Chapter 14

14

DES

W hen I slump into my seat the following day, gritty-eyed, Cath raises her eyebrows at me over the top of her screen, twirling her pen in the air. Is that triumph or despair? I grin at her, then nod at her hair.

"I like the beehive," I say, and she fingers the pearl buttons of her cashmere cardigan, wrapping it across the front of her body.

"Des, we've missed a key deadline," she hisses, glancing around.

"What do you mean?" Standing up, I head over to her desk.

"Well, look," she says, pointing to a box on the project management software on her screen. The delivery date says March 20th. It's now April 23rd.

I track along the line. "That's for the testing code," I murmur. "That might be why we haven't noticed it. Have Samsung said anything?"

"They haven't said a word to me, but they could have been chasing whoever's responsible for it and it's passed us by. Everyone updates me regularly, and it shouldn't happen but …" She looks close to tears.

"We need a better process for this," I say, squeezing her shoulder and tapping the screen. "Can you look at linking this to who's checking in their code so we can keep a closer eye on what people are doing. Develop some system around it. As the team gets bigger, we should have something that doesn't rely on you spotting something on our new project management software."

She nods.

"Who is responsible for it?"

"Rodrigo," she says, and something boils inside me. That sniping asshole.

I swivel around to find only his empty desk.

"Where is he?"

"He called in sick today—his kid had a high temperature and he had to take care of her."

Hmmm. I'm pretty sympathetic to this sort of thing normally. God knows I've had my own days when I've overdone it the night before and I'm dying. Rodrigo does this a lot, though. I blow out my cheeks. Where is the line between being understanding about shit like this and someone taking advantage? I'm in charge, I should know.

"I'll call him. Anything else?"

"There's four key deliverables this week, and I've sent you a list. I've talked to everyone who's working on them, delved into what they're doing, and that all seems to be on track."

"Thanks, Cath, you're a godsend."

"Sorry I missed this." She taps the screen and I shake my head.

"Easily done. It's not your mistake anyway."

Stepping away from her desk, I head over to my own, pulling up Rodrigo's records. The phone rings and rings as I stare at the blue wall of the office. Eventually, he picks up.

" Hola! "

"Hi, Rodrigo," I say, voice deliberately friendly. "How's it going?"

"Okay. My daughter is sick. As well as it can go when your child is unwell and you are worried."

"I get that," I say, and his laugh on the other end is almost sarcastic. Jesus Christ. Because I'm gay, does he think I've never dealt with children?

"We had no dad at home and I'm the eldest of six siblings. I looked after them all when they were ill," I add. I can't resist, something about this guy just …

"Did you want something?" he growls, clearly not happy at being called out.

"Yeah, the test code. We were supposed to deliver it to Samsung about a month ago?"

"What test code?"

I look up at the heavens. "It was in the project management system, under your name."

He mutters something, then says, "I don't use that system, people overwrite things when they are late delivering and the whole thing changes. As I've told you, in my opinion it is not fit for running a contract of this size and complexity."

Jesus. "I get that, Rodrigo, and I understand your concerns. However, many of the new starts are still getting used to working with the management system, and it is the method we're using at the moment, so we need people to stick to what's set down under their names." A child's wail cuts through the last part of my sentence. "Do you want me to ring you back?"

"No, I don't want you to call me back. I am looking after a sick child. In my view, you shouldn't be calling me at all in such circumstances."

"This call was urgent because a member of my team is a long way behind on a piece of work that's been assigned to them."

"It could not wait until tomorrow?"

"Will your daughter be well tomorrow?"

"I have no idea."

"Exactly," I say.

"All I can tell you is that I did not know this was my task. You're a privileged asshole, Des, who thinks of no one else's problems but his own." And there's a click and silence.

He hung up on me?

"I grew up in the Bronx. My grandparents were Irish immigrants. How does that make me privileged?" I say to the dead phone, the wall, and no one in particular.

He complained when we were using spreadsheets, and now he's complaining and not working with the new system either.

This guy's prejudices are a mile wide, and I don't know where to start in tackling them, or if I even could. God, I'd love to get rid of him, but no one knows as much about the phone's internal workings as he does and we're short-staffed and now only four weeks away from our delivery deadline for the security update. I'm just going to have to suck this crap up for now.

I'm examining the photo Alex sent me this morning—a view of the buildings outside his train with his long straight nose and a halo of curls reflected in the glass—when a box drops down at the top of my phone from a WhatsApp group chat called TheLadyboysofNewYork .

CRUSH!

George.

I groan then run my hands down my face before staring at the code on my computer and pressing my lips together.

"Problems?" James says, and I shake my head.

My phone vibrates again.

TONIGHT!

My finger hovers over the screen. Another night at Crush? But what with the crap with Rodrigo, the idea of another night of dancing actually sounds amazing. But I've never been in a situation where a guy I'm becoming increasingly attached to, who I'm dating, might have an opinion about me seeing an ex-boyfriend. There's no real reason to say no, but it's loaded, clearly. Things with George were very different from what's happening with Alex. There was no taking it slow, but, more importantly, I never trusted George. And it's only now I'm with someone so straightforward that I'm realizing how different it feels. George's hooking up ate away at me: I'm not constantly looking over my shoulder now.

Despite all that, I'd like to see George. He has his dramas but he's a friend and we have fun together. The whole conversation with him and Alex about each other needs handling but … I love going out dancing. I glance over the rows of bent heads again, Cath chatting to Roy, who I like so much I want to promote him. It's been a quiet day so far, but I'm not holding my breath. I text back:

Time?

George responds:

Cocktails first! Ho's, 10 p.m.

Ho's is a cocktail bar run by a gorgeous Chinese guy named Ho, who is renowned for the number of partners he's had. It's kind of the perfect name.

See you there at 10.