“I didn’t invite anyone!” I say. “It was Vanessa!” But Jake isn’t listening. He sweeps back out to the party and after a few seconds I follow, my cheeks burning. I’m thinking I might go and drown my sorrows with a cookie, when I see Leila waving at me.
“Leila!” I exclaim in relief, because if there’s anyone who will cheer your soul it’s Leila. She’s wearing a silver dress with a tulle skirt and looks like some sort of sprite.
“Fixie!” she says, and hugs me. “Thank goodness! I told Ryan you must be here somewhere….”
“Ryan?” My heart lifts. “Is he here?”
“He’s here.” Leila bites her lip and lowers her voice. “He’s drunk.”
“Drunk?” I stare at her.
“It’s not good.” Leila looks anxious. “Fixie, you need to know something; he—” She breaks off as Ryan himself appears, holding two glasses of champagne. His eyes are bloodshot and he surveys us all with a morose gaze.
“Hi!” I say, kissing him. “Is everything…Are you…” My words trail away and I glance uncertainly at Leila, who winces. “What’s up?”
“Bastard fired me,” says Ryan, so lightly that at first I think I must have misheard.
“What?”
Ryan gives me a humorless smile and lifts his glass in a mock toast. “You heard me, Fixie. Bastard fired me. I’ve lost my job.”
* * *
—
Shock is too small a word for what I’m feeling right now. I’m beyond shocked. I’m stunned. Ryan’s lost his job?
We’ve commandeered the back room. I’ve forgotten about the party. All I can think about is Ryan.
“I just don’t get it,” I say, sinking into a chair opposite Ryan. “It makes no sense. How exactly did it happen?”
“Seb called me in and said it ‘wasn’t working out.’ ” Ryan shrugs. “That was it. The end. Finished.”
“But why?”
“I think you know why,” he says wryly.
I lean forward, surveying Ryan’s face, registering his calm, resigned expression.
“Seb was threatened by you,” I say. “Is that it?”
“Let’s just say, I saw it coming,” says Ryan, and takes a slug of his drink. “He’s right, it wasn’t working out. It wasn’t working out for him.”
“Because you were competition,” I say bluntly, and Ryan nods his head in assent.
My cloud of shock is starting to fade away and anger is rising in its place. It’s so unfair. It’s monstrous. Why couldn’t they work together? Why did Seb have to see Ryan as a threat? He promises him a chance, then dumps him? It’s just wrong.
“You know, I wouldn’t mind,” Ryan says, leaning back and looking pensively at the ceiling. “Only I gave a good few weeks to that place. I could have used that time to job-hunt. Truth is, he was never planning to employ me permanently. He was never going to keep me on. He only did it as a favor to you. Payback. Whatever.”
Everything seems so clear now. Seb was never going to take Ryan seriously as an employee. The whole thing was like a game, and I should never, ever have kick-started it.
“I wish I’d never claimed that stupid IOU,” I say passionately, getting to my feet. “I wish I’d never set eyes on him in the first place.”
“You weren’t to know.” Ryan shrugs again. “I just wish he’d been honest in the first place. He takes all my ideas, wrings me dry, and kicks me out. Still, what’s done is done.”
“So what will you do?”
“You know, Fixie…I have no idea. When a guy hits rock bottom, it’s like, what are the options?”
Ryan seems so resigned. So crushed. But I’m not resigned or crushed. I’m crackling with indignation. My fingers are drumming relentlessly. My feet are doing their thing: forward-across-back, forward-across-back. I can’t stay here. I can’t let Seb Marlowe get away with it. Who does he think he is?
Drawing myself up short, I suddenly recall the vow I made to myself in Seb’s office. I wasn’t going to try to fix stuff anymore, not unless it was super-important and vital.
But then, what’s this if not super-important and vital?
Abruptly, I reach for my bag and coat.
“I’ll be back in a while,” I say. “Stay at mine tonight. We’ll sort all this out.”
As I stride through the party, I feel grim and determined. “I have to go,” I say to Hannah. “Can you tell Jake?”
“Well, sure,” she says, looking surprised. “But what—”
“I have to fix a thing,” I say succinctly, and march out.
I stride to the tube station, travel all the way to Farringdon, and get out, feeling stony and unforgiving. Within a few minutes I’m at the