Greer presents the landscape drawings before dinner, and predictably there’s lots of oohing and aahing. Which is well deserved. When we finally sit down to dinner, conversation turns to work.
“Hey, Josh, tell the fam about the awards you’re up for,” Will the Bigmouth says during a rare lull in the conversation.
Of course Stella is right onto it. “An award. What is it? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“It’s nothing really. Just a company thing.” I try and wrestle the potato bake away from Will, who has taken more than one man should be able to consume. I don’t know where he puts it. He’s like a bean-pole.
Will snorts. That’s the last time I tell him anything.
“Yeah.Just a company thingand you’re up for how many awards—three, four?—after only being there four months.” It’s kind of nice how excited Will is for me, even if it is making me cringe.
“Are you going to make us drag it out of you?” Harry asks.
“Yes, he is. You know what he’s like.” Ethan jumps into the conversation. All eyes are on me.
“It’s a thing the agency does. Every office across the region gets together, and they give out awards for things like Best Campaign, Most Successful Agency and such. This year it’s in Sydney.”
I’ll go along. Reluctantly. I’m not looking forward to it. I have a conflicted relationship with these sorts of nights. They always remind me of the many end-of-year awards ceremonies neither of my parents ever bothered to attend. I can’t count how many certificates I have for First in English, Excellence in Creative Writing or Best School Magazine article. All delivered with nobody watching other than Harry and Stella in the later years of high school.
“Best Creative Director, I think. Most Successful New Business Team. And maybe Best Campaign Creative. It’s no big deal.” I’m aware downplaying it is a trauma response, but I can’t seem to help it.
“And how many offices are involved?” Harry asks.
“Eight, I think. Mostly in Asia, two from Australia, one from New Zealand.”
“Wow. That’s fantastic. You should be so proud. Especially after only having been there such a short time.” Harry holds his glass up in an informal toast.
With the whole family watching me, I feel uncharacteristically shy.
“When is it?” Stella reaches across the table and pats my hand, looking as excited as she would be for one of her kids.
I wish I could lie and say I couldn’t remember, but I don’t think they’d buy it.
“Last Saturday in October.”
“And who are you taking as your date?” Will demands.
“No date. Going solo.”
They all look at me like I’ve told them I’m joining Scientology. This family would no more send one of its own out to something like that alone than, well, than join Scientology. Will turns to Greer.
“You busy, Gee? Looks like Josh needs a plus one.”
I can’t quite catch my breath.
“Greer probably has something on that night already. Don’t you, Greer?” says Jessie, with an arctic tone in her voice. Yep. She’s definitely not my biggest fan. That’s fine. I don’t like me much these days either. In fact, my level of annoyance at myself is off the charts.
Greer checks her phone calendar. “As it happens, I’m free.” Her expression tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing. “What time, Josh?”
I’ve been snookered. If I say no, they’ll all wonder why. And if I say yes, well, we all know where this might go. At least Greer and I do. And, apparently, Jess.
“Honestly, Greer, you don’t have to. It’s no big deal. Happy to go solo.” I make one final attempt at getting out of this, knowing it’s doomed to fail.
“Nonsense,” Harry chips in. “You need someone there to cheer you on and celebrate the win with you. Take plenty of photos, Gee, won’t you?”
Unwittingly, they’ve managed to give the fox the key to the henhouse.
Chapter Twenty-Four
