The blame is squarely on my shoulders. Just as I’d accepted the blame for the state I’d gotten my business in. I’d known from the beginning what to expect. Beckett hadn’t sold me lies. I’d just lied to myself—he’d even given me a timeline.
Angry. I need angry. Why isn’t that stage here yet!
‘We haven’t seen Beckett around for a while.’ Mir places a latte on my desk. A latte from the bean-to-cup machine Beckett had just arrived with one day at the office. As much as I want not to drink it on principle, it would be ridiculously churlish.
‘Thanks.’ My eyes flick up from my laptop for the briefest of moments, her expression expectant. Oh, she asked me a question, didn’t she? ‘He’s been busy.’ Busy being anywhere but with me. He packed a bag. I bet the bastard went on vacation just to get away from me. I go back to hammering the keys in an attempt to stave off more tears. Maybe I really should have insurance on my laptop, like Jorge suggested. I’m not ready to talk about Beckett yet. Not ready for the knowing looks, sympathetic murmurs and banal comments.
He’s not worth it. It’s his loss. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.
Maybe if I repeat these enough, I’ll start to believe.
But it’s been ten days, and he’s not the only one that’s a coward.
‘Ols, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you look like a bag of bones.’
‘That’s what happens when you’ve been ill, Mir. You can’t keep anything down, so you lose weight.’ I shouldn’t be using this tone on her, and I feel especially awful as she slides a chocolate cookie next to my coffee. She didn’t do anything wrong, so why am I taking it out on her?
It’s his fault.
Or it’s my own.
Depending on which way the wind blows, it seems.
My phone rings as I’m leaving the office today. It’s Sunday. I slide it from my pocket and look at the screen because I’m screening my calls these days. When Reggie called yesterday, I ignored it, texting her immediate to say I had laryngitis, just to give me a few more days to pluck up the courage to speak to her. Explain. Maybe I’ll even tell her the truth.
But this call? For the first time in a long time, I answer it.
‘Luke.’
‘Hey, Ols. You answered!’
‘I did.’ I lean back against the window of the coffee shop next door to the office, preferring not to walk and take this call, especially if the talk turns to Beckett.I wonder how long it took him to tell the folks in his office about us.
‘How are you?’ That’s not a careful enquiry, more a casual one.
‘Oh, you know. Busy.’
‘I heard that matches.com are sniffing around.’
This is true. In the absence of Beckett sitting in on our haphazard board meetings, he’d sent his proxy. Bob. An older man who sits on a few company boards, apparently. Anyway, he has a contact who has spoken tohiscontact, and now were waiting forthatcontact to patch us through.
‘I’m not sure you’re one hundred percent right there. Let’s just say that things are looking good.’
‘Excellent! I always knew E-volve had legs.’ Legs he tried to kick out from under me. Maybe. It’s not a line of enquiry I’ve had much time to think on. ‘Hey, I just called to say I’m atGreens. I wondered if you’d like to meet me for a drink.’
I move the phone from my face and sigh. I’d rather spend time with Hannibal Lecter.
‘Come on. Just a drink. We didn’t get time to talk when I saw you the other day. And the stuff you said? Well, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.’
‘Listen, Luke, I’m really tired. I was just heading home.’ I don’t have the energy to wade through any more shit. ‘Can we just do this another day?’
‘Please, Ols. We need to talk about this. Clear the air. I won’t lose you as a friend. I can’t—I need you.’
I sigh again, not hiding it this time. Maybe this is bigger than just Beckett said/Luke said. Maybe I ought to give him the chance to explain before I wipe him from my life.
‘Give me ten minutes,’ I answer wearily. ‘But I’m only staying for one drink.’
Greens, as it turns out, is situated at the Shoreditch end of Hoxton, so it takes me longer than I’d imagined it would to get there. I find Luke sitting outside under an awning strung with lights. The floor is covered with fake grass and the furniture is wooden. But the rustic décor seems to have brought all the hipsters to the yard because the place is buzzing.
