Heller’s Decision (40 page)

As she
virtually pushed me out the door, I asked her in a low voice, “What
happened with Bick?”

She shrugged
indifferently. “He’s too nice.” She hooked her thumb towards her
bedroom door. “Not like that guy in there. He’s a
major
badass. Hot, hot, sizzling hot!”

“Nice guys can
be hot too.”

“Says the woman
being porked by the biggest badass of them all.” She shoved me into
the hallway. “Now, piss off, Tils. As you can see, I’m very busy.”
She slammed the door in my face.

“Bye,” I said
to the peeling paintwork.

Everyone at
work eventually became fed up with me hanging around, wanting to
chat all the time.

“Go get a job,
Tilly,” scowled Daniel distractedly, all his concentration on his
computer monitor, busily tapping on his keyboard. “Like we all have
and like the one I’m trying to do at this very moment but someone
keeps interrupting me. And get your huge butt off my desk.”

I slipped off
his desk where I’d perched at a time I knew Heller was absent from
the office, attempting repeatedly to engage Daniel. But he’d
steadfastly ignored me, more intent on performing his duties with
admirable industry, trying to meet a pressing deadline.

“I looked, but
nothing seemed interesting.”

His glance was
sceptical. “And what? Wearing a hamburger outfit seemed interesting
to you?”

“No,” I
admitted. My shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what I’m going to
do.”

“Take some more
time off to think about it. You still have a while before Heller
will let you return to work here.”

My shoulders
sagged even more. “I know. Why does he have to be such a
hardarse?”

“Because that’s
how you run a successful business, Matilda.”

I squealed and
spun around, not having heard him approach, deep in the midst of my
self-pity ocean. “Heller! Stop sneaking up on me.”

“I wasn’t
sneaking. And why are you here in the office anyway? You know what
I said about that.”

“I was talking
to Danny.”

Daniel snorted.
“No, you weren’t. You were actually bothering me while I was trying
to work.”

“Please let
Daniel do his job. I depend on him to do it with accuracy and he
can’t do that if you’re annoying him.”

“I’m not
annoying him. I’m not an annoying kind of person.” I didn’t miss
the loaded look Heller and Daniel shared when I said that. “Hey, I
saw that!”

“Tilly, just
go
away
,” Daniel said, running his finger along a
line of figures on his paperwork, no longer paying me any
attention.

I ruffled his
hair, exasperating him even more, and trailed after Heller into his
office. Despite his dark glance at me, I flopped on to his leather
lounge and propped my feet on the arm, my fingers laced together
under my neck. Surely there had to be some perks in being the boss’
squeeze, and if that meant open access to his office then he’d just
have to put up with it.

“I’m
bored.”

He didn’t even
look at me, engrossed in his emails. “That’s unfortunate for you,
my sweet. However, I’m not bored because I have a lot of work to
get through today.”

I groaned.
“Nobody wants to talk to me.”

“I’ve heard
people are more interesting when they have a job.”

“Geez, has
anyone ever told you you’re not very good at giving out hints,
Heller? In fact, you’re quite heavy-handed with them.”

“I’ve always
found that I need to say some things quite bluntly to some people
before they understand.” He twisted around from his computer to
look at me. “So, go away please. There. Was that blunt enough for
you?”

“Aw, not even
you want me around.”

“Go find a
job.”

“They’re all
boring. I want to come back here to work.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty
please?”

“No.”

“Why do you
have to be so mean?”

He didn’t even
look my way, absorbed in an email. “Some call it mean, some call it
maintaining good discipline.”

I stood and
waited for him to pay me some attention, but he ignored me, so I
wandered aimlessly back up to my flat. I fired up the internet and
searched through all the vacant jobs again. The only thing that
even piqued my interest was a casual job as a retail assistant at a
high-end boutique in the shopping mall Niq and I had recently
visited. The pay was crap, but there was more of a chance of
earning some tips there than as a burger-flipper at a fast food
chain.
What the hell?
I thought. What did I have to lose? I
picked up the phone.

A very snooty
lady answered. I assumed my poshest voice in response and enquired
about the position.

“You
do
have retail experience in a more refined store, I presume?” she
asked, as if almost expecting me to slink away.

“Oh,
certainly,” I gushed, mentioning the name of the expensive store
where I’d acted as lowly carrier bag runner and re-racker of all
the clothes tried on and discarded in the change room by very rich
women. She didn’t need to know I’d never been trusted with actually
serving anyone. Inspiration suddenly struck me. “And I don’t like
to brag, but I was even awarded Employee of the Month at one store
at which I was employed.” I dropped the name of a fancy department
store in the same shopping centre as her boutique.

“Well, that’s
quite impressive, I must say. That store has a large staff. And
they’re very particular about their hiring. I should know because I
worked there for years.” She tittered. And to my shame, I
sycophantically did as well.
Were there no depths to which I
wouldn’t sink to secure a job
, I thought in despair. God, the
tips better be worth it.

“I was very
surprised and thrilled to receive that award,” I said modestly,
especially considering I didn’t even work at the store at the
time.

“What
department were you working in then?”

“I was in
ladies’ lingerie.” It wasn’t
really
a lie because I’d
somehow found myself serving behind the counter when I’d only gone
there to buy a bra. And I
did
give exceptional service
during that brief period, even if I say so myself. I probably
deserved Employee of the Month.

“I must say
that you sound just the sort of client experience enhancer that I’m
after.”

“Sorry? A
client whosawhatsy?”

“Client
experience enhancer. It’s the title I give to all my lovely ladies
who ensure that my clients are introduced to the perfect garments
for them.”
Oh brother! This store was wankier than I ever
imagined.
“I tell all my girls that they’re almost like
matchmakers. It’s such an enjoyable working environment.” She
tittered again. That was really going to get on my nerves if I
landed this job. So was being called a girl.

“I can see your
boutique would be a wonderful place to work,” I lied, hoping I
wasn’t laying it on too thick. But apparently, that was impossible
with this woman.

“I like you,
Tilly,” she decided. “I really feel as if we’re on the same
wavelength about customer service, and I don’t say that to many
people. Come in for an interview tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Ms
. . . um. Sorry, what was your name?”

“You may call
me Miss Petunia,” she said, as though she’d just bestowed the
honour on me of marrying her firstborn son.

“Thank you for
the opportunity, Miss Petunia,” I fawned, hating myself even more.
“I look forward to meeting you.”

By the time I
hung up, after discussing the particulars of my interview, my
self-loathing was almost too much to bear. Almost. I’d done worse
to secure a job in my life than ingratiating myself with a boss.
I’d see tomorrow if I could possibly stomach the brown-nosing
enough to take the job, not that I had many options.

Bored, and with
nothing to do for the rest of the day, I visited my lovely
sister-in-law, Elise. She was currently at home, being rather
pregnant with Sean’s and her first child. I nervously scanned the
room, noting with dismay that she hadn’t abandoned her experiments
in aromatherapy.

“How lucky for
me that you visited today!” she sang, virtually bouncing up and
down, her eyes shining. “I need a person to test some scented
moisturising lotions I’ve developed.”

I groaned to
myself. The last time I’d been her guinea pig, the whole experience
had ended with a painful physical encounter with Heller. I sure
didn’t want to re-enact that. And I could guarantee that he didn’t
want to either.

“I thought you
passed that course?”

“I did. I’ve
moved on to the advanced course.”

“I’ve kind of
had enough of lotions at the moment,” I stated, but my resolve
instantly wavered at the sight of her pretty face losing its
sunshine.

“Please,
Tilly?” she begged. “Even if you only test just one. And I’ll let
you choose which one.”

And I didn’t
know if it was the result of having a sweet pregnant woman abjectly
pleading with me, but my determination to not be involved with any
more ointments caved in completely.

“Okay, I guess
I could test one,” I agreed reluctantly.

Delighted, she
led me to her ‘therapy centre’ (a small table and a shelf in the
corner of the cramped living room of their small flat) where sat an
array of strange smelling tiny jars. She handed me the first. I
opened it, took a whiff and reeled backwards in disgust.

“Eww, not that
one.”
Definitely
not that one.

Her face fell
again. “I really thought that one would be a success. Such an
interesting mix of ingredients. My instructor told me she was
really excited about its originality.”

“Then your
instructor needs to get her nostrils tested.”

A little
downcast, she handed me the next. It was as equally putrid as the
first. The scent was barely discernable in the third one over the
overpowering smell of whatever base oil she’d used. I presumed the
whole point of aromatherapy was to have an aroma to provide the
therapy, so advised her not to go with that one. The fourth one
wasn’t too bad, so I put it aside. The fifth was too strong, though
not unpleasant. But it had the kind of industrial-strength scent
that could cause strangers in a lift to pass out.

I went back to
the fourth, sniffing experimentally again. I was starting to feel
like a connoisseur – a potential future career as a lotion-smeller
briefly crossing my mind. I rubbed some on my arm and held that
patch to my nose. It smelt pretty good on my arm. The lotion,
reacting to the warmth of my body, spread easily without being
sticky.

“I like this
one,” I declared, rubbing some more into my arms. I stood in front
of a mirror and applied it to my face, neck and as much of my chest
I could reach until I hit my t-shirt.

Elise watched
me avidly as I did and spent the rest of the afternoon, as we
chatted and watched daytime TV soaps together, observing me
closely. Disconcerted by her intense scrutiny, I consoled myself by
taking full advantage of their well-stocked pantry, filling my
belly as well as hers, not that it needed much more filling, being
extended already with the pressure of the baby.

Though I
considered whether or not I could get away with also staying for
dinner, I decided that type of freeloading was a little blatant,
even for me. Also, her constant surveillance was making me
uneasy.

At the door as
we kissed each other goodbye, she asked me if I experienced any
effects.

“What kind of
effects?” I asked, slightly alarmed. “Should I be expecting
effects?”

“No, no,” she
hastily assured. “I was just checking. I used a different base with
that lotion, but it looks like that’s the one I’ll use for my
assessment.”

“Okay. Good
luck,” I said, now a little wary. “Give Sean a kiss for me.”

Back at my
flat, I leaned in close to the mirror, checking my face anxiously,
but I looked the same as usual to me.

I was in the
middle of cooking my dinner (after pilfering more ingredients from
the pantry) when my phone shrilled, making me jump.

“Matilda,”
Heller said on the other end, his voice stern. “Come down to my
office immediately.”

Uh oh!
I
thought, my heart sinking.
What have I done now?

Chapter
27

A million
thoughts raced around in my mind as I made my way down two levels
to the office. How could I possibly be in trouble again? I was
usually aware of my misdemeanours, but I couldn’t think of anything
I’d done recently. That could only mean I’d done something
previously that I’d thought I’d gotten away with or I’d forgotten
about.

So it was with
a large dose of trepidation that I approached his office. Nobody
was around in the main section, but I could hear voices floating
from his room. He wasn’t alone.

I cautiously
poked my head through his doorway, scoping. Heller, Clive, Sid and
Daniel were present, Niq nowhere to be seen. Not entirely reassured
by that ensemble of the key players at
Heller’s
,
nevertheless a small flame of hope flared inside me. Maybe we were
going to discuss my early return to security work?

“Sit down,
Matilda,” Heller instructed. As usual there was nowhere for me to
sit, so I perched on the arm of Daniel’s chair, draping my arm
around his neck.

“Where’s Niq?”
I asked him.

“He’s
upstairs,” answered Daniel. That was kind of promising – made it
sound even more like a work-related discussion.

“Do you
remember me talking about that matter I’d decided on?” Heller
asked.

“Yes,” I smiled
briefly. “Your big, mysterious decision.”

“It won’t be
mysterious for long.”

Maybe he was
going to sell the business? My heart froze for an instant – maybe
he was returning to his home country? Maybe he’d decided to finally
tell us all about the wife and ten kids he’d abandoned there? I
sharply told myself to pipe down with the speculation when I
realised I was actually missing what he was saying.