“He’s here.” Leila bites her lip and lowers her voice. “He’s drunk.”
“Drunk?” I stare at her.
“It’s not good.” Leila looks anxious. “Fixie, you need to know something; he—” She breaks off as Ryan himself appears, holding two glasses of champagne. His eyes are bloodshot and he surveys us all with a morose gaze.
“Hi!” I say, kissing him. “Is everything … Are you …” My words trail away and I glance uncertainly at Leila, who winces. “What’s up?”
“Bastard fired me,” says Ryan, so lightly that at first I think I must have misheard.
“What?”
Ryan gives me a humorless smile and lifts his glass in a mock toast. “You heard me, Fixie. Bastard fired me. I’ve lost my job.”
—
Shock is too small a word for what I’m feeling right now. I’m beyond shocked. I’m stunned. Ryan’s lost his job?
We’ve commandeered the back room. I’ve forgotten about the party. All I can think about is Ryan.
“I just don’t get it,” I say, sinking into a chair opposite Ryan. “It makes no sense. How exactly did it happen?”
“Seb called me in and said it ‘wasn’t working out.’ ” Ryan shrugs. “That was it. The end. Finished.”
“But why?”
“I think you know why,” he says wryly.
I lean forward, surveying Ryan’s face, registering his calm, resigned expression.
“Seb was threatened by you,” I say. “Is that it?”
“Let’s just say, I saw it coming,” says Ryan, and takes a slug of his drink. “He’s right, it wasn’t working out. It wasn’t working out for him.”
“Because you were competition,” I say bluntly, and Ryan nods his head in assent.
My cloud of shock is starting to fade away and anger is rising in its place. It’s so unfair. It’s monstrous. Why couldn’t they work together? Why did Seb have to see Ryan as a threat? He promises him a chance, then dumps him? It’s just wrong.
“You know, I wouldn’t mind,” Ryan says, leaning back and looking pensively at the ceiling. “Only I gave a good few weeks to that place. I could have used that time to job-hunt. Truth is, he was never planning to employ me permanently. He was never going to keep me on. He only did it as a favor to you. Payback. Whatever.”
Everything seems so clear now. Seb was never going to take Ryan seriously as an employee. The whole thing was like a game, and I should never, ever have kick-started it.
“I wish I’d never claimed that stupid IOU,” I say passionately, getting to my feet. “I wish I’d never set eyes on him in the first place.”
“You weren’t to know.” Ryan shrugs again. “I just wish he’d been honest in the first place. He takes all my ideas, wrings me dry, and kicks me out. Still, what’s done is done.”
“So what will you do?”
“You know, Fixie … I have no idea. When a guy hits rock bottom, it’s like, what are the options?”
Ryan seems so resigned. So crushed. But I’m not resigned or crushed. I’m crackling with indignation. My fingers are drumming relentlessly. My feet are doing their thing: forward-across-back, forward-across-back. I can’t stay here. I can’t let Seb Marlowe get away with it. Who does he think he is?
Drawing myself up short, I suddenly recall the vow I made to myself in Seb’s office. I wasn’t going to try to fix stuff anymore, not unless it was super-important and vital.
But then, what’s this if not super-important and vital?
Abruptly, I reach for my bag and coat.
“I’ll be back in a while,” I say. “Stay at mine tonight. We’ll sort all this out.”
As I stride through the party, I feel grim and determined. “I have to go,” I say to Hannah. “Can you tell Jake?”
“Well, sure,” she says, looking surprised. “But what—”
“I have to fix a thing,” I say succinctly, and march out.
I stride to the tube station, travel all the way to Farringdon, and get out, feeling stony and unforgiving. Within a few minutes I’m at the ESIM building and I glance up as I approach, feeling suddenly foolish. I rushed out in such a blaze of indignation, I didn’t think about what time it was. Maybe no one’s there and I’ve wasted my time …
But there are lights on. A few, at least.
My heart pumping, I press the buzzer and someone—not sure who—lets me in. I rise up in the lift and emerge, all ready to say, “I’d like to see the CEO, please,” in my most cutting tones—but he’s there. It’s him. Seb. He’s waiting for the lift, looking fairly astonished to see me.
“It’s you,” he says. “I thought—”
“Hi,” I say curtly. “I wanted to see you. If that’s convenient?”
There’s a short silence. Seb’s pleasant gaze doesn’t waver, but I can sense his brain is working.
“Sure,” he says at last. “Come on in.”
As I follow him to his office, I notice he’s looking slightly rumpled, as though he’s spent too long at work, and his brown frondy hair is askew.
I fight an urge to put it straight. That would not be appropriate. Anyway, I need to focus. I need to come in fighting.
His office is warm and inviting, just like it was before. The coffee-cup sleeve is still on his desk, I notice, and I feel a pang of indignation. Some favor. Some favor that was.
“So,” he says as we sit down, and from his wary tone I sense he knows exactly why I’m here. It seems only about five minutes ago that I was here with Ryan, feeling so joyful that everything was working out. The memory fuels my rage, and I take a deep breath.
“I simply wanted to say,” I begin in my most castigating tones, “that I think when you enter into an agreement with someone you should do it in good faith. That’s all. You should have honest intentions.”
“I agree,” says Seb after a pause.
“Oh, you agree,” I say sarcastically.
I know sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but I’ve never actually known what that means, and I don’t care. Low is fine. Low is good.
“Yes,” says Seb steadily. “I agree.”
“Well, I don’t,” I shoot back—then instantly realize that’s wrong. It’s his fault. He’s flustering me. “I mean, I do,” I amend. “I do agree. But that’s not how you’ve treated Ryan. It’s a travesty! Just because he’s a man of the world, you can’t cope with him? Just because he has ambition and vision and knowledge in areas you don’t? Were you so threatened you couldn’t find a way to make it work? Or is he right and you never intended to keep him on at all?”
As I break off, I’m breathing hard. I’m expecting Seb to spring to some feeble defense, but he’s staring at me as though I’m talking gibberish.
“What?” he says at last.
“What do you mean, ‘what’?” I say, incensed. “I heard all about it! I know you blocked Ryan from coming to meetings. I know the staff were asking his advice. I know he could see all the flaws in your company. He’s got charisma and experience and you couldn’t cope! So you get rid of him!”
“Oh my God,” says Seb. “Oh my God.” He gets up, running his hands through his hair, walks to the window, and gives a weird laugh. “OK, where do I start? Do you know the disruption that Ryan Chalker has caused to this company? Do you know how obtuse, how stupid … how inane he is? If I had to hear one more anecdote about some tech guy in a pool in L.A.… I was going to go bonkers!” He wheels round, his face animated. “I didn’t ban him from meetings—the staff did! They petitioned me! He wouldn’t bloody shut up!”
“Maybe you didn’t listen properly!” I say defensively. “He has massive experience—”
“In what?” says Seb incredulously. “Eating lunch at Nobu? Because that’s all he ever talked about.”
“OK,” I say tightly. “Well, you were clearly never going to give him a chance. He was right. You never even tried to make it work.”
“I didn’t try?” Seb sounds outraged. “Here’s what I did. I gave him a mentor. I gave him advice. I sent him on training days. I discussed financial exams with him. And what does he do? Mock our ethos. Derail every meeting he goes to. Name-drop us all to death, fail to complete a single one of the assignments I actually gave him … and start sleeping with not one but two members of my staff! Not one, but two!” He clutches his hair. “It’s been turmoil here! One found out about the other; we’ve had tears at meetings—” He stops and peers at me. “Wait. You’ve gone very pale. Are you OK?”
I’m staring back at him, my head thudding. Did he just say—
He didn’t— He couldn’t have—
“Wh-what do you mean?” I say at last. “Sleeping with who? Who do you mean?”
“I don’t think it’s relevant who they were,” says Seb, eyeing me curiously. “I’ve been too indiscreet already.”
“I don’t believe you.” My voice shakes. “I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t believe me? Why on earth wouldn’t you—” Seb sounds incredulous—then his face suddenly changes. “Oh strewth. Are you and Ryan … You’re not—” He breaks off, looking agonized. “He said he was single. He told the whole office he was a single guy. I would never have … I’m sorry. That was …”
He stops again, as though he doesn’t know how to finish, and there’s silence.
My eyes are hot. My gaze is flitting around the office. I can’t look at him. I’m thinking: He’s lying. He’s lying.