I Owe You One(33)

“Oh.” For some weird reason, I find myself blushing. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Whose signature is that?” Ryan peers at the scribbly words.

“Yeah, what is this?” Jake takes the coffee-cup sleeve from Ryan and scans it, frowning. “Who owes you one?”

“He does,” I admit, a bit reluctantly. “The guy.”

“What guy?”

“The CEO guy.”

“Him?” Ryan jerks an incredulous thumb at Sebastian, still looking at us from the laptop screen. “How come? What happened?”

“I saved his laptop.”

“How?” Both of them are agog by now.

“It was nothing!” I say, trying to play it down. “There was this gush of water and I grabbed it. He said I’d saved his bacon. He tried to buy me a coffee, but I didn’t want it, so he wrote me this IOU. But it’s a joke,” I repeat for emphasis. “It’s not serious or anything.”

Ryan doesn’t seem to be listening.

“You saved his bacon,” he’s saying slowly. “So now he owes you a favor. Like maybe … giving a job to someone. A proper job. With proper money.”

I stare at Ryan, as it gradually dawns on me what he’s suggesting. He can’t mean— He couldn’t mean—

“Yes!” Jake joins in, his face animated. “Do it!”

“Do what?”

“Claim your IOU. Go and see the guy. Get Ryan a job. And make sure the salary’s decent.”

“I can’t do that!” I say, shocked. “I don’t even know him! He’s a stranger! I mean, I did bump into him tonight, actually,” I add, for the sake of accuracy. “But I don’t know him.…”

“It’s not about knowing him, it’s about your rights. He owes you one!” Jake jabs at the coffee-cup sleeve. “Says it here.”

“He doesn’t owe me that! All I did was save his laptop from getting wet. It was a tiny favor.”

“You don’t know that,” counters Jake at once. “You don’t know what was on that laptop. You could have saved him thousands of pounds.”

“Hundreds of thousands,” puts in Ryan. “You might have saved his whole company, for all you know.”

“You probably did.” Jake nods firmly. “You probably saved him millions and he tries to palm you off with a cappuccino. Cheapskate.”

“Look …” I exhale, trying to stay calm. “It wasn’t like that. And I can’t go waltzing into some guy’s office and say, ‘You owe me one, so give Ryan a job.’ ” I turn to Ryan. “Why don’t you apply properly? You have great experience, a great CV—”

“Oh, give me a break!” Ryan erupts. “I’ll never get this job! Not a chance. No one’ll read my CV and think, Yes! This is the guy we want to do our ethical trading shit.”

“They might!”

Ryan shakes his head, staring at the table. Then his eyes rise to meet mine and I can see the pain in them. A bleak, humiliated pain that I recognize.

“I’m going back to L.A.,” he says, and turns to Jake. “Sorry, mate, we’ll have to put our plans on hold.”

“No!” I say in dismay. “You can’t go!”

“I don’t have anything here.” Ryan speaks evenly, but there’s a bubbling, self-hating anger in his voice.

“You could! You might! Look, maybe I …” I check myself.

“You what?” Ryan tilts his head, suddenly alert.

“I …”

Oh God, oh God. I take a swig of wine, playing for time, trying to understand my own contradictory brain process. A moment ago it seemed unthinkable, the idea of claiming that IOU, actually going and claiming it. The very thought made me shudder. It was unpalatable. Grasping. Just … no way. Never.

But now my thoughts are swinging the other way. Am I being too precious? Maybe I did save Sebastian millions of pounds. Maybe he does owe me something proper. Something big.

Besides which, Ryan would be a great employee. He’s so bright and experienced. He’s been through such a lot. He deserves a chance—and what he says is true: He might not get through the application process. It’s brutal out there. And if I don’t do something, he’ll disappear back to L.A. before we’ve even had a chance to …

Anyway, Sebastian can always say no. This last thought bolsters my confidence. He can always say no.

“I’ll do it,” I say in a rush, and take another swig of wine before I can change my mind.

“You,” says Ryan, “are a star.” And he leans over to kiss me in a way that makes my head sing. “An absolute star, Fixie. To Fixie.” He lifts his wineglass and my cheeks glow.

“What’s going on?” says Leila, coming into the kitchen, clutching Jake’s cigarettes.

“Fixie’s got Ryan a job!” says Jake, and he grins at me, a proper affectionate grin.

“Fixie!” exclaims Leila. “You’re brilliant!”

“Isn’t she?” says Ryan, his arm around my shoulders.

I feel warm and radiant, basking in all this approval. It’s so unfamiliar. It’s so lovely. Ryan leans over to kiss me again—and this time his hand creeps up my thigh—and any remaining doubts I had are swept away. I’ll get Ryan a job, he’ll love me for it, Jake will be impressed … everyone will be happy!