Pretty Falling Pieces by Isabelle Culpo
Chapter Nine
“What’s for dinner? I’m starving.” Trent leans across the kitchen table to see what I’m cooking.
“Pizzas,” I reply, something quick and easy that I know everyone will like.
As I’m chopping the onions and capsicum, Trent picks at the salami that’s been set aside in a bowl. Usually, I hate when people use their fingers for food that will be shared, but I bite my tongue.
Not everyone is germaphobic like me.
“Need any help?” he offers.
“I’m good, thanks. It’s almost done anyway. I thought I’d just set out all of the ingredients and everyone can make their own.” I start setting out the serving bowls with each topping in a neat line.
“Theo loves pizza.” He raises his eyebrows at me, and there’s a mischievous grin on his face.
So?Everyone likes pizza.
I try not to read too much into that comment. I’m sure Theo hasn’t said anything to him about our kiss and Trent is just going off Jess’s plan to set the two of us up.
It makes me wonder how he would react if there was something going on between the two of us. Would he have laughed when Jess suggested it, knowing the type of woman Theo probably goes for?
Then an even worse thought hits me, is Theo just being friendly to me to help out his mate, whose girlfriend happens to be obsessed with the idea of us becoming couple friends.
“He never usually comes to these sorts of things. The guy works non-stop.” There’s a combination of both pride and admiration in his voice when he speaks of Theo. “I’ve been trying to get him to go on a surf trip with me for the past few months, but he’s never had the time.” He heads to the fridge and cracks open another beer.
I move onto the pineapple now, slicing it into thick chunks. “Well, at least the surf was good today. Made the trip worth it for him.”
“For some reason, I get the feeling that’s not what he came for.”
My mouth drops.
Jess and Theo choose that moment to walk into the main living room, a strange look on both their faces. As if they’ve just had a conversation like me and Trent.
Maybe I’m just paranoid because Trent doesn’t seem to notice the tension and calls them both over offering to pour them a drink. “Hey you two! What’ll it be?” He drums his fingers on the counter, ready to take their order.
“I’ll take a gin and tonic. Thanks, babe. What are you cooking, Imogen? It smells delicious.” Mimicking her boyfriend, Jess saddles up to the kitchen and takes a handful of the salami I’ve prepped.
I don’t bother admonishing her either. It falls on deaf ears every time.
“Pizzas,” I pull out the premade bases and lay them out. “Grab a tray and start. They’re ready for the oven.”
Everyone lines up and starts adding their assortment of toppings. Jess grabs two bases dousing them in mainly meat and cheese. Her two primary food groups.
How does she get away with eating like that?
It’s one of life’s great injustices. While some people can indulge to their heart’s content, others (a.k.a me and my slow metabolism) are subjected to a life of deprivation and dieting. It always makes me laugh when people simplify the weight loss equation to say calories in vs calories out. Cleary, they have not seen Jess eat.
I’m standing back waiting for everyone else to finish so I can cover the food, when I feel two hands on my hips gently move me out of the way. I look behind me and see Theo reach up for a glass in the cabinet above me. He looks at me with his signature sexy smirk, and it’s as if the awkwardness between us only a few hours ago never happened.
“This looks great. Thanks, Imogen,” he says, decorating his pizza with pretty much every topping I had laid out.
Once I finish mine, I set the timer for the oven and head outside, pouring a glass of iced ginger kombucha. The deck is bathed in golden sunlight, and there’s a slight breeze coming off the shore—a quintessential New Zealand summer evening.
* * *
The next morning Theo’s gone before the rest of us are even awake.
Apparently one of Theo’s employees was desperately trying to get hold of him yesterday. Frantically leaving messages and phoning while Theo was out in the ocean. According to Trent, she’s codependent on Theo, and despite warning him several times to get rid of her, he doesn’t.
Ange sprung to mind and it was on the tip of my tongue to ask Trent what her name was. Exactly how many of his staff could be obsessed with him anyway?
I help Jess give the place a tidy up so it’s ready for her parents, who will be coming back here next weekend. I clean the kitchen and give the floors a vacuum, making sure everything is restored to pristine condition.
Last night Jess and I went to bed while Theo and Trent stayed up late. I don’t know what time they eventually wrapped up but judging by the deep purple bags under Trent’s eyes, it was well past midnight. He lies on the couch, getting some rest before we pack up and go.
“Lazy shit,” Jess mutters, nodding her head towards Trent.
I laugh knowing she’s only teasing, we’ve all been there before, and Jess and I have everything cleaned up in no time.
* * *
Once the car’s packed, we head back to Auckland, Trent in the backseat snoring and Jess and I in the front. It was like a game of Tetris trying to fit all of our gear in Jess’s car, and most of Trent’s stuff had to be squished in the backseat with him.
“This weekend was fun, Jess. Thank you for inviting me.” It’s probably going to be one of the last weekends we have of the summer, and I’m glad I got to spend it with her.
“You’re welcome.” Jess smiles. “I’m glad you had fun. You take life so seriously sometimes, Imogen. I wasn’t going to bring this up now but—” She checks her rear vision mirror to look in the backseat. “Did something happen between you and Theo yesterday?”
“Why do you ask that?” I question, before giving her an answer.
“Well, let me see…maybe it was the fact he couldn’t take his eyes off you last night. Or the fact that whenever you speak, he listens as if his life depends on whatever you say. Trent said as soon as he knew you were going to be there he changed his mind about not coming.”
“He really said that?” If she’s pulling my leg…
“Yes, now spill!”
This time it’s my turn to check Trent’s still asleep in the back. “Okay fine… we kissed. That was it,” I whisper.
Jess squeals in delight, “I knew it!”
“Keep it down!” I hiss. As if I want to make this moment any more awkward by waking Trent.
“Holy shit, Imogen, do you realise how serious this is? Does he know you’re a vir—” Before she has a chance to finish that sentence, I cover her mouth with my hand.
“Not a word,” I warn.
She nods in agreement, but I can feel her smile underneath my palm. She’s never going to let me hear the end of this.
* * *
When I get back to my apartment, I practically drag my feet through the foyer. Even though all I’ve done today is sit in a car, I feel incredibly lethargic. The glare and lack of movement for the past few hours has fatigued me.
Seconds away from reaching the elevator, Norman, the building manager, calls out my name. I debate pretending I never heard him, but then he calls it again.
While Norman’s lovely, he’s one of the most talkative people you’ll ever meet. I silently pray this won’t take long. I don’t think I can muster up the energy for another one of his long-winded stories.
It’s a running joke here that Norman repeats the same story at least twice to every resident. I think I’ve heard about the time he and his brother took the train to the city when they were toddlers about nine times. Surely a personal record of his.
While most of the residents just walk off mid-sentence, I never have the heart to tell him I’d already heard it, even though I know exactly how it ends.
“Hey Norman, how are you? I’m actually in a bit of a rush, is it something urgent?”
“Imogen, I’m wonderful and what about you?” He really is a nice man. On any other day, I’d probably indulge him.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“I’ve got your new key,” he says, reaching underneath the desk to retrieve it. “Luckily they were able to replace it urgently for you and got it done yesterday.”
What new key?
“Norman, I never asked for my key to be replaced. Mine works perfectly.” His confused face now mirrors mine. “Are you sure this is for me?.”
I take the key from him and notice my door number 214.
I can see him try to wrack his brain and figure out how this mix up occurred. “Oh yes, you’re right it wasn’t you! I’m so sorry… I think I’ve got myself a bit confused here and changed the lock on the wrong room.” The poor man looks mystified.
“No worries, Norman, I’m sure whoever it was will come back to you and follow up. It’s an easy mistake.” I really hope he can remember which apartment needed the lock replaced. Even though this is a decent building, the security is still low, and there are no cameras around.
Luckily, I can make a quick escape and leave a distracted Norman wondering whose key he actually should’ve replaced.
* * *
I waste away the rest of the weekend online shopping and browsing Pinterest for design inspiration. Before I left for Africa, I had no social media accounts, only a website where I shared my previous design work. Now I’m starting to realise how crucial a digital presence is if you want to be taken seriously in this field. It seems like everyone else is utilising social networking platforms to gain exposure and drive awareness to their brand.
So despite being very late to the game, I go ahead and create a professional account.
Since it looks a little empty with 0 followers, I search for Jess and start following her. Within about 3 minutes, I get a notification that she’s followed me back and then a few of her followers follow suit.
Seeing the number of my followers increase all of a sudden is oddly gratifying. No wonder people get so addicted to this.
* * *
Tuesday morning begins with a 20 minute HIIT workout I found on YouTube. The beautiful, fit-looking model leading the exercises promises I’ll lose 10lbs. in 2 weeks.
Twenty minutes for 10lbs. That’s not so bad.
And if I can look anything like her, then it’s worth a try.
I play the video and after four minutes, I stand corrected.
This definitely is not the workout for me. When she announces we’ve only just finished the warm-up, meaning the actual workout hasn’t even started yet, I hit pause and start searching for something less…rigorous.
I’m sure the residents on the floor beneath me will appreciate the change too, after the 60 seconds of my consecutive jumping jacks that shook the whole building.
A 15-minute Pilates session pops up as a recommendation, and I follow that instead.
There. Much more my pace.
It’s intense enough for me to work up a sweat but not too arduous that I’ll give up halfway through.
Once I’m out of the shower, I put on a charcoal knee-length dress and pair it with a fresh white pearl necklace to contrast—a generous gift from Jess when she went to Rarotonga two years ago.
Even though I would never admit this to her when she first bought it for me, the necklace was so tight around my neck, it felt like a dog collar. Now it comfortably lies across the top of my collarbone.
I neatly gather my designs in a portfolio case to show Theo and make my way to his office.
* * *
The smell of freshly baked pastries invades my senses on my way, and I decide to stop in the cafe and grab a mixture of apple, apricot, and blueberry danishes for the meeting.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my time in business, it’s that people always appreciate free food and it’s easier to persuade them when they’re sugared up.
I should know because my team at the advertising agency used to use it with me all the time.
Here’s a box of chocolates, Imogen. Oh, and would you mind staying late?
Could you do a presentation for one of my clients coming in this afternoon, Imogen? I’ll let you attend the meeting where there’ll be muffins.
God, I was such a sucker always taking on other people’s work. I should’ve told them to get lost and gone to the vending machine instead!
I spend more time than I’d like taking a rather unpleasant walk down memory lane because before I know it, I’m outside Theo’s office building.
Once again, the understated luxury lures me in. From the outside of the building everything is chrome, black, and modern. The sleek aesthetic drips with superior taste and professionalism. While inside, there’s a warmth to the interiors that make it comfortable and inviting. Theo probably has no problem securing clients when they meet him here. The place exudes confidence and capability, much like the man himself.
“Good morning, I’m here to see Theo,” I say to the receptionist.
“Hello Imogen, please go right ahead into his office, he’s expecting you.” Her warmth and person-ability complement the overall ambience.
I head off down the hall, my arms now aching from carrying everything.
Ange is at her desk when I turn the corner, furiously typing away at her keyboard.
“Morning Ange,” I say, hoping to quickly slip by her and into Theo’s office.
“Can’t you see the door’s closed? Mr. Crawford is on a private call at the moment, please take a seat,” she spits.
And now the ambience is spoiled.
“Sorry, the receptionist said I could go in.” I don’t know why I feel the need to justify myself to this woman when she’s so rude. Regardless, I take a seat knowing there’s not much else I can do, and my hands are currently so full I need to set some stuff down, resting the pastries and my planner on the coffee table in front of me.
After a few moments of silence, she halts her aggressive typing and asks, “Are those your designs?”
“Yes, but they’re only very rough drafts at this stage.” A.k.a. I don’t want to show them.
“Hand them over, I’d like to see the direction you’re planning to take. I usually oversee and approve all the design elements to any of our buildings, so I’ll be able to tell whether you’re meeting expectations.” She holds out her hand waiting.
For some reason, I get the feeling there’s an ulterior motive behind her wanting to see the designs, so I tell her the plans are still in their very early stages and I’m not ready to present.
Unlike Ange’s, Theo’s input is important to me, and I want to make sure we’re on the same page first before I go taking any feedback from someone else who may, or may not, be trying to sabotage me.
She mumbles something inaudible under her breath that sounds like bitch.
Wow, she really is a piece of work.
I don’t know why Theo keeps her on if she behaves this way in front of business associates.
Knowing Theo could walk out of his office any second, I choose to stay silent. She may want to behave like that, but I don’t want to stoop to that level.
I hear Theo put the phone down in his office and then see him approach the door through the frosted glass. He looks utterly defeated. I wonder who he was on the phone with?
As soon as the door opens, he composes himself. Straightening his posture and looking every bit the intimidating businessman I know him to be.
It’s subtle—very subtle—but I swear his eyes light up when he sees me waiting for him. The same way I imagine mine look like right now.
“Imogen, hey. You look incredible” He embraces me again like he did the first time I came here, but now it feels different. There’s a familiarity between us.
Since Theo’s so tall, I nearly miss the look of devastation that crosses Ange’s face when I hug him. Although I don’t like the way she just spoke to me, she’s clearly pining for her boss.
While it’s not an excuse to treat others that way, I can empathise with her. Every boy I’ve ever been interested in has wanted nothing to do with me, and unrequited love is like a poison for the human psyche.
“Come in, Andrew should be here shortly.” He ushers me into his office, and I take a seat opposite him.
“I brought some treats,” I say, serving the danishes on his desk.
Before he has a chance to respond, a low voice from behind interrupts me. “Pastries. A woman after my own heart.” Wearing a pale pink pinstripe shirt with the collar popped and thick black-rimmed glasses, I can only assume this must be Andrew.
I turn and stand to introduce myself. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Imogen. I’ll be the interior designer for this project.” When he shakes my hand, I notice his palm is slightly damp and I’m not sure whether it’s from sweat or touching his hair. Either way, I have to stop myself from pulling out the little bottle of sanitiser in my bag.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Imogen. Theo didn’t mention how beautiful you were. I wouldn’t have cancelled the last meeting had I known.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it, probably attempting to be charming.
His lips are wet too, and they leave a glossy residue on my hand.
Gross.
“We’ve got a lot of work to cover in this meeting so let’s not waste time, Andrew, you’re already behind schedule as it is.” Theo’s voice sounds more terser with him than it was with me a few moments ago.
While tucking into one of the apricot danishes, Andrew pulls out an iPad and brings up some technical drawings of the building. For the first time, I get a realistic vision of what the place is going to look like once completed, even if it is with bits of pastry flying towards me from Andrew’s mouth.
I’m really glad that Theo invited me here because getting to see this in person is incredibly helpful for my designs. It’s going to be one of the most stunning pieces of infrastructure in New Zealand.
When I first walked through the building, the grandeur and scale were impressive, but seeing these designs has blown my mind. Theo’s company must be spending—and making—a fortune on this place.
Andrew swipes through his work proudly, and I must admit they look really impressive. Occasionally Theo interjects and points out an error he’s made and each time I notice Andrew’s face flush red with anger.
Feeling the heat from Theo, Andrew starts asking me technical questions I usually wouldn’t have to address as a designer. I keep my answers short, but the truth is I’m a little out of my depth and I can’t help but feel Andrew’s trying to make me look like an idiot in front of Theo to divert the attention from his own mistakes.
Once he gets to the inside of the building, he speaks directly to me. “This is where you and I are going to be working closely together, Imogen. As one of the top architects in the nation, there’s an opportunity to advance working alongside me. Once people hear that you’ve worked with Andrew Randall, you’re bound to get picked for any commercial project.” I bite the inside of my lip to stop myself from laughing. “Theo’s already familiar, but I’d be happy to go over this in more detail with you one-on-one. Are you free tonight by any chance?”
I’m about to politely decline the offer when Theo beats me to it.
“That won’t be necessary. You can go through it now, Andrew. I want to ensure you haven’t made any additional oversights.”
Andrew brushes it off. “Well my offer for dinner tonight still stands, I know this great place on Custo—”
“Imogen and I already have plans for this evening,” Theo interrupts.
We do?
“In fact, I have another meeting shortly, so we’ll need to pick this up another day.”
Andrew begrudgingly stands, puffing out his chest and seemingly very offended at Theo’s dismissal. He hands me his business card. “In case you need to get hold of me. I’m available day or night.”
He heads out the door but not before checking out Ange’s toned, bare legs from underneath her desk.
I’m just about to follow suit when I hear Theo’s deep, commanding voice from behind me.
“Not you, Imogen.”