Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Lies don’t suit me. Just as well she can’t see my face, or my burning cheeks would give me up in a heartbeat.
Great, she says. Let me know if you need anything. Speak soon x
I hope fucking not.
Telling white lies to Orla has made this situation all so real. She could have been such an ass to me for breaking cancellation rules like that, and not giving her updates. But I didn’t have any to give her. They weren’t my fucking updates.
Thank fucking God I’m one of their star performers, or I may have got ten times more of a bollocking.
I scroll through my empty calendar – so many appointments gone. Not a single gig between now and the founders one.
Not apart from today, of course.
My head is spinning with so many questions.
Are my clients gone for good?
Is the Agency going to find out?
Why did Reuben do this? Is he pissed at me? Have I fucked him off?
Has someone found out what’s going on between us?
More to the point – what the hell IS going on between us!?
And what’s going to happen to my income?!
Jesus Christ, I could do without this right now. I grab my painkillers and down a couple with some iced water in the kitchen, and then godfuckingdamnit, I feel the paranoia rising. I feel the shakes, hating the lack of control… because without Creamgirl… without my job…
I check the clock. About an hour to go before Reuben leaves the grotto.
I scroll through my postponed bookings, assuring myself that I have options at my fingertips right here. I could click and offer to reverse the postponements. I’d get a load of them back. My regulars.
The safe option.
It’s only been one night since they were messed around with. I could tell them it was an error or something. I could sort it out. I could ease my mind, and tell Orla I’ve changed my mind, no problem. I could tell her I’m feeling just fine now.
But I don’t click anything and I don’t type a word. Not yet.
I need answers from the original finger clicker the very moment he walks in through the front door. He is the boss after all, and I’d best have the sense to remember it.
All it would take is one click of Reuben’s finger clicking fingers, and my whole fucking life could come tumbling down.
18
REUBEN
It’s been years since I’ve been excited to pull into my own driveway. I take the bouquet of roses and orchids from the passenger seat, smiling to myself as I grab the can of squirty cream. My heart is thumping as I put my key in the lock. I resist the urge to shout honey, I’m home! as I step inside, although that’s how I’m feeling.
This house feels like home again.
Or so I think until I find the gorgeous Tiffany sitting at the breakfast bar with a stare like thunder. Her eyes are red, and she swipes a fresh tear from her cheek as she glares at me.
“Why did you do it?! What’s going on?!” she shouts, and my heart sinks as I hear the crack in her voice.
I lay the flowers down on the counter and place the can of cream by their side.
“What do you mean, what’s going on? Has something happened?”
She holds up her phone, even though the screen is blank, and the pieces slot into place as she jabs a finger at it.
“Don’t play dumb. You cancelled my bookings! I had Orla on my case about it, asking why, and I had nothing to tell her, since I didn’t do it. YOU did, didn’t you?”
Shit. I hold up my hands.
“There is nothing to worry about, Tiff. Let me explain.”
“Nothing to worry about?!” She wipes away another tear. “I’ve been shitting myself, Reuben. Absolutely fucking shitting myself!”
I approach calmly, battling the urge to grab her and hold her tight.
“You can reinstate your bookings if you want to. Every single one of them. You won’t have lost any revenue, I assure you. There will be no comeuppance from Orla or the team.” I pause on the other side of the breakfast bar, swallowing as she tosses her phone on the counter and puts her hands over her face to hide her tears.
“Why did you do it? It could have pissed everyone off so bad, I’d lose my job.”
“Yes, it could, but it wouldn’t have. I’d have taken the fall myself, if I needed to.”
She stares at me in disbelief. “Why would you do that?! You’d be breaking worse rules than I would! It’s fucking insane!”
She has me on that. It is fucking insane.
“May I?” I ask and point to the breakfast stool at her side. She nods, but pulls hers away to create some distance between us. It hurts, because that’s the last thing I want. I take a breath.