Page 6 of Sky Full of Stars

It’s time to stop. My hand is killing me and Sam will break my neck if he sees. I bite the strap and undo it, pulling off my glove. The tape beneath it is covered in blood. Shit.

“Jeez,” the woman says. “He must be a total dick.”

I laugh. “Yeah. But I’m sure I broke his nose.”

“Good for you,” she gets up. “I’m Megan.”

I introduce myself and she watches me drop my gloves in my bag, then unravel the tape. My knuckles are black and there is a cut across the middle two. Megan tells me to hold on then goes and grabs a first aid kit from behind reception. She comes back with peroxide and bandages and cleans it up. I wonder if she is a nurse she does it so well.

“You’re good enough to fight,” she says and reddens a little. “Sorry, I’ve been watching. I’m kind of overwhelmed here, all those big guys,” she laughs nervously.

I look over at her as I tidy up the mess, making sure to hide the bloody tissues so Sam won’t find them. “No one will bother you,” I tell her. “Sam doesn’t let them. All of the guys are very respectful. There have only been a couple of oglers, but the others set them straight pretty quick, you don’t need to worry.”

She nods. “Would you ever fight?”

“That’s not why I come here,” I tell her. “I just like it, it’s empowering. I’m not really a Zumba or yoga kind of girl. Plus, I can hit dickhead boyfriends.”

She smiles a little then looks at the floor. I wonder why she comes to the self-defence class. Ricky the trainer says there is an eclectic group. He never asks but he’s sure there are some women who’ve been attacked in some way. I would never outright ask and Megan doesn’t seem to want to share.

“I have to get to work,” I tell her. “But I’m here early most mornings if it makes you feel more comfortable around here. I could maybe show you some stuff. I’m not a trainer but think I’ve learned a thing or two from Sam.”

“That would be really great,” she says, a smile lighting up her face. I notice a scar beneath her eye. “I can only make a Friday,” she says with a little shrug.

“I’ll be here at seven thirty,” I tell her. She thanks me and I head out to the women’s locker room to take a shower. I manage to avoid Sam so he doesn’t see my bandaged hand. It’s still throbbing but I have Tylenol in my desk at work.

After dressing in a slim camel coloured skirt and white blouse, I quickly blow out my long, wavy brown hair and put on some mascara and lip gloss. Joey whistles as I walk toward the exit, Sam kicks him and Joey grunts but holds up a hand in apology. I laugh as I walk out but notice Megan looking over at Joey apprehensively. I’ll let her know Friday Joey won’t bother her, as big and bad looking as he is, Joey is a sweetheart.

I walk to work because traffic is at a standstill, I don’t mind the walk, even after the workout. I love living in New York and despite the hustle and bustle of early morning commuters, I’m in my element here.

The reception is quiet when I arrive. We’re a small company consisting of myself, in the role of office manager and executive assistant. Izzy who is the boss, a receptionist, the finance guy and a couple of junior admin staff. I notice a commotion in the kitchen and head over. Beatrice, the receptionist is beaming, and Kayleigh and Fawn are squealing with delight. Simon, the finance guy is stood in the corner with a mug of coffee looking bewildered. He notices me and raises his brows.

“Jenna, look!” Fawn, the office junior cries. Beatrice spins around, a huge smile on her face as she thrusts her hand out to me. The engagement ring is huge. She has been dating a stockbroker for the last eighteen months. I congratulate her genuinely pleased.

Simon makes me a coffee and passes it over. He tells me Izzy called and will be arriving within the hour and leaves the giddy females behind. I thank him and tell the others to head back to work but congratulate Beatrice again with a quick hug.

Turning the lights on in my office, I toss my workout bag on the sofa by the window, then slip out of my heels. The carpet is plush beneath my bare feet, it may be a small team but it’s highly successful and Izzy has done a lot to make this place like a home away from home for us all. Turning on my computer, I check the voicemails, nothing of importance but one client has left three messages this morning. I sip my coffee and sit down, my knuckles ache so I take out the painkillers and swallow two down with my coffee.

A text comes through from Izzy, saying her ETA is ten minutes. I head back to the kitchen to make her a peppermint tea. Izzy does not do caffeine. She is way too buzzed on life. I’ve never met anyone so positive.

I head to her office and turn everything on. I know when she is here from the sound of Beatrice squealing. I set down the drink and open the blinds letting in lots of light.

“Morning sunshine,” Izzy says coming into the room. She drops her purse behind the desk, gives me a kiss on the cheek and swoops up her tea, taking a sip, eyes closed like it’s the best thing to pass her lips. “You’re a doll,” she says then frowns at my fist. I hide my hand.

“Maurice has left three messages, it’s been a whole twenty-four hours since he heard from you,” I fill her in, trying to draw away her attention from my hand. “Want me to deal with it.”

She sits, her lips pursed. “No, he’s been with me since the start. I should deal with it.”

I nod and sit down opposite her. She takes out her laptop and powers it on. “I’ve got some stuff that needs transcribing, a few meetings I need arranged and we need to get on with the book tour for Elle. She’s thinking about going as far as Europe this time.”

Elle George is one of our biggest clients. She’s been writing for years and has never shown any interest in leaving the States, despite extensive touring when she has a new novel coming out. It’s my responsibility to arrange the travel, accommodation and venues for the tour.

“I know, right,” Izzy laughs at my look.

Izzy Cartwright has been a literary agent for twenty-three years. She started out as an intern and worked her way up to owning her own company. It’s pretty prestigious with a small number of authors, but they’re all extremely successful. Izzy would never hear anyone say it’s down to her, she doesn’t write the books after all, but everyone knows without her skills and contacts and ability to push for publishing deals, the authors on our books wouldn’t be anywhere near as successful as they are now.

At forty-six, she still looks in her thirties. She is clean living, exercises regularly. She dresses elegantly but not in an overstated ‘it took me hours to put this together’ kind of way. She is usually draped in beautiful silk blouses and cigar pants, no jewellery or make-up.

“I’ll send all the details so you can get started. I’ll call Maurice after some time with this beautiful light.”

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