Just for the Rush

I laughed.

He came over to my desk. ‘My life is not funny, Ivy.’

‘I know, sorry.’

‘It’s ok. I was only joking. Do you want a coffee? Does anyone else want a coffee? If someone heads out to Nero’s you can line your stomachs before you go out and get pissed up on me at two o’clock!’

‘I’ll get you a coffee.’ I stood up.

His lips lifted only at one side. ‘I offered one to you.’ He was flirting, but he flirted with everyone.

‘I’ll get it. You pay.’

He smiled fully. His mobile rang. ‘Oh, sod it. We’ll both go fetch the coffee. Listen up, guys! The boss is doing the coffee run! This has to be remembered!’

A few people laughed. We all knew he’d remind us that he’d gone out to do a Nero’s run for at least a year.

His phone stopped ringing.

My office phone started ringing with an outside-line tone.

‘Don’t you dare answer that,’ Jack said.

‘And what if it is a client and not Sharon.’

‘It’s Christmas Eve. If it’s a client they’ll call again in the New Year. Come on, let’s go get coffee. Make a list of what people want.’

I picked up a post-it note and went around everyone. There were ten of us. It wasn’t a huge team.

Jack had picked up his coat and was putting it back on. His mobile rang again. He knocked it on to silent and left it vibrating on his desk as he walked out of his office, hands in pockets. ‘Come along, then.’

I stuck the order on the sleeve of his duffle coat before I turned and grabbed my parka off the back of my chair. I pulled it on as we walked out of the office.

He tilted an eyebrow at me while we waited in the hall for the lift, and recited the list of coffee orders. ‘Are they taking the piss, seriously, gingerbread lattes with cream and iced mochas. I mean who wants anything iced in the middle of winter?’

I made a face at him. ‘You offered.’

‘Yes, I did. Mug that I am.’

The lift doors opened. ‘You’re not a mug. You’re a nice boss.’

‘Nice… That’s shit praise. It’s sour when you know there are words like ‘great’ and ‘awesome’ that have not been used.’

‘You’re in a bad mood today, aren’t you?’ I folded my arms over my chest and watched the light behind the numbers as the lift went down through the floors.

‘Is it any wonder, with Sharon on my back?’

I glanced at him as the lift doors opened again. ‘Yeah, but you did bring that on yourself.’

His lips quirked sideward, sharply. It wasn’t a flirtatious expression; it was a challenge. I’d annoyed him. His eyebrow lifted on one side once more too and his pale eyes looked their objection through his dark lashes. The expression said, what? Then asked, why?

A pull of attraction caught in my stomach. Jack was too good-looking and his flirtatious nature had always made my stomach somersault. I laughed, but it sounded awkward. The hit I got was not just an appreciation of his looks; it was sexual. My body was saying it would love to have sex with him. It had been a secret desire of mine for years. But it was one of those things that I thought about but would never do. It wasn’t going to happen because he was my boss.

He looked away and held an arm out, telling me to walk ahead through the revolving door. I had a feeling, even though I had my parka on, that his gaze dropped to my arse. He was such a player.

But that side of him had always been exciting. I liked him looking at me, like I looked at him. I smiled to myself, my hands slipping into my coat pockets to keep them warm. It felt like a compliment to be admired by a man like Jack.

On the far side of the spinning doors, the volume of London, on the last day before Christmas, roared into life. The traffic was bumper to bumper, and there were people everywhere, with hands full of shopping bags.

Jack came out of the spinning doors behind me.

I sighed out a breath as he walked next to me.

‘So what are people saying about the mess I made of my marriage? Did Sharon tell you what she’d like to do with my private parts? I’ve heard several versions. That was probably the chore she had in mind. She probably wanted me to pick up some nutcrackers on the way home.’

I looked at him. It wasn’t surprising Sharon wanted to do him harm. If he fancied me, I doubted he felt guilty. I used to feel guilty when I was with Rick, when my stomach flipped at the sight of Jack, like I was being disloyal to Rick. But Jack was one of those men you’d have to be blind not to have some feeling for, and he played up to it.

‘Is Sharon still at your place?’ I asked as we wove a path through the Christmas shoppers. There were thousands of people walking up and down the street, but it was the heart of Knightsbridge. They were here for Harrods; to see Santa and the windows and look at the Christmas lights as well as shop.

‘Yes. I moved out.’

I couldn’t play judge over their separation; I’d instigated my breakup too, and I’d moved out too. I’d rammed a stiletto heel right through Rick’s heart in front of an audience. Santa was going to be slipping a lump of coal into my stocking tonight. I was not on anyone’s nice list.

But I wasn’t sorry. Santa could leave me on his bad-girl list. I’d rather be on it than miserable still. It had been amazing how my depression had lifted since I’d left. But there was guilt. I’d hurt Rick, and that was the one thing that was preventing me from being wholly happy now.

‘Here.’ Jack pushed the door of Nero’s open and let me go in first. We were welcomed in with the sound of Wham, singing out ‘Last Christmas’…

The place wasn’t too busy. Most people were buying Christmas Eve bargains, not wasting time in a coffee shop.

I joined the queue. Jack stood behind me. I looked back to see his face, ‘So go on, then, what’s the truth with you and Sharon?’

‘It’s none of your business.’

‘Harsh.’ It wasn’t all that harsh; he’d said it with a smile.

‘I don’t fancy talking about it. I save those conversations for my lawyer.’

‘Are you trying to get your place back?’

‘No. She can have it.’

Jack had many edges. As well as always bursting with enthusiasm. There was the risk addict and the control freak. The big picture that others glimpsed seemed ten miles wide when Jack described it. He was a true entrepreneur; an ideas man and a money-maker. Emma always said if you gave him a pound, tomorrow it would be ten thousand. Everything with him worked fast, his brain dodged all over the place and he loved long shots – loved anything that made his heart beat. You could see the light in his eyes get sharper when he had an idea or was after something. The harder a client was to convince the more Jack wanted the contract and the more he pushed us to win it. He worked stupid hours fighting to win new work. But that was why he was so great to work for, his energy was infectious and he was passionate about what he did.

The only thing that freaked me out sometimes was the intensity that came with the passion. He sucked us all in and had us screaming for more, no matter how heavy the workload was, but then he would suddenly stop and lean back and look at all the work, and my heart would be going like crazy because I wanted what I’d done to be what he was looking for.

‘She’s not getting a share of the agency, though.’

I’d never considered that his breakup might affect us. ‘Shit, I’d never thought—’

‘Of course she was going to be after it. Why would she not try to get her claws into the treasure trove of J’s Advertising?’

‘Sorry.’

He laughed sharply. ‘No. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t be telling you. Don’t worry, your job’s safe. And I’ll shut up. You didn’t ask me to rant at you and I said I wasn’t going to talk about it.’

‘It’s okay, I understand.’

‘No, I doubt you do.’

He probably didn’t know Rick and I had split. Jack didn’t sit around and talk much; he was always too busy.

I looked forward again and moved along with the queue, my hands slipping into the pockets of my parka once more.

Jack’s hands suddenly gripped either side of my waist and he shook me a little, sending my tummy into a backflip. ‘Hey. Sorry again. That was mean. I heard you split from Rick. But if you’re thinking it’s the same thing – it’s not.’

No probably not. I hadn’t cheated.

‘So, who got the house in your split?’

I looked back again and laughed, but it was a shallow sound. ‘Him.’

‘Where are you living, then?’

‘In a tiny flat; an attic room. I like it. Rick is in the place we used to rent together still. I think he’s hoping I’ll go back.’

‘There see, very different. Sharon wouldn’t want me back.’

‘And you…?’

‘Want her back? Are you kidding me, that money-grabbing, self-centred bitch. I’m celebrating being rid of her.’ His pitch didn’t say celebration, it was bitter – and maybe a little twisted.

‘Can I help you?’ The barista called along the counter, picking up the orders along the queue.

‘Hi, Susie.’ Jack smiled at her. ‘Here you go; there’s the list.’

The barista smiled at him. ‘Be with you in a minute, Jack.’

‘You’re on first-name terms with the Nero’s staff,’ I whispered as she turned away.

He smiled at me. ‘Why, aren’t you?’

My smile quirked. ‘Do you flirt with her?’

‘I talk to her. What’s wrong with that?’ His hands slid into the pockets of his coat, as if he was the most innocent guy in the world. He was so on Santa’s naughty list too.

But what was wrong with it? Flirting. Nothing. Flirting was fun and I hadn’t been able to do it for years because I’d tied myself down to Rick. ‘Nothing… But… I give up with you.’

‘That’s the sort of thing my mum would say, and I didn’t even know you’d started with me, Ivy.’

We moved three people along. ‘It’s no wonder Sharon is pissed off with you.’

His eyes widened, the pale blue challenging me as his lips formed a firm line, like he was going to blow off into a storm of rude words. His Adam’s apple shifted as he swallowed them, then he said, ‘What do you guys think?’

Awkwardness wrapped me up with a nice bow. But he should know what everyone thought. ‘That you cheated.’

‘That I cheated,’ he said it in a disparaging way and his eyebrows lifted, saying, are you kidding me.

I’d guess he hadn’t cheated.

‘Well, if that is what you all want to believe…’

‘Sharon told Emma.’

‘That was good of her, and good of Em to repeat it.’

Shit, I was digging a deeper hole. ‘You didn’t cheat?’ I took a step out of it.

‘Oh, no, she’s absolutely right. I cheated. Loads.’ He’d leaned forward when he said the last word, and it shivered down my spine. Being up close to Jack was more than a metaphoric slap around the face, it was like I’d eaten a mouthful of the hottest curry; he made me sweat, as my temperature soared.

I turned away and faced the counter as we reached the till. He’d given the list to Susie and so I started reeling off the drinks we had on order. He pulled out his wallet. I stepped out of his way so he could hold his card over the machine.

‘Sorry, that was declined. Do you want to try putting your card in the reader?’

He slotted it in, then typed in his PIN.

‘Sorry, it’s still declined.’

‘Oh, fuck,’ he said under his breath. ‘Try this one. It ought to work. It’s just mine.’ He put another card in. The payment went through.

We moved out the way to wait for our coffees as the Christmas music aptly changed to The Pogues, ‘Fairytale of New York’.

‘Has she cleaned out your account?’

‘She cleaned out our joint account a month ago. Fortunately I didn’t have much money in there. Now she’s maxed out the credit card. I only left her access to one. She was meant to use it wisely. So if she hasn’t bought her Christmas dinner already she’s going to be hungry. That is probably what she was calling about. I had the limit lowered and didn’t tell her. It’s a full-on war I’m in, Ivy.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Again, not your fault, just me moaning.’

I hadn’t heard Jack moan until today. He was always upbeat. Where had he been this morning? To see his lawyer? He’d been managing his split with Sharon since the summer, but he hadn’t been like this before. ‘Well, I am sorry. I don’t like seeing you down.’

His smile tilted, then his hand gripped the back of my neck and his fingers squeezed. ‘Thanks, and, for what it’s worth, I think Rick is an idiot.’

He didn’t know how Rick and I had split then. ‘You know I dumped him?’

‘So Em said. What I meant was, Rick is just an idiot.’

I laughed. I didn’t know what to say to that. His long fingers slipped away from my neck, but I could still feel them there.

As we waited watching Susie make all ten drinks and load them into a box, the music changed to ‘Happy Xmas (War is over)’.

‘If I hear one more Christmas song…’ Jack whispered under his breath.

I laughed. But I knew what he meant. I was not in the spirit of the season this year. Rick hadn’t only taken custody of the house; he’d got custody of my parents and my friends. Everyone was on the side of team-Rick. But he was so nice, any woman would be stupid to say no to him, and so everyone had seen the complete and utter bitch in me.

I probably was the stupid one.

I glanced sideways at Jack. He was about four inches taller than me and I was five-eight, so he was tall. I caught his gaze as it shone through his dark eyelashes. ‘For what it’s worth,’ I whispered, ‘I think Sharon is a bitch.’

A bark of laughter left his throat.

‘Here you go!’ Our box of coffees was handed over, I moved to pick it up, but he leaned over and took it before I could. Really he could have done this on his own. Except maybe he needed someone to hold the doors. I pushed it open for him as we walked out.

The street was so crowded with shoppers it was like playing dodgems. I opened the disabled access door into the office block so he didn’t have to navigate the rotating doors with the box.

‘Back to the madhouse,’ he said as we stepped into the lift.

I looked at my watch. ‘There’s only an hour left before two…’

‘I can’t see much work being done, but maybe this coffee will charge you all up, so we can get all the account work wrapped up—’

‘Before Christmas.’

It was like he cringed at the word Christmas, as his face screwed up and one shoulder sort of ducked. But after that weird reaction, once his face had straightened up, he said in a flat voice, ‘Yeah.’

‘Weirdo…’ I said as the lift doors opened and I stepped out.

I got the office door and held it open.

‘Heartbreaker…’ he said when he walked past me into the office.

He was such a flirt, but so fit that even though I knew he flirted with absolutely everyone, it still had an effect. It was that pitch in his voice, the look in his blue eyes, and the quirk to his mouth, as much as any of the things he said – oh and how hot his body looked.

‘Coffee!’ he yelled as he set the box down on the desk, then he pulled a cup out. ‘Vanilla latte.’ He held it out to me.

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

My fingers touched his when I took it and my tummy did a backflip, excited by a sexual jolt of attraction.

He turned away and looked into the box again, then pulled out his triple-shot espresso. He drank his coffee like the drug it was, taking shots to charge up his exuberant personality. He walked back into his office and shut the door.

I shouted out the types of coffee and people came over to collect them as I watched him take off his coat. He hung it up on the rack in there, then went over to his desk, picked up his mobile phone and made a call. He walked around as he talked, making large hand gestures. Then his hand gripped in his hair and he looked up, as if he was seeking Divine intervention.

It didn’t look as though he’d received it. He looked like he shouted something into the phone before ending the call. Then he put his mobile on his desk as if it had burned his hand and stood staring at it for a moment. His hands slid into his pockets. A look of exasperation played across his face.

When he sat down at his desk, he picked up his office phone. The phone two desks behind me rang. Tina answered. ‘Hi, Jack.’

‘Your lawyer… Okay, on to it.’

As I walked over to leave the empty box by the recycle bin, about three minutes later, I heard Tina say, ‘He’s on the line. I’ll put him through.’

I felt sorry for Jack. He’d worked hard to build up the business.

But then he had cheated.

I sat down to finish off the project I was working on. I wanted to get it completed before Christmas. I wasn’t allowed near the big accounts, but I’d recently been given one of the smaller ones to manage as a trial. I was trying really hard to come up with a new concept that would blow their minds.

If I was going to make my mark on advertising, this was my moment to start.

After about half an hour I sat back in my chair and sighed. The right idea wasn’t coming. I’d listed, in a mind map, all the things the client wanted, the demographics we knew about their market, the things that were unique about their products, looking for an angle, a hook, a catch… But I couldn’t spot one.

My stupid brain was absorbed with Christmas, and Rick.

He was going to my parents with his parents. The plans hadn’t changed since my birthday – I’d just been dropped from them. ‘Ivy, I think it’s best you stay away from home this year, Rick is very upset.’ Those were Mum’s precise words. Everyone loved Rick and so now everyone hated me. The only person who was sort of with me still, was Milly. But she couldn’t openly be on Team Ivy because Rick was Steve’s best friend – the two of them had paired us up at school. They could not have been more wrong.

Then why had I stayed with Rick for six years? Six years!

Because I’d been lazy. It had just been easy. I’d liked him. I still did. He was nice – why wouldn’t I like him? I even loved him, in a quiet way. But he’d never made my heart pound or my tummy backflip. I didn’t want to settle for ‘like’, or ‘comfortable’, or ‘kind’. I wanted a passionate love. I regretted hurting Rick by letting him think everything was okay. But I didn’t regret leaving. I’d wasted six years of both our lives staying in that relationship when I’d known it was wrong.

When the clock hit two, everyone started packing up. Emma knocked on Jack’s office door. When she opened it, she asked, ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come for a drink?’

I didn’t hear what he said, but it was obviously a reiteration of no.

‘Have a good Christmas,’ Emma concluded.

She stopped at my desk then. I hadn’t stopped working; I wasn’t in the mood for a rowdy pub on Christmas Eve. ‘Are you not coming either, Ivy?’

‘No, I don’t feel like it.’ Emma knew all my troubles, she was my direct manager, and she’d been good about everything – she’d given me time off to look for somewhere to live after my life had crash-landed, and the place I’d found had actually been one she’d spotted advertised on Gumtree.

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes.’ It wasn’t only the crowds, I wouldn’t be able to stand the Christmas music; Christmas was not happening for me this year and I didn’t need reminders of what I was missing out on. It was depressing and I was trying to leave my depression behind.

‘I don’t like leaving you here.’

‘I’m alright, honest.’

‘Why don’t you go home?’

Because there was no one and nothing to go home for. ‘No. I want to finish up what I’m doing on this account. I’ll use the creativity room while it’s quiet and try and generate some ideas before I pack up.’ I looked back at my computer and clicked on print, then stood up.

‘Well, if you want to come down to the pub later, text me, to check we haven’t moved on somewhere, and if you need me over the Christmas break you can call.’

‘That’s really kind, but I’ll be okay. Have a good time.’

‘Take care.’

When she went over to get her coat, I collected the printout of the mind map I’d done and then walked to the door with everyone. They were smiling and laughing, and they talked excitedly. Christmas had an atmosphere that was different to any other holiday; everyone was jollier – using the Christmas word. But there were the gifts, decorations and feasting to look forward to. I wasn’t doing any of those things this year. I was going to sit alone in my room and dine on baked beans on toast. I wasn’t very good at cooking for one. Rick had been the homemaker, not me.

A couple of the guys air-kissed me at the door and I hugged Tina and Mary, and wished them all a good time, and a Happy New Year, because this was it until the 2nd of January; we were finishing up for the whole period between Christmas and New Year.

So as of…. Now. When the door shut. I was on my own.

I walked into the creativity room. It was four walls of blue-sky posters that you could write on and then wipe clean. ‘To encourage blue-sky thinking,’ that was Jack. Emma was the organiser, planner and manager out of the two of them and Jack was the off-the-wall ideas and sales man. He did most of the client work; Emma managed the office and the accounts. The things Jack would find boring.

‘Right. Forget them, forget what time of year it is, I am going to do this. Come on, brain, give me some inspiration.’

I wrote up all the key things I’d thought of so far, then I used the computer in the room to Google relevant images and printed them off and stuck them up against all the facts and inspirations. As the images began to build, I started to think I was getting somewhere, that any moment the idea was going to come, but then suddenly the door opened.

‘What are you doing in here?’

I jumped. ‘Oh, God, you scared me.’

Jack stepped into the room. ‘Ivy, why aren’t you at the pub? I was just about to put the alarm on and lock up when I saw the light on in here. I nearly locked you in for the holidays.’

‘I didn’t want to go to the pub either. I’ve been working on an idea for the Berkeley account.’

‘I can see that.’ He glanced up at the wall. ‘But it’s Christmas; they aren’t going to do anything with it until the New Year and anyway I’m going now so you’re going to have to leave too.’

I picked up all the stuff I’d been working on, but left everything I’d put up on the walls. He stepped back and let me walk out. Then he knocked off the light, shut the door behind us and followed me.

I went over to my desk. The light was out in his office and his coat was in a heap on the desk next to mine.

‘I shut your computer down. I thought you’d gone and been sloppy and left everything out.’

I poked my tongue out at him as he dropped into the chair before the desk next to mine. One ankle lifted to settle on his opposite knee as he sprawled back in the chair, watching me.

I put everything down on my desk and then opened the drawer in the pedestal.

His skinny black trousers hugged the muscular definition in his legs as he leaned back in that cool, nonchalant pose.

He picked up a pen that had been lying on the desk tapped one end of it, twisted it over with his fingers and then tapped the other end, and kept on turning it and tapping it in an absentminded way as I shoved all my work into the drawer.

‘So what are you doing for the holidays?’

‘Nothing.’ I locked my drawer, then looked at him.

‘Me neither. Have you got anyone to go and visit, or anyone coming to you?’

‘No. I’m all alone.’ I gave him an awkward smile as I straightened up, ready to go. He didn’t make a move to get up.

‘Me too.’

His blue eyes looked at me and his fingers stopped turning the pen, then lifted to brush his black hair off his brow. There was that tug and my tummy did a dozen backflips like it had taken on a tumbling act.

‘You know, Ivy, we needn’t spend the holiday alone.’