Chapter 7

7

DES

F our days into what I'm now calling the Marla experiment, I'm glowering across the rows of bent heads in the office, drumming my fingers against my desk. No sign of my partner in crime, James, and he was off yesterday: I have no idea why. I've never paid much attention to his absences before, but my chest feels like it's in a vice at the moment. Today has to be better. Things can't get much worse, can they? The team is dividing into several factions: the I-have-a-problem-with-gay-guys faction, the don't-bother-me-and-just-pay-my-wage faction, and the I-think-Des-is-an-okay-guy faction. I'm giving most of my time and attention to the last lot and ignoring the rest. Where do I even start with those that have an issue with gay people? The time on my monitor says 10 a.m. Jo raises an eyebrow at me over her screen.

"How are you doing?" she says.

"How are you doing more like," I nod at her swollen belly. "I'm beyond excited to see a little Janus with red hair."

She laughs at this and runs her hand over her stomach. "At least I'm over the sickness now."

"Where's James?" I blurt.

"Oh! He had something personal to attend to this morning. He said he'd be in about 11 a.m., I think." She wrinkles her freckled nose, and I sigh, pursing my lips as my Java code throws up fifteen exceptions. This security update has to be delivered in eight weeks and everything is moving like molasses.

When James wanders in three-quarters of an hour later, he's remarkably disheveled for Mr. Unflappable.

I peer at him over my screen. "All okay there, Jimmy-boy?"

Nodding, he places his bag on the floor carefully before flicking his monitor on and rolling his shoulders.

Can we chat?

I message into our Slack channel, glancing at Jo. His fingers fly over his keyboard.

Give me ten minutes.

I type back:

Meeting room in ten.

Standing up, I pop my spine. "Anyone want a coffee?" I say, and James shakes his head as Jo gives me a thumbs-up, so I head down in the elevator to the café down the block.

When I return with two lattes, James is already in our glass meeting room talking on his phone, so I deposit Jo's cup on her desk and slide in the door.

"Yes, I know it looks like that but …" he says, pacing across the floor but turning as the door clangs behind me. He nods and holds the bridge of his nose. "I've got to go, Jane." Then, "Yes. Yes, I will."

He ends the call then places his phone on the table before sinking into the seat next to me.

"All okay?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Jane's going through some problems at work."

I nod and then grin at him. "Time you made a decent woman of her." They are the cutest couple.

His mouth drops open. "A decent woman? Where are we? The 1950s? She earns more than I do."

I laugh.

"Anyway, what did you want to chat about?" he says.

"Oh God, the team. I mean …"

He nods. "Yeah, I thought it might be that. They're gelling appallingly. The number of arguments is insane."

Just as the words are out of his mouth, a raised voice travels through the glass walls of the meeting room and I look out over the desks. It's Rodrigo. It's always Rodrigo.

"This is not my fault," he shouts, gesturing at his screen. Amy is standing beside him, red-faced.

"Oh Jesus," I say, rising from my chair, but James puts a hand on my arm as Cath gets up and goes over to them. I sink back down again.

Scanning over their bent heads, he says quietly, "He's rude to everyone. Have you thought about letting him go?"

"He's got a lot of experience, but we can't have someone behaving like that in the office. I don't know whether it's me or …"

He raises his eyebrows. "It's not you, Des. You've always been amazing with people."

"At the first briefing meeting, I was flustered, just back from Korea. Probably jetlagged. I didn't handle him or anyone else in the best way."

Cath and Amy are leaning over Rodrigo's screen now. It's quietened down, but a flare-up like this happens most days. "They're all so different. What do I do with them? Some of them are so young; some are real family people. Some have a problem with me." I gesture down my body, then fill him in on the conversation in the bar.

James frowns. "How that's even possible in this day and age I don't even know."

"Oh, believe me, it is. This is the first place I've worked where it wasn't an underlying current in every interaction I had. Subtle isn't exactly my middle name. I don't play the game."

"What game?"

"The pretending-to-be-straight-for-work game?"

"Is that a thing?"

"In the LGBTQ community, it is."

"Has Jo said anything?"

"About me being gay?"

"No, about the problems in the office."

"Yeah. She said there was gossip around the office that I was bad-tempered. That I didn't listen or take account of concerns."

His eyes widen. "You're kidding me. Jesus, they're a bunch of troublemakers."

His phone rings again, and his face goes tight when he glances at it.

"Who's that?" I say nosily.

"Jane," he says. "Let me message her."

I wait until he puts it down again.

"Jo suggested I get some formal training."

"Oh God. That sounds like the kiss of death. I can't believe she's seriously worried about you."

"Samsung is eighty per cent of our business, James. I'd be amazed if she wasn't worried about how I'm managing the team."

"What about Cath? She's motivated and eager to take as much on as she can. She can weather at least some of the team bullshit."

Unlike me.

"I feel like it's my responsibility. Maybe I'm not cut out to be a manager. I'm terrible with whiney people."

"You're all over the Samsung account, Des, putting plans in place, making things happen. You're great with people. It's fine not to gel with everyone, that's normal."

"We're way behind on the security update. A new set of people are starting in two days, and I don't want to bring them into a mess like this." I wave my arm over the desks tucked tightly against each other on the other side of the glass.

James stares up at the high Victorian windows that make up one wall of the room. "Hmmm."

Is he appreciating the seriousness of what I'm saying? My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I take it out and place it on the table. James purses his lips at me.

"What else can we do?" I say.

"Why don't we see what this new lot are like? Perhaps we can mix them up with the old group, blend the personalities into something that will work. Maybe even smaller teams," he says.

"I don't think anyone is going to work well with Rodrigo."

"True."

"Sensible plan, though. And thanks."

He raises his eyebrows. "What for?"

"Being a sounding board. Coming up with an idea."

My phone buzzes several times on the desk, and James grins.

"Grindr?" he says, and I shrug.

"Maybe?" My mind skips back to the photograph I had from Alex. Strange guy .

And I don't remember the buzzing until later, after I've waded into a few more arguments, dealt with complaints from existing staff, and pulled the team in for a full run-through of how everything is progressing. Two weeks back in the country and everything is going south.

The sun is disappearing over the East River as I walk up the street and pull my phone out of my pocket. Several messages are waiting. A photo is flagged up under Alex's name and I hold my breath. He's sent me another one? Who does that? Well, I guess he gets points for persistence.

It's a picture of his hand, resting on his hip. His naked hip. Well, I think it's his. Could be someone else's. And God, it's a beautiful photo. A sort of pink tinge to it like he took it in the setting sun, and the shadows toward the center of his body hint at … wow. Two moles sit next to his fingers on his stomach … the blunt nails neatly trimmed and … it makes me want to kiss him right there and work my way down. Fuck. I don't need to be thinking about that.

I bite my lip and let out a long breath. Why is he still sending me photographs? I hope he's keeping safe. Grindr's a brutal place if you're not careful, and he had a sweet innocence about him that … Gah, Des, put him out of your mind. I like the photographs, but they're starting to feel a bit like a taunt: Here's my sexy body that I'm not going to give you access to. I laugh to myself as I drag my thumb over his stomach on the screen: the very idea of some crazy slow sexual torture … I shake my head. I've got to work all night tonight, and curiosity be damned, I don't need something else to think about. My head's not in the game enough at work as it is. My finger hovers over the delete button on his contact details in my phone. Then I press it down, click the off button, and slide my phone back into my pocket. Done. No more distractions.

Two days later, I barrel through the door to the meeting room and a tall Black guy who's built like a linebacker gives me a gap-toothed smile and I slow to a halt.

"Yo! Des, yeah?" he says, stepping forward and holding out a big pawlike hand. "Roy."

I grasp his hand. "Great to meet you, Roy."

Blinking around, I take in a bunch of smiling faces. Thank God . Then Roy turns to the person sitting next to the door and says "Yo!" again, working through the group, saying hello, shaking hands, and getting their names as I weave through the chairs to the front of the room. He's going to be terrific. My eyes tighten, and I pinch my nose . Roy stops to face another Black guy, and the polite enthusiasm drops away as his whole body eases. Then he fist-bumps and does some hand sequence, and my chest squeezes. I clap my hands.

"Okay, guys, let me do an intro to Williams Security and Samsung, our biggest client. I'm Des, and I'm second in command here and the lead on the Samsung project."

But as I start talking, a shout rises up outside the room and I turn to see Rodrigo standing over Cath's desk red-faced. Crap. I weave through the chairs and scoot out of the room as Cath lifts her head. Rodrigo is gesturing at the screen, jabbing at something with his finger, and when I reach her, someone is right behind me. It's Roy, towering over me.

I could have a complete man crush on this guy if he was gay, but I'm not getting that vibe from him.

"Is there a problem?" I say.

Rodrigo scowls at me, ignoring Roy.

"This database, it changes all the time, and no one keeps a record of the history of it. The code was supposed to be finished. I need it to work on, but this spreadsheet says it will be done two weeks from now. That was not the original plan. It was due today."

"Do you have anything else you could work on until the code is completed?"

Rodrigo's forehead creases. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if it isn't going to be ready …" I say.

"It doesn't matter! Are you idiots?" His gaze swings around, encompassing the team sitting at their desks. "I keep telling you this approach is not fit for purpose and every time, someone"—his eyes swing back to me—"just keeps brushing it under the carpet."

"We all understand you don't approve of the system, Rodrigo, and I agree it's not ideal, but as I've already mentioned, it will take a couple more weeks to get the new planning software running properly. We have to work with what we've got and make the best of it for now."

He gestures at me. "Do you do that? Do you make the best of it rather than push for something better?"

"Yo, man," Roy says in a deep rumble, "are you listening to the bossman? You're wasting time here arguing, yeah? Just need to get on with it."

Bossman. I want to do a little jig. Cath and I both stare at Roy, but he's looking at Rodrigo.

Rodrigo scowls at him. "And who are you?" Then he shakes his head. "You're right, this is pointless," he adds, then marches over to his desk, grabs his jacket from the back of his chair, and heads out the office door. Has he left permanently, or is he just taking a break?

I smile up at Roy. "Okay, let's carry on with this briefing."

Jerking his thumb at the door, he says, "What's his game?"

"I wish I knew."

We can mix the bad apples with the good ones, but is that really going to solve the fundamental problem that we're not delivering? A hollow sinking feeling worms through me. If I don't sort the problems on Samsung, will I even still have a job?

What have I got to do to get my life to change? I took this amazing job with Jo, but I swear I'm making things worse, not better. I promised myself it would be different after Korea, but I'm still bailing out staff and my family and I've walked straight back into things with George.

I want to burn it all down and move to Alaska. I hear it's very pleasant at this time of year.