Unbind (36 page)

“Sodding Americans always wanna get the dirty on people, don’t you?”

“Yeah, soak it up baby,” he winked.

We walked back to his office, him with his arm around my shoulder. Everybody saw us and knew, I was in with him already. The crazy,
National Geographic
man whose sexuality I was still weighing up.

“I’m not gay,” he said as soon as we walked over the threshold of his office. “Everyone always fucking assumes.”

I reclaimed my seat on the opposite side of his desk and held my hands up. “Hey, I didn’t assume. I did wonder… the trousers… sorry, pants… are kind of wild. Don’t you think?”

“These?” He licked his lips, but I doubted he would want to know why I felt the urge to call him Bones. “I get a lotta action off of these. You know what I’m saying?”

Hmm, a man proud of his tight pants… yuck!

“I’m banging Cai. Didn’t you get the memo?”

His jaw dropped open and he held both palms at either sides of his cheeks, now clearly in a mocking mood. “I’m going to go lie down and kiss Jennifer’s feet for sending you to me.”

We laughed but then I had to ask, “Do you love Jennifer… or kind of hate her? Be truthful now. I won’t tell, not when I’m dating the nephew,” I said out of the corner of my mouth.

Carl smirked, his hands tightly held together on top of his desk. Staring at him, I saw a totally different kind of man to those I usually dealt with in this world. Carl was powerfully masculine and yet, didn’t overexert it. He was at one with himself. “Chloe, you’ll eventually learn that Jennifer is the modicum of professional. Nothing she does is without calculation or motive—her
modus operandi
that we keep this magazine the best it can possibly be. It means being fresh, being real, but also being ahead of everyone else. I have to say it surprises me she employed you…” We exchanged looks, but I got what he was saying. “Cai and she don’t always see eye to eye, everyone knows that. He’s run screaming through these offices, time and time again. Accusing her of undermining him.”

I brushed it off, these were things I already knew and had decided to accept. “He’s young and hot-headed, sure. There’s stuff there between them that we don’t know about, right? Given his parents died so horrifically.”

“Listen chica, Jenny is squeaky clean. She’s dragged designers from the gutter and propelled them, she spends weekends hosting workshops for budding editors. She’s also the most enigmatic character you’re ever likely to meet. Sure, she runs this place with precision and crisp execution, but if you’re expecting some personality from her… you’ll be waiting a long, long time. She’s a closed book, yet a never-ending story.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, I know exactly what you mean, Carl.”

We mostly laughed for the rest of that meeting, which turned into an hour-stretch at least. I wasn’t checking my watch.

He often paused to remark, “You’re 30… he’s 25. I need your secrets.”

So despite not being gay, he was still a touch on the fruity, camp side. I really quite liked him. I could dig it. We cemented a no-bullshit policy between us that day. He cut the crap and basically told me what was what, advising I’d need to start sticking my nose into global current affairs, latest trends… everything and anything that seemed interesting, or new. He explained that sometimes we worked for months on one big article and if something was hot, everyone would leave whatever else they were doing and plough all their efforts into that. To start with, I’d get my own blog going and write up some lightweight pieces there… with a long-term goal of progressing to the big leagues, as he put it.

The new, dedicated online side was an experimental, hybrid part of
Frame
and he had pretty much been given free rein—testing the waters, providing quick copy—up-to-date info you couldn’t get into the issues that went on shelves.

When I stood to leave, he reassured me, “No biggies. We play it day by day. We’ll get you warmed up naturally. Just the way I like it.”

“Hey Carl, don’t get any ideas regarding my girlfriend.” Cai’s arms wrapped around me from behind in the corridor, surprising me.

I turned my head and saw he was smiling.

“This one’s a keeper,” Carl saluted Cai knowingly.

“I know.”

Cai walked me to my desk while Carl marched straight back into his office and got on with his day, the Bluetooth needing a warming up by the sounds of it.

In my cubicle, Cai gave me a big kiss on the lips.

I gripped his shoulders tight. “Hey, not at work. It’s my first day. You’re not meant to spoil it.”

“Hmm. I got hauled in by Jennifer to hand in some proofs. No big deal. Good excuse to come spy on my woman, though.”

“I love you,” I murmured in his ear, and he kissed my cheek.

“Gotta go… but left you a little token.” He gestured over my shoulder and stepped away, a big smile on his face. What a bonus for my first day he was, just like my first back in London.

After I watched him leave, I sat down and opened a tiny, pink cardboard box laid on my desk. Inside was a designer cupcake with pink icing and a tiny chocolate decoration with the words, ‘My superstar’
.

I sighed and tucked in, drinking the last dregs of the coffee Tiffany had brought me earlier. It seemed ritual when I noticed the Apple store had been emptied and poured into my new drawers, so I spent the rest of that morning working my way around the desk, syncing all my gadgetry up with my own stuff.

Over the heads of my colleagues, through the blinds, I could see the Rockefeller and more besides. Shit, I was in New York. Yet I still mistrusted it. I’d worked harder than I dared consider to get where I’d got and still, success didn’t seem right. Coming from nothing meant you had to always be prepared to go back to nothing.

LATER that day, Carl formally introduced me to all the other members of staff and I tried to memorise all their names. Wasn’t going to be easy. They all seemed interested in me and asked questions, were friendly, accepting of me as their new team member. Carl had a good hand in that, however, always making sure I was made to feel welcome and at home.

A list of upcoming articles was mailed to everyone and I read through some of them. It was true I’d read fashion magazines since the age of 11, but to see the evidence—that I was right in the centre of it, right in the action—was an enormous, overwhelming achievement for me.

The thought of actually dwelling amongst the massive towers of Manhattan suddenly absorbed me, drowned me. I’d been high on ideas, on lofty expectations, plus the novelty of the ‘English girl in New York’. Suddenly I realised I was away from home, I was alone in
Frame
and I
could
fuck it up and have to go back, tail between my legs. Claustrophobia still got me when I wasn’t expecting it. That was when I started arranging my devices in neat lines—but it didn’t work.

I ran out of our office space and into the hallway, or corridor… wasn’t quite sure of the terminology just then. I got myself inside the bathroom and sat on a toilet seat, taking some deep breaths. Put my head between my legs.

I exited the stall and washed my hands even though I hadn’t peed. In the mirror I teased my hair and smoothed down my few clothes. When I exited the room, I bumped into none other than Her Majesty.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, ’ I proclaimed, sure I had rumpled her.

She breathed gently, like birdsong, didn’t make a sound. Only a hitch barely visible in her voice. I walked away, a fierce shade of scarlet clashing with my outfit, and looked behind to see her watching me leave.

“No problem, Chloe,” she whispered.

It wasn’t a disapproving stare.

CARL REALLY LOOKED after me during those first few months at
Frame
. I quickly got a blog following writing witty, British insights on everything showbiz, beauty or what was trending. It was a dream job—all I had to do was bash the words into shape and make them sparkle. I got to go to lunches and socialise. I went to events just to provide a tweetalong or represent the magazine. It was all done fairly—we all got equal chance to go out and network. I made a few friends outside
Frame
but I was quite content not standing out, or being controversial. I did my job, I did it well, and thought of Cai as my first priority. I guess it didn’t hurt that I got my pick of the closet and began planning different outfits for each day of the week, in advance. For some reason this appeased my need for order and everyone started noticing the touches I added to my burgeoning wardrobe.

I loved every minute—there was hardly a period of ‘settling in’. Socialising happened regularly, much more often than it did in my previous appointment, and I had Cai to go home to every night (or almost every night). Sometimes he worked away for a few days and I would be left to stay alone in that huge condo of his! It was crazy that he trusted me so implicitly, but I trusted him just as deeply too, even despite our quick romance. Sometimes when he came home from those trips, I’d surprise him with a sumptuous meal or new lingerie. If he was getting back home really late, I’d wait up in bed naked and welcome him straight into my arms. Those days were bliss, our jobs keeping us so busy that at the end of the day, we were just happy enough to lose ourselves in each other’s bodies.

Cai liked spicy cuisine and I quickly became tolerant of even the hottest chillies. He cooked a lot which I adored but often I made roast dinners and he lapped it up just as eagerly. He loved that I loved baking, which I hadn’t actually done in years. I baked cookies, brownies, muffins and rocky road which he took with him on shoots. I cleaned around the house a bit but he had a lady who came in once a week, when we were both out. He got it that I liked to read a lot so he made a little snug area for me near the bookshelves—a small bed-type-sofa that I could lie back on or lift to seating position. He cleared room for my books on the shelves, even though most of my reading was done on a Kindle.

We purchased new things together for the apartment, such as bed linen, kitchen utensils and dinnerware. A hint of femininity soon became visible around his place, with added floral patterns and splashes of colour where there hadn’t been any before. I quickly got to realise that Cai and I were similar in the way we both needed to work and keep our minds occupied. He took his profession seriously but didn’t brag about it. Our home life was cosy and warm, nights spent eating and enjoying films on the big-screen TV, making love until we fell asleep.

He encouraged me to Skype and call my family and friends back home as often as I needed to. He even promised that after the worst of the snow cleared, we’d fly my family out for a long weekend, or at least Kay. I had been sending emails back and forth all the time anyway, and sometimes, I airmailed bits and pieces to my sisters, Kay and Mum. I think all the women in my life envied me, held me on a pedestal, but knew exactly why I was reaching for more. They wanted me to do it and never questioned why I was living an ocean away.

Time ran away and soon it was Christmas. My god, was it cold. Some days the weather got so bad the whole city shut down, so we’d all work from home remotely. Those were the days I’d waste my time on Skype instead of doing some work! It was really kind of nice to talk with colleagues one-on-one without anyone else in earshot, unless we were hosting a conference call of course.

On one of those particularly snowy days, Cai was out of town and I sat at the coffee table in our lounge—tap, tap, tapping away on my laptop. The chiminea burned fiercely nearby but I still wore fingerless mittens, a beanie and a full set of Cai’s grey sweats. I was busy writing a review of some new show that was stunning Broadway when my Skype app lit up… it was Jennifer! I knew from talk around the office that she wasn’t one to Skype. If she did, it was for a reason.

My outfit!

“Hey, Jennifer,” I answered in a happy voice. I was scared, a little. I knew she’d been guiding me from a distance, conversing with Carl so she knew how I was doing, just not necessarily telling me that. It sort of comforted me that the boss cared, even if from afar. “What can I do for you?” 

“Hello, Chloe. Well, I am told by Kincaid that you and he are in New York for the season. So, I wanted to know if you’d come up to the Connecticut house for a change? We could open her up, you know? Take my horses up there? Seems a shame to leave it so derelict, don’t you think?”