The parties dried up. The effervescence of the festive season fizzled out, leaving Blue January to hobble on. Adele had cautioned Eve that I wasn’t doing so well and, like old times, Eve turned up unannounced as I was packing to move house. I told her everything, flitting between bitter diatribe and remorseful guilt. The act of externalization felt like sawing off a limb and handing it over.
“Maybe I gave Josh the wrong message?” I said. “We were always flirty with each other. If I wasn’t with Kit, I would have definitely gone there. Ugh, I crossed some lines, I think.”
“Please,” Eve said, no-nonsense, “Kit is a big boy. You’re a young woman in the corporate world; some of these men see the fact of your existence as an offering.”
“I know,” I said, “but he said I wanted it.”
“Fuck what he says.” Eve shrugged. “What he did was wrong. He knows it, you know it.”
How can it be so simple for her? How are her reactions so lean?
“What do you think I should do?” I asked. Adele was still hopeful I might report.
Eve’s lips compressed into a flat, thin line. Her phone lit up. A message from Julian. Another message from Julian. Then another. A quick succession that told me exactly what she would say next.
“Nothing.” She said it with a resignation that left no room for interpretation.
I felt vacuous.
“Listen, it’s still in your power,” Eve all but whispered. “There’s a freedom in that. It’s yours and yours alone. Shit, if you wanna go lose your fucking mind for a few months, you do that. I’ll be here, Adele will still be here. You’ll have Kit, your parents. If you wanna keep going and try to forget about it, good for you too. But don’t give your power away.” Eve paused, looking guilty for what she was about to say. “Think about it objectively for a moment, Jade. Is what happened, in the grand scheme of things, really worth risking everything you’ve worked for?”
Eve truly was Adele’s counterweight. One curated, the other raw. Cynicism up against hope.
“This flat smells funky.” Eve stood up, sniffing. “Is there something dying behind your cabinets?”
The subject was changed. I suspected that Eve considered there was little else to discuss.
“I dunno.” I felt embarrassed that I’d become desensitized to the smell. Eve nodded tautly.
“Okay.” She ran her finger along my table and examined her blackened finger pad. “I’m sending a cleaner round first thing tomorrow.” She gagged as she opened my fridge. “And a food delivery. My shout.”
I nearly cried with relief. I’d let my environment decay. There was no escape when I was constantly at home surrounded by the detritus of what Josh did to me. Where Adele was ferociously loving, Eve was practical. With the two of them by my side—and a clean flat—perhaps the mess would be slightly more manageable.
Project Arrow had ramped back up again after the Christmas hiatus. We were due in a matter of weeks to submit Arrow’s Defense. Genevieve was back in Chelsea. We went for lunch after a meeting.
“How long have you been with Reuben?” she asked, snapping a breadstick in half.
“Nearly four years.”
“So?” she prompted, looking at me with expectant frustration. “What’s your next move?”
I had of course already considered leaving Reuben purely to get away from Josh. But most associate positions involved up to six rounds of interviews, an updated CV, and a written test. I didn’t have the time or energy.
“Let’s talk about you coming on board here,” Genevieve said, catching me off guard.
“In-house?”
“There has to be a purge.” She rolled the r in “purge,” making her seem more feline than ever. “This scandal has not been good for us. We need to rebrand, call it a new phase of transparency or whatever.” Genevieve inflated her cheeks, then blew the air out. “You know, show our commitment to compliance. We can only do that with a fresh team. You could be on it.”
“I would love to be considered.” I nodded, always remembering to be contained while I was screaming inside praise be! “Should I liaise with Rémy about interviewing?” Rémy was Genevieve’s equally Parisian assistant.
“Of course not,” she tutted. “Why are you British so formal?” She leaned forward and her breasts pressed against the table. “This case has been your interview. I’ve been watching you for a while. I know you can be relied on, that you’re a hard worker. You clearly care about the company. What is Reuben paying you?”
I told her.
“We can raise by ten percent. Will that help get you across the line?” She lit a cigarette and ran a hand through her silver bob. “I’m a pain in my own behind sometimes—why did I tell you never to move jobs for anything less than ten percent more?”
I laughed. I didn’t need to think about it. Genevieve was the fairy godmother that shepherded me onto the case in the first place. Now she was presenting me with the escape from Reuben and from Josh—and with a raise, too. Of course I’d leap at the opportunity.
Genevieve said, “I need you to focus on the Defense first, then let’s make it happen, bien?”
I wafted back to the office in a dreamlike stupor. We left lunch with two kisses on my cheeks and the promise of greener grass. I thought of the days and nights in our stuffy cuboid. Reuben was the springboard, and Arrow was the opportunity I wanted to propel toward. Working for a woman I admired. No longer having to sit through David Reuben calling me a creature.
Jade Kaya, now:
GENEVIEVE JUST OFFERED ME A JOB AT ARROW!!!!!!!!!
Kit Campbell, now:
I knew you would bloody do it.
I couldn’t be prouder of you.
“What’s that stupid grin for?” Adele asked, looking amused.
“Just saw Genevieve.”
“Yeah?”
I didn’t want to say. I wanted to hold the offer close inside myself. It felt like an expensive perfume, clouding the air with its fragrance, but the moment you released it from its ornate bottle, it dissipated away from you, out of your grasp.
“She’s offered me a shot at a role at Arrow…” I whispered, sheepish. Adele had also sacrificed all her waking hours to Project Arrow. She joined the case a few months after me, and it would be a shame to inject competition into our friendship. Because at some point, we’d been taught that there was only space for one of us to rise. As always, she proved me wrong.
“YES, THAT’S MY GIRL!” Adele bellowed. She parkoured toward me and we jumped up and down in our stale office, clutching at each other. Tears welled in our eyes because, at last, the tide was turning.
“It’s not set in stone, but she seemed pretty keen. I can’t believe it; I actually can’t believe it.”
“You can!” Adele held me by the shoulders. “You’re the hardest-working bitch in this place and you have poured your life into this case. You deserve it. Okay—” Adele magicked the emergency bottle of prosecco we kept in our snack drawer.
“Watch out, world.” Adele popped the cork and slurped at the overflowing, warm fizz. “Our Jade Kaya is ON THE MOTHERFUCKIN’ RISE.”