She leans in. ‘You’re rattled.’
‘Drop it, Theo.’
The clatter of cutlery sharpens. My earlobe throbs where I tugged it during the drive.
Theo sighs, relenting. ‘This new collaborative Brodie’s almost likeable.’
‘Please don’t use that tone. He’s not a rescue dog. He’s a client.’
‘Who you stare at like he’s a leaking dam you’re hell-bent on fixing.’
My knife scrapes across the plate. ‘I fix things. It’s part of my job.Ourjob.’
Theo’s smile fades. After a moment, she says, ‘From what I can tell, Callum would’ve rather gargled bleach than read to kids.’
The name drops between us like a lead weight. Theo presses further, gentle in a way that doesn’t send me running. ‘He’d probably have called it beneath him, am I right?’
‘Callum only did charity events if there was a TV camera in his face. No big cameras, no big show, no Callum. Brodie’s…a different breed.’
‘Better breed? How do they compare?’
‘One’s a difficult client. One’s a cheating bastard. There’s no comparison.’
Theo’s foot hooks around my ankle beneath the table. ‘You chose Brodie as a client for a reason.’
‘I didn’tchoosehim. His contract got absorbed when I bought—’
‘Yes, but you fought for him. Upgraded his PR package, redesigned his—’
‘Because his potential has been squandered!’ I realise I’m almost shouting, so I lower my voice. ‘Callum is good, but Brodie? He’s a once-in-a-generation athlete. Gifted. Obsessive. Hungry. The way he dissects game footage, you’d think he’s prepping for—’
Theo’s grin cuts me off. ‘You’re really behind him. No, you’reimpressed.’
‘It’s professional appreciation for our biggest asset.’
‘Keep telling yourself that.’
I kick her under the table. ‘Are you my assistant or my tormentor?’
‘Can’t I be both?’
I grunt noncommittally.
‘Was it always that bad? With Callum?’ she asks.
I set down my fork. ‘Not at first. In the beginning, he was…’ I search for the right word. ‘Nice? Perhaps even dazzling?’
‘They usually are.’ Theo’s mouth twists, and a shadow crosses her face. ‘The worst ones shine brightest at the start. Then they crash and burn.’
‘I met Callum when my dad took him on and I had finished uni, working at Harrington’s as a junior publicist. Callum wooed me for over a year before I gave in. He’d fly down to London just to take me to dinner. Send flowers to the office.’ I trace condensation on my water glass. ‘Made me feel like the centre of his universe.’
‘When did it change?’
The café’s exposed bulbs cast shadows across the table. Outside, rain streaks the windows in silver rivulets.
‘That’s the thing. It never really did in our two years together. Until I walked in on him with his trousers round his ankles and his dick inside another woman.’
Theo reaches across, squeezing my wrist. A pulse jumps in my throat. Too much. I shake her off, reaching for my coffee.
