Page 35 of A Lot to Unpack
I say that but she’s not making it sound like it’s good.
‘Except…’ She sucks in air and puffs her cheeks. ‘I’ve made a mistake. Only a small one, a silly one really, but it is going to ruin everything. I’m not in the best place, thanks to our split, and I may, in temper, have done a “find and replace” on all of our Ts and Cs, to get his name out of the day-to-day business, but I didn’t stop to think about the harm that would cause. Again, I won’t bore you with the details, but it turns out removing every instance of his surname – Bill – also removed all instances of the word “bill” – let’s just say the “employment bill” is a mess, and it affects everyone, their rights, their benefits. It affects you, Liberty.’
‘I see,’ I reply. ‘That’s not great, then.’
That… that sounds like a lot. I know divorces can be messy, but damn, she’s found a way to make it worse.
‘Not great? It’s a disaster,’ she snaps. ‘Without it, most of our contracts are void. No maternity leave, no sick pay. And if Jordan finds out, he’ll use it to drag me back to the negotiating table. Or worse, he’ll take the business outright, and the first thing he’ll do is clean house and sack everyone who was loyal to me – and that means you.’
Bloody hell, I will never rage-delete anything ever again.
‘That man has taken everything from me, but this business…’ Her voice begins to crackle with emotion. ‘This business is the only thing I have left. He cheated on me, you know. Moved on instantly. And now he’s clearly screwing every female client andassociate put in front of him. Well, I’m not going to let him screw me again.’
As someone who was betrayed by the man I lived with, worked with – the man I thought I was in love with – I get it. I know the heartbreak, the rage, and the unbearable feeling of failure that things didn’t work out, even if it wasn’t my fault.
Jordan sounds like Ben, but worse. A real piece of work. I don’t want him to take Paige’s company from her, out of sheer girl code, but I also don’t want to lose my job. I’ve only just started to feel like I’m getting my life back on track. I suppose Paige feels a similar way.
‘Okay then,’ I say confidently, whipped up on her behalf. ‘What exactly do you need me to do?’
‘Jordan is flying to New York for his last few meetings on behalf of Matcher and he’ll have the contract with him,’ she explains. ‘He promised me he would return with it signed – we’re so close – but it has the new terms in and that’s where the words are missing. I’m doing this for all of you, for all of you, I swear. So I’m assigning you as his assistant. He’ll say he doesn’t need one, but you’ll be there anyway, so just ignore him. I’ve booked the rooms, you’ll be in the one next to him, and I’ve made sure you’re in first class on the plane too. You’ll be by his side the whole time which should give you the perfect opportunity to swap out the contract he has with the correct version, without the missing words. Simple, really.’
Simple – maybe if I did actually have skills one might boast if they were a private investigator but, beyond Facebook stalking exes, I’m not much of a spy. What Paige is asking me to do is tantamount to espionage – corporate espionage, just, y’know, for the greater good.
‘How am I going to get close enough to him to swap it?’ I ask. ‘He’s not going to leave it lying around, surely?’
‘In his room, he will,’ she replies. ‘It isn’t hard to get close to him. He loves getting attention from women – he’s addicted to it. Flirting with him will get you far – pretend you’re interested in him, seduce him but, and it is a big but, do not sleep with him.’
‘It would never come to that,’ I reply.
Believe me when I say that the reason I’m not going to sleep with this random man for a work task isn’t because Paige told me not to, it’s because I’m not going to sleep with a random man for work. I do not need this job that badly.
‘He’s charming,’ she warns me. ‘Dangerously so. Do you think you can pull it off?’
I would’ve thought that would be off the table too.
‘There will be a big bonus waiting for you when you get back,’ she tells me. ‘And a full-time job, of course.’
‘Don’t I already have that?’ I ask.
‘I hired someone else, for the assistant position in the office,’ she explains. ‘I hired you specifically for this. I sent you to all of those locations to be on call if I needed you – if I needed you to spy on Jordan for me. That’s done now. But if you come through for me on this…’
Great. So the reason the job seemed too good to be true is because it was. She’s had me on standby, stalking her ex, and now she needs me to do her dirty work, because she’s made a mistake. I don’t want to lose my job (but only in the way that anyone who needs money to live on needs to keep their job) and I do want to help her, but most of all I just really, really want to go to New York. Apart from stalking (and low-key seducing) her ex, everything else sounded amazing.
My mind is telling me no, of course it is, but do you know what is telling me yes? My overdraft. My need for independence. My annoying little habit of needing to eat food to survive.
‘Okay,’ I tell her. ‘I’m in.’
13
Does it feel a little bit like I’m selling my soul to go to New York? Yeah, a little bit, but it is a damn sight cheaper than paying the hefty price with money.
And, you know, there’s money and then there’s moneeeey. Flying to New York, staying in whatever their equivalent of a Travelodge is, ain’t exactly cheap, but it’s more doable than flying first class, staying in a fancy hotel next to Central Park. I’m going to get a taste of the high life – perks of stalking a CEO, or whatever he is. The big boss, with the big money, and the big old expensive taste.
I’m here, at Heathrow airport, and it doesn’t matter how many steps I take, I’m constantly finding myself feeling baffled when no one stops me. I mean, come on, there’s no way anyone is looking at me and believing I can afford to be here. Everyone around me looks like they’re wearing clothes by a who, not a where, and unless we’re suddenly counting George (of Asda) as a designer, I don’t think I have anything that qualifies.
Still, with big money comes big respect, so even though I look I’ve wandered into the VIP area by mistake, the fact I have a ticket means that everyone is treating me like royalty. And here’sme thinking everyone is going toPretty Womanme on sight… but that could be because I’m wearing over-the-knee boots which, in hindsight, probably weren’t the best shoes for flying, but I was thinking of how cold it is here, and how cold it will be there.
I’m not saying I’ve got impostor syndrome, but even going through security is making me nervous, and I know that’s my passport.
