, and I sensed it wasn't a sort of comeback he'd expect of me.
"This is it, George. We both know I'm excellent at my job and will get another one in no time. I've come to realize I've made a poor decision when I accepted this job. Though I can't blame myself now, could I? I had no idea someone would fuck me over as you did. Thanks, George. My experience from here will be far more in use than you can imagine."
I don't even remember breathing between these sentences, because I just had to let it out. I've had enough of his idiotic behaviour, unnecessary arrogance and silly pomp. It was right over the edge. Maybe others could tolerate it, but not me. Not when he gives me this sort of article (which wasn't even my field) and thinks he's a badass boss when he left me hanging and doubting myself the whole time.
"Julia, you can't just leave. I mean, we have this big thing coming up right-"
"No. Don't you understand that word? Have you heard it for the first time in your life? Though I'm sure it was the first time from me. I don't give a damn what kind of scheme you were preparing for me, or how deliciously you were planning to let me down once again. I've had enough. Believe it or not; even I am human and I have certain limits as well, even though you felt as if you have the full right to cross them each time. Well, guess what – I'm not to take for granted. You have a full squad of blind idiots right in front of your nose who might just do what you tell them for the next few months, but they have self respect, too." The last treat was waiting in my mouth to utter it. "And trust me; they will notice. They will hear gossip about how and why I disappeared. And believe me just one more thing: they shall know who's to blame for letting this whole thing crumble to ashes."
By concluding my awfully confidential speech, I ran out of his office and slammed the door as hard as possible. I made my point, since many heads peeked out of the glass doors, eager to find out what all the fuss was about. Sarah was one of them.
She saw me walking down the hall pretty fast and she knew troubles will follow if she'd even dare to stop me. But she was always the one for challenges, so she dared. And as always, I let her.
"What the hell's going on?"
"I have no time for explanation," I said curtly. I didn't have the energy as well.
"How do you mean "no time" for explanation? Why the hurry?" She kept digging and I knew she's actually the only one here worth knowing the truth. And I'm sure she'd keep it if I told her so, but I had no intentions of hiding the true purpose of slamming that door so damn hard.
"I quitted my job." I heard Sarah taking a deep breath, ready to tell my why this was a bad, bad choice and try to convince me otherwise. But to be frank with myself; it was my only choice. I couldn't handle the humiliation and degrading any longer. I deserved better. I just didn't know how to tell this to Sarah in the way she'd understand.
"I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is." I found myself unable to say anything else, not in that moment. Maybe I'll be okay after even a few minutes, I just needed some of my own for now. Only me and my head. And a big box of my belongings.
"But-"
"Call me after work. We can sort this out accompanied with cocktails," Sarah said suddenly all calm and relaxed. I was half afraid and impressed of her unpredictable mood swings, and half thankful for always ending up agreeing with me. She understood me and my problems like no one else did. We all need a "Sarah" in our lives. Not to be permanently dependent of them, but to help us lift ourselves back up. She actually never directly helped me back up – she simply always found a way to get me to that point of being confident enough to put myself back on my feet.
"Couldn't agree more." I gave her a brief smile before fleeing from the staring pairs of eyeballs directed exactly at us. The last thing I needed was some drama being created over that little disagreement. But I suspected everybody knew I couldn't settle the gossip with just that simple fact; too simple it was mostly likely unreal. Because, after all, it was unreal. In that time of self-doubting crisis, I had to ask myself if I really cared what people were saying about me? Because I knew for sure that the fact I was better than them would be the reason they won't get much sleep at night if they would say anything made up about me. It would only cause them self-hatred (as it was already in their nature) and shame before themselves. So who's the real winner here?
I stepped in my office and grabbed everything I could reach. I gathered small figures which were supposed to be my lucky charms, my best friend, the silver stapler, Post-it notes, pens and pencils and other office material. Under my middle large table, there was that awful box that would contain all my things from the last months of working here. Each month I tried to do 'How to clean your office in five minutes tutorial!' that I found on YouTube, and on some extremely optimistic months I actually managed to threw away almost half of my office, which was an incredible success in my career. Somehow I was getting too emotional-attached to certain objects that had nostalgic value and I thought throwing them away would also be cutting a piece of me as well. But then I realized that was the only and most effective way of letting go. Just let it go.
Among the rather large amount things I happened to gather, I saw a small chain shining in the afternoon light. I picked it up from the pile and took a closer look. My eyes started to fill with tears when I saw the sign 'Best Employee of the Year'. It was still shiny and bright as new. It hurt me to look back in anger, to only acknowledge how blind I was before. I was mad to only remember the dark times, not also give attention to the good ones, even though I remembered them as good as the bad ones.
I heard someone saying letting go is like pulling out a decayed tooth. When it was pulled out, you were relieved, but how many times does your tongue run itself over the spot where the tooth was? Probably a hundred times a day. Just because it wasn't hurting you doesn't mean you didn't notice it. It leaves a gap and sometimes you see yourself missing it terribly. It's going to take a while, but it takes time. Should you have kept the tooth? No, because it was causing you too much pain. Therefore, move on and let go. But those memories seemed ached more than just unhealthy tooth. They stroke me right in the heart, knowing I was forced to let them go and chose to forget them, because of someone else's inconsiderateness and apathy. To cause them injustice for making them believe it was their fault, for we all knew who's it really was.
The box was starting to fill up once I glanced at it after nostalgia has calmed down within me. I checked around if I missed any urgent objects that would be in use for later, but I seemed to clear it all quite thoroughly. I kept everything in place, because I was sort of addicted to order and knowing where everything was. It was just my thing and I haven't changed in a bit. That reminded me of what I'm actually doing. I'm standing up for myself, for what I believe and deserve. There was nothing wrong in what I was doing. It was perfectly legitimate and fair. But mostly, fair to me.
Once it was almost over-the-edge full, I took it to my chest slightly out of breath, realizing its real weight. The weight of me leaving this building for good. No turning backs, no regrets. My head was running crazy and honestly, I could not wait for this day to come to an end so I could simply and in peace sit next to my best friend and let out my deepest secrets and fears to her.
Alcohol wasn't always my first and foremost choice of solving my problems. But it was effective, in a way that I saw solving those issues out I wouldn't really come up with sober. Let's just admit to ourselves; alcohol is a lifesaver and life ruiner at the same time. If you took advantage of it too often, it could lead to slow and painful disintegration, but otherwise it could open your eyes way more than coffee and a pack of cigarettes could.
With a little help with friends, that's all you need. That's why I needed Sarah so much to be a part of my life. Not to only take what I can get from her to feel better for myself, not for exclusively selfish reasons. But for what I could also give her in return. It was like a contract signed by both of us, mutually agreeing we'll help each other out from the worst situations ever to the most ordinary problems a girl could have. We were connected with this bond of symbiosis we couldn't ever break, otherwise it would cause ruin to both of us.
I was halfway to my locker by now, still breathing quite loudly and heavily while holding that giant box in front of my nose. Others seemed to be too busy with their ordinary work to help me out, thank god. I wouldn't want anyone to see this awfully disgraceful walk of shame towards my possible devastation.
Let's be frank; we all know this could be the end of me. I wasn't really that optimistic and confident as I appeared to be in George's office. It was just an image I liked George to remember me after once I was fully done with this company. I knew nothing about other companies wanting me like they used to after Sarah told me the public gossip about high-society people wanting me as one of their own. I wasn't even sure what else I could do besides writing, if it would turn out I would have to get a job that doesn't not include writing. Maybe I could teach or have creative writing classes, but both of these are doomed to fail. I'd love to teach kids of how to get that thing called writer's block out of themselves, and just dip into the subject and see how beautiful the sentences are once they set themselves free. I'd be honoured to do such thing as passing on what guides me as a writer.
But things like that rarely happen in reality. In fiction movies, yes, but not in real life. We're just foolishly, yet brilliantly brainwashed by media wanting us to reach to the stars, but realizing halfway through what fools we truly are. I have nothing against following your dreams, after all – I'm a great example of someone who captured them and turning them into reality. But being over-confident about reality and things unlikely to happen, you can get easily carried away by sweet temptation of becoming someone you're likely never gonna become. Because so many other things come between. So many factors deciding and guiding your future, you rarely become the one responsible for it.
I dropped the box on the tiled floor in the changing room. At times I wasn't even sure why we had this room, although some people had really small offices and couldn't stuff all of their equipment
inside a small square space, only wide enough to put in a desk and an armchair.
While the key was slipping from my fingers each time I tried to pull it out from my pocket, I heard footsteps behind me. I was a bit freaked out since only last night I was watching a really scary movie and was still traumatized from that awful experience. But once I turned, I didn't saw a serial killer dressed all black with a mask and a knife, but poor Janice standing behind one of the small benches in the middle of the room.
"Janice? What are you doing here?"
"Hey, Julia. I just wanted to say goodbye," she said silently, almost whispering, which was a good idea at the time. I really didn't want to make a fuss about this, although it was probably much too late.
"How do you-"
"I eavesdropped," she cut me off. "You know me."
The answer to that statement was actually negative, but I could imagine Janice as a top secret agent, being on several highly confidential missions. Anyway, putting imagination aside, I was wondering how nobody saw her.
"When you and George were fighting, everybody stepped out of their office. Like in an instant," she began to answer my question. "I was one of them as well, wanting to convince myself if all the circus that was going on was really worth paying attention to rather finishing my over-the-phone interview. And I was correct. It was something worth waiting until the end to see how things would fall."
I saw a spark of mischief flashed her eyes and an awfully evil grin stretched across her mouth. More and more often I became frightened of how spooky Janice could seem. I definitely would not wish to be interrogated by her on the top of some building. For I'd definitely not tell the secret and she'd, now without any doubt, throw me off of that ridiculously high building without hesitation.
"I noticed it got a bit crowded around Mr Chapple's office, so I decided to put an end to this rumpus. People actually listened to me once for a change, and the hallway emptied in a matter of seconds, yet with people giving me the looks. I kept the best part for myself and kept a close eye on the things happening inside and outside that office."
"You freak me out sometimes, Janice," I said without a slight regret. Her expression was priceless.
"Thank you."
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I really have to pack my things now before people start rushing over here."
I finally unlocked my locker and pulled out all my clothes and unstuck the small pocket mirror that served its job really well. I stuff all the things that end up in my palm in my handbag and grabbed the black Marella coat I got at sale. The sadness in Janice eyes that followed my every move was contagious. I could not deny that leaving it all in such hurry and need wasn't the way I'd expect to end my career at Weeky Traveller's. I don't know how I'd imagine myself leaving this, probably because I haven't even thought of it. I just knew I didn't want it to be like this. This harsh and cruel. It's almost grotesque how we are forced to decide on certain things in a minute time, even if it was our career on the stake. Some things are worth risking, I guess. And that was definitely keeping myself real and knowing where I stand. Knowing my identity.
The clock has just struck half past seven and I was still waiting in this disgusting bar of Sarah's choice, waiting for Sarah herself. We agreed on around seven o'clock, but she messaged me she had some difficulties in her home. I could only imagine what exactly she meant by that.
As the bartender was starting to look at me really odd and suspicious, almost willing to offer me free drink as if I was left in the lurch by some careless guy, I saw Sarah running down the street in a cute black sleeveless dress with silver collar, filled with small diamonds and rocks. Her naturally flaxen hair was casually dancing in the mild wind, her lips shining in baby pink colour. When she drew nearer, I could her her high heels stump on the hard concrete. They were actually the only one sophisticated enough she could afford for semi-formal events like this one. It was, after all, Friday night, and we were stuck in this strange bar I have never been to. My best friend, on the other hand, seemed to be quite familiar with it, since I literally saw her waving at three people at the same time as she was coming closer to our table.
"Well look at you, you lovely lady!" I stood up, spreading my arms to her.
"Oh my god, Julia, you look fantastic! Especially for someone who just proudly quit!" She was known for being honest, so I chose to ignore her bad choice of words.
I must confess I wasn't bad-looking tonight myself. I decided to wear my burgundy red knee-length dress with short sleeves and a hell of a cleavage. My neck was adorned with fake white pearls, just enough thick to add some classiness to my look. I was wearing black velvet, slightly rounded pointy toe shoes of some famous brand, but it totally slipped my mind which. I got them for my prom actually, and they were timeless. Some clothing pieces just never go out of fashion.
"So," Sarah said loudly to drown out the music playing in the background. "Tell me everything."
Nothing, but completely nothing, held me back. All the while she nodded and added some of juicy words of her own while I was continuing with telling her my part of the story. She confirmed Janice's theory I shared with her, saying she had absolutely no idea she was such a gossip girl (although she did work in so-called "gossip" department).
The evening was relaxing, joyful and cheerful. My red lipstick vanished almost after ten minutes after Sarah's arrival, due to my extensive storytelling. She was utterly impressed by my courage and confidence, reminding me I have to maintain it. Sarah also pointed out that I'll get another job in no time. If other public media was following my articles, which without doubt they did, they were also aware of that little incident by now, and will be all over me for accepting their tempting offer.
"Though you have to be extremely careful with one thing," Sarah said, leaning over me a bit closer. Her breath smelled of Martini's and I could not deny that applied to me as well. "You have to look out for the bosses. You know what they can be like."
She devoted me a lifted eyebrow and nestled back in her seat. I was absolutely sure that was alcohol speaking instead of her, yet she was right. They say we always have to listen carefully what people have to say to us once their under the influence.
"I don't know what you mean." I tried her patience.
"You know, being all cheeky and stuff. You never know what you're gonna get."
Was she implying something? I had to go to the bottom of this.
"I still don't understand you."
"Oh god. I knew I couldn't keep it inside me much longer." She dropped her glass of the cocktail on the table and looked me in the eyes. Signs of being intoxicated were now obvious from space.
"Do you remember Mitch? The Mitch?"
Since I was no better than her, just knowing when to keep my mouth shut, my memories was playing tricks with me. Somehow all the memories from my former job were now hazy and honestly I had no intentions of bringing them back.
I shook my head and she sighed as if she's about to confess me a lifetime story.
"Mitch Farhall? Nothing? Okay, never mind. He was once George's replacement when he flew to Canary Islands for business. We kind of... hooked up?"
Her voice was shaky, but not in the frightened way. She was willing to say this as much as I was willing to listen. She knew what's to follow, but she spit it out anyway.
"He was... in a relationship at the time. And he cut it off for me. Just for me, can you imagine? What gentleman does that?"
"None, I suppose," I answered frankly.
"Exactly. That's why it seemed so suspicious to me. So when we were-"
Suddenly she froze in the middle of the sentence, her eyes focused on an object behind me. My head seemed to heavy to turn around and see for myself, but after a few seconds of her remaining silent and still as if she saw a ghost, I had to ask.
"Now who would caught your precious gaze?"
I tried to keep it as mockingly as I possibly could, because she started to freak me out. She did not even flinch. She didn't even touch her Martini, for Christ's sake.
"Sarah. Peekaboo!" Even my tremendous humour that caught me laughing at my own jokes could not make her move.
"You have to see this," she suddenly uttered and my stomach made a somersault. I was literally afraid of what sight I might witness.
"Is it someone I hate? Is it?" I was starting to panic.
"Oh come on, just turn around. I guarantee you'll enjoy." Her lips made a devious grin and once again, my heartbeat raised to ten beats per second.
I obeyed and prepared myself for the most unflattering scenarios I could imagine; whether it was my parents, ex school-mates or someone I had a one-night-stand with. All the bad choices I made in my life popped into my head, but once I did open my eyes to the direction Sarah's were pointed, nothing could compare to the real sight.
My mouth parted slowly as I saw Mr Huttington casually hanging at the bar. He was alone. By himself. No fans around him, just other couples or same loners as him. I actually felt sorry for him.
As I turned back to my friend, she was giving me such nasty look, I couldn't help myself but fall into uncontrolled laughter. She did, however, made the best grimaces.
After some seconds of laughing and hurting my abs, her dirty look did not disappear. She was once again implying something and I did not like it at all. Neither was it amusing, it was simply intruding.
"No. Sarah, no. Not this time."
I knew she was too intoxicated to control herself and there was no way of persuading her to not force me into greeting him. I've had enough drama for one day. Hell, for the rest of my life.
"But he looks sooo lonely and so well-dressed it would be a shame if you wouldn't go there and just say hello to the poor fellow."
She was doing this now fully aware and with utter joy that was near to impossible to hide. Not that she tried.
"Are you serious? I'm not walking up to that man. Do you realize what a fool I would make of myself if I were the first to greet? Don't even let me start with the list of reasons why a woman should never walk up to the guy first."
Sarah let out a brief chuckle before turning dead serious again. Her eyes were centred straight into my soul.
"Give me your best," she said with a voice of a murderer. Obviously I knew she was kidding, but somehow she did expect me to say something back.
"Maybe he came here to escape the pressure of being in the centre of attention and under this huge pressure the whole time. Maybe he wanted a casual Friday night just to himself-"
"Which is completely normal for a fully grown up, drop-dead gorgeous guy who was by the way Elle's Man of the Year, and is probably single only because he simply cannot find his soul-mate in the horde of women all age just craving his reproductive organ in their mouth instead of giving the effort to win his heart," Sarah cut me off without pardon.
"Lovely put, Sarah, just lovely. May I continue?"
"Only for a short time, unless he'll get away from you." She probably didn't get the punchline, yet she looked at me with strange spark enlightening her blue eyes.
"Or," I continued with fake confidence. "He just might be waiting for his darling that society has, yet not heard of. You do realize how "private" he is about his private life."
"Tim Huttington's girlfriend never seeing the light of flashing paparazzi cameras? You've gotta be shitting me. I recall saying 'Give me your best.' Was I not clear enough?" Sarah was getting pretty annoying by now, so I decided to cut to the chase before things could get worse.
"I have nothing to do with the man any more. I no longer work for The Weekly Traveller, and the article will just have to be assigned to someone else. Perhaps even you." My eyes were wandering around the place, my brain working as hard as it could in given circumstances, searching for enough interesting topic to distract Sarah with, directing her in the opposite way this conversation was heading. And I didn't prefer to let it and as it was about to end if I wasn't about to do anything about it quickly enough.
"Fair enough. But does he know about your little outrage?" I caught her grinning widely and we both knew she won this one. I was praying and hoping she wouldn't get to this point, for it was a point of no return. I was positive once she'd hit it, she wouldn't let go of what she's found. Even when she was drunk she could not hide her evil-plotting genes.
But I wasn't ready to let go that easily.
"Sarah, this isn't a game to me any more. He was strictly connected to work, which is now fully gone. If he wants to know the truth he can call George any time he wants, since they seem like they're suddenly best buds. Although, I'm not sure what sort of truth or rather which part of it would George tell him..." Oh why did I must say that out loud.
"See! That's why you have to tell him your own and the only real truth yourself. You never know what sort of lies George will spread about you. But if you tell Tim the truth, if you have him on your side, you win."
She was right. As usual. But sometimes I just couldn't obey her, because she was too right and at times the feeling of doing the right thing didn't seem quite right. See my point?
"This night was supposed to be for us and us alone. Not some guy, no matter how famous he is, coming between us and wrecking the whole thing. I'll tell him over the phone, it's less painful."
"And more cowardly." Instead of Sarah's high-pitched voice striking in my ears, I heard a deep voice behind me. The voice I always found myself being afraid of and especially hoping to not hear it today.
A/N: Again, I apologize for the delay; things have been crazy this month. Anyway, here it is! The fourth chapter already. I'm glad I managed to write it off pretty well actually, regarding the circumstances *proud face* . Lots of things are coming up! Thanks to all who have read it so far, and if you're enjoying my story, please leave some review/alert! :)
Till the next time...