Ep. 1: Stranded
~ABBY~
I glare at the red Subaru that has just pulled off the Nepean Highway and parked behind me. Can my day get any worse? Not likely. Not when the only person who has bothered to stop to help this morning is Justin D’Marco. Come to think of it, there’s no way Justin has pulled over to help me. He probably only stopped to gloat over my misfortune and congratulate himself on beating me to the office for a change.
The smirk on his lips as he exits the car proves as much. “Morning, Gillis.”
I’m tempted to tell him to get back in his car and keep on driving, but I’m already late for work. The nearest petrol station is kilometres away and it’s too early for any of the other businesses along the highway to be open yet. And since I’ve forgotten my mobile phone for the first time in my life, I can’t call roadside assist. Which leaves me stranded on the side of the road and at the mercy of my biggest work rival.
I’m just going to have to swallow my pride and ask Justin for a lift. It’s Monday morning. Like me, he’s on his way to Kale & Wells, the marketing firm we both work for. It won’t cost him anything to help me. Not that he’ll let me off that easy. I’m going to have to owe him one. Ugh. Is that acid I can taste at the back of my throat?
“Flat tyre?” he asks.
I curb the urge to respond with sarcasm. “I think I ran over a nail.”
“No spare?”
“It was punctured a while ago and I forgot to get it patched. And I left my mobile at home.”
His expression is far too smug. “Sounds like you need a ride.”
“Yes.” Then I add through gritted teeth, “Please.”
“It’s going to cost you.”
I close my eyes briefly and pray for strength. I have an idea of what he’s going to ask for, but he must know the answer will be no. I would rather sit here on the side of the road and rot than give him the Clover Girls’ underwear campaign.
“Not that.”
“Come on, Gillis. You know I’m amazing at selling underwear.”
Which is precisely why I must make sure he never gets his hands on it. I worked my arse off to land that account. He has rocks in his head if he thinks I’m just going to hand it over.
“That’s probably because you have too much experience in taking it off,” I say. “Or maybe you have other inclinations…”
“Remind me which one of us needs the other’s help right now.”
I need to play nice to secure a ride into work, but Justin always makes me feel so…off balance.
“Forget it,” I say, raising my chin. “I’ll walk.”
It’s better than spending the entire ride trying to bite my tongue. So what if I get to work a few hours late?
Except I absolutely loathe to be late.
Justin looks down at my shoes. “Have fun with that.”
I follow his gaze down to my red suede high heels. The diamante buckles on them sparkle in the sunlight. They’re wholly unpractical, but I love them. Walking the few kilometres to the nearest petrol station will surely ruin them.
Oh, who am I kidding? There is no way I’m walking along the highway or rotting on the side of the road. Not when there’s work to be done at the office.
As if he knows what I’m thinking, Justin’s smirk returns. This is why I have to snag the promotion to Creative Director in the new Sydney office. Justin has been driving me crazy on a daily basis ever since I joined Kale & Wells six years ago. If one of us doesn’t leave the state soon, I will probably end up killing him.
“I won’t give up Clover’s.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to hand it over. I was thinking more along the lines of sharing it.”
The idea is so absurd I actually laugh. I’d rather make a deal with the devil than work on a project with Justin.
“Is that a no?”
“You are so not sharing the credit with me.”
“Fine.” His blue eyes dance with mischief as his gaze catches and holds mine. “What will you give me instead?”
The suggestive tone, the wicked grin, the way he leans forward ever so slightly so I can smell the sporty scent of his aftershave… it knocks the wind out of me. I can feel a blush climbing all the way from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair, his close proximity flipping the dial on my internal thermostat from cool to boiling.
I should be immune. I want to be immune. So what if he’s attractive? Okay, very attractive. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s my biggest competition for the promotion I want, and a thorn in my side any given day of the week.
“I won’t put my hand up for the Spencer’s catalogue next month. How’s that?” I ask, struggling to keep a lid on my exasperation.
“Weak, Gillis. I’m your ticket out of here and you’re offering me crumbs.”
I sigh. “What do you want then? I mean, aside from taking the credit for all my hard work on the Clover’s campaign?”
“Hmm, what do I want?”
He taps a finger against his chin as if he’s carefully contemplating the question. He’s not fooling me, though. He probably knew what he wanted from me the moment he saw my car on the side of the road and realised I needed a ride.
“I hear Tom Welcock is looking at us to advertise his new restaurant.”
“No. No, no, no, no, no.”
He grins again, making me feel off balance once more.
We’ve both worked with Tom Welcock in the past, and one thing we can actually agree on is that the man is a giant pain in the arse. He isn’t our biggest client by any means, but he expects to be treated as such. Because Justin and I are considered the cream of the crop at Kale & Wells, Welcock will ask to work with one of us on his next project. It will be a toss-up between us unless I volunteer to take it on, and I really, really don’t want to work with Welcock again.
“I can’t take on a new account, Justin. I have too much work on my plate already.”
He steps backwards and shrugs. “I guess I’ll be on my way, then.”
If it were anyone else from our office stranded on the side of the road, Justin wouldn’t hesitate to help them. But I made it clear to him from the get-go that I didn’t want anything from him. He was too good looking, too charming, too popular - too everything - for my peace of mind, and I didn’t want to be another one of his groupies. I didn’t want to belong to his crowd. I rejected him and his offer of friendship on multiple occasions. Now I’m paying the price.
I am the one person at Kale & Wells who Justin doesn’t care about keeping happy. I’m his rival, someone to beat for the spot in Sydney. Reminding myself of that makes it far easier to ignore the unsettling feelings he stirs in me. But just this once I can’t help wishing we were on slightly better terms so he would give me a ride without asking for something in return.
“Wait.” I grab his arm to stop him from walking away but let go just as quickly when my hand tingles and burns from touching him.
His eyes lock with mine as he waits for my answer.
“Fine, I’ll… put my hand up for it. Okay?”
Working with Welcock will mean many, many more hours of work for me. I just hope that if I kick butt on my other projects, and made Welcock happy, I’ll have an even better shot at securing the promotion.
“What are we standing here for, then?” Justin asks, looking pleased with himself. “I don’t have all day.”
Ignoring the urge to hit him, I walk towards his car and open the passenger door.
“Do you think we could pop by my place and get my phone?” I ask as I climb into his car.
If I’m saving Justin from Welcock, he owes me a lot more than a ride to work. The least he can do is drive me back for my phone.
“We’ll be late for work,” he says, manoeuvring his car into a gap in the traffic.
“Since when do you care about being late?”
“I didn’t realise you paid such careful attention to what time I turn up at work, Gillis.”
“I don’t, I…”
I snap my mouth shut. He’s just goading me, and I refuse to play this game with him. Yes, I notice when he walks into work, but it’s impossible not to. There’s always a racket when he finally shows up, high fiving all the guys, flirting with the girls, and talking loudly about who is currently ahead in the footy tipping. If I happen to look at the clock when his presence disturbs me every morning… well, that’s to be expected, isn’t it?
“I’ll make up the time tonight,” I say.
“I was kidding. It doesn’t bother me if we’re late. I know you always stay back.”
“I don’t always stay back,” I say defensively.
“Whatever,” Justin says. “You’re still in Cheltenham, right?”
“Yes.”
Once he’s turned the car in the right direction, I give him the directions to my house. He offers me his phone to call someone about my car, but I decline. I don’t want to owe Justin D’Marco anything else.
We spend the next few minutes arguing over whose presentation for Black Forrest Winery was better – a presentation we made over a year ago – before Justin pulls up in front of my little unit.
I get out of the car the moment he turns the engine off, only to look behind me when I hear his car door open.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he steps out of the car.
“Coming in. What does it look like?”
He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe how stupid my question is. I fish my keys out of my handbag as I reach the front door, my heart pounding. I don’t want Justin in my house. This is my private space, my refuge.
“It’s a bit of a mess…” I say, immediately kicking myself for apologising.
All my free time is spent at work, and I’m exhausted by the time the weekend rolls around. No matter how many excuses I have for why my place is a mess, I can’t help seeing my home through Justin’s eyes as we walk through the front door: clean clothes piled over the furniture, books and magazines stacked on the floor, a dirty cup and bowl sitting on the coffee table.
“I won’t be long,” I say as I rush off to find my phone.
By which I mean ‘don’t get comfortable’.
My phone – which I’ve been using as my alarm clock for the past month – is still sitting on my bedside table, exactly where I left it. I pick it up and, realising it needs to be charged, rifle through the clothes on my bedroom floor for the charger. Once found, I put my phone and charger into my bag and go back out into the lounge. Which is now empty.
“Justin?”
He walks out of the kitchen holding my eviction notice. I barrel towards him, snatching the paper out of his hands.
“How dare—”
“Cool it, Gillis. I went to grab a glass of water and it fell off the table on my way to the sink.”
Fell off the table my arse! “You should have asked before helping yourself—”
“To water? You’re even more uptight than I thought, Gillis.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. Of course I’ve heard my co-workers refer to me as uptight before, but hearing it from Justin makes me feel ten times worse for some stupid reason.
“Can we just go, please?”
“This notice says you have to be out in two weeks’ time.”
“Thank you, I’m aware of exactly how much time I have.”
The rental market isn’t great at the moment. I’ve spent the past three weekends looking for something else, but every place I’ve been shown through is a dump. Moreover, I’m only going to be in Melbourne for another five months, tops – providing I’m offered the position in Sydney.
I finished my year-long lease on my unit a while back and was happy with the month-to-month arrangement I had with the agent. It would have worked out perfectly had the landlord not decided she wanted to move into the unit herself. Now, chances are high I’m going to have to sign a year-long lease again and then try to find someone to take over the lease when I move out.
“So where are you moving to?” Justin asks me.
“I’m still figuring it out,” I say, opening the front door and ushering him out.
“You don’t know?”
“I haven’t found anything decent yet.”
I can feel Justin watching me as I pull the front door closed behind us and check that it’s locked. Will he just drop it already?
“I’ve heard the rental market is a bit of a bust at the moment.”
“It is,” I confirm, walking towards his car.
“My housemate’s girlfriend has bought a place and she keeps pleading with him to move in with her. I told him he has to wait until March. I don’t want to pay both our shares of the rent and the idea of having to advertise for a new housemate and interview them is a pain. Not to mention I’d have to explain I’ll be moving to Sydney in a few months.”
My hand slips off the door handle. He’s grinning at me over the top of his car and I realise he’s goading me again.
“Dream on, D’Marco,” I say, opening the car door and sliding into the passenger seat. “You know that promotion is mine.”
“Au contraire, Gillis, I have it in the bag. I was talking to James Kale on Friday night—”
“James Kale was at O’Reilly’s on Friday night?”
Every Friday night most of the staff of Kale & Wells go to O’Reilly’s, the pub opposite the agency. However, it’s rare for the partners themselves to go.
Growing up with a mother who has issues with alcohol put me off from spending time with people who are drinking. So I’ve avoided going out with the others on Friday nights, feeling my time is better spent working. Besides, I have nothing to say to my co-workers outside of hello and goodbye.
“He was there,” Justin confirms. “And he was talking about how he wants the role of Creative Director to go to someone who can fit in with a wide variety of people. The Sydney office is an eclectic group, and he’s looking for someone to step in and be the glue that brings them all together.”
The inference I can’t do that rankles. “Are you saying I can’t?”
“Come on, Gillis, you know you’re not exactly known for being… social. Or a team player, for that matter. You don’t like having to work with others.”
My face heats. Justin’s accurate assessment of my... inadequacies quickly pops the bubble of assurance I was living in. I thought I had been successful in concealing the fact I don’t enjoy working with other people. Clearly, I’ve failed. I want to defend myself, but there is no way I will open up to Justin about my issues. He doesn’t need to know that relying on anyone but myself makes me feel helpless and out of control, or that I felt that way too many times during my childhood to let it happen as an adult.
My difficulty working with others hasn’t gone unnoticed by James Kale, either.
“You’re great with the clients, Abby. You’re intuitive and your ability to appeal to any and every demographic is exceptional. But you don’t seem to relate to your co-workers. Success in this industry means cooperating and building relationships with the people you work with, not just the clients.”
James’ words during my yearly review didn’t sit well with me at the time. I’m good at my job. I can take a concept and communicate it in a way that appeals to the general public. The firm’s clients often ask for me specifically, and I have no problem building relationships with them. Why can’t that be enough? Why does it matter if I don’t indulge in small talk and drinking nights with my peers?
Friendship is overrated. The shattering betrayal I experienced years ago taught me how quickly friends can turn when they’re hurt, how they can go straight for the jugular. The people I once trusted implicitly set out to hurt me, and they succeeded so well it took years for me to move past it.
Even now, the memory causes tears to prick at the corners of my eyes. I blink rapidly, willing them away. I will not cry in front of Justin. And I won’t give up on the promotion, either. I’ve worked too damn hard to just walk away and let Justin have it.
“Did Kale give you his word?” I ask, my voice croaky as I try to conceal the fact that I’m on the verge of tears.
“What?”
“Did James Kale tell you the promotion was yours?”
“He hinted at it, but no, he didn’t give me his word.”
I nod. “Good.”
It isn’t over. Not yet.
James told me I should make an effort to build relationships if I want to advance. I had hoped that my excellent work ethic would be enough to make him forget that conversation. Clearly, it hasn’t been. Now I’m in danger of Justin snagging the promotion and I need to change that. Fast. I’m going to have to show James Kale that I can grow and change, at least a little.
I’m never going to become buddy-buddy with my peers. Not in the way Justin is. But I must do better than the superficial and stilted conversations I’ve been having with my co-workers for the past six years. I can see that now. I must develop some kind of rapport with my colleagues, even if that means stepping outside my comfort zone and going to O’Reilly’s on Fridays.
My stomach sinks as I picture trying to make conversation with the people I work with while they get drunk. I’m going to have to push through my discomfort. I need to prove I can be the one to bring some cohesiveness to the Sydney office.
“Still think you’re in with a chance?” Justin asks.
“Don’t count me out yet, D’Marco.”
Justin grins. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Gillis.”