The Paler Shade of Autumn (23 page)

“It’s in the
Courier Mail
too. I checked it online.”

Autumn collapses her head on the table and bangs her forehead against the desk. “What am I going to do? Everyone will know I’m getting it on with the boss. And today of all days, he’s not here.”

“I think you’re missing the point here. Mr Stark is going to be a father and he is here playing house with you. Did you know Blossom was pregnant?”

“Yes.”

Michael looks at her with feigned disgust. “You knew and yet you’re—who are you? What have you done with Autumn?”

“I only found out yesterday. It’s not his baby.”

He scoffs. “Oh, yeah. That’s what they all say.”

She stands and slams her palms against the desk. “It’s not his!”

Michael throws his hands up in front of him. “Ok, ok. I believe you.” He jumps to his feet, jogs to door; closes it before taking a seat again. “What are you going to do?”

Autumn sighs, runs her fingers through her hair then lurches for her bag. She pulls out her mobile and rings Jet. He answers in half a ring.

“I’m reading it now,” he says. “This is below the belt. She … she …”

“Never mind
her
. What am I going to do?”

She does not hear him for seconds as he thinks, seconds that feel like minutes, until finally he says, “I’ll get Scott to prepare an email to send out to the office. It will state that it is instant dismissal if anyone even thinks about the article, let alone mentions it. No comments are to be made to the press by anyone. Reception will be informed not to provide any press with any information and to dismiss all calls and attempts to visit. I’ll organise for a security guard to stand at reception—just in case. Meanwhile, I’ll organise my publicist to put together a statement on my behalf, on
our
behalf.”

“But what about the photo? You can clearly see it’s me and you kissing. You are my boss. What do I say about that?”

“I’ll get Scott to deal with it in the email. And if anyone does ask you about it, let them know they’ll be executed personally by me as soon as I’m back in the office. Please don’t worry, Autumn.”

“That’s easy enough to say. You’re not here.”

Jet sighs. “No, I’m not. But I’ll be back by two. You’re just going to have to hang tight till then.”

“Fine.”

“I love you, Autumn and I’m sorry about this.”

“I know. I’ll see you soon.” She hangs up and throws the phone on the desk before crumbling onto the chair.

“What did he say?” asks Michael.

“That he’ll personally execute anyone who even mentions the article.”

Michael stands, clasping his coffee. “I was never here.”

Autumn grins. “Thanks for letting me know about the article.”

“No problem. How about I order lunch in for us today and we’ll eat it in here?”

“Sounds good. Something fattening, followed by something with so much sugar just looking at it will make my teeth ache.”

Michael laughs. “You got it.”

“Oh, and thanks for the latte.”

Michael winks and leaves through the door, closing it behind him.

Autumn logs onto her computer and attempts to work, but her thoughts are on the article. What will the staff at Stark Consulting think when they see a picture of Autumn in her bikini, on a work day, kissing the boss? Will they thereby judge her and her position within the company differently? Is this something, as Tae had warned, that will taint her reputation, even if she tries to find another position in another company?

Jet’s promised email whooshes into her inbox within twenty minutes of the phone call as all the staff are arriving to work. She can already hear murmurs and footsteps, computers logging on and the coffee machine in the kitchen, but, so far, no knuckles on her door or phone calls.

This morning Autumn has two appointments, back to back from nine, followed by admin which should take her through to lunch. Then there is only an hour or so until Jet arrives.

Autumn’s heart knocks hard against her ribcage when her phone buzzes. It’s reception.

“Your first appointment, Mr Masters is here.”

He’s early
.

“I’ll be out in a few.”

“Sure.”

No signs of unexpressed opinions in the receptionist’s tone of voice. No innuendo. Just clean, clear communication, as usual. Autumn’s stomach twists as she places the phone of the receiver; she senses the calm before the storm. She grabs her pen, notebook and the client’s file. At the door, she breathes in deeply before she opens it and pokes her head out. She looks left, then right along the hall. All is quiet. Autumn sneaks out, pacing towards reception. Her client is waiting on the row of chairs; a security guard hangs near the elevators, beefy arms crossed over his chest.

Autumn forces a smile, introduces herself and leads her client into the conference room. The appointment runs overtime, mostly because Autumn is unable rein in the client’s willingness to talk her head off. This leaves her with barely enough time to rush back to her office, glimpse the fourteen emails that have come through, mostly from Tae she notes, and all marked with the little red exclamation mark symbolising them as urgent.

Autumn grabs the next client’s file and her phone vibrates on the desk. She grimaces. It’s her mother ringing for the sixth time. A whoosh sounds from her computer. Autumn glances at the screen. Tanya. Her stomach tumbles. The storm is definitely on its way. She clings tightly to the file and notebook and rushes out of the room. If she isn’t in her office, she can pretend the phone calls and emails do not exist. Her mobile beeps loudly into the silence of the office as she closes the door: a reminder—she should be so lucky.

The next client is an old, angry, arsehole. He whinges the entire time about how Stark Consulting’s price is too high and how he would have preferred to have had a man meet with him today. Then he spends the final moments of the appointment expressing how insulting it is for Jet to send one of his plebes, a female at that, instead of being here himself. The excuses Autumn offers for Jet and for being a
mere
woman are met with heated responses and assumptions of favouritism and skewed priorities. She nearly tells him to come join the rest of humanity in the new millennium instead of sulking in the nineteen-fifties with all the other crusty old businessmen who have refused to move on.

When the meeting finishes she walks the client to the elevator and says her final spiel and goodbye. The old man, with pale, wrinkled skin and untrimmed eyebrows, peers at Autumn with his cruel eyes and says, “At least you’re not afraid to use your assets.” He looks at her breasts. “Fastest way to the top, but also the quickest route to the bottom. Good luck, love. Enjoy the boss while he’s interested.”

Autumn clenches her lips together and can feel the heat radiating from her face, flowing through to her hands, which start tremble. The lift dings and the old man steps in and is gone. Autumn takes his file and pitches it across the reception floor. The receptionist gasps.

“Burn it!” Autumn says to her. “He will not be a client of this company. Crusty old sexist bastard.” She turns and storms out of the room, down the hall to Michael’s office. She strides in, slams the door behind her, leans against the door, handle still in hand and bursts into tears.

Michael’s mouth gapes. He hastily apologises to the person on the other end of his current phone call, slams the phone down and jogs to Autumn. He takes her arm, leads her to a seat and forces her to sit.

“Spill it,” he says as he takes his seat again.

Autumn tells him about what the client had said to her in the foyer. Michael tries to frown, but she can see his eyes are smiling, then his lips curl up and when he is certain Autumn is not going to kill him, he laughs. “That old dog. I swear, some of these old guys…”

Autumn wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Hysterical,” she says.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing. I was dumbstruck. When he left I threw his folder across the floor. Poor old Bessa nearly had a heart attack. I think she thought I was having a meltdown.”

“I think it sounds like you were having a meltdown.”

Autumn reaches for a tissue off Michael’s desk and wipes her nose. “Believe me, that wasn’t even close. You’ll know if I’m having a meltdown. I’ve got about fifty emails and missed calls in that,” she points in the direction of her office, “fucking office. Once I’m through those I’ll show you what a meltdown is.”

“No thanks. I’ll give it a miss. But honestly, don’t get yourself so worked up over this. Every office in the world is filled with mistresses and pregnancies, and men and women sleeping with their bosses. You’ll be a topic of conversation for two minutes max and then it will all be over. Just let it ride on past and refuse to get on board the wave.”

“So philosophical, Michael.”

He grins. “That’s me. Just call me Socrates from now on.”

Autumn cracks into a smile. “Sure, Socrates.” She stands. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“No meltdowns though, please.”

“I can’t guarantee it. I did see an email come through from Tanya.”

He sighs, then shrugs. “I’ll be there, regardless.”

“Thought you might.”

Autumn strides down the hall to her office. Her telephone is ringing so she runs. “Hello,” she gasps. It is reception.

“Autumn, you have a reporter from the
Sunday Mail
on the line.”

Her teeth clench. “Bessa, you were told not to allow any calls from the press.”

“I know. I know, but he says you had pre-arranged this call.”

“He is lying. I have not arranged with any press, whatsoever, any kind of meeting or call or anything at all, period. Understand?”

“Yes. I, I see. I’ll tell him? I’ll tell him.”

“Just hang up on him and if he rings again, hang up on him again. Got it?”

“Yes.”

She returns the phone to its receiver and falls into her chair. Choosing the most recent email from Tae she clicks it open.

I still can’t believe you made it into the papers for something so scandalous. This is so exciting!!! You’re like my very own celebrity. I’m assuming all went ok with you and Jet last night, considering you weren’t home when I woke? Email me as soon as you can. T

Autumn writes back and is immediately sent a return email.

I’m coming to meet you for lunch
.

Autumn writes back telling her of her lunch plans with Michael.

You’re not getting out of it that easily. Get him to order three serves. Meet you at one
.

It takes more nerve to open the next email from Tanya. She hasn’t heard from her since she left. It can’t be good.

Autumn. Didn’t think you’d stoop that low in your efforts to usurp my position while I’m away. Tanya
.

“Usurp?” repeats Autumn with a scowl. “Where are we? Seventeenth-century England.” She doesn’t even bother typing a reply, instead forwards the email directly to Jet’s inbox. He can deal with her.

Her computer whooshes. An email from Michael. In the subject line:
Um, did you mean to send that email to ‘office all’?????

Autumn’s heart thumps against her ribcage. “Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

No!
she types back to Michael.

Didn’t think so
.

What should I do?

I think you’ve done just about all you can possibly do
.

A long sigh streams from between her lips and she flops back against her chair. “Calm down, Autumn. Don’t catch that wave. Just let it ride on past,” she whispers to herself, rubbing her temples.

“Oh God, I’m going mad. I’m talking to myself.

“Shit, and I just did it again.”

She types.
Help!!!! I’m having a meltdown. I’m sitting here talking to myself
.

Michael writes back.
No that’s insanity. Let me know when it’s serious
.

While she is insane, she feels it’s an appropriate time to deal with her mother. She dials her phone number.

“Autumn. What is going on? Is all this business with Blossom and that businessman why you were so drunk? I wake up and I see this picture of you canoodling with your, your boss?”

“Mum. Please. Stop stressing.”

“I’m not stressing. I’m concerned.”

“Well don’t be. It’s fine.”

“This is just not like you. Who is this man, anyway?”

Autumn explains to her mother the entire situation, starting back to Bodh Gaya, where they first met, including the fight, all the way to the Tibetan revelation last night.

Mrs Leone is silent for a long moment before she speaks. “Thank you for filling me in. At least now I understand the situation. I would’ve appreciated not having to read about it in the paper first, though.”

“I had no idea that article was going to be published. But I should have told you about him. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I know now. Best not tell your father about all that other stuff. You know how practical your father is.”

Autumn rolls her eyes. “Yes. I know what he’s like. I’ll think of something
normal
for Dad. God forbid he ever has to hear about the truth of matters.”

“Don’t get sassy.”

“I’m not. I’m simply saying.”

“Well don’t. I’d like you to bring this Jet man over for dinner on Sunday to meet the family. Do you think you can manage that?”

“Yes. Of course I can
manage
that. Look, I’ve got work to do. I’ll see you Sunday.”

“Ok love. See you then.”

Autumn ends the call just as another email slides into her inbox. Again from Michael.

Lover boy’s public comment has just hit ninemsn. Oooh & so has yours
.

A nervous hysteria overcomes Autumn as she types in the web address and scrolls frantically, searching for the comments. A few clicks down the page and there is a picture of Jet taken from a business awards night followed by a short captioned comment.

“I do not like to comment on my personal life; however, as these circumstances have been brought into the public arena, and reported on incorrectly, I feel a comment is necessary on my behalf
.

Miss Banks and I are no longer in a relationship and I am conclusively not the father of her child
.