Dumped, Actually(89)

Because that’s what ‘Dumped Actually’ is. That’s what Erica is, for that matter.

My life.

Both have seen me through the heartache of Sam’s loss, and both have helped me understand myself better, and grow as a person. Without them, I’d still be mourning the end of yet another relationship and hiding in the dark somewhere . . . rather than jumping out of a plane and finally seeing the light.

I would also not have changed the relationship I have with my parents for the better, because I wouldn’t have known there was anything that needed changing. I’d still be looking at them on a pedestal, rather than as the lovely human beings they actually are.

Without Erica, without Actual Life, without ‘Dumped Actually’, where exactly would I be?

For the briefest of moments, I flash back to being on top of that car park and leaning out over the edge, with tears in my eyes and very dark thoughts in my heart. This time, though, in my mind’s eye, I don’t push back. Instead, I lean out more, past the point of no return, and I—

‘Fuck this,’ I say under my breath, turning to face the smoked-glass double doors, with my head up and my shoulders square.

The receptionist – who has clearly been watching me all this time – rises from his seat. ‘You’re not allowed to go in there!’ he barks at me.

I glare at him.

For a moment, it seems like he’s going to say something else, but the look in my eyes is all he needs to know that he’s far better off just sitting back down again.

As he does, I look at the double doors and take a deep breath.

I’ve been going through a lot of doors recently. And I’ve mostly done it kicking and screaming – and probably crying.

Everything in my life has been difficult. Painful. Challenging, you might say. I’ve had to face many things that brought me grief, and I’ve been reluctant to do so on every single occasion.

Not this time, though.

This time, I’ve never wanted to do anything more in my life.

I start towards the smoked-glass doors, just as I see a load of arms shoot into the air beyond them. The vote has started.

With one hand thrust out, I stride at the doors, hitting them dead centre. They both fly open, and I walk into the boardroom like I own the fucking place.

‘Stop!’ I roar as I take in the room for the first time. A long oak table, covered in sheets of paper, full of charts, numbers and lists, is surrounded on three sides by a series of cookie-cutter old white men in dark suits. I think I recognise a few from Sheldon Brook.

Erica is stood off to the left-hand side of the room, looking sick to her stomach, and Benedict Montifore is at the head of the oak table, staring down on his board with barely concealed glee as they make their decision about the future of Actual Life – having been convinced by the gold-plated arsehole’s lies.

I see at least nine arms in the air. More than enough to seal my fate.

Benedict immediately straightens when he sees me, with a look of unbridled rage on his face. ‘Get out! This has nothing to do with you!’

I return his look of rage with 1000 per cent interest. ‘Oh, fuck off, Benedict,’ I tell him, earning me a few gasps from some of the board members.

Erica looks like she’s just seen her cute puppy turn into a wolverine.

‘You’re not allowed in here!’ Benedict roars, moving towards me, spittle flying from his mouth.

Usually, people move out of his way when he comes at them like this.

Not today, though.

I stand my ground.

But as Benedict comes at me, I feel one leg start to shake. He really is quite a big man. Far bigger and stronger than me, without a doubt.

I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be here. Benedict is right. It’s just better for me to let all of this happen, and to try to pick up the pieces afterwar—

Then I see Erica’s apologetic, hurt expression again, from our conversation back in the car, and my leg stops shaking instantly.

Come on, then, you son of a bitch. Come and test your worth against mine.

As he gets within two feet of me, Benedict’s expression changes. This is not a man who is used to people standing up to him. He doesn’t know how to deal with it.

Is that . . . Is that doubt in his eyes? Maybe even a little . . . fear?

‘I said, you have to get out!’ he tells me again, his voice actually cracking a little.

‘I don’t think so,’ I reply. ‘I’ve listened to you lie about me from out there, and there’s no way I’m going to let you get away with it. These fine gentlemen are going to hear my side of the story.’

‘No!’ Benedict retorts. ‘You know what you’ve done! I’ve told them all!’

‘You’ve told them all lies and bullshit,’ I say, taking a step forward.

This causes Benedict to take a step back . . . and something fundamental realigns itself in the universe.

‘I’d like to hear what he has to say,’ one of the board members says.

I turn and nod. ‘Thank you, Mr Prendergast,’ I say, hazarding a guess. He responds with a warm smile.

‘Yes. Let Ollie speak!’ Erica adds, moving forward herself to stand at my side. ‘He’s been as slandered as I have today. He deserves the right to reply!’

The raised hands of the board members all go down again slowly, and they stare at Benedict. A few of them look chagrined in the extreme. Those are probably the ones loyal to Benedict, no matter what happens. The rest are looking at him with a mixture of concern and suspicion, though.