Or maybe not.
“Sorry, Muriel. Long queue outside the coffee shop this morning. Seems to be getting more and more popular.”
A close friend of hers ran the place, and he hoped the positive comment might negate his tardiness. He placed the tall spangly black canister down in front of her first before walking around the huge conference table placing drinks in front of each of those gathered.
“Really? I find that hard to believe. At eight o’clock this morning, when my driver took me past on my way into the office, the place looked entirely empty.”
Purposely not meeting her gaze, he began setting up the laptop. With the minimum of fuss, he laid the LED TV remote control and the stylish gold laser pointer next to her computer touchpad and stepped away. After tossing his switched-off smartphone into the small mesh cage in the middle of the table—one of Muriel’s house rules—he made his way down to his seat and sat among his all-female colleagues. Only Beverley’s seat next to his remained vacant.
“All done, Muriel. And your presentation’s loaded.”
Some of his colleagues questioned why Muriel had hired him. Perhaps, he told them, the head of Human Resources had suggested she redress the workforce diversity balance, although Spencer could not imagine anyone brave enough to tell Muriel what to do. Hiring someone like him, an openly gay male, would normally have ticked a few boxes. Except her son and prodigy, Blake Ulysses Moresby, had already bagged that title, even if he had never done so publicly. He had also bagged Spencer. After showing him the ropes during Spencer’s first week in the company, Blake had definitely gone the extra mile to make him feel welcome. Blake, the one who got away. Or rather, the one he’d never really had in the first place, who had charmed the pants off him—literally—before shunning and finally dumping him. Working in the same office had only ever been bearable because Blake spent so much time away on assignment.
“Finally.”
In his messed-up way, Spencer still fantasised about Blake and tended to hide whenever the boss’s charismatic son entered the premises. Blake had almost quoted him the Official Secrets Act when he cooled off their short-lived liaison. Spencer had been happy to oblige. Who wanted people knowing you had been dumped? Only Bev knew some of the story, the parts he felt less uneasy about. Muriel’s dislike of Spencer had been a slow progression long after they had cooled off. Even now he had no idea why. Her disdain had become the norm, something he expected and had learnt to shrug off.
“Do you need me to—?”
“Sit. Down. Spencer.”
Setting up presentations wasn’t really a part of his job. Prince had asked him to fill in on Monday mornings because Prince suffered from weekend-itus, an innate aversion to Monday mornings. The third of three males in the office, Princeprovided all information technology support. If Spencer had ever wondered whether Muriel was a misandrist, her open and very vocal admiration of Prince had nipped that theory in the bud. Confident bordering brash, flawless looks and built better than most of the male models who adorned the pages of their magazines—move over Tyson Beckford—and completely straight, he had a captive audience in the office. For all their tough talk, many of the women went to pieces whenever he breezed up to their desks. Spencer had watched him being ogled by the staff as he knelt to the floor to plug in cables or leant across their workspaces in his tight designer T-shirt, his firm biceps, pecs and deltoids on display, to set up additional monitors or swap out a docking station, work he really ought to be doing after office hours. With the family name of Henry, Prince Henry was fittingly treated like royalty. Spencer often overheard the girls in the staffroom talking about having had a ‘royal visit’ that day which had naturally resulted in them having had a ‘royal flush’. From what Spencer could tell, although Prince flirted playfully with the female staff, he appeared to draw the line at dating any of them, a clear distinction between work and play. If only Spencer had consulted Prince before allowing Blake to jump his bones.
“Why is this stupid thing not working? What have you done to it?” asked Muriel, expelling a sigh after signing on and glaring at her laptop screen for a few moments while messing with the laser pointer.
Fortunately, Prince, whose older brother had married his male partner, had genuinely warmed to Spencer. As the only other male employee permanently in the office, they shared an unlikely affinity. Just as well, because Blake acted as though Spencer no longer existed.
“Point the TV remote at the screen and push the green button. If you want, I can come over—”
Somewhat clumsily, she prodded one of the buttons, and her presentation popped up on the giant flatscreen.
“Sometimes I wonder ifheshould be payingmeto work here,” she muttered, providing a scowl for the benefit of the rest of her staff.
With any other person he might have countered with something like, ‘I couldn’t afford you’, but he knew how much she disliked backtalk, and she would only find a way to make his life that bit more difficult. Most of the women gathered grinned at the table at her remark, while a few sent sympathetic glances his way. Woe betide anyone who tried to defend him.
“And where, may I ask, is Ms Salvatore?” asked Muriel, staring pointedly at Spencer.
“Beverley will join us shortly.” When Muriel said nothing, waiting for a more comprehensive explanation, he floundered while ad-libbing an excuse. “She’s—uh—taking an urgent call from—uh—LMVP about their double-page advertising spread in the Christmas edition ofCollective. Sounds like they still need reassurance.”
“Advertising? Isn’t that supposed to be your domain of expertise? Isn’t that what I pay you to handle?”
Again with the loud voice and the laser glare.
“It’s one of them, yes, but—uh—Bev has a special relationship with—”
“Is Ms Salvatore now working for you? Is that it? Are us women now relegated to clearing up your messes for you?” When Muriel’s gaze took in the whole room of amused faces and soft giggles, he knew a lecture would follow. In his mind, he ran through the catalogue of wizarding spells he’d memorised from the famous books and wished he could summon to get her to stop talking. “Let me tell all of you sitting here this morning. Beverley Salvatore worked tirelessly on Friday night. She managed to secure the sale of three unique pieces of artwork to aclient, while others among you were nowhere to be found.” Once again, she chose the moment to stare pointedly at Spencer. “And as I hope you are all aware, twenty-five per cent of the proceeds from the sale goes to the Mongolian Orphans Fund. Beverley Salvatore is an exemplary employee, something to which you should all aspire.”
Living two streets away from the office, Beverley Salvatore was probably still at home applying her makeup. How the hell she managed to get away with her laissez-faire attitude to work, he had no idea. He loved her, he really did. She was someone he confided in unconditionally and for whom he would do absolutely anything. And she could show real brilliance when she put her mind to organising events. But that did not excuse her dreadful timekeeping. Nevertheless, once again, she had managed to end up in Muriel’s good books without really lifting a finger, while his impromptu excuse had landed him even higher up on Muriel’s shit list.
Moreover, LMVP, who had spent a small fortune on advertising with them, was an accounthehad landed. And the truth was they were over the moon about the choice of Christmas adverts from the design consultant he had recommended. When everything went well—as he knew it would—and Muriel reached out for feedback—as he knew she would—who would get the credit?
“Beverley Salvatore is an asset to Blackmores.”
Any other male employee might have considered themselves persecuted. On more than one occasion, Beverley had urged Spencer to approach their Human Resources manager and lodge a formal complaint.
But he had no need.
First of all, Spencer loved his job working in an office full of women. Even before he came out, his close friends at university had all been female, with all but a few of the male studentsbeing too vulgar or arrogant and, frankly, clueless for him to have anything in common with them. With him being gay, his office colleagues felt comfortable swapping stories about their lives and problems, especially learning his spin on the male psyche. Yes, he may have been atypical in the world of men, but the straight and oversexed older brother he had grown up with and observed objectively fitted the mould. Moreover, at work, Spencer had a game plan and had found a way to turn every crappy little thing to his advantage.
