Dumped, Actually(86)
Erica is already in the driver’s seat and firing up the engine as I throw the passenger door open and climb in. I’m being so manly right now, it’s quite breathtaking. I would offer to drive, but I don’t know the way, and have a habit of stalling when I’m in a rush.
‘You ready?’ she says to me, hands gripped firmly on the wheel.
‘Let’s fucking rock it!’ I shout back at her – and pump my fist.
Good grief.
I could have just said ‘yes’ and had done with it, but I just had to try and be cool, didn’t I?
Erica looks at me in a way that tells me I am being far from cool – what with the idiotic pronouncement that just came from my lips, and the bright-yellow jumpsuit I’m still wearing – and guns the accelerator.
I am thrown back into the seat as we hurtle out of the airfield – and towards a confrontation that we’ve all known has been coming for quite some time now, if we’ve been paying attention, and haven’t got distracted by all the bloody fist pumping.
CHAPTER TWELVE
IT’S JUST MEANT TO BE
I thrust my genitals towards Erica as we speed up the motorway off-ramp.
‘Ollie! What the hell are you doing?’ she exclaims.
‘Trying to get this stupid jumpsuit off!’ I explain to her, bucking my hips again as I attempt to slide the suit underneath my buttocks. The damn thing is not cooperating with me at all, and it’s taking a supreme effort to get the suit off without ripping my clothes underneath.
This might have something to do with the fact that Erica is driving like Nigel Mansell, throwing the BMW around like we’re taking a tricky corner at Monaco.
‘Well, hurry up! I’ll crash the car if you keep thrusting your crotch at me like that!’
‘Understood,’ I tell her, before I let a huge grunt out as the suit finally slides over my arse, and forms a puddle of yellow material at my feet.
‘How does Benedict expect to convince the board of directors that they should go along with him?’ I ask. ‘Actual Life is doing so well. Didn’t you say we were nearly back in profit?’
‘Yes. And that means he’s found something to fuck us over with that we don’t know about. Something he thinks is convincing enough to turn everyone against us. All he needs to do is get a majority of seven from the thirteen members of the board including himself and we’re dead in the water. And with me not there, he won’t have to worry about my vote.’
‘Oh fuck.’
‘Precisely.’
‘But that Prendergast chap wouldn’t vote against you, would he? You said you trusted him?’
‘I do. But he’s the only one I know will stand by me. The rest . . . Benedict can persuade them to do what he wants. He’s done it before.’
Erica makes another sharp turn, and we’re on the dual carriageway, headed right towards the financial district, where ForeTech’s offices are situated.
I’m assuming that’s where we’re going, anyway. I’ve never actually been to ForeTech before. I’m far too low on the food chain to get an invite.
As Erica speeds us towards it, I start to feel a bloom of fear in my chest. Now I’ve had a moment to think about what we’re actually about to do, the gravity of it all has hit me. We’re heading towards a confrontation that could very well result in the loss of my job and the end of ‘Dumped Actually’ – not to mention everyone else’s job at the website.
‘What are our chances?’ I ask Erica as the BMW leaves the dual carriageway and starts to wend its way around streets that are fast becoming surrounded by high-rise office blocks.
Erica looks at me darkly, before returning her attention to the road.
Gulp.
I lapse back into silence as Erica drives through increasingly empty roads, at increasingly unsafe speeds. I’m too caught up in my fear of losing my job to be afraid of the speed she’s going at, though.
Her red hair – always so impossibly expressive – is now a raging fire. Her emerald-green eyes are blazing as well. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Erica look this angry or determined before.
It’s a completely inappropriate thing to think, given the circumstances, but she’s frankly never looked more beautiful.
My mind casts back to an hour ago at the airfield, when we were staring into each other’s eyes. Was there something actually . . . there?
Another sharp turn to the left brings me back to my senses, and the BMW is now careening towards one high-rise office block in particular. It’s enormous, with a blue tinge to the glass that wraps around its entire structure. It looks more or less exactly the same as most of the others do, frankly. I’m glad Erica knows where she’s going, because I’m completely lost in this sea of corporate architecture. If this is the kind of place that breeds men like Benedict Montifore, I’d rather be nowhere near it.
Speaking of whom, I still have an unanswered question burning at the back of my mind. One that’s been there ever since I first spoke to Erica about Benedict’s plans for us.
‘Why is he doing this, Erica? Why would a successful businessman want to destroy a part of his portfolio that’s doing well? It makes no financial sense!’
‘This isn’t about money,’ Erica replies as we charge around the side of the blue high-rise, and towards a ramp leading into its depths.