‘Not much,’ I reply honestly. ‘I did meet him though.’
‘Good, because he’s coming in later.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘We’re doing a profile on him,’ Jonathan informs me. ‘In fact, could you book a meeting room for Niles to do the interview?’
Niles is one of the junior writers.
‘Sure. What time?’
‘Check with Niles this morning, but I think it’s at two o’clock.’
‘Will do.’
‘Thanks.’
As soon as he’s gone, I email Nicola:Pier is coming in! I think at 2pm but I’ll double check.
She immediately replies with:ARGH!!! Where the hell is my lippy?
I grin and get on with my work.
Pier is indeed scheduled to arrive at 2 p.m., so I take an early lunchbreak to ensure I’m back on time. Nicola is looking glossed-up and glamorous when I enter the building with my soup.
‘Good luck,’ I say on my way past. She tries to keep a straight face.
Reception calls at five past two.
‘The bastard blanked me,’ Nicola says heatedly down the phone.
‘No!’ I cry. ‘Where is he?’
‘He’s on his way up.’
‘What happened?’
‘He went straight up to Mel and didn’t even look at me.’
‘What an arsehole!’ I squawk as loudly as I can get away with. I see through the glass panel on the door that Pier Frank has just stepped out onto the landing. ‘He’s here, better go.’
‘Give him a kick for me,’ she says menacingly.
‘Or you could give him one on the way out,’ I say, as he pushes through the door.
‘Not bloody likely,’ she mutters at my unintentionaldouble entendre. I end the call.
‘Can I help you?’ I ask coolly. The twat is wearing dark sunglasses.
‘I’m here to see Jonathan.’
‘Your name?’
He frowns with irritation. ‘Pier Frank.’
‘Mr Laurence is out to lunch,’ I say. ‘Niles is doing the interview.’
‘Who’s Niles?’
