Chasing What's Already Gone (Second Chances Book 1) (7 page)

Chapter

Twenty-One

I feel like a cross between a charity street-marketer and a strip club pimp. I’m standing on the corner, eyeing people up and down and estimating their possible reaction to my request. I do not think I’m being too critical, but most people do not pass my suitability test. Too young, too old, too ugly; this is not going well. Ideally, I’m looking for young professional women walking in pairs, but that hasn’t worked out too well. Both times, the suitable women have scurried away before I’ve been able to say anything more than “excuse me.” And the looks they give! You would think I was some kind of pervert. This is twenty minutes of my life wasted, but now I’m on a mission. Mm, maybe a different approach is needed. Two lads in school uniform. One is particularly tall and must be at least eighteen years old.

“Excuse me.”
Hang on, don’t look at me like that—I’m not a pervert!
“Excuse me, but can you drive?”

Tall boy gives me the strangest look before turning to his mate, who nods.

“Yes. Why?”

“Well, I was wondering if you could do me a favour.”

“Mm…what?”

“All I want you to do is go around the corner, into the car park, and drive my van back here.”

“The car park to here. That’s what? Fifty, sixty metres?”

“Yes, yes it is. Only sixty metres at the most.”

“Why?”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. I’ll give you twenty quid.”

“Twenty quid for driving your van from the car park back to here.”

This is not the most stimulating conversation I have ever had in my life.

“Yes. Twenty quid for driving my van from the car park back here.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“I can. I just don’t want to.”

“It’s your van?”

“Yeah, yeah. Here are the keys.”

“So it’s not stolen and you’ll give me twenty quid for doing it.”

I think he is actually grasping the situation before his short-assed friend pipes up.

“The DVD store are selling the new
Call of Duty
for twenty-five quid.” What’s that got to do with anything?

Tall boy responds to his friend’s comment.

“Twenty-five quid—that’s cheap.”

Oh, I get it.
I search through my pockets.

“Three pounds seventy, that’s all I’ve got. Twenty-three pounds seventy to bring the van back here.”

“Okay, the money is acceptable, but I’m not doing it until I know why.”

“Why what?” I’m fed up with people giving me peculiar looks.

“Why you want someone else to drive your van back here.”

I have no choice and I cannot think of a better story than the truth.

“So. So the thing is I really fancy this girl, woman, who works in the office building opposite, but I think if she happens to look out of her office window and sees me driving my company van she’ll think that I’m some kind of loser.” Sheesh, this is humiliating.

“Okay, it’s a deal. Give us the keys. What does the van look like?”

“It’s a white van with the company’s name, ‘
Shocking Connections’
,
sign-painted down both sides.” I could swear I heard short-ass giggle.

“All right, we’ll get it and be back in two minutes.” They both turn to walk away, but I grab shorty by the shoulder.

“Oh no, your mate stays here with me.”

“For security like?”

“Dead right for security.” Shorty actually feels quite muscular. He shrugs and nods to signify his agreement to being held as a hostage.

“All right, George. I’ll be back in three minutes. If an alarm goes off, run like buggery.”

With those instructions delivered, he jogs off around the corner. It is a one-way system, so the van screams up behind us and in the opposite direction I am looking. Lofty hands me the keys.

“There we are—twenty-three pounds seventy please.”

“Brilliant. Here you are,” I say, handing the cash over, “as agreed…?” I do not know his name.

“Josh.”

“Thanks, Josh. I appreciate that and enjoy the
Call of Duty
game.”

He smirks at me.

“Ha, man, you are so out of touch. It’s been out for six weeks; you can pick them up for a tenner anywhere.” The cheeky bastards. “Oh, and I reckon it would be a good idea if you pulled your zip up. People have been staring at you since we’ve been here.”

Oh my God, no wonder! He still has a parting shot.

“And one more thing. George is county champion for under-eighteens at All-In Wrestling. He could have snapped you in two like a toothpick.”

I have been taken to the cleaners by a couple of school kids. If Buck had witnessed this, he would not trust me with a company bucket and mop. I need to have my confidence restored, so I make a phone call.

“Rob, any chance of meeting up tomorrow sometime for a beer?” It’s a coded message—neither of us drink beer.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

“God, I feel sick every time I think of it.” I exaggerate the deepness of my voice and mimic yesterday’s performance. “You shall be now and forever known as Jess. Daniel Pearson has spoken, and his is the word of one who must be obeyed.”

“I don’t think it is my place to say anything”—Rob has a job to lift his eyes from the pub table—“but what in the hell were you thinking?”

“I know. I know. What an absolute prat I am.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“But D, what else do you expect me to say? I cannot believe she didn’t smack you across the face. What a prat.”

“You’ve already said that.”

“Yeah but what a—”

“Okay, okay. So what shall I do?”

“If it was me, I’d start looking for a new girlfriend as soon as you can, because you’ve blown this one right out of the water.”

“Could you ring her for me?”

“Ooh, that sounds like a good idea.” His right hand moves up to the side of his head. “Hello, one now known as Jess. My master demands your attendance at a midnight ritual he holds every full moon.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I’m not the one who told a girl he fancies that she was having her name changed.”

“I’ve blown it haven’t I?”

“Of course you’ve blown it!”

“What should I do?”

“You’ve still got the hots for her then?”

“You’ve got to believe it. I looked into her eyes and they swallowed me up. There was this one time when she turned around to look at me in the car, and it was like I had a zoom lens in my head and I could see into her mind.” I relive the moment in my head. “She did not blink and she did not say a word, but there were all sorts of messages that went beyond words. I’m not explaining myself very well. You wouldn’t know what I mean.”

For the first time today, I have Rob’s sympathy. He leans back in his chair. “I know exactly what you mean. Tessa and I have been together for what? Well, even now that thing happens. We might be sitting quietly on the sofa, or in the middle of a furious argument, or we’ve just had sex and we look at each other and the world stops, and everything else going on does not matter. We know who we are, and no one else can fill that space.”

“You’ve got it—that’s exactly how it felt!”

Rob bangs his fist on the pub table. “Danny, ring her up. Now.”

“I—I—”

“Danny, ring her up now. Don’t even think about it, don’t plan what you’re going to say. Do it because each minute that passes that you don’t ring her, you are going to regret. And I’m here, in your corner, but I’m leaving in twenty minutes. Now or never.”

He is right. Better to know than not know. I have already programmed the number into my mobile; I’ll probably have to erase it fairly soon.

“Hi. Can I speak to JB Roberts, please?”

“I’m sorry, she is tied up at present. I will put you through to Gemma. Who shall I say is calling?”

“Daniel Pearson.”

“Oh, hello, Mr. Pearson. Rose here. Just hold the line whilst I speak to Gemma.”

The pub is extremely quiet. It feels like there is a room full of people waiting to witness my humiliation.

“Hello, Mr. Pearson. Sorry to keep you waiting. Miss Barrow is tied up as well. One of them will ring you back shortly.”

I bet they will.

“No good?” Rob puts his arm around me.

“No. I think they are giving me the run around.”

“Oh, well. You did your best, old pal. It’s her loss. Another glass of Chardonnay and I’d best get going.”

I’m not in the mood to argue, so Rob strolls up to the bar. My phone rings and the conversation is so short, it is finished by the time he arrives back with the drinks.

“Blimey, Danny, you’re as white as a sheet. Has someone died?”

I shake my head and struggle to find the right words.

“It was her. I asked her out for a meal. We’re going out on Saturday night. I’m picking her up from the office at seven.”

“You are pulling my leg!”

“It’s not funny, Rob.”

“Wow. Brilliant, just frigging brilliant. Well done, mate.”

“The thing is…The thing is…”

“Well, spit it out.”

“The thing is, when she came on the phone, she said, ‘Hi, Danny. Jess here.’ “

“What?”

“‘Hi, Danny. Jess here.’”

***

“Hi, Danny. Jess here.” Gemma cannot wait to mimic her boss’s voice.

“Gemma!”

“I just happened to overhear you.”

“Overheard me—how?”

“All right, I was eavesdropping—just a little.”

“Eavesdropping? That is outrageous!”

“I know. I do apologise.” The giggle at the back of Gemma’s throat does not dignify the apology.

“Go away. We will deal with this later.”

“Fair enough.” As Gemma walked back to her office, she repeats, in a stage whisper, once again, “‘Hi, Danny. Jess here.’”

Sitting at her desk, Jess fumes and wonders what action to take before she realises that there is a large smile decorating her face.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

“Can I borrow your car this Saturday?”

“My car, on Saturday. Not a chance. Why?”

“I can’t roll up on a first date driving a van with
‘Shocking Connections’
plastered all over it.”

“Yes, I see that would be a problem. It would so much classier if you had one with
‘Royal Mail’
written on it.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I thought the promotion came with a new car thrown in.”

“Yes, but I haven’t accepted the job yet.”

“Danny, RING UP AND ACCEPT THE JOB—NOW!” Rob has one hell of a pair of lungs on him, but I think he’s made his point. The HR direct line number is stored on my phone.

“Good morning, this is James Pearson. Is Mrs. Miller in?”

“Good morning, Mr. Pearson. Mrs. Miller here. How can I help you?”

“I would like to accept the company’s offer. What do I do now?”

“Just sign the offer letter in two places at the bottom and e-mail it back to me.”

“Brilliant…There’s one more thing.”

“The company car.”

“How did you know that was what I was going to ask about?”

“You’re a man, Mr. Pearson—it wasn’t really that hard to fathom.”

“Mrs. Miller, I like you.”

She does not say anything at first, but I think the charm worked. “Ring Peter Elworthy at British Car Leasing. Give him the budget figure. He will tell you what is available. We only need a day to process it at our end. The only delay is in you choosing whichever car you want.”

“So I could have my new car by Saturday?”

“Goodness, I do wonder at some of the decisions this company makes at times. As I said, you’re a man, Mr. Pearson, and you could well have your new toy by the weekend.”

“Mrs. Miller, forget that ‘like’ business—I positively love you.”

She lets out a theatrical sigh. “We need more women in this company. Have a nice day, Mr. Pearson. Oh and by the way, do not forget that the company expects your turnover to top a million pounds in the first year.”

“No problem, Mrs. Miller.” I turn to Rob. “She was nice. What sort of car shall I get?”

“Nothing too sporty or too flash; an Audi maybe? But make sure it is white. White is classy—understated, but eye-catching.”

I am deep in conversation with Mr. Elworthy within five minutes.

A short time later, I am back on the phone with Rob.

***

“What did you get?” he asks.

“An Audi something or other.”

“Not a coupé.”

“No, not a coupé.”

“In white?”

“No. If I wanted white, there was a waiting list for two months.”

“So what colour did you get?”

“Blue.”

“Blue. Dark miserable blue or bright flashy blue?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Brilliant, you’ve got yourself saddled with a dark miserable blue Audi for the next two years.”

“It’s got satellite navigation.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

Rob is obviously pleased and impressed about the satellite navigation—maybe Mrs. Miller was right after all.

***

“Do you fancy a coffee break in town? You can issue me my final warning then.”

Jess is determined not to let Gemma off that easily, but if she does not have a coffee by eleven-thirty every day, her head starts swimming.

“I suppose so. But you’re buying.”

They find a quiet corner in the staff canteen and still have a bit of time before the lunch rush hour.

“So, JB, or should I call you—”

“Enough! Seriously, Gemma, I’m not too happy about you eavesdropping on my private conversations. It’s not very nice.”

“Firstly, JB, I wholeheartedly apologise. It was not deliberate or planned. I actually thought you might be giving the guy the brush off. I was half looking forward to a classic JB slagging-off session.”

“You didn’t like him?”

JB looks concerned, so Gemma responds accordingly. “Personally, I thought he was great, terrific. He really fancies you.”

“Yes, I am well aware of that.”

There is a silence, a gap that needs to be ignored or crossed. Gemma decides if she does not speak up now, the chance may never happen again. “Friend to friend, not PA to her boss…”

JB nods.

“Over the last three years I have seen about every facet of your character. You are a strong woman. You’re a role model for people like me. You’re like a lioness when you are protecting your own. You make decisions that most others would shy away from. I’ve grown to love you as a person. I would go to war for you. But do you know what I’ve never seen? You really happy or you really vulnerable. There is this thick veneer that even I cannot penetrate. Sometimes I just want to hold you and say let it all out.”

A group of clerical staff chatter their way into the canteen and both women drop their heads. Gemma is terrified that this time she has broken some unwritten code and is about to suggest they head back to work when JB breaks the silence.

“Thomas, my husband, took his own life. He got on a motorbike and deliberately drove into a brick wall at a hundred miles an hour. The coroner’s verdict was an accident so everyone was happy with that lie, but he was screwed up in the head. When we married he was this real fun guy who was up for anything. By the time he died, he was a pain in the ass to be with. That’s why you have never seen me date or flirt or anything like that. Especially after that fiasco with Paul Clement. I just cannot face going through all that shit again.”

Gemma is aware of the mounting buzz in the canteen as it fills up, which perversely seems to make this moment of frankness so very special.

“Danny Pearson is not like that. He will not turn out like that.”

“I don’t think so either. But what if he does? I would rather not go down that road just to have my world torn to pieces all over again.”

“However, you have agreed to see him on Saturday.”

“I’m sacking you if you ever listen in on my conversations again.”

“No, you’re not.” They both laugh, and JB looks thoughtfully at Gemma.

“Gemma, in future, call me Jess.”