Page 23

True or not, again, I appreciate the pep talk.

She begins with moisturiser, her cool fingers smoothing over my skin. I swear, I can feel the bags underneath my eyes shrinking in real time.

‘So,’ Cassie says as she works. ‘How long were you with him?’

‘Five months. Sort of.’

‘Sort of?’ she replies.

‘It’s going to sound stupid now – I’m so embarrassed,’ I confess. ‘But he told me to keep our relationship a secret.’

‘Never feel stupid or embarrassed because a man messed you around,’ she insists.

‘He said he was a private person,’ I say with a snort.

‘Oh, I hate him, and I don’t even know him – I don’t even know you, but I just know that you shouldn’t beat yourself up, okay? I’ve been cheated on too, by someone I thought loved me, and it’s not nice. But you have your new job to think about, and we’re not going to let him mess that up for you, are we?’

She pauses, looking at me for an answer.

‘No, we’re not,’ I say, my confidence building.

‘Because we don’t give significance to the insignificant, do we? Say it,’ she insists.

‘We don’t give significance to the insignificant,’ I repeat back to her. ‘Wow, does this cost extra?’

‘I’m an artist,’ she says with a smile. ‘I create confidence.’

Damn, she really does. Between the pep talk and the glow-up I’m getting, I feel like I could kick a door down or something.

‘Okay, you’re prepped, so just sit back, relax, and let me work my magic, okay?’

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’

I could definitely get used to this – in theory only. I cannot afford to get used to this. Still, it’s worth it if it helps me put my best foot forward at my new job.

Plus, I’m hoping my warpaint will at least create a distraction – a distraction from the fact that I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.

7

On the one hand, my makeover with Cassie couldn’t have come at a better time, and I probably would’ve accepted it, whatever the terms, just to get the pep talk.

However… in hindsight, perhaps I should have given her more of a brief, told her what my job was, so that I got the polished and professional look I was after. What she has given me instead can only be described as ‘fuck you, Ron’ make-up. She’s gone full glam. Smokey eyes with heavy fake lashes, a blood-red lip and a contour so sharp you could cut your fingers on it.

It’s exactly the sort of face you want to be wearing when you bump into your ex, showing him what he’s missing, implying you’ve got somewhere fancy to be, because losing him hasn’t affected your fabulous life whatsoever.

It is not, however, first-day-at-a-new-job make-up. I’m almost certain it’s better than nothing though, and you can’t tell I’ve been crying with the gigantic lashes on, so I’m just going to have to work it. I’m here now.

I don’t know if I feel more or less nervous being shown to Bryan’s office today. Even though I know the job is mine (for now), that somehow only makes me feel more terrified. It’s mine to lose now. And being called in on a Saturday, after the night I had, feels odd. The atmosphere is so different to last night. The place is pretty much empty, with only a handful of staff dotted around. It’s so quiet, so still – like we’re in the calm before the storm.

Bryan’s door is closed, so I give it a knock.

‘Come in,’ he calls out.

‘Hello,’ I say brightly.

At first, he doesn’t look up. He’s staring at a laptop screen. He looks like he’s quite literally been tearing his hair out, because it’s all fluffy at the sides. Then he looks at me and his eyebrows shoot up.

‘Brooke… Were you supposed to be going out today? You should have said…’